A Walking Shadow

A/N: I claim responsibility for this one. *graceful bow* in appreciation to Anastasia for her sharp eyes and well-tuned ear.

Blood Magic

... finally, the spell faded.

*****

Severus scowled at the table as Hermione heated the water. The angle of the lamplight illuminated letters scratched into the surface of the heavy wooden table. Reading "Professor Snape Loves Kreacher," complete with a crudely drawn animated cartoon illustration, signed "R.W.," had a certain predictable effect on his mood. He levitated the lamp and moved it back and forth, scanning the table top. Ah. He moved to read. "The Daily Snitch Headline: Snape Gets Laid. (Rita the Beetle, Staff Journalist). Readers, today we have proof that miracles do happen..." signed "F.W." He waved his wand, and the lamp drifted farther down the table. Another glint caught his eye. No words, just an illustration. The night on the Tower, rendered in meticulous, almost loving detail. The carving flashed green. And flashed again. And again. All the while, cartoon-Snape laughed. Deep, angry gouges across this one. He sent the lamp flying into the stone wall.

"Reparo," Hermione said, bringing two mugs to the table. The lamp glowed back to life on the floor.

Severus slumped over his forearms, encircling something - she couldn't see what - on the table top. Only an occasional reflected flicker from the lamplight glowing beneath him indicated that his eyes were still open. He stared into his hands, his breathing rapid. "Hermione."

She sat across the table from him, pushing a mug toward him and waited for him to continue.

He looked at her, his expression naked.

Fear? Him?! "Tell me."

He pushed away from the table abruptly, gesturing toward the grafitti, and stalked to the window, arms folded, blinking. He stared, unseeing, at the dark window glass.

She sighed. "Harry." He heard her put her mug down and walk toward him. She simply stood with him, not touching him, not speaking. His dim reflection in the window wavered and blurred as the mist rose outside.

In an instant his empty, haunted look was replaced by a blackness so complete she recoiled. He threw them both to the floor and rolled under the table, extinguishing the light as he did so. In the softest of whispers, he said "Legilimens," and his voice was in her mind.

"Dementors. Don't move."

She had no idea if he could hear words mentally spoken or if he just picked up images, or both, so she concentrated on an image of herself lying still, then on opening her hands and asking "The Secret?"

Again, the voice in her mind. "I don't know, Hermione. And I can hear words."

"If the Secret holds, are we safe?"

"Yes."

"If it doesn't, will hiding under the table accomplish anything?"

"Probably not. Dementors don't always work unaccompanied, and other things have eyes."

"Do you feel anything?"

A projection of startled confusion.

"I mean," she thought at him, "your Charm. It's attuned to the wards generally, not only Apparition, right?"

"I cannot hear anything with you chattering. Be still."

Her eyes widened in the darkness.

"I felt that," he grumbled in her mind, after a moment.

"Felt what?"

"Your eyes widen. I told you not to move."

"How did you -"

"Eyelashes, Hermione. They're rather distracting."

"Dementors, Severus. They're more so."

"Stay still."

Several minutes passed in silence. After the first panicked moments, Hermione found herself drifting into pure sensation. The scent of him. The softness of his clothes. And the weight of his body, his legs, and the almost pain of his hipbone pressed into her thigh. His arm, still wrapped around her awkwardly, lying as they had landed, his hand pressing her head toward his chest, holding it off the floor. She would have bruises, she was sure. She was equally sure she did not care.

Minutes passed, stretching into undifferentiated time. She drifted from sensation to memory to fantasy. So many buttons...

"Hermione." Even in her mind he sounded strangled. "I'm still in here."

Mentally, she smiled and thought about stretching like a cat.

"Are we safe yet?"

"... I believe the Secret holds."

She laughed mentally.

"I would prefer that you not do that."

"Laugh?"

"Yes."

"Why?!"

Nothing for a moment, then, "It tickles."

"You didn't say we were safe. Shall I stop chattering?"

"We seem to be in no danger from the outside."

She laughed mentally again.

"Stop that."

"I've never seen you laugh. I may never see you laugh. For all I know, you don't laugh. I want to feel you laughing inside my head. Severus, please."

His body froze, and she tensed.

"Dementors?" she asked after a moment.

"Of a sort. No, not that kind."

He started to move away, to stand, but she held him. "No. Tell me. This way."

"No."

"Obliviate me afterwards if you want. But please, don't make me read any more of your silences tonight. It may be all we -"

"I," he corrected her.

"WE," she insisted, "have. Severus, please," she asked again. "What do I need to know?"

A moment's hesitation, and it began.

Her mind was flooded with images...

A fist. A woman screaming. A younger Severus, eyes already deadened, in the Potions lab. Slightly older, seeing a young woman with red hair, smiling, concentrating on her cauldron in a classroom. Older still, seeing her smile turning to him. A flash of time - short - she wasn't sure how short - seeing that smile turning to... who? Harry?! A storm... a werewolf...

Darkness. Searing pain. Robed figures. A cave, a green glow... Images too fast for focus. Stairs, crouching, "...seventh month dies."

Flashes again. Blue eyes, kind but stern, over half-moon glasses.

Then the images split, two sets flashing simultaneously. Dark blurs on one side, brief occasional flashes of something lighter on the other: A boat... Sirius? More green glow...

A slow focus on the Dark Mark - on the lighter side? A change in angle, three shooting flames around his wrist. A fading light... A bright green flash...

Grey, nothing but grey, images repeating...

Then a grey Sorting... grey Harry, green eyes... Darkness deepening on one side, more grey on the other... Grey Harry, on his old broom. Grey Sirius, ugly, laughing. A werewolf. Dumbledore's hand, a potion, Fawkes, more Darkness, Red flames on his wrist...

"I saw that already..."

Wand forgotten, his hands gripped her head, tightly, desperately. She gasped, and focused again, her heart racing. Now even the grey disappearing... All Darkness, then single flashes, of Draco, Harry, Professor Flitwick, stairs, stars, and then -

Time stopped, and she felt his soul shatter as he loosed the spell.

Then blurs: Draco, bleeding, grey, dark, a pinprick of light, a light on her throat, his shoulder Blood? A pinprick, protection, admiration, retribution, her smile, doubt, her Patronus, blazing, blazing light, then -

All light.

All fear.

Then nothing.

Inside her burning mind, the pieces of Severus Snape's soul howled a confession the world would never hear.

*****

Hermione held him as she wept. He caught her tears, closed his hand, and opened it. Seven black pearls lay in a perfect ring. Unbuttoning a single button on her blouse, he placed them on her chest, over her heart. He pressed them into her skin.

Hermione screamed.