Next morning dawned bright and clear with the first ground frosts locking the water in the few pools left after the night's rain. Severus slept an hour here and an hour there and finally got up in a royal snit. He stepped outside for a bit of fresh air. The counsel was still a few hours away, and he already hated it. Two small beds of bright-red asters made the tiny house look like a healthy little milkmaid with apple-red cheeks.
Severus scowled, and, consumed by a strong desire to do something in spite of just about everything, walked in the opposite direction from the sea for a change.
The Sign of Contact was flapping in the wind in the thick shrub.
Severus stretched out a hand and then abruptly pulled it away.
What if it was Dumbledore, so unflinchingly omniscient that his very words were a conviction, no matter what? What if he was telling him that his 'safe for now' time had ended? Or that his time had ended altogether.
He looked around, grasping at the sight of Granger's sunlit house, its whitewashed walls and blushing asters. There was life in there.
Severus took a deep breath and grabbed the filmy message.
It was just a few words. Someone named Beau asking to tell another someone named Felicia that she'd been right; it was beautiful where he was now.
In a sudden rush of temper, Snape crumpled the note and threw it away. It immediately dissipated, like they all did, once the message had been passed.
This couldn't be his life. Something had to be done. Severus promised himself to find Felicia as soon as everything was over.
When he returned, a little before noon, his spirits weren't much higher, and the sound of voices and ragging didn't do much in terms of brightening his disposition.
He opened the door quietly and was met by a sudden silence. He looked around and balled his hands, which were ready to stretch towards Granger and throttle her.
There, in the room stood Longbottom, Nigel, George Weasley, Potter (to his horror), Minerva (to his mixed horror and elation) and the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost.
At least three mouths gaped open, and before he was piled with all sorts of nonsensical talk, Severus cleared his throat loudly.
"Well, if it's not the single motliest company one could gather for counsel, Miss Granger," he said tightly.
And then he was being hugged and squeezed and berated, and he thought that Minerva had even managed to clip him on the back of the head.
"You are one heartless son of a bitch, Severus Snape," she whispered in his ear with affectionate anger and dabbed at her eyes with a red-and-gold-trimmed handkerchief.
George Weasley shook his hand with grudging respect and ruffled his ginger mane.
The Baron stood slightly aside, his transparent face wary.
Harry Potter mostly smiled quietly and, of all those present, looked like he'd changed the least. He was still thin as a rod, hair unkempt, glasses round and sitting slightly unevenly on his nose with one spectacle a little lower than the other. His clothes were good quality, but still ill-fitting.
Severus was astonished at how happy and anchored it made him feel, that knowledge that some things just never changed.
"Glad to see you, sir," Potter said honestly when Severus was finally free of Minerva.
"Aren't you going to give me a mouthful about making you all think I was dead and gone for ten years?" Severus asked simply.
Potter chuckled.
"Nah. I can tell you a few things about wishing to be left alone for good myself."
Snape supposed it was true. He once came across an article in the paper about a reporter filing a suit because he had fallen from a tree near Potter's house, trying to catch the Wizarding World's biggest celebrity on magical film. The arse wanted the Potters tried for sabotaging the tree.
It took everyone quite some time to cope with their initial reactions to Snape's appearance, and when Severus was already feeling anger bubbling inside, Miss Granger saved the day.
"I think we'd better start," she said loudly and pointed at a few comfortable looking chairs, their colour and texture giving out the fact that they had been transfigured out of a few small couch cushions. .
"Most of them arrived earlier, so I have updated everyone on what we have been through," she told Snape.
Everyone took a chair; Snape found himself sitting between Granger and Nigel on the couch.
"As you all know, we are here today because some time ago I found the Resurrection Stone, turned it, thinking, just like all of you were, that Professor Snape was dead, to talk to him. But, the professor was alive, and my actions had drastic consequences. It looks like he's split now," she started bravely, and then paused, taking a deep breath. "We think it's akin to the way Voldemort's soul was shattered into parts for the Horcruxes, but it doesn't seem attached to any inanimate object."
That last bit caused a shiver to run through all those present in the room—with the exception of, perhaps, the Baron.
"So that explains the presence I am feeling in this house," the Baron spoke from his corner.
Silence followed, and Hermione Granger felt obliged to continue.
