Reflections

A/N: My devoted thanks to Ana, Annie, and Karelia. This one was... yes.

16: Reflections

He checked his hands.

Still invisible.

-----

He heard Hermione's steps in the hall, the creak of a floorboard as she crouched down and wished the kitten goodnight.

He got up and opened the door, stopping short when he realized Hermione's closeness.

She glanced up toward him. "I was just going to bed," she said, standing up, running a hand through her hair.

It caught wisps of streetlight from the living room window, a ghostly contrast to the warm light streaming out of her door further down the hall. His gaze swept the curve of her jaw, the soft rose of her lips. He raised his eyes to hers.

They were innocent of his reflection, and he wrenched his thoughts away from his dream.

Mimi looked wistfully up at Severus, blinking.

"She was sleeping before your door."

"I need to speak to Demetrios," he said abruptly.

Hermione's eyes were large but calm as she nodded. "Shall I leave you alone?"

"I... no. It would be best if you initiated the connection." He paused. "We've not been properly introduced, of course."

For a moment, she looked puzzled, then understanding, then curious, but she refrained from asking whose name he had used when he'd Floo'd her the previous evening. "Of course."

A few moments later, and Demetrios's voice was coming from the hearth.

"Hermione, dear, what a lovely surprise."

Mimi's hair stood up and she froze, stretching toward the flames, trying to sniff them.

"Good evening, Demetrios. Anything interesting with your pirates?"

"A mill-wheel rolled out of their aisle not too long ago."

"A mill-wheel?"

"Mmm, yes, rather a large one, too. It's still rolling around over by the French expatriates – they seem quite delighted, especially the Surrealists.... So tell me, my dear, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Severus shifted, rustling his cloak.

Mimi was inching toward the flames, and Hermione scooped her back. "Professor Snape wishes to speak with you."

"Ah, of course." The focus of the flames seemed to shift toward Severus. "Very wise of you not to attempt to come through the Floo. Very wise indeed."

"In my current situation, it seemed imprudent," Severus intoned.

"Quite, quite. My dear boy – oh, I am sorry, but at my age, well – regardless – what you did for us all, for the world... unspeakably generous."

"Unspeakable, at least."

Demetrios laughed. "That too, of course. Well, the paths you followed were terribly contradictory, weren't they. May I express my admiration that you avoided their becoming paradoxical for as long as you did?"

Hermione blinked. "Paradoxical?"

"Yes, my dear. Your professor occupied... well, by analogy, did you ever play with magnets as a child?"

"Of course."

"If I understand correctly, he spent much of his life between two of them, my dear – at one moment nearly torn apart by their opposite poles; at others resisting collapsing under the pressure of their complementary ones. Am I perhaps close, Severus?"

Severus nodded once, and Mimi scampered toward the flames.

"Ooo, how interesting. Could you perhaps do that again?"

Ignoring Hermione's startled glance, he nodded again, more slowly, hauling Mimi backward with his toe.

"The flames flicker – how lovely..." Demetrios went silent for a moment. "My boy, since you died, have you slept?"

"Ghosts don't sleep."

Demetrios laughed again. "Either send Hermione out of the room or don't, but don't hedge. You've had a dream, haven't you?"

"That was the object of my inquiry. Ghosts don't dream, either."

"All dreams are significant, Severus, especially those we allow ourselves to hold when awake. And of course as I'm sure Hermione has already informed you, you're no ghost. You are apraxic. It means –."

"Meee!"

"I know what it means," Severus rumbled.

The flames waggled a bit, and Mimi was entranced. "But the fact remains that you've been attached by that darling kitten, have you not?"

"It seems so."

"Then you're not quite dead, not in spirit, anyway. I – well, I was. I wasn't angry when I died. No, on the contrary." Demetrios chuckled quietly. "I was hopeful. But I had a judgment to make, just the same... I, too, had a dream, and it ended my apraxia – I chose, I tossed a coin, and here I am."

Severus's tone was flat. "You left your judgment to chance?"

Demetrios's delighted laughter filled Hermione's living room. "Well, why not? It was my judgment to make, after all, and I had gone back to the library to save her, after all."

Severus frowned. "Who?"

"My owl, my boy; my owl."

