Chapter 6: Time, Love and Tenderness

Spellbreaker, Chapter 6

Antilitigation Charm: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. All characters are property of JK Rowling and not me. If they did belong to me, Severus Snape would be alive and well and snarking his way through Hogwarts even as we speak.

Ah, the gods. Whom the gods will destroy, they first make mad, or some such dreck. That was the thought running a tired groove in my mind as I watched Poppy open the door to the Restricted Ward, where my heart and soul lay. I walked in, trying to swallow with a throat parched and aching.

I could hear her uneven breathing, and my gaze fell on my Hermione. She was lying on a large bed, as still as death. A white veil was draped across her entire body, so that from my vantage point, she looked as insubstantial as a dream bride.

"The veil is a protective device," Poppy whispered, as if Hermione might hear and be troubled by the words. "It encases the victim's magic. The Kedavra spell used on her is intended to rend her magical soul from her body."

I nodded. I'd seen the spell used many times in Riddle's service. It was a variation of the Unforgivable Killing Curse, and therefore untraceable, but it was just as devastating. Instead of removing life from the body, it removed the magical life force – the witch or wizard's soul essence.

Funnily enough, wizards often recovered from it. It left them with little or no magical signature or footprint, but they often survived and eventually learned to live without magic.

Witches, however, had a much higher mortality rate with the Animam Kedavra curse. So much of their inner magic was part of their soul, that without magic the soul would eventually 'detach' itself from the witch's physical body and dissipate. They would simply fade away, a magic-less, soulless shell.

This was the final act of Tom Riddle's once-mighty Death Eaters. Had Hermione been further from Hogwarts, she would already be dead. Luckily, Potter, Weasley, and his sister, Ginevra, managed to get us both back to the infirmary quickly enough to staunch the beginnings of the cursework, but the damage had been done.

While I was unconscious, Poppy placed Hermione in an enchanted sleep to slow down the process. Fully conscious, the victim of the curse would grow increasingly distraught, which, in turn, caused the magical soul to disperse at a faster rate. My sleeping beauty, my Hermione, was like a fairy tale character, shrouded and eternally peaceful.

The magical veil 'held' the magic to her body, but that was all it could do. It was the equivalent of sitting on a Bludger to keep it from flying away. Once the veil was lifted, Hermione's magic, and therefore her soul, would be gone in a matter of hours, and the enchanted sleep would be no longer necessary. Hermione would lapse into a magical coma and never waken.

My love was trapped beneath a veil from which she would never rise, never recover. If I could not find the counter-curse, I was doomed to watch her shrivel and die. I promised her – I promised myself that would not happen. I ignored Poppy's advice to rest and recover, and I set myself to task.

For almost a month, I feverishly researched the spell. I plundered the Headmaster's private library, Madam Pince's Restricted Section, and my own impressive collection. Hell, I even swallowed my pride and went cap in hand to Malfoy Manor, where Narcissa was only too happy to give me free rein of Lucius' vast collection of Dark Magic tomes.

Draco, in a rare gesture of generosity, rolled up his dainty sleeves and helped me plow through the research. I found nothing I could use. No spell, no charm, no counter-curse, no potion would reverse it. Very few could even slow it down.

The Animam Kedavra was a relatively recent creation as curses go, formulated specifically for the Death Eater arsenal of destruction. Most spells forged during Tom Riddle's rise to power were created without benefit of a counter-curse – the belief being there would never be a need for one.

Ironically, it was almost the same type of spell that Hermione had used to save me in the Shrieking Shack. Instead of binding the soul to another person, the Animam Kedavra disconnected the soul from its body like a siphon and repelled it away from its owner.

If I couldn't find a way to keep her magical soul with me, the veil could never be lifted. I had already tried to recreate Hermione's Invenio etanimo serveturus spell, but all that happened was my own magical signature shuddered within me, and I felt ill for days.

Every night, I would come to the infirmary and sit by Hermione's side, sickened with frustration. My anger returned, black, volatile and bitter. Potter and Weasley came to visit her, and I was sharp and heartless to them, all but blaming them, lashing out because it was the only thing that made me feel better. I hated myself for that. It would have grieved Hermione to know I was treating them so poorly.

