CHAPTER SIX

Gentle material skimmed across her eyes again and again until her tears had dried and her cheeks polished smooth. Severus had her cradled in his lap, an arm scooped behind her back, and fingers tangled in her hair. There was a moment when she had resisted his holding her, but his grip remained firm, and her struggles died as her sobs drowned into his chest. He treated her as if she were made of porcelain.

Hermione sighed into the hollow of his throat, weary. He stirred under the tickle of breath and murmured insubstantial nothings by her ear. Hermione looked up at him, her eyelids heavy. He looked back down at her through hooded eyelids; their faces were scant inches apart.

His fingers, ever curious and searching, traced her cheek, never tired of the warmth it found on her skin. She settled her hands around his face, warm hands against cool skin. Compelled by some unfathomable pull she brought his face towards hers until their lips pressed together. His hands tensed and then gently gripped her face. He settled his mouth possessively over hers and she closed her eyes. He was drinking her colour, her light, her warmth, and she felt it all in the kiss. As her mouth was hot, his was shockingly cold.

Severus could have kissed her forever, but Hermione broke apart, needing air. He looked disappointed and immediately ran a finger over her bottom lip, still wanting to taste heat. His eyes were impatient; he wanted to kiss her now, now and without interruption.

Hermione shrugged away from him and held her head in her hands. She had to reconcile the memories of her former Potions master with the man sitting beside her. She would also have to find the courage to tell him he had died by her neglectful hand. Yet, it was made more difficult by the fact that now he always came to her and wanted to touch her of his own volition.

It was also difficult coming to the realization that in her thoughts he was no longer Snape, but Severus.

"Have I upset you?"

She shook her head mutely, but he didn't look convinced.

"I apologize if I do. I'm afraid there's something that always draws me to you."

His fingers reached up into her hair and he murmured, "It's difficult to suppress."

She turned to him, and he leaned in to kiss her face, but she stopped him, afraid of the sensation that he was drinking warmth from her. He kissed the fingertips halting his lips instead, not wanting to frighten her off by being any more forward.

"I find I want to touch you, to be near you, to see you, to make sure you're in arms' reach."

"Why?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, she dared not dream this was happening …

"I'm not so sure … You brought me my wand, I think that's part of it."

Hermione blinked, all romantic notions flying from her head.

"Your wand?"

He brought it out from his robes and held it up on open palm. It still glowed with an internal light, casting shadows on her face. He looked more at peace in its presence than ever without, and Hermione felt her stomach churn. She got up on her feet and walked away from him. He began to rise and she stopped him with a glare.

"Don't follow me."

He looked puzzled, mildly hurt, but sat back down.
His eyes went back to his wand, and a soft peace suffused his features once more, as if nothing had happened. This upset Hermione more and she half-walked, half-ran from him.

She only had to think of seeing Moody, and his tree and stump were visible on the horizon. She looked back over her shoulder and saw no sign of Severus. Shakily smoothing back her hair, she walked purposefully up to the stump. Moody turned around to face her, showing no surprise at seeing her.

"I told you, didn't I?"

Hermione sat down on the second stump.

"Told me what?"

"Bringing the wand down here was trouble."

Hermione shrugged helplessly; there was nothing she could say in defense. Moody just nodded to himself.

"Of course he's drawn to it; it's the last source of his magic. And you brought it down here, gel, makes it significant. He'll keep coming, like a moth to a flame. Trouble. That's all that wand brings."

Hermione felt her cheeks go hot.

"So he'll keep coming to me because I brought him his magic? Because something compels him to?"

"Why? Were you expecting some other reason?"

She looked back at Moody with cold, hard eyes.

"No. Not at all."

Moody nodded, giving her a knowing look. She grit her teeth and tried to suppress the urge to smack the humouring smile on his face.

"Everyone down here likes to live untroubled by passion, be it love or hate or even sex. I suppose the idea would be foreign to someone still alive."

"Remus and Tonks? What did I do to them?"

He gave her such a reproachful look that she winced and averted her eyes.

"Don't bother them anymore, gel, that's still sorting itself out."

Hermione stared hard at a spot on the ground until she thought it was safe to ask Moody a question again.

"Does everyone truly forget what happened to them in their life?"

Moody relaxed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Hermione was still nervous, Moody was very displeased about the whole Remus and Tonks debacle, but it looked like he wasn't going to bring the subject up again.

"No one truly forgets, but no one has the strength to keep remembering. That's the tragedy, or beauty, of being dead. Depends on how you see the matter."