"The coin," Hermione said quietly even as Demetrios continued, "Once I had secured the most valuable scrolls from the fire, I went back inside – for that one last reason."

"A coin minted by a god would surely survive a fire," Severus noted.

"Of course – but I wouldn't, you see."

Hermione gaped at the flames. "But fire won't harm a wizard, not unless... you died deliberately?"

"Why, of course I did." Demetrios chuckled. "Death by library. Rather delightful."

Hermione's hand had moved involuntarily toward the hearth, and Mimi rubbed against it. Cradling the kitten to her chest, she asked, "But... but why?"

"I told you, my dear. Love."

"But..." Her brow furrowed as she tried to work her mind around his suicide. "But you can't love someone if you're dead."

Severus's cloak rustled.

"It helps if they're dead too, Hermione dear," Demetrios murmured, "but it's not a requirement."

"Meee," Mimi explained.

There wasn't a trace of regret or even unhappiness in Demetrios's voice; no, it was as sparkling as ever, and Hermione frowned, confused.

"Oh, dear – well, I suppose it does sound rather a sad tale, but I assure you, it isn't. And it may prove helpful to you... well... perhaps. If I may?"

"Do," Severus replied.

"You see, I died second, not first. And when my lover died, choosing to move on, I was left alone. Oh, I grieved for a time in a world that was too small, too small for my loss, but that was only half of it, really... it was dark... yes, quite..." Demetrios paused for a moment, and Severus and Hermione stayed silent. "But eventually, my ideas beckoned to me, whispering me out of my grief, and I lived, and... such lovely ideas I've had; I owe them so much, so very much..."

Mimi clambered out of Hermione's arms and crept carefully over toward the curtains, checking to see if the flames noticed.

They didn't seem to.

"After a century or so, I realized that the day was coming when I would face eternity – things had gotten politically – well, difficult, and after several assassination attempts, I knew it was a matter of time, really. But I was torn – I wasn't sure I could bear an eternity without curiosity, but neither did I wish to abandon... well..."

"Quite the dilemma," Hermione murmured.

"Indeed, my dear. Indeed. And who knows what comes after choosing to move on? I abhorred the possibility of an eternity of nothing – no love, no curiosity – oh, I shudder to think on it even now. Oh, dear... where was I?"

"Your... owl," Severus drawled, somehow inflecting the pause with an entire treatise on the question of Demetrios's sanity.

Demetrios continued, unfazed. "Oh, thank you, my boy. I had stumbled on her perhaps a decade earlier, and found her quite useful in, hm, well, acquisitions. Seeking wisdom, you know; so often people don't realize the importance of their own sources..." The flames wavered side-to-side.

The curtains twitched.

"Some months previously, when I had been wrestling with a particularly difficult passage on a woefully degraded scroll – I simply couldn't make it out – I had the thought that it would be lovely to – well – peek over the shoulder of its author."

"Who?" Hermione asked, almost involuntarily.

"Pythagoras, dear. But impossible, no? Still, I was stymied, so, in frustration I tossed the coin, and..."

"You went back in time and met Pythagoras, of course." Severus snorted.

"No, Aristotle."

Severus stepped backward. "And he provided you with the missing passage?"

"Mmm, in a way. Oh, he was no help about Pythagoras, of course, but then I'd been on the wrong track, hadn't I?"

Severus sniffed. Daft.

Hermione's eyes were shining, and Severus sniffed again. Double daft.

"Well, surely you can see the solution by now... My pretty little owl, in her wisdom, had provided me with a possible answer to my larger question – a loophole, a way to spend the odd moment with my lover and eternity with my curiosity."

"But... the limitations of history, Demetrios," Hermione said, her mind racing. "You can only live once, yes?"

"Well, yes, but one can be dead for eternity – that's the beauty of it, you see! And – yes, Severus, I can hear your cloak rustling; contain your impatience – that's where the coin comes in. The gods don't think in moments; they think in aeons. With the coin, as a ghost, I can slip back for a moment and... well, pay a compliment. Discuss what to have for dinner or the quality of the wine." His voice was rounded with a smile.

Severus realized he was clenching his fists. "You cheated. With life. Death. Everything."

"Not cheating, my dear boy, compromise. Therein I have found everything – everything worth having." Demetrios laughed, and once again the flames danced in Hermione's fireplace.