They grimly put up with my moods until I no longer had the bile to rage against them, and eventually we formed an uneasy alliance. After we tired of the stilted Quidditch talk and the innumerous cups of tea, we began to tentatively share our stories of Hermione. We inevitably turned to the subject of the final year before Riddle's defeat.

Potter and Weasley filled in the missing blanks of their 'exile in the wilderness', as Potter called it. Their love and admiration for Hermione was evident, and I felt an absurdly proprietary pride. To listen to them, she had been part Valkyrie, part avenging angel, and part den mother while the three were on the run. She essentially kept them alive during the despairing times when it felt as if they were alone against the Wizarding world, and the Dark might triumph.

Some of their tales made me cringe. I was horrified that these three young people were sent on an impossible mission, against staggering odds, to finish Dumbledore's work. I silently cursed the old poofter for not giving them a clue as to what to look for or what to do. I also was struck by the fact that both Potter and Weasley freely admitted that Hermione had essentially figured it all out, and gotten them through it alive.

Hermione almost never spoke of that year, and when she did, it was to joke about something silly Weasley had done or to downplay the dangers. My heart cried out for my little lioness. I knew how terrified she'd been, but through it all, she'd been so damn brave it almost drove me to my knees. I would listen to Potter's narrative and picture Hermione, doggedly moving them on, protecting them, watching over them, and pulling her weight. What a woman. My brave Gryffindor girl.

In exchange, I told Potter a little about Lily. He beamed as I spoke of her faith, her loyalty, her love for her family. I found I could talk about Lily without that old familiar pain nagging at me. My heart had returned my love for Lily to its proper place. Potter returned the favour with stories of Hermione and some of the exploits even I had not known about. Most of their adventures were legend with the teachers, but some of the gentler, more important stories had remained closeted in the boys' hearts.

For several nights, the three of us sat around Hermione's bedside and talked. Sometimes, one of them would suddenly get up and walk away, to return later with reddened eyes and a sheepish apology. Sometimes it would be me. I finally asked them for a little privacy. Talking in this manner about Hermione was beginning to remind me of a wake, as if they'd already prepared themselves for the inevitable.

Guilt, fear and grief dogged my every waking moment. Poppy made me eat and sleep. This was magically enforced by Minerva. As my Headmistress, she was well within her rights to make me. I bowed to her reason. If my magic weakened, it would become too imprecise to help Hermione.

A second month went by, and Hermione started to deteriorate rapidly. She grew paler, more translucent. The more she faded, the more desperate I became to hear her voice. I was losing her. My nightmares returned, and this terrified me. Who would ease my pain – who would comfort me if my Hermione wasn't there?

I am not a nice person. I am selfish, petty, stubborn, possessive and childish. I am too intelligent to ignore my own shortcomings, and too pragmatic to assume that life is fair. But I had been given a second chance. I was supposed to be here for a reason, and that reason was to find a way to save Hermione. I told myself that at the beginning of each day, and I reminded myself of this fact as I sat by Hermione's side at the end of every evening.

-o0o-

Lily was standing at the crossroads where we met on the night Hermione saved my life. "Sev, you're missing it," she said.

I nodded, too tired to argue. I ran a hand over my stubbled chin. It made a rasping sound. "I know. I can't find it." We were back at that old game in my dreams, chasing the un-findable. "I don't even know where to look."

Lily shook her head, and with amazing strength for a dead woman, punched me in the chest so hard I staggered back and whined, "OWW!" I rubbed my abused chest, irritated. "What in the bloody hell did you do that for?" I heard the whining self-pity in my voice, and despised myself for it.

Exasperated, Lily rolled her eyes and tutted. She retorted, "I'm showing you where to look, Sev! Honestly, when did you get so thick?" She grumbled, "You're starting to sound like a pantomime villain. Think, Sev! Tenderness and time, remember?"

"Wha..." I said. "Time and tenderness. Where does that come from?" I looked around, but I was alone. The landscape was bleak and empty.

I woke with a start, the dream unraveling even as I tried to remember the details of it. I had fallen asleep in the chair beside Hermione. I had a ferocious kink in my neck and needed a piss.

I stood up, stiff and stupid from my short, heavy sleep, and looked down at my love. She was an ethereal spirit enclosed in the soft white veil. I could barely see her breath stir the magical fabric, and I sighed, feeling so alone and desolate I thought for a moment I might cry.

