Soul Searching

Soul Searching Soul Searching By Quillusion   Happy Birthday to elvenprincess- hope this isn't too belated! Silene, thank you so much for the incredible compliment! Take heart and read on. I agree with you entirely- and so do the stones. Wsprite-ad, thanks for the detailed review! I enjoy reading installment fics like the old serials, myself- rather like Sherlock Holmes in its early days in The Strand. J Gina, OMG- if that's how this turned out, I think I would go insane. What an evil idea for a teaser before the real ending! * VEG * I was pleased that so many of you could see this happening in real life, or in film- that means I've done a decent job conveying what I was seeing in my head. I'm glad you enjoyed it as I did. To all my fellow WIKTTeers: The Book is not gone. It will, in fact, return. * VVEG * Thanks for reviewing on the list- I really enjoy seeing what you all think! I'm going to try to reply to you all via email because this author's note would get long and then the chapter would be too far away from you for the moment. So, without further ado:         Chapter 23 There is a great deal of noise and bustle as Severus's exclamation rings in the air. "Hermione! Where are you?" He sounds genuinely worried.   Everyone is looking for me now. Neville turns to look where he had left me before the end of the fight, but of course I have long since gotten to my feet, and the floor is bare where he had laid me down what seems like hours ago. Neville's head is bowed as he stares at the floor where he left me; I can see the cowlick at the back of his head.   And that’s when I notice that I am seeing things from a very different viewpoint than I should be.   I'm not this tall.   "No, my dear, you aren't."   Turning my head suddenly, I see Albus standing beside me.   Relief floods through me, and I open my mouth to ask how on earth did-   But he interrupts me. "No, no, you mistake my meaning. Look down, my dear."   I do, and realize that I can see his body, still laid out on the periphery of the cavern. And there, slumped against the wall, held up only by the cradle of stone that supports it, is my own body.   Albus's hand is gentle on my shoulder. "We appear to have a bit of a problem, Miss Granger."   I stare at Albus in confusion. "But we're not- not dead, are we?" I certainly don't feel dead. But given how badly off Albus looked when last I checked, he was not in the most robust condition himself.   "I don't think so- not yet. But that poison knife didn't do your health any more good than Tom's Tesla coil routine did mine. The cut wasn't more than a scratch, but the poison appears to have been potent."   I blink- how would the Headmaster know what a Tesla coil is?- but Albus holds up a finger to stop me.   "One thing at a time, my dear. Let's see what our friends make of us at this rather crucial juncture. It is an oft-wished thing, to know what your family and friends would say at your funeral. This may be the closest thing to it that we'll ever get." Eyes twinkling, he points down below us, to where everyone is running after Severus to where I- or at least, my body- lies motionless in the stone's embrace.       "Hermione!" he cries raggedly, then turns to look back at the Headmaster's form. "Remus- go check on Albus." That duty discharged, he turns back to me.   "Hermione- are you all right?" I notice that I drift closer as he calls my name. I can see sweat and blood and streaks of Merlin only knows what on his face, and his robes are torn and wet- most likely with blood. His hands are still trembling, only this time it is with fear.   "Hermione?- Oh, sweet mother of Merlin, she's barely breathing!" He gently tugs at my arms, but the stone holds me fast. Frustrated, he pushes against the rock face, but it will not budge.   "Please! Let her go!" he gasps in desperation, and thst ost of the group murmurs in surprise when the rock shifts to do just that, releasing my inert form to fall into his arms.   He lowers me gently to the ground, nimble fingers making short work of my shirt collar and robes. Two fingers press against my neck, and I can see him shut his eyes and hold his breath as he waits for a pulse.   In that moment, watching him fight despair and seeing dread wash over his ravaged face, I know that he loves me. I know it in a way that goes beyond words, beyond truth, right to the soul.   After everything else this man has endured, losing me just might kill him.   I find myself hoping that he will find a pulse- not for my sake, but for his. I want to live, not just for me, but for both of us. My fists are clenched, and in my anxiety I pound them lightly on thighs I can neither see nor feel in my disembodied state.   He lets out a startled gasp, jumping slightly, and his eyes fly open. With more energy than I thought he could possess, he sweeps me up into his arms.   "She's alive," he manages hoarsely. "Just barely." He turns, looks at the Headmaster's body.   "Is Albus alive?" he asks anxiously.   "He is, but just barely," Lupin replies. He has lifted Dumbledore carefully into his arms.   The werewolf moves to stand with the others, watching Severus curiously. Everyone is; after what they saw in the stone wall, and after they saw the rock wrapped around me and watched it obey Severus's command, they're more than a little awed. Even Harry and Ron look dazed, and they've already seen what the henge is capable of doing.   