Under thy roof no guest shall sit,

Chapter 29

Harry was staring blearily at the streamers overhead. As expected, they were green and silver, their sparkles glistening in the fairy lights that were hung all across the common room.

It was nauseating.

Not because of the Slytherin colours, no. But because of the festivities going on, even after everything that had happened. The rational part of Harry understood, of course, that for most people the earth hadn't stopped spinning. That for them, Christmas was still something to be celebrated. Something they looked forward to.

But when Harry looked at the garishly decorated Christmas tree taking up most of the space in the middle of the room, he just wanted to throw something. Preferably one of the many baubles hanging from the branches of the tree. Who thought it was a good idea to decorate a green tree with green ornaments anyway?

But he didn't. Because none of what happened was the fault of the stray Slytherins that still wanted to enjoy their time here. And Snape – though he had been understanding – would likely not appreciate Harry tearing the presents underneath the tree to shreds.

Though they were another undeniable point of contention to Harry. While he was stuck in Slytherin, it was all the more obvious what presents were meant for him. The red and gold wrapping paper clashed horribly with the Slytherin colours. And the pile was large.

The knowledge of these presents' existence was a torturous experience. Who had given him these? One of these presents was likely from Ron. And did Ron already know about Hermione? Harry didn't think so or he might not have gotten anything at all. The lumpy one was obviously from Mrs Weasley. The empathic Weasley matriarch would likely also be devastated by the news, if not for herself, then most certainly for her son.

Harry hadn't bothered reading the names. He didn't care who sent him things right now. But mostly – if he was entirely honest with himself – he was afraid. Afraid of the small present that was ever so neatly wrapped as if the one who sent it had measured the paper with a ruler and had cut it with a very precise cutting hex. The ribbon was made to perfection and the fairy dust sparkling around it was done with the most wonderful of charms. Only one person wrapped her presents that meticulously and Harry couldn't handle it. He couldn't unwrap her present. Not when she couldn't unwrap the one he gave her, uninspired as it was.

He had merely gotten her 'Hogwarts, A history' with inside a personal message and the autograph of Bathilda Bagshot. She had also handwritten several notes throughout the book to accompany her writing at Harry's request. An idea he had gotten after Daphne had convinced him about the pull he had in the wizarding world.

Simple as it was, he knew that Hermione would have loved it. Though his wrapping job had been shoddy at best.

Harry slowly looked up when the door opened to reveal Severus Snape. The man kept checking in on Harry, casting worried glances as if he were one of the Christmas baubles ready to break at the slightest bit of pressure. Harry didn't mind. It was comforting, in a way. Even if Snape was still a dungeon bat. Okay, perhaps that wasn't all that fair.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said more out of duty than politeness.

"Mr Potter," Snape replied in kind. "I was wondering if you would join me in the great hall."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"One must eat, especially today."

Since Harry's 'healing sessions' were no longer a daily thing, no one thought it important anymore to hide his presence. It's not as if he was hanging around the infirmary anymore. And though Harry would never spin the tale himself, the students that were still here just assumed that he'd come back for Hermione. Still, he didn't feel like celebrating.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry looked up when Snape was suddenly standing in front of him, only to then kneel. Being at eye level with the man was a bit unnerving, even when he lacked his customary scowl. "Harry," he said. He had been using Harry's name more frequently lately and Harry wasn't sure if he did so because of what he had said about using Hermione's name or because he was trying to offer comfort. Though it felt a bit… off, Harry didn't mind.

"I understand that you're going through something horrific right now but it is important that you try and do more than ponder what has happened."

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I would like to ponder just a little bit longer."

"It would be easier after you had something to eat," Snape told him.

Harry scoffed. "Why would I want it to be easier?"

"Because there is no need to punish yourself," Snape said kindly. "It would be best to talk to others about this."

"Did you?" Harry asked a bit more harshly than he had intended.

Snape looked as if Harry had struck him. "Excuse me?" he asked, righting himself from the awkward position.

His anger didn't scare Harry, though. It didn't matter. But he also didn't want to hurt Snape's feelings if that was at all possible. He never wanted to part with anyone on bad terms again. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, trying to keep all signs of insolence out of his voice. "I was just guessing. I just… noticed something right after… it happened."