"Professor Snape also acquired some Necromantic abilities due to the accident, but the split is having a negative effect on him."
"That sounds like you are sticking to the letter of the truth without its spirit, Miss Granger," the Baron chimed in haughtily again. "Snape looks like butter gone rancid and spread too thin on stale bread."
"Thank you for such an assessment, Baron," Granger said acidly. "Who would have expected such colourful food metaphors from someone who hasn't eaten in a few hundred years."
The Baron was nonplussed.
"Where did the brilliant idea of using such an artefact come from anyway?" he asked. It looked like he wasn't the only one with that question as all eyes turned to Granger and not just one set of eyebrows rose up expectantly.
"We aren't here today to discuss Miss Granger's motives." Snape suddenly heard his own voice speak. A stolen glance in her direction revealed a face shining with gratitude. Just as suddenly, Severus realized that he wasn't blaming her any longer. It made him feel inspired. "Miss Granger has given me her explanation, and I found it satisfactory. The question of 'why' is settled between us."
"I, too, think we should focus on how to relieve you of your predicament," Minerva said. Always sticking up for a fellow Gryffindor. "You do indeed look like that butter. No offense, Severus."
"And I don't think we have much time," Nigel said.
Severus startled.
"Why is that?" Potter asked, voicing his own question.
"Why do you think the Horcruxes had to be anchored to objects, Harry?" Miss Granger asked, using her fallback, annoying mentor tone.
"Because otherwise they would be unstable?" Longbottom suggested, and Severus noticed that he almost stuck his hand up as if he were still in school.
"Necromancy is all about teetering on the edge between two worlds," Avery said. "Why do you think we only receive missives from those recently gone? It is an epitome of instability and chaos. It's all about what's in between. Whatever balance Severus has now, it is tenfold more fragile than a house of cards in the wind."
"I have received messages from Dumbledore," Snape noted absentmindedly and only then noticed his slip of a tongue with the plural. Miss Granger was already giving him a questioning look, but luckily, nobody else suspected anything.
"Dumbledore was always the exception to the rule. I wouldn't be surprised," George Weasley said wistfully.
"So, what have we got?" asked Harry Potter, whose patience for long preliminaries had always been miniscule.
"Snape's evil twin is slowly taking over him."
"Thank you, Longbottom," Snape said, dripping poison.
"My pleasure sir," Neville smiled broadly.
"We have found a curious theory, about death being a two-way business," Granger said. "When something goes, another something comes in, and if you want to bring back something that is gone, you have to give up something that came in its stead."
"It's not a theory; it's common knowledge," the Baron stated solemnly. "One life ends, another life starts."
"What you are speaking about now is just ghostlore, dear Baron, with all due respect," Avery said gently. "I've read your notes on it, Miss Granger, along with the source, and I must say it's quite revolutionary. Too bad you don't have the Necromantic ability. You'd turn the whole field upside down."
Snape could tell that sincere admiration was quite noticeably spiced with sarcasm in Nigel's words, but obviously it didn't bother Granger one bit. If her thoughts could have such power, a bright neon word IDEA would be flashing over her hair right now. Whatever it was that was rolling the gears in her head r, Severus did not like it at all.
"So, to bring it down to basics, we have to find what 'came in' when Hermione turned the Stone, to bring the two of your incarnations back together?" George Weasley asked, using his fingers as quotation marks. "Sounds simple enough."
"Easier said than done," Granger said with a sigh. "Another solid bit of information we have is that the process has to include a willing soul."
"We do not know exactly how solid this bit of information is," Snape said, irritated that she would so blindly trust Lucius.
"Where does it come from?" Potter asked. Since the conversation had ventured into Horcrux and Dark Magic dominions, he seemed much more involved.
Miss Granger briefly relayed Lucius's ramblings.
"I... uh... I think he might have a point," Potter said, rubbing his forehead. Severus wondered briefly if his scar still gave him trouble or if it was just a habit.
"Spill, Harry."
That mentoring tone again. Snape rolled his eyes and felt oddly sympathetic towards Potter and even Weasley. That woman must have been a nightmare at school.
