Part XXXIII - Coming Back: Morning

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of J.K. Rowling, who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.

All my gratitude to my beta AmyLouise. Many thanks to all my kind readers and reviewers.

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Part XXXIII - Coming Back: Morning

The room was quiet. Minerva and Filius were waiting outside, and the silence was broken only by the words murmured by the elder Bernardi, calmly imparting the last instructions to his grandson.

The old wizard finally turned his head to look at Snape and Harry, mutely asking again for their consent before beginning the rite. As soon as they both agreed...the man with a determined expression, the portrait much more hesitantly...the two painters began to hum softly an ancient melody. Together, they moved their wands in slow circle with a hypnotic effect, and soon Harry relaxed and stood still, closing his eyes while taking deep breaths.

Snape, too, was standing still in his picture, and his heart was beating slowly, his mind full of many contrasting thoughts. His gaze never left the man waiting under his frame until Harry opened his eyes and looked back at him with a reassuring smile.

Leaving the singing to Marcello, the elder Bernardi sat on the armchair that had been brought into the room for him and opened his arms, a hand towards Snape, a hand towards Harry, ideally linking them on a line. A silvery light began to radiate from his fingertips, gradually enveloping the Auror and the portrait. The old wizard smiled one last time as if bidding good-bye; then he closed his eyes with a sigh, concentrating on his task.

Gradually, the light seemed to gather in a forceful flow, and a vague, radiating figure began to take form just in front of Harry. Little by little, the figure defined its shape and became more and more similar to the dark man who was anxiously watching from his frame. For a moment...a very quick moment...Snape looked at his duplicated self from the wall. Then with a wrenching sensation similar to Apparition, he found himself right on the floor of the room before his former student.

Now both Harry's and Snape's bodies radiated with a diaphanous light. The two men stared at each other in silence. Slowly, an oddly timid expression on his face, Harry stretched out a hand as if he wanted to clasp Snape's. But the light that surrounded him suddenly vibrated at that movement and seemed to break up in a myriad of shining particles. Then with a blinding flash, Harry disappeared.

Bent protectively over his grandfather's rigid body, Marcello Bernardi turned to look at Snape, left alone and disoriented under the frame. With a reassuring smile, the painter advised him quietly, "The connection is working, Professor; please don't move yet."

Snape nodded, then closed his eyes and waited. He was experiencing the most astonishing phenomena. The weight of his flesh was growing heavy on his bones while gravity...a sensation he had practically forgotten...anchored him to the ground. His fingers twisted spasmodically, but he kept his eyes obstinately closed, not even daring to look.

Several minutes passed like that...eternal, anguishing moments suspended in uncertainty. Then Bernardi spoke again, and an immense relief trembled in his voice while he alternately watched his grandfather and Snape.

"It's done."

Snape opened his eyes. Vertigo invaded him as soon as his gaze roamed the room, so he immediately closed his eyes again, trying to get used to that incredible situation. Anxiously, Marcello Bernardi ran his hands over his grandfather's body, checking his vital signs. But the old man was serenely slipping into a peaceful trance, and his chest moved regularly, following the rhythm of his breaths. Reassured, Marcello straightened himself and smiled to Snape.

"Welcome again into this world, Professor."

*************

The two men looked at each other, then instinctively raised their gaze to the picture where the Potters should have gathered. A heartbreaking scene appeared to their eyes. Harry had enfolded Lily tightly in his arms, and James was standing near them, lips trembling in the effort of fighting back tears. Lily's soft, tearless sobs were barely audible, nestled as she was against Harry's chest while both father and son looked moved beyond any description.

Snape stared in silence, a wave of emotions running in his heart. It was such an incredible sight! He was witnessing something that should have been impossible, and yet, it was happening before his eyes. His gaze lingered on Harry, looking so surprisingly older than his parents, and finally rested on his protective expression.

How the boy had grown up... and how Snape's heart throbbed now, caught between so many powerful feelings.

Bernardi smiled and raised a hand to wave at the painted family, not wanting to interrupt that touching reunion with useless words. But Snape wasn't ready to move himself yet, so he stood still, savouring the many emotions invading his heart and feeling bizarrely guilty.