Snape scrutinised him for a long moment, likely to discover if Harry was telling the truth at all but then he seemed to decide that he was. He sighed and ran his long fingers through his hair.

"I didn't," he then said. And when Harry looked at him questioningly, "Talk to someone, I mean."

Harry nodded. "It's hard, isn't it?"

Because in truth, the only person Harry wanted to talk to about Hermione's death was Hermione.

"I confess that it's… difficult," Snape agreed. "But I hear that it's also healing."

"You hear that?" Harry asked. "Did you ever talk to anyone about… whatever it is that happened?"

Again, Snape was silent for a long moment and Harry couldn't help but wonder if the man was about to lie to him. But then he shook his head wearily. "Never," he confessed. "And you'll likely agree that I haven't become a very agreeable person for it."

Harry shrugged. "You're really not so bad," he said softly. "Once you get used to your specific sort of body language and sense of humour."

Snape sat down next to Harry and looked at the Christmas tree, relaxing himself into the welcoming sofa.

"Hideous," he said and waved his wand to change the colour of the green baubles, giving them a somewhat turquoise hue.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's better."

"I see that you've received some presents from people who forget that you're no longer a Gryffindor." Snape pointed out.

"I will always be a Gryffindor," Harry replied, trying to avoid looking at the pile again. "But if you want to just banish them to be rid of the colours, be my guest."

"You must not think of me as very festive if you think me capable of doing something like that," Snape said sardonically.

Harry looked at him to find the smallest of upwards quirk on the Potions Master's lips and – forgetting himself for a moment – smiled in kind, though it felt bitter to do so. "Ebenezer Scrooge is more like it," he said.

Snape chuckled. It was a deep, throaty sound that didn't have an actual place in Harry's current mindset but he also found the smallest sliver of joy within him when he heard it.

"You're allowed to have presents, Harry," Snape then told him. "They are well wishes from your friends, I'm sure. It would not be right to deny them the joy of presenting you with a well-thought out surprise."

Harry snorted. "As if you would ever accept a gift if it wound up underneath your tree. Which you don't have, I assume."

"Something you're unlikely to ever discover the truth about," Snape said casually. "For all you know, I am in possession of the most garishly coloured Christmas tree in the entirety of the castle. Perhaps done in red and gold."

"Yeah," Harry said, staring into the fire again. He knew what his professor was doing and he did appreciate him for it but it wasn't quite working. Well… perhaps just a little bit.

"So, did you get any presents?" Harry asked, trying to remain casual just to stop himself from thinking about inevitable truths.

Snape made a strange sound in the back of his throat. "Some," he confessed and this time, Harry didn't think the man was lying. "I'm afraid that I haven't been able to steer all of my colleagues away from the vexing enigma that is social convention."

Harry just stared.

Snape inhaled deeply. "Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall found it necessary to leave me something. Again. Even if I never do reciprocate."

"Well, maybe you should," Harry said. "You might regret it later, if you don't."

"Unlikely," Snape said evenly.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, listening to the pleasant crackle of wood in fire. The smell of gingerbread cookies and holly would waft in Harry's direction from time to time and the pleasant warmth radiating from the hearth was making him drowsy. He didn't know how long he sat there, not really thinking of anything when Snape got to his feet, straightening his robes as a motion of familiarity.

"Come with me, Harry," Snape said. "You need to eat."

"I can eat here," Harry repeated.

"You need to participate," Snape told him, displaying a remarkable amount of patience.

"Do I?" Harry replied. "Maybe I don't want any part in these vexing social conventions either, sir."

"You certainly become more Slytherin by the day," Snape noticed. "As it stands, asinine as they are, social conventions do have their place and their merit."

Harry groaned. "I'm sure everyone will understand if I don't show up," he said. "One of my best friends just died, you know?"

Harry wasn't sure how he spoke those words so calmly. They didn't feel real even after he had spoken them though the rational part of his brain knew that they were.

"They will," Snape agreed. "I am not saying you should go for their benefit. It's rather for yours."

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" Harry sighed.

"Well, we could always spend Christmas eve together in the common room," Snape said. "As I didn't get you a present, though, I do believe I might make it up to you by making you write an essay about the myth of Santa Clause and how it has come to pass." He crossed his arms and smirked at Harry. "You know, to uphold Christmas cheer."