Severus seems to realize in that instant that, for the first time in his life, adults are looking at him to lead them. That's new; usually his suggestions are ignored. Circe knows Albus doesn't seem to take too many of them. He blinks for a moment, and then turns for the passage up and out of the cavern.   "Let's go," he says briskly, and everyone follows.   I'm always amazed at how the human body will dredge up the ability to do something when someone else tells you that you can, or that you must. Somehow, Professor Snape's direction has revitalized the exhausted company. Sirius helps Remus carry Albus up the steep incline of the passage, but Severus will not let anyone help carry me- not even Harry.   They emerge into the Quantiped's cavern with hardly a pause, and when the creature stirs slightly in its alcohol-induced stupor, Severus barely spares it a glance.   "We should have Charlie come back for that thing," he says absently. "It might be worth studying, and we certainly can't leave it here."   Ron scowls at it and gives it a wide berth as he passes it. "Why not?" he asks flatly. "I wouldn't object if it starved to death."   Up we go, up the last segment of tunnel, into the lowering clouds of late afternoon and the fresh wind of the Scottish coast. Severus covers the distance down the tail of the crag with long strides, and as he moves away from the castle, it becomes apparent that those earthquakes did more than a little damage to the structure. It's amazing they were able to climb out the way they came in, without any trouble.   I feel the faint tingle of the stones, wishing me farewell and a safe journey back to what they seem to think of as 'my other stones', and I chuckle to myself. I can't be that far gone, if the stones can still sense me. I wave goodbye absently and pay close attention to the little group huddled at the base of the crag.   Severus is studying them all with more than a little worry in his expression. "I can only think of one thing to do," he says softly, staring down into my still face. "I don't know what poison was on the knife, and she is past all antidotes now, anyway. I have little choice."   "Little choice, but to what?" asks Remus gently, shifting Albus's body in his arms.   Severus looks at him- or, more likely, through him- as he considers.   "We must get the two of them to Salisbury." Severus adjusts his arms on me a little, to hold me slightly more upright, then lets my legs dangle down along his. "We'll have to Apparate- there's no time for any other way."   "Severus!" exclaims Minerva, who has made her shaky way up from the cavern below on Harry's arm. "Do you think that's wise? In your conditiond wnd with an unconscious girl? You're very likely to splinch yourselves!"   His expression is bleak when he turns to meet her gaze.   "If we don't get to Salisbury soon, it won't matter," he says doggedly. "I would rather splinch with her than live without her."   And in a gust of wind, he is gone.   "Well," says Albus's voice at my side. He speaks rather decisively. "I think that lays a few questions to rest." With a wink, he nods to me- and we both dissolve to follow our bodies.   Salisbury plain is calm and quiet when Severus Snape arrives in the middle of the field beside the henge. SCAI is settled in for the night by now; I was the only student who used the henge regularly for practical applications, and most of the nighttime usages this term were by students studying specific astronomical conjunctions. Tonight is uneventful, from an astronomical point of view- and so we have the place to ourselves. Or, at least, Severus has it to himself, with my body for company and an unseen audience of two souls.   He has all of fifty-one seconds to enjoy the solitude, because Remus appears with Albus just as he is lifting my body back up into his arms to carry it to the henge. Sirius, Harry, Minerva, Neville, and Ron pop into view in sequence a few seconds apart, and with panting breaths they hitch their robes up and wade out of the stubble of plants growing in the field.   "Severus, what on earth-" Minerva begins breathlessly, but Remus halts her with a hand on her arm.   "I think this may have to do with how Severus managed to join us all for the fight after being beaten within an inch of his life the night before," he says contemplatively, and Sirius frowns with concentration.   Harry's eyes widen as he watches Snape carrying me to the heelstone, Remus right behind him with the Headmaster. "Of course," he breathes, his eyes suddenly glittering with hope. "Like Hermione did with the Cleve Potion, Ron! Maybe it will work for this, too!" He doesn't know how incredibly powerful the henge turned out to be when I made a batch of the Cleve Potion for Severus- but it doesn't matter. Tonight, he has seen what incredible things the stones can do. For once, I see that Harry Potter is as excited about the potential outcome of an experiment as I have ever been. I smile fondly down at him, wishing I were able to tease him about it.   He suddenly breaks into a run, dashing with long legs across the smooth green grass, vaulting over the little Muggle rope-fence, skidding to a halt beside Snape.   "Let me help," he breathes.   Severus does not hesitate. "Sit on the altar stone."   "Me, too," Ron says, only a few strides behind Harry- burdened as he is by his injured arm.   Snape glances at him. "You're injured," he objects.   "We all are. But Hermione is worse off. Let us all help her a little, and Albus too."   He stares up into the redhead's eyes, then nods once, shortly.   "Albus!" cries Remus, and Severus moves swiftly to kneel beside him.   "His pulse! It's dropped off!" The werewolf whips his wand out and begins an incantation to help restart the heart.   I turn to look at Albus beside me. He looks so calm and collected, and it's all I can do to watch. If I had a heart in this state, it would be pounding thunderously with fear.   "How can you stand to watch this?" I ask shrilly. "Doesn't this bother you?"   "It isn't as if it's painful," he says dryly, and I realize that he's right. Nothio fao far has hurt, at all. I stare at him for a long moment, and it suddenly occurs to me that perhaps his calm is resignation- or even his normal response to tragedy. I have so rarely seen him face something like this. I squirm in silence, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. What will happen if Albus dies? Will he just vanish from beside me, removed from the limbo we both seem to be inhabiting for now?   Harry has started doing Muggle CPR while they chant; it's something to try at least, and there's so little else to do besides what Snape is now hurriedly doing. Grabbing Ron by the good wrist, the Potions master hauls him, Sirius, Remus, Neville, and Minerva to the center of the circle of stones and places them at the altar stone, just as I had placed Ron once before. "Think of Albus," he says roughly, and then he turns from them.   Severus strides up to the central upright stone with the slit and, as he saw me do before, thrusts his wand through the gap, pressing his entire body against the stone and squeezing his eyes shut.   Albus is tense. I can see that much, even in the ephemeral form of the Headmaster's presence beside me. He is watching intently, all traces of merriment gone from his expression, and in that moment I know how badly he wants this to work.   "It will be all right, Albus," I say softly, putting my hand on his shoulder this time. To my surprise, where I could not feel my own body, I can feel his- much as I felt his hand on me when he first spoke.   He starts a little, and bright blue eyes meet mine with shadows of fatigue in their depths. Not knowing what else to do, I smile at him and nod once, slowly, and let my hand slide down from his shoulder to his wrist, then lower to gently clasp his thin hand in mine.   He does smile then, at the reassuring illusion of solidity in my touch, and squeezes my hand back.   And so we sit, watching Severus discover a gift he never knew he had, and marveling at the fireworks our mortal eyes could never have shown us.   It's beautiful from up here. What my mortal ears perceive as song, my ethereal self perceives as song and light. It moves like mist at dawn, like starshine, like the beat of blood through a great heart, the soft advance and retreat of waves- systole, diastole, and on through the ages. It's the magic of creation, alive still in the ground beh ouh our feet.   Or at least, beneath their feet. The six people at the altar stone- for Harry has dashed in to join them at last- are holding hands, concentrating hard on Albus with everything they have. Ron, who has done this before, tells them what to do, and to my amazement, the henge remembers him, even though he cannot possibly know it. As I watch, the faintest russet tendrils of light surround him with a rhythmic pattern. Harry is enfolded in a brighter red, Minerva in a bronze color, Sirius in soft silver, Neville in green, and Lupin in cobalt blue. The colors swirl together in a white blaze, rising above to form the center of what almost looks like a hurricane... or a spiral galaxy. Great bands of light and music pulse out from that center, swirling round in two arms that reach out to gently touch the heelstone as they turn.   In the middle of all this stands Severus Snape, transfixed by the henge's song, as transported by it as I was. The stone is curving to support him, now, and I smile at the memory of how… caring that monolith felt to me.   To my astonishment, the great spiral suddenly contracts on itself, concentrating into a single point of light the size of a person's fist. Then, with an abruptness that seems incongruous with its previous lazy grace, the light pulses, and fires itself with the sureness of a loosed arrow straight at Albus's heart. His body absorbs the light completely, and it is as if the entire world is plunged into darkness.   "Albus!" I cry, but there is no answer from beside me.   Wind slices across the plain then, bringing stinging chill with it, but no one feels it as they all stagger to the heelstone, to where Albus Dumbledore is hesitantly sitting up, coughing weakly and retching slightly.   "Albus!" cries Minerva, flinging herself down with none of her usual dignity at his side. "You're alive!" She is short of breath and pressing a hand to her side in discomfort, but her face is alight with joy.   "Mostly," he admits, though his voice is weak and it's plain he will need much rest to recover. "Mostly. But I think there are others who need attention as well?" He gestures to my body, and as they all scramble to help Albus rise- it takes three of them in their condition to do so- I see the Headmaster's gaze flick up to where I wait. I wave, and even though I know he can't see me, I know he can tell I am watching.   They have Albus shifted safely out of the range of the henge's circumference within a minute or so, and then Severus gently transfers my body to the heelstone's foot, arranging my arms and legs in as comfortable a fashion as possible. Before he moves away, he kneels before me, smoothing my hair.   "Hermione," he says softly, and again I am drawn closer by his call. I can see tears glittering in those hard eyes, and my heart aches for him. I reach out to touch him, but my hand passes through him- and his shiver is my only reward.   "Come back to me, love. Please. I-" He chokes then, and can't go on- but I know what he means. "Please," he whispers again. He kisses me swiftly on the forehead, then stands and runs back to the center of the henge.   Harry suddenly realizes exactly what it is the Potions master intends to do when he sees him enter the henge alone.   "Severus- we have to send to Hogwarts for someone else to donate energy. You can't run that thing and donate at the same time. It's not safe." His dark brows are knitted in a concerned frown as he watches his former teacher approach the monoliths for the second time that evening.   Severus pauses for a moment as he reaches the central stone, his wand raised. Without turning away from the stone, he turns his head to look at Harry with devastated eyes. "How in hell do you think she saved my life last night?" he demands. "It took an incredible on on her, yes. And if it takes one on me, then so be it. I don't give a damn whether or not it's safe." His wand slides home in the slit with a hissing noise, and Harry makes no move to stop him.   And it begins with a single note.   I've lost that lovely far-off perspective I had just a moment ago. It was white, and peaceful, and detached.   Now everything hurts like hell, from my heart beating to my lungs moving to the very tissues in my body growing and changing. I can feel it all and it hurts. There is noise everywhere, wind and song, and people's voices, and the grinding sound of a lorry shifting gears on the road nearby. To me, it even feels as if the lorry hurts, and I don't want to know how my brain has managed to decide that.   The monoliths are singing again, and I can vaguely feel their presence. It is no stronger than it was on the north coast of Scotland, which surprises me a little- it was much stronger the last time I was here. Perhaps that is because I am not the one asking something of the henge, but receiving something from it   Suddenly, in one flashing moment, I can see, just as I did when Albus and I watched. There is light everywhere, soft light like the morning sun through mist, and it swirls and then clear spots appear in it. When the fog is gone, I can see the brightness of the sun. It's pulsing, pure white, almost blue silver with inity-ity- there are none of the soft, curling tendrils of color that I saw before. But the sun has never looked like this to me before. I look carefully, and below me I can see the circle of monoliths again, with the sun in the middle.   No. It's not the sun.   It's Severus.   This most definitely did not happen when the henge saved Albus. And then, in an instant, the secret knowledge steals into my heart, and I store it away for later. The silver intensifies, and then it's gone in a rush of velvet darkness.   Gradually, in faint stages, I become aware of many things. The grainy coldness of the stone beneath my shoulders, the tickle of the grass against my bare ankles, the cold sheeting of wind across my under-dressed body. My neck, still stinging and tingling with residual magic. The smell of sweet hay, dry grass, and rain.   The quiet of Salisbury's ancient henge, still in the darkness.   Running feet approach, and I feel myself lifted up carefully.   "Hermione! Hermione, open your eyes!"   It's Ron and Harry. I want to please them- they've tried so hard- but it's difficult to tell if I'm actually in my body again, for real. At last, after considerable effort, I manage to crack my eyes open, though even the starlight is too bright for my taste, and focus on their worried faces.   "Thank Merlin," cries McGonagall as she peers over their shoulders. Sirius is beside her, his face creased with concern, and Neville crouches down to join Harry and Ron.   "Severus," calls Remus from out of my line of sight. "Severus, it worked! Come on, man!" His voice is getting farther away, and I know that he's gone to help the exhausted Potions master. If Severus feels at all the way I felt after doing what he just did, he'll need to sleep for a week.   Suddenly he's there, a black shape collapsing to kneel on the grass beside me, and I turn my face to look up at him. He's bedraggled, soaked through by Circe only knows what, his dark hair clumping together in wet spikes that cling to his cheeks. His face is pale, streaked with blood and what looks almost like soot, and his hands tremble rather markedly. He looks all but done in- which is how I feel.   "Hermione," he says roughly, his voice breaking on the second syllable. His hands come up to cradle my face, and their warmth revives me a little.   "Severus," I manage, and then he is reaching for me, hauling me bodily into his arms, nearly smothering me with emotion and wonder. He half-falls, half-sits, drawing me onto his lap to hold me closer. His arms wrap around me, and the closeness and real solidness of him convince me more than anything else has so far that I am truly not dead.   I hold him as tightly as I can, wanting fiercely to let him know how grateful I am to him for what he has done, and yet knowing that I am feeble with the effects of the potion.   Severus draws back after a moment, staring at me as if afraid to believe what he sees.   "Oh, by all that's sacred, Hermione, I thought you'd-" he starts, then I feel his shoulders shake. I gently turn his face to the light, and I can see the dark hopelessness still in his eyes, the fear that has not yet lost its grip on him. He stares at me, at a complete loss for words, and before either of us can say more, he is crying, soft silent sobs shaking his frame with an intensity that almost frightens me. He pulls me close to him again, buries his face in my neck, and I feel the hot wetness of his tears on my skin. Overcome, I let my own fall upon his shoulder.   Our friends bear well with our little emotional scene, watching over us with silent understanding, not moving or shifting or giving away their presence with any untoward noise. Even Ron manages to keep from making any unflattering noises. When we have collected ourselves enough to preserve our senses of self-respect, they carefully help us off the grass- for it is patently obvious that neither of us will be doing any of our own Apparating for some time. It is all Severus can do to stand up again with Sirius's help.   "We must get back to Hogwarts," says Minerva sensibly, still somewhat overcome by the emotional scenes we have all just witnessed. If not for the overweening dignity of the assembled group, the events of the last few hours would seem melodramatic to the point of ridiculousness. Her words, however, restore some sense of normalcy, and the odd feeling of suspended time is broken.   Remus lifts me, and Harry and Ron prop Albus up between them. Severus, I note with a faint trace of amusement, will not accept anything other than a supporting shoulder from Sirius; even now he has a mantle of dignity that cannot be put aside. We slowly make our way across the cleared portion of the plain, passing to one side of the henge, heading for the open space of the field in which we all arrived. As we pass the outer edge of the ring of monoliths, though, Severus and I both suddenly ask to stop.   At my request, Remus carries me to the nearest stone. I put my hand against it, and once again the vivid hum envelops me. Satisfied that I can still hear them, I smile. Severus, and Albus with Harry's and Ron's help, come to stand beside me, touching the rock with gentle reverence.   "Thank you," we all murmur.   I have the vaguest impression of eagerly waving hands- but that's silly. They're rocks. They don’t have hands. Maybe they're just learning a little of my language, the way I've learned a little of theirs. I like that thought. I shall have to see if any of the rocks at Hogwarts can hear me. I've never heard them before, but I'm beginning to think that something about my experience in the henge has sensitized me, and perhaps I will find other places where I can hear the stones; whether or not strong emotion has to be involved remains to be seen.   Once we reach the empty field, the lot of us stand- well, I dangle, everyone else stands- and just breathe for a moment, gathering our strength for the return trip. Remus, Minerva, Sirius, Ron, and Harry are planning on Apparating with one or two other people each to get us home. Just when we're about to depart, however, Albus stops us.   "I do have something that might come in handy at the moment," he says, his voice quavering as he speaks, and he carefully reaches into the depths of his robes. "I ought to have mentioned it earlier. I'm sure I would have- but I'm not quite feeling myself again yet." His trembling hand emerges from the folds of his clothing with a small ball of twine in it.   "Portkey," he explains cheerfully, keeping up appearances despite fatigue. "Keyed to take us to the gates, to the spot from which we left. I brought it along just in case we needed a quick way back."   Severus laughs, a genuine laugh now. "Albus," he says, taking the proffered end of the twine, "I have never been so pleased at your ability to be prepared for anything. I think I would give my best cauldron for something hot to eat and something soft and horizontal."   The twine rapidly makes its way round the group, and when everyone has hold of a bit, Minerva quietly activates the charmed string.   In a heartbeat, Salisbury is alone again.     