It was dark and blurry. Not the clear, crisp dark of a moonless night, but as if its pitch blackness with occasional bright spots of stars was dipped into a bit of white and brown and something else, muddy and thick, resulting altogether in gray, dirty muck all around. This muck was dominating the world. There was another thing that was positively odd. The trees outside were but a vague shape, and not a single leaf moved. The treeline was faintly familiar, but not something he recognized. There was also a large body of water nearby, seashore, probably; somehow, Severus was sure of it. However, he couldn't smell the salt in the air. On the contrary, if he breathed, the air tasted like dust and ashes. And there was silence. So total and stifling that for a moment, he'd thought he'd gone deaf. He couldn't even hear or feel the blood beating in his ears.
Severus wished he could panic. Panic, run, scream, emote the hell out of himself, but somehow he simply didn't have enough emotional substance in him. Or any other kind of substance for that matter.
It must be a dream, but how to wake up if there's no fear or any incentive to do so?
He tried to remember how long he had been aware of the place he was in, but couldn't. There was not even enough despair in him to act and break out of whatever limbo he was in.
There was a stack of paper on something that resembled a desk nearby. Suddenly, Severus's entire mind narrowed down to a single need to run to it and write 'help', like it was the last straw to grab at. But there was nothing to write with.
And the scariest part was that he was pretty sure that there was no time. At least not in the sense he was used to. So, eons could have passed and could yet pass, and he would have no reckoning of them. The scariest part. If only there was fear in him to be scared.
The sound of wings and infuriated screeching, faint and muffled, as if reaching to him through a very deep sleep, made him turn his head from the stack of paper he had been staring at for the last... Merlin knew how many hours. Or years.
The sound was becoming louder, filling his ears, filling this dreadful place with life, and then the murky gray fog of it started to thin, and feathers, feathers fell from above.
He woke up to sniffling and something cool being pressed to his forehead.
"...Merlin... alive! ...Thought you were... sorry..."
The words of whoever was attending to him were scattered, and half of them didn't even reach his addled brain, but the world started sharpening out of the blur. First, the ceiling. To his unadulterated joy, it was his own. Then, racks of books, his books. A large, haughty barn owl, whom he recognized to be Hermes, Avery's pest of a bird which Snape somehow was very much fond of. Then, Avery himself, standing by the window and hiding his worry behind a smirk and an attempt at being decorative. And finally, Granger, sitting beside him, crying what looked like tears of joy and pressing a cool towel to his forehead. For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to act like it was totally unwelcome, so he relaxed and enjoyed being fussed over .
"What happened?" Severus croaked when he felt like he could speak and not pass out from the effort.
"We're not sure, but I have an idea. You need to rest, sir," Granger answered.
"No! I don't... want to sleep." The very idea of possibly going back to that state horrified him.
"I didn't think so. That's why you're pumped full of Invigorating Draughts, isn't it? And we're moving you to my house. I have a reason to think it's safer for you there."
So she had guessed it, too. Clever girl.
Two hours later saw Snape seated comfortably in an armchair, appropriately transfigured for comfort, in Granger's house and sipping a cup of coffee with a slight tang of yet another reviving something and pondering the fact that he'd been 'out' for almost four days.
"Don't thank me, thank Mr. Avery's owl," Granger said when he decided that her efforts were worthy of a thank you. "I found you asleep in your chair some twelve hours ago, and you looked extremely uncomfortable. I tried to wake you up to no avail, so I went to Mr. Avery for help. He brought Hermes. See, animals, birds in particular, can walk the borders of the worlds. We wrote you a letter, and Hermes tried to deliver it. It was his wings beating against the window that woke you up."
"You seem to have it all figured out," Snape retorted crankily. He hated not being the one doing all the lecturing and enlightening. And it was happening to him more often than he cared to allow.
"Why, I think, yes."
Damned Gryffindor pride.
"How did you find my house in the first place? I don't remember extending an invitation or sharing my whereabouts with you. Or with you, for that matter," he added, transferring a searing look from Granger to Nigel Avery, who had followed them to her house.
"I asked Luna. Luna Lovegood. If you've ever used the Owl Postal service, even under an assumed name, which I'm sure you have, judging by the number of periodicals you brought to me, your address is in their registry. It only took me one hour to find Vunessa Spree, who is subscribed to such a number of Potions periodicals that it was a sure guess. Nice anagram, too."
Severus narrowed his eyes, but couldn't help admiring her resourcefulness.
"So, I came to your house when I... when you didn't show up for two days, though by all intents and purposes, you should have, the very next morning. At first, I thought you were offended, but—"
"I wasn't." Somehow, it was important for him at the moment that she knew it.
"Ok, you weren't, but I wasn't sure, so I gave you time to... mull it over, whatever it was."
"It wasn't 'whatever'. I am, indeed, split. Like Voldemort and his Horcruxes were. Except that part of my soul is strolling somewhere around your house."
"Yes, that, too. I eventually came to the same conclusion later that day," Granger said, and then jumped up from her place and paced. Snape had spent enough time with her to know that it meant she was agitated and excited. She must have found out something good.
"Brilliant deduction," Snape noticed, by way of keeping the conversation ball rolling.
"Thank you," she said without a single hint of noticing his sarcasm, too immersed in her own train of thought. "But then I noticed something else. Actually, I think, somewhere, in the back of my mind, I'd noticed it some time ago, but was always distracted and didn't focus on it and... Anyway. Your alter ego has a certain pattern of appearance."
That certainly got Snape's attention. He even sat up slightly up from his reclining position. He also noticed that Avery, who'd kept silent all this time, changed his stance slightly.
"I always saw him in the evening hours. At first, I thought it was just the way of ghosts."
"You have obviously seen too many ghost films, then. Common ghosts don't have any time-of-day-related limitations," Snape said with a slight note of superiority in his voice.
"I said, 'at first'," Granger said, looking at him like he was a petulant child. "So, there was a pattern. Evenings only, and never later than eight or nine in the morning. Sometimes, over the last few weeks, an hour or two during the day. And then it dawned on me. He shows up when you're asleep."
She paused, as if evaluating the effect her words had produced. Snape tried really hard to act unfazed, ever the true Slytherin; Avery shifted curious eyes from Granger to him, trying to gauge their reactions first and then show his.
"And I assume he has been showing up here with increasing frequency and length of stays lately?" Snape asked finally.
"Yes. And over the last few days, he stayed here all the time. It is very disconcerting. I think he's becoming stronger, if that is even the right word to use."
Snape had a dreadful feeling that the word was exactly correct.
"I wish I could see how he looks," he said thoughtfully.
"No, you don't," Avery answered him, finally breaking his silence.
"Why is that?" Severus asked with caution.
"He is you... and not you at the same time," Granger answered. "It's hard to explain. But if you want, I'll give you a Pensieve piece later."
"I do," he said and had a strong desire to look away.
"It also seems that when you two are in close proximity, you feel much better. That's why Mr. Avery and I decided to bring you here."
"How very noble of you," Snape said sourly. Suddenly, the notion of living with Granger swelled inside his brain and took over it for a second, flashing sides of it he hadn't thought about. He'd never interacted with her in any role other than a teacher or, during the last few days, a colleague of sorts, and the thought of Hermione Granger in domestic environment was... strange, to say the least. What were her sleeping habits? Did she cook? Sing in the shower? Was she messy and bustling? Any Molly Weasley influence there? Not judging by her house, but who knew.
Chewing on all of these unexpected questions, Severus came to the conclusion that he was actually quite excited.