Gently I leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her cool lips. The veil felt soft and silky against my mouth. "Don't leave me," I whispered, and choked back a sob. "Precious girl. Hermione, come back." A tear fell from my eye and rolled off the veil like a bead of mercury. At that moment, I think I gave up hope.

I straightened up and felt my heart lurch. Merlin, I moaned to myself, not another panic attack now! I clutched the cloth of my coat over my pounding heart, the same place Lily had punched me in my dream. My heart... my heart...

Rage and pain overwhelmed me and I gasped. Suddenly a chime rang in my head. "My heart!" I shouted. Without even thinking of the whys or the wherefores, my wand was in my hand. "You took my heart, but you gave it back," I said, and immediately the fierce pounding eased, and my head cleared. "You gave it back," I bellowed triumphantly. I lifted my wand over Hermione's inert form and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

A large otter burst from my wand, knocking me off my feet. The light was blindingly brilliant and flooded the room. "Bloody hell!" I blurted, so shocked at this Patronus I almost dropped my wand. It was huge, much bigger than Hermione's. As it shook itself, huge droplets of what looked like silvery water flew from its body and settled onto my shoulders.

I shivered as I felt my magic shimmer with my Patronus' essence. Some of the droplets fell on Hermione, but the magical veil repelled it like water off a duck's back, preventing her from absorbing the spell.

I reached down and grasped the edge of the long white veil and tried to lift it, but it was like trying to lift the side of a building. It had been spelled to wrap around her like a skin. "Dammit!" I cursed under my breath. I was straining with the effort to raise the fabric, but it wouldn't budge. I shouted for Poppy to come, but no one heeded me.

I sent my new Patronus to her. "Come here at once... I need to remove the veil..."

Moments passed, and my impatience and anxiety melded into a frustrated wail of anger, and I stilled myself, trying to gather my thoughts. "You took my heart, but you gave it back," I whispered, speaking to my soul, desperately wanting to understand what my heart was trying to tell my head.

My soul. My soul had been part of Hermione's. What was it that Poppy had said? Her soul had fed back into mine. Her soul was part of me. And there was something else... something that was just eluding me...

I quickly ran my wand over Hermione's still body. I was no mediwizard, but you don't become a Potions master without needing to learn how to cast the odd diagnostic spell. Through the heavy veil it was hard to detect anything but... there! There it was. A faint, pinkish light. Over her womb. I staggered backward. A child.

My child was there, under the veil with Hermione. Part of my life essence was within her. If part of me was with Hermione, then the part of her soul within me was there too, hidden away safely in the unborn child we'd made. At first, I was furious that Poppy hadn't told me. I supposed she'd felt it would only make matters worse. My child. There, with Hermione. What was it? Think, lad!

I am a powerful wizard. I say that without conceit. Magic manifests itself in me, and I have no more say in it than I have about the colour of my eyes. It is the way I was made. Magic is part of a wizard's spiritual makeup, and you can be its acolyte or it can be yours. I had dedicated most of my life to controlling and directing my magic with skill and accuracy. That time was over now. I decided to bow to the magic and stop trying to harness it. It would harness me.

I felt a growing power swirling in the air, and I gave over my soul to the magic within me. I would not call the magic to me. I would let the magic call me to it. To Hermione and our unborn child. I closed my eyes and let the magic take hold of me. I had never attempted this and really didn't know what 'this' was. I only knew it was happening and it was glorious.

"Do what you will with me!" I whispered to the magic in a kind of ecstasy. I cast spells I didn't recognize, words that I'd never spoken in a voice I had never used; had been waiting all my life to use at this precise moment...

Like a dam bursting, the words "Carmine confringam animo dimittere!" roared from my lips. The magic conjured from the casting ripped through me with the strength of a hurricane. I was lost, standing within the fury of a spell I did not know and could not identify. Something bigger than even my Patronus, larger than a hundred Patronuses, blazed from my magical core and whipped around me, encompassing the room.

It was as if a thousand shafts of light penetrated me at once. It was beautiful and terrible, pain and pleasure, agony and ecstasy. There was a bitter taste in my mouth that sickened me with its sweetness, and I thought of my soul and Hermione's soul and the soul of our little one, all fighting for her.