Oh, Hogwarts. Hoggy, warty, Hogwarts. I've never been so grateful to see you in all my days. I've also never thought the trip from your gates to your doors was so long. It seemed so very much shorter all the times I've come up this road in the school carriages, even though I was eager to reach the Sorting Feast and the classes and the library- and the carriages seemed so slow. What normally looks like a grand, sweeping, gentle incline now looks more like the view from the bottom of an Olympic ski jump, and each successive turn of the drive makes it feel twice as long. The word 'plod' has never sounded so onomatopoeic before.   But all trips, no matter how long, have their end- and then we are all standing at the doors of the Castle, and suddenly the great oaken slabs swing outward with considerable force.   Hagrid is standing in the doorway, looking anxious and more than a little haggard. He searches our number anxiously, his eyes flicking across my face for a brief moment before moving on.   "Professor Dumbledore!" he cries, as soon as he sees the Headmaster's form held up between Harry and Ron. "Fawkes has been goin' mad, wantin' to get to you somethin' fierce! I figured it meant you was hurt or summat- an' blimey, I was right, wasn' I?" He surges forward, and before anyone can stop him, he has lifted Albus up into his powerful arms with the gentleness he has always reserved for injured things- although most of them have been far nastier, if less powerful, than Albus Dumbledore.   "I'll take him up to the hospital wing," he says to McGonagall as he turns to go. "Madam Pomfrey is expecting business this afternoon."   It's clear he has warned the castle what to expect; as soon as we are in the entrance hall, House Elves- Castle Elves?- appear from everywhere to guide us to chairs, examine our wounds, and offer drinks. The worst-injured of us are immediately triaged; Ron is promptly dragged off to the hospital wing by an anxious Dobby.   As a house elf approaches Severus, he gently waves the creature away. "Later," he says firmly. "See to Hermione."   Remus has set me down in a chair, and the elf comes closer to check my injuries- and sucks in a horrified breath. "Is poison, Professor Snape! See, the knife cut is being poison! Miss is feeling sick now, is feeling worse soon!"   Severus is at my side in an instant, taking my chin in hand to turn my head and look at my badly used throat.   "Hermione," he calls gently, and I blink- then focus on him.   "Hmm?"   "That poison is still active, isn't it?"   "Mmmm hmmm." Words appear to be beyond me again.   "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks anxiously.   I try to shrug, but the worried look on Severus's face tells me the movement was not coordinated enough to avoid being mistaken for a seizure, or somethiqualqually unfavorable.   "The henge doesn't seem to undo poisonings," he murmurs as he hastily wraps my robes around me again. "But it has bought us time to find you an antidote, hasn't it? It's good enough. I'll take it."   He turns to Harry, who is leaning forward, hands on his knees, peering anxiously into my face.   "Is there anything I can do?" he asks the Potions master.   Severus studies him for a fraction of a second before answering, "Yes. There is." With a glance for Harry's injuries, he turns to look at Neville Longbottom, hovering in the shadows nearby. With a nod to my still form, he asks, "Can you carry her?"   Neville nods once, in affirmation, and Snape jerks his head toward the stairs. "The dungeons. Now."   Down, down, down the stairs- longer, again, than I recall, but far less ominous than the trip down to Voldemort's sanctuary. Neville's arms are strong, and he is not even breathing hard when he finally lays me down on a couch.   I open my eyes a little, and realize that once again, I have been laid down on the couch in the Potions master's private lab. How ironic; the last time I was here, I was in Severus's position, and he in mine. So why am I still the one on the couch? I shake my head a little to clear it. Damn poison knife. I hope Voldemort is miserable, wherever he is.   Severus has gone to a little cabinet on the far wall and removed a flagon of thick liquid. Pepper-Up potion, as I recall. He judges the contents with a quick glance- it is enough for three people- and downs the entire thing.   Harry cocks an eyebrow at him. "Isn't that a little much?"   Severus coughs as the steam leaks out of his ears in small wisps- nowhere near as much as one might expect after the dose he took. "I'm feeling rather fatigued," he explains in Full Understatement Mode, "and I'll need all the strength I can muster for the antidote I'm going to brew." Short pause. "If you're willing, I would appreciate it if you could stay- to watch Hermione, and to help a bit, if you felt up to it."   "Anything you need," says Harry, his hand holding tight to mine.   "Then come here." He turns to look at Neville for a moment, his eyes flicking back to rest on the row of helpless, innocent cauldrons against the far wall. "I think you've done far more than your share of work tonight," he says, and there is a faint hint of irony in his voice as he lifts a copper cauldron to sit over a flame. "Perhaps you'd be good enough to wait in the Great Hall."   Neville bolts, and I sigh with relief. At least one thing has remained the same, after all the changes this day has brought. He may be a hero because of it, but Neville Longbottom is still a menace around cauldrons.   