Harry jumped to his feet and glared at Snape, though there wasn't much effort behind it. "Fine," he said. "But only for a little while. And after I'm done eating, I'm coming straight back here."

"Very well," Snape conceded. "As long as you eat a proper portion and not one that isn't suited for even an owl."

Harry rolled his eyes at the man. He grabbed his outer cloak and donned it. It was strange how familiar that green Slytherin snake had become by then.

"I'll eat a human-sized portion," he conceded.

"Fit for your age," Snape added.

"I wasn't trying to trick you," Harry pointed out. "I know what you meant."

Snape shook his head a bit. "Still a Gryffindor, indeed."

"Thank you," Harry said graciously.

They walked the dungeons in amicable silence when they came across the bloody baron. He nodded his head in their direction then disappeared into the nearest wall.

"Professor," Harry said after a moment of contemplation.

"Hm?"

"Do you think that there's a chance for Hermione to… you know… become a ghost?"

Snape sighed. "For her sake, Mr Potter, I certainly hope not," he said.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "I think I would like to be one if I… you know… died tomorrow."

Snape appraised Harry for a moment before he spoke. "I would very much advise against it," he said, his voice taking on his typical professor-like tone. "Most if not all ghosts that have been questioned about their circumstances reveal that they made a conscious choice to remain. A choice that they always regret in the end. It is – after all – not possible to move on after you chose to remain in this plane."

"But you get to sort of… live," Harry pointed out. "You can still be around the people you care about."

"For a small moment in time," Snape conceded. "But they don't remain for long. Especially at Hogwarts. Meanwhile, you condemn yourself to an eternity of losing or dulling your senses, forgetting any kind of earthly pleasures and having nothing but the company of other lost souls to keep you entertained." Snape visibly shuddered.

"No," he said. "I would not recommend that choice to anyone. As it stands, Hermione was quite the knowledgeable witch. I am most certain that – after encountering our Hogwarts ghosts – she read up about them and has come to the same conclusion I have a long time ago."

Harry nodded. "You're probably right," he said. "I guess that was kind of a selfish wish, wasn't it?"

"An understandable one," Snape told him easily. "Especially when not understanding what it entails to become a spectre. But you understand now that it's better for her to move on, I think?"

Harry nodded mutely. "Do you think they have libraries in the afterlife?"

Snape inhaled deeply. "I certainly hope so," he said. "Imagine all the knowledge of the universe, gathered in one infinitely large library and all of eternity to browse and read at one's own leisure."

Harry smiled. "Do you really believe that there is such a thing?" he asked.

Snape hummed. "The existence of ghosts is proof of the existence of a soul," he said. "We know that it goes somewhere when the correct choice is made and I believe that it is rather thrilling to think about the possibilities."

Harry didn't know if Snape was placating him. It was something that people did – after all – describing a wonderful afterlife to the aggrieved to try and make them feel somewhat better about their loved ones dying. Even if they didn't believe in such things themselves.

"Do you really believe that, sir?" Harry asked. "Or are you just being…"

Snape snorted. "I am not one for placating someone with meaningless platitudes," he said evenly. "And while I do not pretend to know what lies beyond the veil, even someone like me has certain hopes. Anxieties as well, if I'm honest."

"I see," Harry said. "You've given this a lot of thought, have you?"

"Yes," Snape replied but he didn't elaborate any further and Harry sensed that he had reached the limits of what the man was willing to tell him.

Before long, their trek was over and they walked into the open doors of the great hall.

If Harry had thought the common room to be garishly decorated, he certainly hadn't seen the great hall yet. The colours of all houses were used to decorate nearly every inch and they clashed horribly. All tables were removed except for one so everyone left behind could sit together, though the staff remained separate.

Dumbledore was not as festive as was expected of him during the holidays. Certainly, he wore a cap with coloured lights that blinked on and off at a slow pace but for Dumbledore, that was quite demure. And while he smiled kindly at everyone, it was visible even from the entrance that the old wizard lacked his usual happy twinkle. But when he saw Harry and Snape come on, his smile did seem to widen for a moment. Harry nodded at him politely.