Suddenly, a knock broke the silence, and a soft voice asked worriedly, "Mister Bernardi, the door unlocked itself. Is everybody fine in there?"

Bernardi watched Snape again, and his lips curled in a friendly expression of encouragement. Then he answered quietly,"It's done, Headmistress, and we are all safe."

"Oh!" the voice outside vibrated in an acute cry, then steadied itself again. "Then may... may we come in?"

At the quiet permission given in return, the door opened slowly. Hesitantly, Minerva and Filius peeked in, and they both immediately gasped in shock.

"Severus!" Minerva cried and hurried to enter the room, almost running to reach the man standing under the empty frame. Then she abruptly stopped as if something had struck her and asked Bernardi with a concerned face, "May we touch him?"

Marcello nodded. "He is one of us now, Headmistress," he replied serenely.

Minerva turned to look at Snape with incredulous, ecstatic eyes, her many intense emotions clearly reflecting on her wrinkled face.

"Severus...," she murmured. Then joy overcame her.

Still motionless and mute, as if afraid to use his rediscovered faculties, Snape felt her arms close around him and the softness of her thin body press against his now so disconcertingly solid one. How small she seemed, how frail! Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her greyish hair, whispering softly, "Minerva."

At her name, she tightened her embrace even more, and he felt the warmth of her cheek on his chest, and while shaking with sobs, she buried her face in his robes.

Looking embarrassed and extremely moved, Bernardi bit his lower lip and scratched his nose uncomfortably. Then he busied himself in making his grandfather as comfortable as possible, conjuring and draping a soft blanket on the old man, who was sleeping in a peaceful trance, clearly undisturbed by all those powerful emotions whirling around him.

Behind Minerva, hands clasped in a nervous grip and eyes twinkling with tears, Flitwick was patiently waiting for his turn. Finally Minerva disentangled herself from Snape's embrace, and the tiny wizard went to shake hands. He looked prodigiously excited, and his stuttering words of joy seemed to address Snape, Harry, and the painters...all together in a happy confusion.

"Mister Bernardi." Minerva suddenly realised she hadn't thanked the makers of that astounding wonder properly, and wiping a last fugitive tear, she stretched out a hand. "I am so very grateful to you and to your grandfather. Thank you very much, with all my heart."

The painter took her hand and kissed it respectfully.

"We are honoured to have been of help, Headmistress."

Then the old witch went to check the picture to which Harry had been transferred. Tears flowed again from her eyes when she saw the Potters smile joyously at her from the wall.

"Oh, Harry! How selfish I have been! I should have taken your place," she sobbed. "I am an old, useless woman. Why did you risk your life when mine was available?"

"I thought you were used to my reckless behaviour by now, Professor," Harry replied with a grin, and tightening his mother in his arms, he added seriously, "however, here is the answer to your question."

"Hello, Minerva!" Lily said, but couldn't help a shy glance at Snape before adding with forced gaiety, "Hello, everybody! I would like to thank you all for this incredible, unexpected present."

Her voice broke, and her son was ready to hug and kiss her on her cheek while James smiled his embarrassed grin.

Snape, too, raised his head at the family.

"Thank you, Potter," he said, trying to put all his gratitude into that simple sentence, but he paused immediately, as his words had been cut off by a new, horrible feeling of uneasiness. There was something... strange. He didn't feel comfortable in his body. Something must have gone wrong with the spell, he thought, and he felt agitated.

Then he looked again at the kind faces looking at him and considered that he was probably lacking practice.

Nineteen years a prisoner in a canvas... His mind went dizzy while memories and sounds and sensations abruptly filled his senses.

He closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

Back. He was back again.

And this time, amongst real friends.

*************

Bernardi went to greet Snape with touching joy. The Italian was evidently excited, but he managed to keep his emotion under control while he exchanged some words and shook hands vigorously. Then ready for a long wait, he patiently sat near his grandfather, both isolated in a corner of the room and leaving both the small groups...the one in the room and the one in the picture...to their privacy.