I drift in and out of a pleasant haze while they work. Severus has swabbed the cut at my neck with a little cotton wool, and minuminutes and three spells later, he has identified the poison. There is a flurry of activity after that, of which I catch only part because the soft grey clouds in my brain are getting in the way of seeing things at times. I hear their voices back and forth in conversation- Snape's still somewhat testy, Harry's deferent and uncharacteristically meek. I realize that this is mostly because he wants to help me, and will likely put up with anything from Snape if he can save my life. But part of it, I think, is now out of honest respect for the Potions master's abilities- and out of an understanding that Snape is trying, despite what even I know are desperate circumstances, to be nicer to him. Harry's voice has deepened with full adulthood, and it's rather pleasant to listen to two distinctly male voices in conversation without having to pay attention to the things they're saying.   "The mallow root next, Potter- that's the one."   "Do you need any more of the kangaroo fur, sir?"   "No. Bring the jasmine oil when you come back- the taller jar."   A moment later: "That's mink oil, Potter. I need the jasmine." Only a hint of snappishness in this last remark, and Harry takes it with good grace.   "Sorry. Here."   "Much better. Shred these, will you? Leave the slicing to me, yours are too uneven. You know, if you had only paid attention in class, you'd probably be halfway decent at this by now."   Harry's voice is dry when he replies. "Doubtful," he says. "I'm no Hermione Granger."   For a long moment, the only sound is the soft whoosh of the flame beneath the cauldron.   "No one else is," Severus replies in a soft murmur. "No one else could be."   The tenderness in his tone makes me smile, even as the scene fades from my consciousness.     Whoa. Something tastes awful. I'm awake now, spluttering and gagging; I had no idea I'd fallen asleep. Harry is holding me upright, and Severus is in front of me, with an empty glass flask in one hand and a long, thin, flexible tube in the other. Given how my nose feels, I'm quite certain that, a few moments ago, that tube was down my nose and into my stomach- which means that the flask's former contents, now sloshing merrily about in my stomach, are the cause of the foul taste. I must have been too far gone to swallow for them. One look at their faces confirms my thoughts; they both look pale and grim. Severus doesn't even notice the slime on the tube in his hand; he's too intently watching my face.   "I'm- disgusted," I manage, "but I'm awake now. Are you two all right?"   They burst out laughing at this, and I frown. "What's funny?"   Harry howls and wipes his eyes. "Oh, Hermione- we've been watching you for fifteen minutes, waiting for the antidote to work, praying you wouldn't stop breathing- and you're asking if we're all right? You're alive! We're bloody WONDERFUL!" He wraps me in a bear hug, which I return as much as I can. He squeezes a little too hard, though, and I gag a bit- they must have put a lot of the potion down my gullet.   Harry lets go, and turns to Severus. "If it's OKwantwant to go let everyone upstairs know she's all right for now. And I'll send down word of everyone else."   Severus nods, not speaking, and Harry turns to run up the stairs to the Great Hall and the infirmary.   "Severus," I call, when he does not turn to look at me. "Are you all right?"   He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he turns again. "Yes, and no," he replies. "I think I need to go see Madam Pomfrey before I turn in, and I'm still overwhelmed by everything that's happened. But I think you're going to be all right, with a little rest and probably a few more doses of this stuff." He gestures to the cauldron sitting on the sideboard, cooling now. "Voldemort's dead. And Albill ill probably pull through. As far as I'm concerned, that makes everything else that happened all right." He gives me a tired smile, one of genuine happiness and relief, and it's the first of its kind I've seen on his care-worn face. I reach my hand out for him, and with a smile, he comes to sit on the couch beside me. I curl my body around his, and he leans into the touch.   "I should probably go to the infirmary as well," I murmur, wiping the corners of my mouth to try to remove all traces of the potion's horrid flavor. "I may get sick from the taste of that stuff. Why did it taste so bad?"   Severus chuckles. "I didn't dare take the time to add the usual flavorings," he says. "You could have died if I'd waited that long to give it to you."   That's my opening.   "Thank you for saving my life," I say, looking up into the darkness of his eyes. "Thank you for not dying on me," he counters. "I was afraid you would. And I couldn't have borne it." He smoothes my hair away from my face.   "We still need to have that talk- but it's going to have to wait again. I don't think either of us should say much of anything to anyone outside of a pillow for many hours to come." I sigh; it really would be wonderful to sleep in the same old four-poster I had in my student days. I've been longing for a good, long sleep in that bed since the henge drained me to make the Cleve Potion.   