Harry felt Snape's hand on his back and took a deep breath before sauntering over to the lone student table. There weren't a lot of people there – as he expected – and he chose to sit next to someone he hadn't met before. There was less chance of awkward conversation that way. The girl next to him smiled kindly when he sat and he smiled back at her. She had straggly, dirty blonde hair that reached her waist. Her eyes were grey and sort of distant, as if she was dreaming while awake. Harry did a double take when he saw that she had tucked her wand behind her left ear.

"Harry Potter, I presume," Luna said. Her voice was airy and calm, not a hint of pity to be heard. "I am Luna." When Harry brushed his fringe across his scar on instinct after being recognised as usual, Luna shook her head. "That's not how I knew," she said but instead of clarifying further, she shoved a strange root of sorts in Harry's direction. "You might want to take this."

Holding back the ridiculous urge to laugh at the strange first Christmas present he received this year, Harry scratched his forehead as he examined the thing closer. "Er… thanks, Luna," he said. "What is it?"

"Oh, it's a gurdyroot," she said, as if everyone should know what that was. "It's really excellent for warding off Gulping Plimpies."

Harry smiled, happy for the bizarre distraction. "And what are those?" he asked, checking over his shoulder as if he would be able to see these creatures stand behind him."

"Well, my father says that they're always up to mischief," Luna said airily. "But I've come to discover that they are rather attracted to grieving people."

Slightly shocked, Harry reared back a bit. The girl was a Ravenclaw so she probably knew about Hermione after all.

But she continued talking as if Harry hadn't reacted at all. "Whenever I start feeling sad about my mother, they always appear," she said. "I think that they are just trying to cheer us up, you know?"

"Oh," Harry said. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother."

"That's quite alright," Luna said with a smile. "It happened when I was nine so I was lucky in a way to still have all of those years with her."

She took the root from Harry's hand and placed it gently behind his ear. Harry was too shocked by her brazenness to react. "More are coming," she clarified. "I'm afraid that I might have upset you even more. I'm sorry."

"No er… that's alright," Harry said. "I'm just not really used to people talking like you."

Luna nodded, her smile widening. "I am a bit odd, I believe," she said in a tone that seemed to try and explain her behaviour. "Some people call me Looney, you know. But that's quite alright," she added when she noticed Harry's facial expression. "It's all in good fun. At heart, they are all really good people. Could you pass me the turkey, please?"

Harry had hardly noticed when food had appeared on the table but was startled out of the weird conversation to find the turkey to his left. He slid the full platter towards Luna and started scooping some mashed potatoes onto his plate. He accepted the turkey back once Luna was done with it.

"Can I ask what happened to your mother?" Harry asked.

"Ah," Luna said, her expression saddening ever so slightly. It made Harry feel guilty for even asking. "She was experimenting with some spells," she shared. "She was quite an extraordinary witch, you know. But one day something went wrong." She poured some gravy over her mash. "Yes, it was rather horrible." She looked at Harry, a look of genuine understanding on her face. "It's quite like what happened with Hermione, isn't it? I suppose that being too clever can have terrible consequences."

Harry swallowed thickly. "She was trying to help me," he said. He wasn't sure why he shared that with Luna but she exuded trustworthiness. Snape would probably chastise him for trusting so quickly but in some aspects, Harry really didn't want to turn Slytherin.

Luna nodded. "She was a wonderful person," she said. "I'm sure she's having lots of fun wherever she is now."

"Hm," Harry said, picking at the peas he had no memory of scooping on his plate. "Do you really believe that?"

"Wel, of course!" Luna said. She smiled and tapped the root behind Harry's ear. "It is what the Gulping Plimpies told me. My mother too, of course. Sometimes I dream about her and she tells me all sorts of things. What about yours?"

Harry was slightly taken aback by that question. How was this girl conversing so casually about dead people? "Not really," he then replied. "My mum and dad died when I was only a baby –" it felt ridiculous to explain as much to someone who knew who he was. "So I don't have any memories of her to dream about."

Except for that green light and hellish scream he hears when he comes near any dementors, of course.

Luna nodded sagely. "Maybe you simply don't recognise her when she comes," she said. "I'll ask mine about it when she visits again."

Luna then focused her attention on her meal, leaving Harry to sit there in a strange daze. A part of him wanted to tell Luna that that was wishful thinking. The dead didn't visit anyone in dreams and they definitely didn't go around telling everyone about the afterlife.