"Well," Flitwick said, rubbing his hands in expectation and smiling at Snape like an uncle taking his favourite nephew to the funfair, "what would you like to do first?"

"I think he will speak with me," a new voice unexpectedly replied.

Startled, Snape, Minerva, and Flitwick turned at those words and widened their eyes in surprise.

Ginny Weasley Potter was standing under the doorframe, arms crossed and a determined expression on her face.

*************

Snape and Ginny stared at each other.

After a few words of greeting, Minerva and Filius had left them alone, and Ginny had immediately gone to the frame where her husband was waiting, looking at her with the half-guilty, half-mischievous smile of his teenage days.

Their gazes crossed in a mute exchange, and for a moment, she looked like she was ceding to a powerful emotion. Her lips trembled uncontrollably as if searching for words, but after a few seconds, Ginny steadied them again with a strong act of will. Then wordlessly, she turned her shoulders to the picture and reached Snape in the middle of the room, right before the fireplace. There, she faced him, raising her chin in a defiant gesture, her radiant red hair blazing against the dancing light of the flames.

Feeling uneasy and vulnerable in his new body, Snape defensively folded his arms in his usual pose and waited in silence. That well-known attitude seemed to disconcert Ginny, and the woman paused to stare at him with a puzzled expression.

"It's odd," she finally said. "It's... incredible. You haven't changed. It's like..."

She shook her head, unable to find the words, and then she tried again. "It's like being back in time."

"It's strange for me, too," Snape agreed quietly. "And for exactly the opposite reason. It's strange because you have changed."

She nodded absently and silence fell again. Snape looked at her. His senses were growing more and more perceptive with every second, so he could easily detect rage and desolation in the woman before him. He thought he knew the reason, and he sighed.

"You said you wanted to speak with me. I can imagine why. Your husband has chosen to..."

"No," she interrupted him with the characteristic boldness he remembered so well, "I'm not going to say what you surely expect me to say. I'm not blaming Harry for his decision..."

Again, she hesitated, as if she were fighting against an unknown emotion.

"Nor you," she finally added. Her voice became hard.

"I came here because I need to understand. And I want you to understand as well. I never had the chance to speak with you when you... when you were still here."

She grimaced at her own awkward choice of words, yet continued stubbornly. "Perhaps you never thought about this, Professor, but it hasn't been easy to be Harry Potter. Nor to be his wife."

Snape lowered his head in a nod and wordlessly offered her a chair. She hesitated as if his offer could hide a trap, then took the seat she was presented. He sat near her, and they both contemplated the flames in the fireplace with unseeing eyes, carefully avoiding each other's gaze.

"I have been very envied, you know?" she continued after a while, still not looking at him. "The lucky girl who was going to marry the Chosen One. But my husband has never been totally mine. A part of his life is still strongly linked to his memories...the ones that are his own and the ones that you gave him. I needed to exorcise those visions. So, I had no other choice than to come here and speak to you."

She paused and gulped.

"Though, what I want to say is not easy," she admitted slowly.

She finally turned to look at Snape, and the wizard noticed with surprise that her eyes were red rimmed as if she were going to cry. But her features instantly hardened in a resolute expression.

"I've hated you from the very first moment," she declared simply.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. These were his first instants of life, and they were already bringing pain and rejection. Once more, his past had come back to torture him, cruel reminder of the many things he had left behind unsettled. And he had been conceded only one day... twenty-four hours, or perhaps even less, to repair the untied threads of his existence!

Suddenly, he felt inadequate to carry on that task and averted his gaze, trying to conceal the anguish that invaded his heart.

She took a deep breath, checking her emotion. He could perceive the many feelings bubbling inside her, demanding to be released, and instinctively, he clenched his fists, ready for her next emotional blow. But she was looking at the flames again, lost in a personal reverie.

"I had never been able to filter my memories from the impurities of time. Harry's scar has always been visible, but he carries so many other invisible scars inside him. He has chosen to close his memories in a corner of his mind, but they won't leave him alone. Never."

Snape was listening in silence, and Ginny seemed surprised by his quiet attitude, so she continued even more fervently.

