Part the Third

“Look, we’ve all been assuming that there’s an unknown factor at work: the spell element changed by Mione’s mistake.” Words poured rapidly from Harry’s brain. “But you and Professor Flitwick’ve seen Hermione’s work. You know she doesn’t make mistakes. I’ve seen her cast spells perfectly even while being chased by Death Eaters. And a spell like this— she’d make bloody sure she knew exactly what she was doing. It was a risky spell, but then she’d simply have perfected her casting.”

“So if the unknown factor didn’t come from Miss Granger or the spell,” Flitwick mused, “it must have come from Severus himself!”

::It’s very peaceful here.::

(Lucius roared with laughter. Narcissa raised an eyebrow.)

::Yes. Not quite Heaven, if I understand you correctly, but far closer than I ever expected to get.::

(“Trust Severus to snarl things up!”)

::I’m sorry I didn’t get it right the first time, Severus.::

::Who says you didn’t?::

(Yards of parchment were tossed aside.)

::But I— you—::

::Would you rather have forgone these past few months, Hermione?::

(“Poor girl spent so much time believing…”)

::No.::

(“She followed her heart, Professor.” Harry remarked.)

::Then perhaps I have finally attracted the attention of a benevolent deity.::

::If you… had more time. Now that Snake-face is gone.::

A smirk. :: Sit back and bask in the glow of your affections.::

::I have no grand ambitions anymore. Perhaps it’s this place… Perhaps it’s you. But I have love and freedom. I accomplished what I needed to do. What more is there?::

Quietly. ::You know how to flatter a girl.::

::Only returning the favour. And in the end… I can wait for you, if need be.::

A sigh. ::I must still be alive, then. I can’t bear the thought of being without you.::

“Factor in this sine curve,” Flitwick muttered. “Enhanced by the 56° diagonal following…”

“Filius, that’s a Transfiguration sequence,” Minerva interrupted, “but without the final parabola to solidify the new form.”

“Leaving the object in a state of flux,” he concluded.

“A soul unbound creates its own reality.” Narcissa raised a disdainful brow at the others’ stares. “Did you think Lucius the only wizard in this house? Soul magic encompasses a great deal of theory, including this: a soul without physical or metaphysical ties— such as a body —creates its own bindings. That’s what makes it such a powerful magical force.”

Harry continued pacing. “Why didn’t Snape go through the Veil? Why a box? Why not a ghost? Why’s Hermione—?”

Narcissa gestured sharply, cutting him off. “To be a ghost, one must have a strong attachment to a person or place.” She added dryly, “I hardly think Severus was that fond of his dungeons.”

“Hardly,” Lucius drawled. His expression turned thoughtful. “He spent most of his life under some sort of constraint; once released, he simply may not have known what to do.”

“So the box manifested… A grounding,” Narcissa mused, “a reflection of what he is, how he perceives himself.”

::What do you want in life, Granger?::

A surprisingly long pause. ::Everyone I love safe and happy. That’s it, really. Everyone,:: and Hermione snugged in close, ::I love.

…and books. Masses of books.::

She couldn’t hear laughter, but felt the great, resounding swell of amusement. ::I’d expect nothing else of you. …but I’d have thought… a brilliant career… children… fame and fortune…?::

A negative. ::You know better than I: war strips life to its essentials. Those are my essentials. Children… Perhaps. But are they having more people to love or more hostages to fate?::

::It’s terrifying, Hermione. Life always is.::

Narcissa Malfoy was a difficult woman to read. While she was working, she didn’t mutter like Professor Flitwick or gesture expansively like Professor McGonagall. Even her face remained impassive, and her body was perfectly still until she required a reference, which she would fetch, peruse with long, delicate fingers in graceful movements, and precisely replace.

It all made Harry want to scream and shake her until her teeth rattled—they needed an answer, not a lesson in deportment!—but Lucius Malfoy seemed content to wait upon his wife as she imitated Elegance in Marble.

And so he waited, pacing incessantly. Twenty-seven hours.

Copperplate script flowed from her pen. “This should be adequate to our purpose,” Narcissa remarked, handing the finished parchment to her husband.

He h’mmed as he read the incantations. “It was that simple?” he asked.

“It fits all our known facts.” She replaced the quill in its silver-chased stand. “Miss Granger’s body is still functioning; it should merely be a matter of properly replacing her in it. The difficult factor will be Severus.”

“How astonishing,” Lucius added wryly. “I don’t suppose we could—? We can’t very well leave him like that.”

“We shall inquire of Miss Granger when she returns.”

Gentle, yet insistent tugs, pulling her away, taking her away, separating her from him. :: No!:: She grasps, clings, holds, but inexorably, he slips from her grip, loosening his own hold on her. Desperate, she pours her grief upon him, her yearning, the emptiness that his soul had filled.

But he is too used to such things. He does not retaliate with his own feelings of loss, of agony; he keeps them close as he has always done.

And, as he has always done, he leaves in place a single bond that stretches elastic-taut and fragile between them. Memory… and hope.

She didn’t seem like Hermione anymore. Returned to consciousness, she had simply turned away and sobbed. She didn’t say, “Thanks, Harry,” or “Sorry to worry you.” No, she’d only looked at him with pained eyes, clutching that damned soul-box of Snape’s, and gone off with the Malfoys, who were definitely hiding something. Then they’d all disappeared into the depths of the Manor, and only their attendance at meals kept Harry from demanding entrance.

Seeing her tired, pinched face, Harry wanted to take that bloody box and hurl it into the fireplace. If she’d ever left it alone, he might have.

Harry snapped the morning she came home at dawn, her shoes and jeans muddied, her hands blistered.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he screamed.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said tiredly. “When it’s over, I promise I’ll explain. But right now… you just wouldn’t understand.”

“Hermione, listen to yourself! You’re talking like… like one of them!”

“Maybe that’s what I am now,” Hermione snapped.

“So it’s all for the greater good, then?”

“It’s for my good. And for Severus’s. As long as I’m not hurting anyone, doesn’t he deserve that consideration?”

“Not hurting anyone? What about yourself, Hermione?”