"Well, you know how I had a piece of Riddle in me all those years and kept seeing into his head at times. I guess some of the things he wanted me to see, but others I saw in spite of his efforts to hide them. I didn't pass them all on to Dumbledore because some of them were plain old batshit and others were just too much information... I did retell all the relevant things, though."
Miss Granger seemed to be coiled like a tight spring in her place, ready to jump up and generate ideas.
"I do remember that he wanted to be whole because he felt the Horcruxes were not a safe option any longer. And he did believe he could."
So, there was, indeed, a way to make him whole. And still it was as feasible as making a pancake out of the full moon and eating it for breakfast.
"Could that thing that has 'come in' be Severus's Necromancy gift?" Minerva offered, deep in thought.
"Unlikely," Avery answered, but the way he rubbed his chin suggested that he wasn't as sure as he sounded.
"Gran says that Mum's gift was Death's guarantee," Neville said from his seat. "She says Mum had it because she'd fooled Death once, and Death does not suffer being fooled lightly. He marks those who do."
"Our lore has it," Avery said, drawing a clear line between himself and Longbottom with a delicate stress on 'our', "that our gift is how the time spent in yonder world marks us."
"So, basically, it's what comes in when you go?" George asked.
"Not exactly. We do come back whole."
"Not exactly," the Baron said, copying Avery's tone.
Every pair of eyes in the room looked at him in surprise.
"It's time. The precious minutes a living soul has spent in the realm of Death. Human lives are so brief that even a few seconds of their appointed time are an immeasurable wealth. Those minutes you gave to Death, you can never get them back. And when you go for a time, things can travel here, as well. They even say Death can walk this earth during the time afforded by living souls. And for that time, you are gifted. The more you spend, the bigger the gift."
"How do you know all this?" Granger asked, her eyes round. Severus mentally commended her on calling upon the Baron for help.
"Almost a thousand years of watching the brightest scholars grow, discover and teach can do that to you, young lady," the Baron said condescendingly.
To the right of Severus, Nigel Avery sat with astonishment stilling his face.
"There goes your 'passive science', Nigel," Severus said sweetly. "Even a ghost knows better."
Avery just stared at him.
"Well, does it ring true?" Granger asked, and Severus cringed slightly at her tactless unwillingness to give credibility to the Baron's words.
"It does," Avery said blandly. "I was out for half a minute. I can't do much. I heard..." He cast a careful glance at Longbottom. "I heard Alice... Longbottom, was there for almost half-an-hour. She could... She could tell if you about to die. She could even win time for those who were doomed. It was miraculous."
Severus noticed how Longbottom sat with his eyes shining.
"But Professor Snape didn't give his time," Granger said quietly.
"So, that means his gift is an advance payment?" Minerva asked.
"Death does not give advance payments."
"Baron, this had better not be yet another one of your adages for keeping first-years properly awed," Minerva retorted.
"I suppose there may be some kind of misbalance formed. Severus was given his abilities because, technically, part of him is... doing time, so to say," Granger said musingly and looked at him.
"Do you think if Snape died properly for a minute or two and then came back, he'd be whole again?" Potter asked no one in particular with a typically Gryffindorish lack of tact. The Baron huffed, Avery rolled his eyes and Minerva pursed her lips. Even Granger gave him the eye.
It took all of Snape's willpower to hold back a poisonous remark.
"That won't work," Nigel said with a sigh.
"Why not? It sounds like common logic," Longbottom, another fine Gryffindor specimen, asked.
"Common logic is often the death knell of originality, Mr. Longbottom," Snape noted, slightly hurt that these two could shuffle the notion of his death so easily.
"Mr. Avery is right, Neville. Harry, remember, when we were searching for the Horcruxes? If Voldemort himself was to die first, he'd be reduced to that something... something you saw at King's Cross, something that he was before our fifth year. But if the Professor were to die, only his alter ego would remain, and he'd be trapped where he is forever."
Snape laughed bitterly.
"What's so funny, Professor?" Granger asked, annoyed.
"Do you realize that according to you, I can't even die properly?"
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"What about that macabre potion old Voldy used to make himself look like a snake?" George Weasley asked with a sombre face.
"Bone of the father, blood of the enemy, flesh of a friend," Potter recited.