Hermione wandered through the Elysian Fields, walking for the sake of walking. She had passed by Fred Weasley who was throwing an old, beat up Quaffle to Cedric Diggory. She hurried past them so they wouldn't notice her. One of the most disconcerting things for her was when someone who had been older than she was living, was now several years her junior down here.

She couldn't say if the fields were beautiful. They were not ugly and they were not barren like the Field of Asphodel had been. They escaped articulation. Even as she wandered around, following the twisting river, there was every sensation that she was walking in circles, though there were always new things to see.

"Hermione! Over here."

Sirius was sitting on the riverbank, his legs submerged in the water. Hermione was a little wary of him because of what Moody had told her, but the smile on his face was open and friendly. She figured they were both in the same boat for stirring up trouble.

She sat down beside him on the bank as he hummed an old wizarding song. She dipped her hand in the gray water. It felt cool and like light syrup. It moved through her fingers like a thousand down feathers, and she found it within herself to smile.

Sirius scooped two hands in the water and drank.

Hermione felt a twinge in her throat as she thought of how cool and crisp the water must taste. Sirius looked over at her; she was gazing so intently at his hands, so gestured to the river.

"Have a drink."

Hermione's lips twisted into a little frown.

"I can't."

He scooped more water into his hands and held them out to her.

"Go on, have a bit."

She drew a hand up to her mouth and pressed her lips together tight.

Shaking her head, she repeated, "I can't, Sirius."

He looked for a second as if he was going to push the matter, but then splashed the collected water on his face. He ran wet fingers through his jet hair and rubbed the whiskers on his chin. He looked thoughtfully at Hermione and then searched around for something in his robes pocket. Whatever it was, he held it in a closed hand.

"Don't you miss the living world, Hermione?"

"You know, I haven't really thought of it."

Sirius looked down at his closed hand. "I miss eating. No one down here does it. Sometimes I think about it too long and I feel like I'm going bloody mad."

He opened his hand, and cradled in his coarse palm was a blood red cherry. Its juices had stained his skin.

Hermione was shocked; she had never seen food or fruit down in the Underworld.

"Where did you get that?"

"I found it. I found several of them by the garden. They must have fallen from one of the trees."

"What garden?"

Sirius pointed in a northerly direction. "There's a garden with high walls over there. I'll show you if you like. Don't you want to eat the cherry? No one eats down here. I haven't seen anyone eat in so long."

Hermione closed his hand and gently pushed it back towards him.

"Why don't you eat it yourself, Sirius? I thought you missed it."

"I do, see, there's just this one thing."

Sirius took the cherry and sunk his teeth into it. The taut skin burst under the pressure, dark droplets leaking sweetly forth and rolling down his fingers. The flesh gently separated and his lips sucked against the hard stone. He sucked the droplets from his fingers, his mouth stained red. Hermione's lips twitched.

Sirius turned to her, chewing contemplatively.

"The thing is … I can't taste it."

He held up the other half of the cherry, juice leaking, skin tattered. It looked like a bleeding heart. Hermione felt her mouth water from want to taste, rather than from hunger. She resolutely shook her head.

"I can't eat down here, Sirius."

He shrugged and popped the remainder in his mouth. Paring flesh from pit, he made short work of the fruit and spat the stone into the gray river.

"Come on, I'll show you that garden."

He got to his feet and offered her a hand. His fingers were stained a reddish purple from the cherry juice.

The garden in question was enclosed by four high, stone walls. They walked around the entire perimeter and stopped by two solid doors marking the only entrance in. Hermione pushed on them experimentally, but they didn't budge an inch. Sirius pointed to a tall tree whose bough had strayed over the boundaries. There were red juice stains on the ground below.

"That's the cherry tree."

"Do you know what else is in the garden?"

Sirius shook his head. Hermione frowned a little, running her hands over the door. There was no padlock, but they remained firmly shut.

"Why is it kept shut? Is anyone allowed in?"

Sirius shrugged. "I've never seen anyone go in before. No one here really pays it any mind."

"That's a pity. I would have liked to seen it."

"So would I; maybe it has apples."

Hermione looked at Sirius, with his cherry-stained mouth, wistfully gazing up at the treetops—stuck in one world while yearning for another. It reminded her why she had come down here, and what she had yet to accomplish. She was more determined than ever to make sure Severus wasn't denied things like warmth, magic, colour, and taste any longer.