On the other hand, he wanted it to be true. And he had only found out this year about dementors. Who knew what was possible? Even in the muggle world, there was plenty of discussion about paranormal stuff. Muggles certainly believed that ghosts weren't real while they obviously were. So if this girl thought that the dead could talk to them… Harry felt no good reason not to believe her.

"Well, if you do talk to her again, let her know that I'd appreciate a visit too," he finally said, his gaze focused resolutely on his plate. "Not from your mum, of course, but from my parents. And…"

"I will," Luna said cheerfully, as if Harry hadn't just taken a long pause to answer her. She speared a couple of her carrots and inspected them carefully before popping them into her mouth, her expression one of pure bliss.

Harry had stayed far longer than he had originally intended. It had been good to talk to Luna. She didn't patronise or pity him. The things she said were kind of strange but the way she said them made Harry believe that she was just like that all the time and not only because Harry recently lost someone.

But when it was nearing midnight and most everyone was getting ready to leave, Harry had waved a short goodbye to Luna and followed the Slytherin straddlers back to the common room.

There he found himself sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace again, not sure what to do with himself. He was tired but didn't feel like sleeping just yet so he decided to maybe finally write back to Daphne. It had been a bit unbecoming of him to ignore her, even with everything going on. Harry grabbed a piece of parchment, quill and inkwell and placed them on the table in front of the sofa. He sat on the floor to be able to write more comfortably and brought the quill to his lips as he thought of what to write.

Dear Daphne,

I'm sorry that I didn't get back to you sooner. A lot has happened. I don't know if you found out about this yet but –

Fuck. It was hard to even write about this. But Daphne would find out sooner or later and at least she didn't have a connection of any sort to Hermione so she wouldn't need to be comforted about it. It would be alright to be to the point about this.

But Hermione died. I don't want to get into it more in a letter but as you might expect, it's been hard on me. That's why I didn't write yet. As for your invitation, I'm going to have to decline. I feel that I would just bring everybody down and Snape has been trying to teach me about proper decorum.

Anyway, I look forward to seeing you again after the holidays. Though you really didn't need to get me a gift.

Say hi to Astoria for me.

Love, Harry.

Harry stared at his letter for a while. Okay, so it wasn't exactly a work of art and there were no hidden messages like in Daphne's. And he sure as hell wasn't going to spray perfume on the page. But it was honest. He would send it the next morning. It was too late to head to the owlery now. And besides, it would give him a good excuse to be away from the Christmas cheer for a while.

He rolled up the letter and sealed it, setting it aside for now. Then, his eyes looked at the pile of presents again.

He knew that it wouldn't feel right, opening Hermione's gift at the same time as everyone else's. This would be the last gift he ever got from her. It needed to be special. Memorable. No matter what it was. So for just this once, he would open hers ahead of time. Even if she had made him promise not to. Maybe she'd haunt his dreams in retaliation, Harry thought wryly.

He took the small present and brought it with him to his dorm room where no one else would follow him.

Sitting on his bed, he carefully unwound the ribbon with trembling hands. Gingerly, he opened the paper at the corners where it had been taped shut. It was ridiculous to try and preserve the paper when it was meant for tearing apart but Hermione had done her best for him and Harry wanted to remember that. He carefully folded the paper and set it aside when he turned his attention to the small, velvety blue box that was inside of it.

Harry opened it gingerly to reveal a golden pendant. It was shaped like a square, with the edges rounded. The inside was a sparkly blue while the edges were lined with thick, golden bands in a wavy pattern. The necklace itself was thin but sturdy.

Harry frowned when he noticed that it opened. He did so, almost afraid to see what could be inside of it. When he finally dared to look, his heart stopped to see a picture of him, Ron and Hermione. It was a wizarding picture that showed them goofing off as they were all trying to get in the frame. At some point, Ron pushed Hermione out of the frame with a goofy grin when Hermione ran back in and flung her arms around Ron's neck. Then both of his friends enveloped Harry in a playful hug, Hermione kissing him on the cheek before the scene began anew.

And on the other side of the opened locket, there was an engraving that brought tears to Harry's eyes.

You are not alone.