I could imagine Hermione smiling, praising me, proud of my ability to wield my craft with all my might. I pictured her gathering the last of her own formidable magic to bring me back from the dead, just because she loved me. My love for her bloomed like a fountain from my chest, radiating from my heart. Through this rapture, I felt that part of her beautiful soul I carried pull away from me and return to her. I was nothing more than a vessel. I was going to bring Hermione back, this soul-rendering effort resolved to that end...

Hermione moved slightly beneath the veil. I crowed in triumph, until I realized the veil was still a barrier. I had prepared her soul, and unless I could remove the magical veil that protected her, I was releasing her precious soul into nothingness, and taking our child with it. The child was the anchor, but a fragile one at that moment.

"Antolle velumus!" Through the roar of the magic, I heard Poppy's scream of panic as the magical veil blew upward from Hermione's prone body. It wrapped itself around me like a fisherman's netting, and for a panicky moment I lost focus as I frantically fought to free myself from the impossibly heavy fabric.

"Poppy!" I bellowed. "For Merlin's sake, get this damn thing off me!"

"Oh! Sorry, Severus!" she cried, and at the sound of another shouted spell, the veil dissolved around me.

The rushing wind increased to an ear-splitting howl, and freed from my wand and the confines of the protective veil, the pulsing, swirling light flew into Hermione's body with such force it caused her back to arch off the table. Her eyes flew open and she screamed in terror. It seemed like the world screamed at the same time, and my wand fell from my nerveless fingers.

I tried to stay conscious, I really did, but it felt like every ounce of my magic was sucked out of me from my heart through my wand arm and out the tip. It poleaxed me and I fell flat on my face onto the stone floor, breaking my nose and sending me back to the bloody infirmary one more time...

-o0o-

I remember vividly the night Hermione brought me back to life. I woke up with a terrible feeling that my nose had been repaired yet again (people think I was born this way. Alright, I had a big nose to begin with, but you don't play Quidditch and endure Gryffindor bullies with that nose and expect it to come out unscathed, do you?). I had a maddening itch in my permanently deviated septum, and my own snorting snores woke me.

I sat up and tried to get out of bed, but a sickening wave of dizziness caused me to reconsider the benefits of staying horizontal. I lay back, trying to remember how I'd gotten here. My eyes opened. Wide. I was going to be a father.

"Hermione!" I bellowed, trying once again to get up. This time I managed to get on my feet, but I was so wobbly you'd think I'd been hit by a Jelly-Legs Jinx. "Somebody help me," I moaned, frustrated and beside myself with conflicting emotions.

"Severus! Merlin's saggy Y-fronts, what are you doing out of bed, you silly man?" Poppy, sensing mother-hen-clucking material, honed in to my bedside. "Lie down this instant. I won't be held responsible..."

"Hermione!" I wailed, the only word I had energy left to utter. "Hermione?" I asked, as if it were the question.

"Serverus, listen, for Circe's sweet sucking sake!" Poppy bit back. She pushed me back down onto the bed, then smiled softly.

"Severus," she said, quietly, and she took my hand. I'm fairly certain I whimpered.

"Severus, she's-she's fine. You did it, young man," Poppy said, and to my great shock, tears formed in her eyes. She shook me gently. "You did it. You brought her back. She's whole and healthy. She's resting," she admonished, as I tried to sit up again. "She's fast asleep, and when she wakes I'll let you know. And Severus," she said, and hesitated.

I squeezed the hand holding mine and patted it, my relief so vast I was laughing and weeping at once. "I know, Poppy. I'm going to be a father." I gasped, feeling the tears sliding down into the hair at my temples. "My child called out to me. It was how I knew what to do. It-it called to me, Poppy."

She was shaking her head, laughing and crying with me. We must have looked like two complete numpties, babbling and crying and laughing and sobbing. "I've never seen anything like it. I don't know what exactly happened, but you did it, Severus. I knew you were one hell of a powerful wizard, but you've outdone yourself this time. Hermione will be so proud when you tell her what you did."

I stilled. "I'd like someone to tell me what I did. All is know is that I was letting the magic cast the spell. Hermione's soul told me what to do. Soul magic."

Poppy pondered this for awhile. "You know, Severus, Lily Potter protected Harry with her motherly love and He-Who-Must-Not..."

"Poppy," I interrupted, a note of warning in my voice. She flushed.

"Uh, Tom Riddle, that is, couldn't kill Harry because of that love. I think it was the same thing here. Love conceived that child in Hermione's belly. Your love, the love you thought you'd lost, saved Hermione as much as your soul magic."