"Our life has been shaped by Harry's memories. None of my children was named after my family. When my first son was born, Harry said that he wanted to call him James Sirius, and I was ready to comply. I had expected it. The joined names of his father and of the man who could have taken his father's place had he lived long enough."

Her eyes turned unexpectedly to search his while her voice became strangely imploring.

"But just imagine my shock when he announced that he would like to call our second baby Albus... Severus. Albus, I could understand. But your name! Such detestable memories coming back to life again, each time I would call my son. And yet I agreed."

A dark chuckle. "But, as soon as possible, I shortened his name to Al."

Her head lowered and words began to flow faster, like a torrent breaking a dam.

"Then we had a girl, and Harry honoured his mother, too. It seemed the right thing to do, and anyhow, I liked the name. So, the ghosts of the past seemed to have definitely been banished until last year, when James was owled from Hogwarts. After that message, memories subtly came back to haunt Harry again, and you had such a big part in them..."

Her fingers mechanically tormented the fabric on her lap.

"At the end, I suggested to him that he have his parents' portraits painted as therapy. Strangely, for all these years, it seemed that he'd cared more for the memories you gave him than for actually seeing his mother."

She turned to look accusingly at him.

"You have always been an uninvited, but constant, presence in our lives. And today is the supreme evidence. He chose to leave me alone this Christmas and to become a picture to free you. He chose to endanger his life to repay his debt, a debt that...according to me...had already and abundantly been paid."

Her eyes were as merciless as her voice. "So, I collected my memories again, and I thought that you weren't worth such a risk, such sacrifice."

She paused, then unexpectedly capitulated with a sob. "But I love Harry, and if he has decided to do this for you, it means that you deserve it."

She raised her head, suddenly realizing how long she had spoken in that supernatural silence, and to whom she had told all those cruel considerations. Sniffling softly, she considered him.

"And now you are here. It's... unbelievable."

"I share your feeling," he said bitterly, struggling against the coldness that had invaded his heart.

Coming back had been a mistake. He should never have accepted. How would he ever been able to repair the devastation that he had left behind? Why had he trusted Bernardi and his deceptively kind words?

Ginny tilted her head. Her brows furrowed while she looked at him and tried to express feelings that were still too indefinite to be articulated.

"And... and you see, there is still something else that I need to understand," she said with a low voice. "In these last weeks, I have been wondering what my children saw in you. Albus would trust you with his life; Lily loves you as if you were an uncle... even James now says that you are cool and terrific."

In spite of her desolation, her lips twitched into a smile, remembering those enthusiastic words of appreciation. Then her brows furrowed again.

"Have I been wrong all this time?" she murmured, almost imperceptibly, to herself.

He was watching the flames blankly, apparently indifferent.

"Professor," she asked impulsively, "please, let me touch your hand."

"To see if I am real?" he replied with a frown. Nevertheless, he complied. With a hesitant move, her fingers intertwined with his, and her eyes opened in surprise.

"Your hand is cold!" she exclaimed, and for the first time, he could see the concern on her features. "You must be freezing. Why didn't you say anything? The heat of the fire isn't enough. You should eat something to warm yourself."

She turned her head as if expecting a house-elf to pop into the room with a tray of food. And with a terrible pang, Snape finally understood what was making him feel so uncomfortable.

There was no blood in his veins, nor tears in his eyes; his body was only an empty shell for his soul while his spirit ached and cried in the desperate longing for a new existence... and the fulfilment of that wish was such a simple, ordinary action!

What if he had conveniently forgotten Bernardi's warning?

Did Ginny know what terrible temptation she had so casually put before him?

He glanced at her eyes, so evidently worried, and his doubts vanished while his mind bowed once more to his fate in a supreme offer.

"I cannot be warmed. I am dead," he explained quietly, and his face altered with the pain of that admission.

His words chilled her. Suddenly, she seemed to realise, and her eyes filled with the shock and the horror of that realisation. But instead of releasing his hand as he would expect of her, she tightened it even more while she uselessly tried to speak.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she finally whispered, and tears forced their way down onto her cheeks.

Motionless and silent, he savoured the bittersweet feelings that those purifying drops were bringing to his heart.