That reminds me- he has now used the henge. I'm beginning to think of the exhausting activity as 'hengeing'; I've also found myself secretly thinking of the fatigued post-hengeing state as 'being stoned'.   "What did you think of our henge?" I ask, and he smiles, tipping his head back to remember. He is silent for a long time, then he says,   "It's incredible. I've never experienced anything like it. Song, just like the last time, and energy, and exhilaration. And now I could sleep for a week. If this is how you felt after you made the Cleve Potion for me, you won't get up until Yule at this rate."   I chuckle. "Correct as always," I say. "You know, Severus, I think there's a great deal of cosmic symmetry here- we've each saved the other with the henge now. At first, after I saved you, I felt weak, and the weakness lessened when I was near you. Now that you've saved me, I feel stronger- but I still feel better when I am near you, though I think the reasons are different. I wonder if the parts of us that we gave one another like to be close?"   He looks at me blankly. "What part of me?" he asks quietly. "I gave you energy, but I think that's all. Truth be told, I think the henge gave you some energy of its own; I don't think I was strong enough to do it all by myself."   He really doesn't know what he gave me. I'm surprised, until I remember that I myself didn't really understand it until I watched the henge work from the celestial plane. I used the henge the first time with only the barest scrap of knowledge- and made a correct assumption that has since been expanded. The henge can channel energies of all kinds, not just soul- although that's what I've concentrated on recently. I think the henge may have given Albus energy last night as well; he was so near to death that I find myself indulging in the poetic notion that nothing purely mortal could have saved him.   In any case, whatever the henge did to help Severus, he provided the energy for it himself. The henge must have felt that he could do it alone.   "Severus," I say slowly, "I remember you running the henge last night. I'll have to tell you everything else that happened, later- but I want to tell you a little now. I remember the henge working on Albus, and on me. I saw it from- from wherever I was when I wasn't in my own body." I pause. There's some fairly significant stuff I want to say, and I want to say it properly.   "The henge can transfer energy between people, and it can give energy on its own as you have suggested. But I could see the energy this time, and there are different kinds. There is the life-force type energy, for lack of a better word, and there is soul energy. When you saved Albus, all the people on the altar stone gave life energy- and the henge probably helped, I think you're right. But the other night, when I used the henge with Albus, I gave you part of my soul in the Cleve Potion." I look into his eyes, wanting to see his response to my next phrase. "And last night, you gave me part of yours, pure and simple. I saw it."   Severus stares at me in surprise. "You- what? What did you see, Hermione?"   "I was up above the henge. Albus was with me at first. We watched everything- and I could see all the energy, like I said. It was colored when you saved Albus, different colors from different people, and it swirled. It was very lovely. But then you put my body at the heelstone, and you worked the henge by yourself. And that time, it was different." I smifatifatigue claiming me quickly- but I want him to know this part, to share the little, precious secret I learned as I drifted between worlds. "I know you've often told people- Albus, in particular- that you have a black soul. I also know you've all but decided that you don't even have a soul any longer- that you've lost it, sold it, forfeited it. But you're wrong. I saw Albus's soul as he lay on the floor with Remus at his side. I saw the colors of our friends' souls reflected in their life force as they helped you save Albus. And I have seen your soul, too, Severus Snape.   "It was so beautiful, so light, that I thought it was the sun. All silver white, and so bright. It was the brightest thing on Salisbury Plain. And it saved my life." I smile up at him, and register only the faintest glimmer of tears in his eyes as he takes my hand, pressing it to his cheek. He kisses the palm, and as I drift to sleep, I hear him whisper,   "You're wrong, you know. I don't have a soul any longer- I just gave it away. It's all yours now, Hermione." He smiles against my skin.   "Every last bit of it." A/N: In my last author's note I mentioned that my beta reader feared a misunderstanding would arise. In case you're curious, the original version of chapter 22 ended with what is now material in the start of this chapter. The old chapter 22 ended with Albus saying, "We appear to have a bit of a problem, Miss Granger." Yes, it would have beeworsworse cliffhanger, I think. The White Knight thought everyone might believe them to be totally dead, and thought that would be too devastating. I know we're used to magic saving people in these fics, so I thought it would probably have been ok, but decided to back up a few lines anyway to avoid the possibility. Stay tuned for more action from The WIKTT Archives! Email to quillusion@yahoo.com with questions, comments, reviews, etc!