Hermione was at King's Cross station, and everything was white, including the wispy sleeveless gown she wore.

The silence was nearly deafening. She walked to one of the closer benches and sat down to collect her thoughts. Where was she? Why was she in white? Was she dead?

"You are for the moment."

Hermione turned in the direction of the voice and nearly flew from the bench in order to hug its owner.

"Harry!"

Harry Potter, dressed in white robes, opened his arms and tightly embraced his close friend. He stroked her soft curls as she wept on his shoulder. "Shh, Hermione, shh…I know, I know."

After calming her sobs down to occasional tears, Harry guided them to another bench and sat down.

"It's been so long since I've seen you," Hermione sniffled, taking his proffered handkerchief and wiping her eyes. "These past months have been awful," she mumbled.

"Tell me about them," Harry said, rubbing her shoulder.

"First off, I have a few questions."

Harry laughed. "Since when do you not have questions?"

Hermione grew serious. "Where are we? Why are we dressed all in white?" She visibly cringed. "Am I dead?"

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We are in a place that leads to many destinations, and I don't know why everything is white." He looked up at Hermione. "And yes, you are dead, though not for long."

"Why not?" The question came out as a whine, and she made a distasteful face. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just don't want to be there anymore," Hermione sighed. "I don't want to go back to Severus's vitriolic hatred. It only serves to remind me how futile the whole thing was."

Harry sat up. "Herms, there's something you don't understand."

"What's there not to understand? He doesn't love me and never could, end of story. And don't call me 'Herms;' it sounds like a type of smelly cheese."

Harry smothered a laugh. "What I meant, Her-my-oh-nee, is that the spell you cast is still active." He leaned towards his bench partner and grabbed her hands. "The magic has yet to run its course. You're not done."

"But, how is that possible? The very last line says it all: 'If only you had loved me.' Snape doesn't love anyone but your mum."

Harry grimaced. "I've spoken with her about it. I don't know why the idea of him in love with my mum bothers me more than the idea of him in love with you, but it does."

"Well," she scoffed, her voice tinged with bitterness, "You don't have to worry about it on my account."

"Hermione…"

"No, Harry. He only loves your mum, and that's the way it is. Now," she said, standing up and having her first good look around, "which way to my particular brand of afterlife?"

"You still don't understand." Harry stood facing Hermione and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Dumbledore set this in motion so that Snape's mind would have a safe place to heal when everything was said and done." He shook her slightly. "Dumbledore chose you, Hermione, because you are the only one who could give him that safe place."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, I'm sorry. I still don't understand."

"You were the only one who could make the spell work because Snape already loved you!"

She backed away. "No, it's not true. It can't be true. Look at how he's treated me, Harry. I'm meaningless to him."

Harry tilted his head at a sound Hermione couldn't hear. "Your time here is done, and now I'm sending you back." He silenced her protests with and upheld hand. "Just ask yourself this, Hermione. Why would he be so mean to someone so meaningless?"

She didn't have a chance to answer before darkness claimed her.

Minerva had retired for the night, but Severus was pacing her office once more, the words of Hermione's spell floating in the air. He mumbled to himself and scribbled notes in the air, dissecting and cross-sectioning the poem to figure out its true meaning.

"You could simply ask me, my boy, and I would tell you what it meant."

Severus never looked away from his notes. "No good, old man. I cannot believe a word you say, so it would be a waste of time talking with you." He scribbled in the air with his wand and moved one section of notes. "I've no doubt whatsoever that you will be as duplicitous in death as you were in life."

The portrait huffed in annoyance. "What can I do to convince you of my…integrity?"

The hair stood up on the back of Severus's neck, and a chill went down his spine. The phrase was familiar somehow, and the dark wizard turned and met the portrait's eyes. "There is nothing you can do to convince me of your integrity because you never had any."

Albus narrowed his eyes and smirked. "Alright, we'll play it your way. Here's a piece of truth, Severus, which will verify that I'm telling you the truth. I know about your inclinations toward Miss Granger."

The air scribbles resumed their movement as Severus snorted and turned away from the portrait. "You're barking mad, Albus. The only inclination I have ever felt toward the simpering know-it-all is a supreme sense of annoyance."

The portrait examined his fingernails. "Even when you fist yourself and paint the shower wall?"

Severus hunched his shoulders and sighed. "You should have been in Slytherin, you bastard. What do you want from me, Albus? Haven't I sold you enough of my soul?"

"I am trying to rectify the terrible wrongs I've done you, Severus. Please, I beg of you, sit and listen."

The notes in the air stopped once more as Severus turned to the portrait. "You're being serious," he said incredulously, his head tilted to the side.

Albus sighed, grateful that he had gotten Severus to listen. "I have found out what went wrong the night Miss Granger cast the spell."

Furrowing his brow, the dark wizard pulled up a chair. "I'm listening."

The portrait leaned forward. "I gave Miss Granger the spell because I knew she loved you. No sputtering, my boy, we haven't the time. Suffice it to say that she loved you enough to open her mind and heart to you, allowing the parts of your mind that were so damaged by the war to heal enough to be re-integrated back into your psyche.

"You must understand, Severus," Albus said, holding his arms out pleadingly, "we were at our wits' end. No one knew how to keep you from self-destructing. You were a volatile combination of rage and melancholy, and no one knew how to keep you from imploding."

"I trust this will eventually get to a point, Albus?"

"Your interruptions will only make this take longer."

Severus rolled his eyes and sighed. He gestured for the former Headmaster to continue.

"When Miss Granger followed the only instructions accompanying the spell, 'Read me, please,' she wove her assumptions about your situation into the spell itself."

Severus frowned. "I still don't understand what you…oh, buggering fuck, Lily."

"Oh yes. Miss Granger's incorrect assumption regarding your…interest…in her led the magic to fully enhance your selective memories into an entirely new person; it was the only way to fulfill the requirements of the spell as Miss Granger had cast it. She has been magically depleted these last few months because all of her energy went to creating a new psyche. In essence, her mind was pregnant with the growing mind of another."

"But, how did an entirely new body manifest?"

Albus blinked. "Magic, I would guess."

Severus entertained thoughts of turpentine again.