"It didn't make the Dark Lord whole, it only altered what was left of him, and we all know the results of that alteration," Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose. This idiotic counsel was getting to him fast. They'd found out everything they could. The only thing that was still holding him from getting up and stomping out, leaving them all to their inane theorizing was Granger's face. She'd thought of something and obviously wasn't planning on sharing her ideas.
He was listening with a half-ear for the rest of the conversation that was quickly turning into arguments, deep in thought. Nigel promised to look up Necromantic Potions; Minerva said she'd speak with Albus's portrait, provided that he wasn't sleeping again. Potter and Weasley arranged that they'd pensieve all that concerned Voldemort's thoughts about Horcruxes and shattering of souls and send it to him.
Severus had an overwhelming premonition that all that would be to no avail.
When the sun sank into an ominous mass of dark clouds, seething to the west, the counsel drew to a close. Avery and the Baron said their goodbyes and were first to leave. The Gryffindors, ever the last to wear on anyone's hospitality, lingered still.
"I wonder why he is place-attached," Potter said, looking into his teacup like it held all the answers in the world.
"Oh, Merlin," Granger breathed out. "Why in the world didn't I think of it before?"
Every conversation in the room paused.
"The Stone!" she squealed with elation. "Let's try it, Professor, sir! Perhaps it's not the place you're attached to, but the Stone! And if you carry it with you... My, oh my, I'm such a stupid, stupid cow!" She giggled and went on to hug Potter.
"It doesn't change much, Miss Granger," Snape said, following his patented pattern of putting a damper on everyone's bright spot. But deep inside, he rejoiced.
"Oh, don't be such a wet blanket, Severus," Minerva said, patting him on the shoulder affectionately. "If you could freely go places, it would be a great improvement on your situation. And I'm sure Miss Granger will find a way to fix it for good soon. She's the brightest student I ever had," Minerva added, pride shining in her eyes.
"I'm sure she is," Snape answered sourly.
"Well, we'd better get going," McGonagall said, made a meaningful face and yelled, "Boys!"
The 'boys' straightened up like three obedient little soldiers, and Severus felt a pang of jealousy that Minerva had always managed to keep that kind of power over her students, no matter how former they were. Slytherins always thought it a rule to start fraternizing with their Head of House once they left school.
"You treat her well, or else," she whispered in his ear loud enough for Granger to hear and go beetroot red.
Severus rolled his eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time that evening.
Granger was practically jumping with impatience by the time everyone had left. Even the rain-promising clouds, which hugged the entire horizon, didn't seem to halt her. She flew upstairs, and in a matter of seconds was back, clutching the Stone in her hand.
"Come on! Let's test it." She ran out of the door and Snape followed, gingerly grabbing his cloak.
"What if it doesn't work?" he called after her, suddenly feeling very inadequate for the task of coping with his life, should her theory be proved wrong.
"It will! I'm sure of it!" She laughed, and running up to him, took his hand. "Here. Let's try it, Professor. Please."
Looking into her eyes, he understood that he simply didn't have it in him to say 'no' right now.
The usual half-a-mile that ended so quickly when he strode from one end of his little domain to the other seemed endless, even though he and Granger all but ran to the sea. Finally, the scarce few trees that marked the edge of his prison appeared, and Severus's heard was beating a storm against his ribs. He stopped just a few steps before the supposed barrier, unable to go further, as if his feet were rooted to the ground.
Granger stood just beyond the invisible line and looked at him with begging eyes. Her urging presence was making Severus witlessly angry.
He squeezed the Stone in his hand, like it was a chunk of cheese and he wanted to wring the last drop of whey out of it, and stepped forward.
He kept his eyes bored into the ground and listened to the sound of the waves. His feet moved once and then again, and a few more steps, up and up the hill. The sound of crashing waves had never been so inviting before.
"Look now." Granger's voice sounded intimately close, and she tugged at his hand.
Taking a deep breath, Snape lifted his head.
And she was right.
He would have found the view underwhelming at any other time. Dull, weather-worn stones, seaweed cast ashore by the night's storm and rotting in clots, a few fat seagulls lolling in the waves, and an endless stretch of water, leaden-gray under the overcast sky.
But at this very moment, it was the most beautiful sight in the entire world.
For a moment he just stood there, revelling in the 'finally' of it all.
"You're kind of free now," Granger said beside him.
Even that 'kind of' couldn't spoil the moment.