Mimi leapt out from behind the curtain, bounding for the hearth.

Instantly, the flames resumed their normal calm flickering, and Mimi sat down, glaring at them. Her tail twitched slightly.

When Demetrios spoke again, his tone was more serious. "My dear boy, one could hardly expect you to appreciate compromise... no; you lived so much of your life under such absolute conditions... So difficult, and so very unnatural. The gods may demand absolutes, but we humans are softer creatures. Under absolute conditions such as those you endured, we will eventually collapse utterly or fly apart..." He sighed again. "No, my boy. Life... or death, if you prefer... need not involve absolutes. Most people's don't, under natural conditions. Your circumstances were most unnatural..." Demetrios sighed. "It's a wonder – a marvel, really – that you resisted the paradox." He sighed again. "No, I don't wonder that you cannot see the strength in compromise."

"Compromise is weakness."

"Quite the opposite. Under natural circumstances, it's magic."

A low rumbling noise emanated from Severus's throat, and Mimi echoed him, still staring at the flames.

"Think, my dear boy, think. Without compromise, what is bread but flour and salt? What is wine but grapes and... and..."

"Moldy grapes," Severus snapped.

Hermione winced.

The flames seemed to leap as though Demetrios had thrown up his hands.

Mimi jumped backward, startled, skittering to hide behind Hermione.

"Oh, Hermione, dear, you do have your hands full with this one."

Before Hermione could react, Severus interjected smoothly, "Your loophole, however poetic, does not address the subject of your dream."

Demetrios laughed, and Severus was fairly sure his deflection hadn't gone unnoticed. He glanced at Hermione's face, but could read nothing.

"Well," Demetrios continued, "I had to make sure that my pretty little coin had stayed with me into death, of course. And then I had to test my theory. It took me a little time to work up the courage; it's not the sort of thing you can test twice.

"I was facing a momentous choice, was I not? And I doubted – for a long while I doubted, and even feared not knowing what would happen. Tossing the coin was risking everything... absolutely everything."

"This from a suicide," Severus muttered.

"I risked little by dying; no, my greatest test came afterwards. Tossing the coin meant risking my lovely theory – the theory I had bet my death on. Naturally, I hesitated... and I doubted."

"Cowardice..."

"Courage by any other name... my boy, you know something about that, hmmm?"

Severus said nothing. Mimi peeked around Hermione's elbow, blinking.

"Yes, well. One day, eventually, I slept, and I dreamt, and I awoke with all I needed to make my decision."

Severus's snort was unusually eloquent. "First you delayed, and then you rushed ahead based on a hallucination. Foolish."

Hermione could almost see Demetrios shake his head. "Is 'time' not the final ingredient of most potions, Severus? My dream, although it frightened me at first, and confused me more than a little, restored my hope – my courage, if you prefer. I made my choice – to remain as a ghost."

"Demetrios," Hermione asked quietly, "how did you know, before you died, that you'd be able to hold the coin as a ghost?"

"Oh, well, that part was a gamble, wasn't it?" He chuckled. "In retrospect, delaying that choice may have allowed me to retain just enough of substance that the coin did not slip through my fingers, enough spirit to do magic. I've never known for sure, but it all worked out brilliantly, if I do say so myself."

"Are you saying," Hermione began slowly, "that you got lucky?"

"Why, yes, my dear."

"Foolish," Severus muttered again.

"You died to have it all," Hermione breathed, then shook her head and laughed, amazed. "Not even that much – for a mere chance to have it all."

"Of course." The flames seemed to sparkle, and Mimi's whiskers twitched. "There are worse reasons to die, my dear. Far worse. Just ask the man standing behind you."

Severus said nothing.

"You are standing, not floating?"

"Quite."

"Meee!" Mimi opined, proceeding to wash her whiskers as if that settled the matter.

"And you can do magic?"

"I can."

"Ah..." Demetrios said. Then, "Good luck, Hermione dear."

"My dream," Severus said.

"Isn't it obvious? Your dream indicates that your judgment has begun."

"My... judgment?"

"Yes. You will make your choice before too much longer, I should think."

Hermione cast a startled glance in Severus's general direction. She interjected, "We were discussing our options earlier, Demetrios, and... well, it's not my place to detail them, really."

