He was again in that horrible place full of grey murky fog, fear and inconsolable grief. It wasn't Granger's home any longer, in fact, it wasn't any landscape he could remotely recognize. He was him, and at the same time, it was as if he were looking at someone else from above. They both were lost, irrevocably smitten away from their very existence, and for miles around there was nothing except those grey, clotting fumes, that deafening silence. He screamed, but nothing came out of his throat; the very air he exhaled was sucked out of him by a force so terrible, he didn't even want to know what it was. He tried to call for help, but realized that he'd forgotten all the words. His mind was still working, but apparently, it wasn't operating on verbal categories any longer. Perhaps he'd been reduced to an animal, or worse, a shadow of gods knew what: a being, destined to lurk on the borders of the world, knowing nothing, learning nothing, a hollow piece of unlife, punished for long-forgotten crimes by long-gone gods with no one able to release it.
There was only one notion in the entire world, and it was 'dead'. Dead, he was dead, and it was a revelation; the only thing that defined him, defined them both.
Then it seemed to him that the encompassing greyness started to creep into him, take over his thoughts, turning off the remaining words and impulses one by one, entering his bloodstream, making his silent heart beat slower yet. The feeling was indescribable. It just felt like nothing. Perhaps, he was dissipating. Then, just when he was about to succumb to it for good, he was dragged out of that horrible place, and then there was blackness. Severus welcomed it because, compared to nothing, black was a very desired colour.
The first thing Severus saw when he came to was a face. A very ordinary, heart-shaped face with a pointed chin and tawny eyes. He was so glad to see it that it was, decidedly, the best-looking face he'd ever seen and was, most definitely, spun by the dawn. It was streaked with tears and smiling stupidly, showing two rows of smallish teeth. A name, associated with the face swam into his head, along with all the knowledge and words lost to the dominion of ever gray silence.
Granger.
Severus tried to lift a hand to wipe a tear from her face, but couldn't. His body shook with the effort.
"No, no, don't, Professor. He almost sucked you dry. And it's all my fault." More tears ran down her face, and the smile melted away from it.
Snape raised his eyebrows in what he hoped to be understood as a question.
"I... uh... You've forgotten a few things. No, nothing important, but I thought I could use them as an excuse to... come and see you again. Your door was locked in the Muggle way, and no one answered me, so I dismantled your Magical locks and came in, and he was there. He seemed so happy when he saw me. And he looked more substantial. Suddenly, I hated him so much because he'd taken it all from you, and you've been getting tired so easily of late, and you hadn't had two straight hours of sleep in a month, probably, and..." She paused and sniffled loudly.
As Snape's senses started to return to him, he felt a warm presence in his hand, and it was her fingers clutching it. He squeezed them gently.
"So, when I saw him, when he started smiling at me, and oh, Professor, forgive me for saying this, but you wouldn't believe how insipid that smile looks on your face."
Severus managed another smile, his own this time, hearing that.
"Yes, that's more like it." Granger giggled between sniffles. "So, I told him that he was dead. Dead. Not human, just a shard of someone else's soul. At first he didn't understand me, so I conjured some parchment and wrote you are dead on it. And he panicked. He was frantic. And I think... I think he ran away. I don't know where, but I have this feeling..." More tears poured out.
Severus firmly stamped down the side of him that was regularly annoyed by the sight of crying women and encouraged another, newer side, which found the fact that she'd use idiotic excuses just to see him adorable. As soon as that last part got strong enough, he put major effort into lifting a hand to her face. She pressed it to her cheek and smiled sadly.
"I'm scared," she mouthed.
"Of what?" he asked just as voicelessly.
"Of what can happen to you now." Her voice was a croak, and Severus felt something in his heart split and ache.
"Whatever you were thinking of, during that counsel, don't you even dare." Such a long tirade took all of his accumulated strength, and he closed his eyes for a second to rest. The next moment, something was touching his eyelids. Her lips. With an inhuman effort he drew her close. He wanted to tell her to sit tight and not even think of risking herself, but it wasn't only his kittenish weakness that prevented him.
The truth was that more than anything in the world right now, Severus Snape wanted Hermione Granger to go to unimaginable lengths to make him whole again, so that he could—
Severus inhaled deeply, nose burrowed in her hair. Such a simple, mundane smell. Something fruity, another something, nutty. So unsophisticated, so dear. His brain spun flicks and images of what they would be if only he were back in one piece again. He firmly shut it down. He'd had twenty years living on what-if's and learned his lesson well.
"There's some Strengthening Solution on the shelf in the loo," he whispered barely above an exhale. She kissed his cheek lightly, and then he wasn't holding her any longer. It didn't feel right.
"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked, worry creasing her features after he'd drunk the potion, a coffee strong enough to keep a dragon awake for a week and a Muggle pain killer, on which she'd insisted.
"Yes," he lied smoothly and willed his face into reflecting nothing of what he'd experienced. The anxiety of the days when he'd lived away from his 'twin' returned tenfold, and he was smothered by a constant, diffuse ache. It was getting harder to focus. The only thought that allowed him to hold on was that a state like this could not last long. Or could it? Severus shivered.
"You're cold," Granger said, and ran for a blanket.
"Would you mind going back to my place?" she asked when she returned with a plaid rug. "I think maybe, your alter ego could somehow get there. At least, it's the place where he spent quite some time."
"I don't mind."
The welcoming warmth and simplicity of her house seemed like a fantastic idea now.
"Are you up for a side-along?" Hermione inquired dubiously, giving him a sceptical once-over.
"I don't think I'm up to walking to the closest Apparition point, and I'm certainly not up to letting you dismantle the remains of my protection wards."
She smiled at him.
"I'll call Winky, then."
"That elf's still alive?" Snape remembered that there was something about Miss Granger and house-elves, something the Hogwarts staff joked about often.
"Winky! Winky!" Granger called out into the west corner of his small living room.
An old, wrinkled elf in a disgustingly bright tube-shaped muff, which covered her body from chest to knees, popped into the room.
"Winky is here, young Miss," it creaked and, seeing Snape, gave a loud quack, and hid behind Hermione, tugging at its ears and whining in ultimate terror.
"What is it, Winky?" Granger crouched beside the elf and tried to rescue its ears from being spanielised hopelessly.
"Professor Snape, sir, is halved, Miss," Winky squealed.
"What do you mean, halved?" Hermione asked carefully, and looked meaningfully at Snape. He found enough strength in him to roll his eyes.
"Half of he be in another place. It be eating his first half. It be soon whole in that place again."
"Gods, we've forgotten all about elf Magic, Professor," Granger whispered brokenly and pressed her hand to her eyes. "Winky, do you know where this place is?" she added with frantic hope.
"No, Miss, Winky is not knowing. Elves has their own place to go when time comes," Winky answered, now a little less shakily.
"Can I bring Professor Snape's half back?"
"No, Miss. But Miss can brings the whole back," Winky said, and nodded her head knowingly.
"What do you mean?" There was that glint again in Granger's eyes that Severus both liked and mistrusted.
"If soul is willing, Miss, soul can bring back. But soul cannot mend what is broken."
For a moment, everyone was silent. Even Winky, whose fear had seemed to have evaporated, stood timid and unmoving. It was so quiet that Severus could swear he was hearing the gears turn in Hermione's head. He wanted to unhinge? at her, to lash out and scream, to forbid her, but a desperate little thing within him held on to her firm faith that everything would be all right. He hated himself and said nothing.
Hermione explained to Winky that she wanted to transfer him to her own home, and half-an-hour later found Snape sitting in a chair on a small veranda facing Granger's failure of a garden.