I contemplated Poppy's words. Love. I had originally scoffed at Albus' prattle about love and protection, but I would have to do some serious rethinking now. Then I decided to put that debate aside for another day. My Hermione and my child were back amongst the living and safe. Did I really give a niffler's fart how it happened?

Poppy and I sat in companionable silence for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts. A new fear gripped me.

I looked at Poppy with growing trepidation. "Do I-did I... Poppy, do I have any magic left?"

Wordlessly, she handed me my wand, and I thought of Hermione and my impending fatherhood, and my new Patronus effortlessly burst from my wand and capered around us flirtatiously. We watched it in silence, enjoying its graceful movement. Poppy looked back at me and asked, "When did your Patronus change, Severus?"

I shrugged. "No idea. Last night was the first time I'd cast a Patronus since..." I thought of a freezing night in the Forest of Dean. "Since before the end of the war. It was this shape when I summoned it to bring back Hermione."

I lay back, exhausted. I still had my magic, but just bringing forth my Patronus depleted me. I pondered the change. A Patronus changes only when the magical spirit changes profoundly. An otter. Hmmm. I didn't hate it.

I confess, I felt a little sadness that the silver doe, which had been my Patronus for twenty years, was no longer part of me. It was fitting, though, that the doe should return to Lily, just as I would return to Hermione. I let Lily and my old Patronus go with a light heart, and freeing them was like allowing a dark liquid to pour from me and disappear.

Poppy sat with me, giving me her handkerchief to dry my eyes and blow my newly repaired nose. I let her fuss around me, knowing it gave her such happiness to have someone to coddle. I even indulged her by taking a Dreamless Sleep Draught, on the strict promise she would wake me when Hermione woke.

I really was becoming the most insufferably sentimental berk. Gods, my reputation will be in complete tatters, I thought, then dismissed the thought. I'd deal with that when the time came.

-o0o-

I opened my eyes to bright Scottish sunshine, and stretched. I was stiff and sore all over and starving in the bargain. I slowly sat up, remembering the previous evening's dizziness. To my relief, my head and stomach decided to accept being vertical, at least on a trial basis.

I swung my legs out off the bed and looked around, matted-eyed and bewildered. Something caught my eye on the bedside table. It was a parchment, and I gingerly reached for it, trying not to take my delicate head unawares. I brought the parchment to reading distance and my heart leapt at the familiar handwriting:

I see trees of green, red roses too, I see them bloom, for me and you,

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

Babies cry. I'm going to be a father, I thought. Oh. Gods. I'm going to be a dad. I was seized with a sudden thrill at the thought. Daddy. That would be me.

"Hello, you," said a slightly hoarse, comfortingly bossy voice. I closed my eyes.

"Hermione?" I will admit, I was afraid. Afraid that I really was still in that in-between land I'd found myself foundering in those many months before, begging to be allowed to stay.

A gentle hand stroked my hair, twining it in her fingers. "Merlin's painted toenails, Severus, when was the last time you washed your hair?"

I looked up into the face of my heart, my soul, my child's mother. She was thin and fragile-looking, but I knew better. She was the strongest, most beautiful creature in my pitiful little world. I would like to say I replied with the dignity befitting my position as Potion master and all round Slytherin Dungeon Bad Ass, but I would probably be lying.

I remember sinking to my knees and wrapping my arms around her waist and feeling her wasted arms encircle me like a protective shield. I remember babbling the words 'love' and 'soul' and 'marry' and 'child' and 'father' over and over, and hearing her laugh, and agree with everything I said. I remember kissing her belly with reverence, and placing my hands over it like a protective shield of my own.

My hands looked huge against her tiny body, and I made it my mission to nurse Hermione back to health. Hogwarts, Wizarding Britain, the World could go to hell, as long as Hermione and my child were safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To see the beautiful art that inspired this fic, please go to: http://my.deviantart.com/messages/#/d32srwz.

This is drawn by the great Sempraseverus. If you are not acquainted with her work, please go and check it out. Her SS/HG artwork are things of beauty, as is her soul.

Check out all her Spellbreaker art. She actually drew a series of art for this story, and I'm so proud of that fact, I could just cry.

And, of course, the song was the beautiful 'What A Wonderful World", by Louis Armstrong.