"No, dear; they're none of my business, regardless."

Severus found his voice. "A practical question, if you've time?"

"Eternity."

"Can the coin transport a potion from the present to the past?" Severus chose to pretend he didn't see Hermione's sharp glance.

"A potion? Well, no, not physically, of course, but... hm..."

"But?" Severus repeated.

"Excuse me for just a moment."

The moment stretched into several, and Severus shifted his feet.

The cereal scraped on the table-top to read, "Cloke!" a split-second before Mimi pounced.

Severus scooped her up.

"He's gone after a reference," Hermione murmured, watching the kitten appear to levitate before her. "He had that tone."

"So I surmised." He scritched the kitten's ears, and for a long minute, all of them remained silent, isolated within their own thoughts.

Finally, Severus shifted his weight. "He will return?"

"It usually takes him less than an hour." She smiled apologetically. "Usually."

It was, however, only a few minutes before the sound of shuffling papers announced Demetrios's return. "Yes, here it is... my apologies; we've another infestation of iso-sprites under the Stockholm archway, and it took me a moment to persuade them to stabilize... a moment whilst I find the passage...." A moment of quiet mumbling, then, "Yes; it seems that my little owl might, in theory, transport something of a potion's essence."

"Its essence?" Hermione asked.

"Its spirit," Severus murmured.

"Meee?"

"Not you," Severus corrected her.

"Yes, my dear, the magical spirit of a potion. It's possible... just possible... only in theory." More rustling of papers.

"The Stockholm archway," Hermione mused, looking toward Severus. "Nobel Prize winners."

"Of course," he murmured.

"Demetrios, whose papers do you have?"

"The Curies' – delightful couple, brilliantly matched, despite the scandal."

"Scandal?"

"Mmmm," Demetrios said distractedly. "I never paid it much heed. She was a student in a different college; it blew over, regardless..."

"Essences," Severus reminded him.

Demetrios laughed again, and Severus scowled. "During one of their experiments with magnetism, they unexpectedly switched the essences of two potions, and the physical results were..." More rustling. "Oh, dear."

"What happened?"

"They blew up their lab. Not to worry; that happened rather frequently. Besides, that was 1903..."

"Demetrios," Hermione said suddenly. "Is there some way to guarantee that when I toss the coin I won't be brought directly to the moment of Professor Snape's death?"

"'Won't'?"

She nodded. "Won't."

"The only guarantee is that the coin will take you where you will find wisdom."

Hermione broke into a grin. "Well, then, it cannot take me there straightaway."

"How can you be sure, dear?"

"Because it would be very unwise to enact a theory without the proper controls, wouldn't it? To be wise, the coin would almost have to guarantee a test run."

A rich laugh erupted from the hearth. "Oh, my dear, he would so have enjoyed your mind."

"Who?" Severus asked.

"Aristotle," Hermione and Demetrios answered together.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Of course." Completely daft, the pair of them.

"Meee?"

"The jury's still out on you," he informed the kitten, setting her down.

---

After thanking Demetrios and bidding him good night, Hermione closed the connection. Mimi sniffed at the empty hearth, then padded away toward the kitchen.

Hermione turned toward Severus. "So... your question about the potion... does that mean you've decided? What you want me to do, I mean?"

"I have."

Hermione's eyes sought him in vain, and Severus turned away and looked once more at the expanse of dark glass in the window.

Her voice interrupted, half hopeful, half scared. "Well?"

"Having been offered a chance, it would be churlish of me to refuse it."

A nervous laugh. "Manners? You're choosing life because it's good manners?"

"Forms must be followed."

She stared helplessly in the direction of his voice.

"Miss Granger, I seriously doubt anything will come of this. I spent my life ensnared by history, by my own choice and the unfolding of events. I doubt – I doubt very much that you can undo my death. But unless you have fundamentally changed since Hogwarts, you won't be satisfied unless you try, and..."

His unfinished sentence hung in silence, broken only by the sound of Mimi skittering in the kitchen. He looked long into the emptiness where his reflection should be in the window.

Hermione's quiet voice intervened. "And?"

His gaze moved to her eyes. "... and neither will I."

---

Random notes:

1. The mill-wheel is a nod to Pirates of the Caribbean: Dean Man's Chest. Naturally. :)

~ A.