"I kind of am," Snape whispered and turned his head to her. "Are you crying?"
"Oh, no, I'm... It's just the wind. It's stinging my eyes," she said, hastily brushing tears away with her sleeve.
"You don't have to stay with me now and listen to me nag about everything." Her voice sounded stiff, and her giggle was forced.
"If I wasn't sure you sleep and dream of kicking me out of your house for good, I'd think there was a note of regret in that," he said mildly.
"To be honest, there is."
There was one thing Snape had always liked about Gryffindors. At certain pivotal moments, they showed simple honesty which was absolutely disarming.
She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and for a while they just stood there, watching the waves. Severus spared a humorous thought for the fact that the moment was hopelessly romantic, and he was actually enjoying it and wondered if it would be a good time to kiss her. Before he could ponder where this particular thought had come from, they were suddenly interrupted by a loud peal of thunder. Miss Granger startled and laughed, and a few seconds later, rain poured down, drenching them to the bone in a minute.
"Merlin, Granger, we'll catch our deaths here," Snape grumbled and offered her a flap of his cloak. It was quite useless, but she dived under it with a smile and, as they started towards home, snaked her arm around his waist.
By the time they reached Granger's house, awkwardness had settled, and Severus thanked the gods for the rain's timely interruption.
"I'll make us something hot to drink," Hermione said, after they'd spell-dried themselves.
Severus sat in the chair he'd always occupied during their research sessions and waited. His mood was getting sourer by the second. Perhaps it would have been better to have left immediately after he'd seen her home. And now it was too late, and she'd consider it rude. Snape was furious for not having thought of it earlier and even more furious for giving two shits about whether she'd find him rude or not. Now that he didn't have an eligible reason to stay at Granger's house, his every single insecurity lurched at him, swarming his mind with 'what ifs'. What if she retreated to the kitchen because she expected him to leave and was trying to avoid a good-bye? What if she found him vile and disgusting and barely tolerated his presence? What if she'd think her part was done and left him to deal with his otherworldly twin by himself?
What if he'd kissed her then?
Granger returned with two mugs of steaming tea, and the expression on his face must have been so repugnant that she flinched. Silently, she handed him his cup and sat in the opposite chair. Rain pelleted on the slate roof, on window sills, and it seemed to Severus that the shuffling noise of multiple water drops was imprisoned in his very own head.
They drank their tea in a silence that was almost palpable and that hung between them as if someone had cast a magical fog spell in the room.
Finally, after what seemed like eons, Snape set his cup aside and rose, clearing his throat.
"I feel I shouldn't impose on your hospitality any longer, Miss Granger." He wanted to tell her not to dare stop her search, to make her feel guilty and keep her running on that guilt, keep her owling him and knocking on his door with every single silly find she'd get, but the words got stuck somewhere at the back of his throat. The Stone was placed in his pocket and protected with a Lose-me-not Charm, and Snape stuck a hand in, searching for reassurance and finding none.
Granger was looking at him with so much anticipation in her eyes that he wondered if she was expecting him to start popping slugs out of his mouth anytime. It was unnerving. She was clearly waiting for something, and he was clueless as to what.
Lost for words, hating long goodbyes, Severus nodded curtly and turned to leave. At that very moment, he was grabbed by the shirt on his chest and, after a split second, she was kissing him. His eyes flew open and then slowly drew closed.
She ended the kiss before he even had time to decide on a proper reaction. Granger was blushing painfully.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she mumbled. Snape just stood there, staring at her, watching her grow numb with embarrassment and did nothing. Hating himself and doing nothing.
Then, taking her hand and pressing her fingers like a twelve-year-old Hufflepuff who'd been suddenly kissed by a voluptuous seventh-year Quidditch star, turned around and left.
His own home met him with frowsy air, stale bread, a fresh Doxy nest in the attic and a spoilt potion on the countertop. The cold hearth gaped at him hostilely, and old owl-mail orders had been dropped at his window by a few impatient birds.
Never in the entire ten years of his after-the-war existence had Snape loathed returning home so much.
He went directly to the cellar, picked a bottle of cheap Ogden's Firewhisky and lit a small fire in the fireplace. Giving it a second thought, he extinguished the fire and drank one snifter after another, fondling the Resurrection Stone.