Chapter Text
He was in his office, waiting for the arrival of the Headmaster and the Golden Trio.
The last twenty-four hours had been absurd: the battle in the castle, his death—or almost—the confrontation with the Dark Lord, not to mention what he had overheard upon his return.
Fortunately, no one had found out, but he had observed people's reactions, believing him dead... and above all, Potter's.
He had clearly heard the unbearable know-it-all, always ready to poke her nose into other people's business—especially anything concerning Potter—while she was chatting with Weasley.
With her usual bossy air, she had decreed that the boy was feeling guilty.
Perhaps, Severus thought with an ethereal grimace of disgust, she and Potter had misunderstood everything, mistaking his gesture for a ridiculous act of noble sacrifice. Absurd, idiotic Gryffindors.
If things really stood like that, something had to be done immediately. If the Dark Lord decided to probe the boy's mind, he might discover the truth... and then, he and Dumbledore would have no way to fix it.
He heard footsteps in the corridor and familiar voices.
«But Professor, why are we here? We don't have permission to enter the office, let alone use Professor S—'s private stores...» the words died in her throat.
Ah, here she was. Her usual obsession with following the rules when it suits her... after breaking into my private stores more times than I can count, Severus thought with a sardonic raise of his eyebrow.
«Oh, well, Miss Granger, I hardly think that's an issue anymore,» Dumbledore said with a calm smile.
Harry stared at him, perplexed. «But... Headmaster, really? After everything that's happened?»
«Come now, Harry, sometimes permission is merely a matter of perspective,» Dumbledore replied, gently pushing open the office door.
As soon as the door opened, the three teenagers froze.
There, suspended in mid-air and slightly translucent, stood Severus Snape. Arms crossed, severe expression, and an eyebrow raised.
The three of them let out a collective scream.
«Pro-professor Snape?! But... how—?» Harry stammered.
«Articulate as ever, Potter,» Snape retorted, with a barely perceptible smirk. «Since you're done shrieking, move it. There is much to be done.»
Dumbledore watched them serenely, as if everything were perfectly normal. «Well, children. I shall leave you in Hogwarts' more... expert hands,» he said, and took his leave with a knowing smile.
As soon as the door closed again, Severus turned to the three of them. «Well, what are you waiting for? An official invitation?»
Hermione took a step forward, trying to pull herself together. «Yes, Professor... but what exactly are we supposed to brew?»
«A Goggles-Blurring Potion and a modified Radicating version,» he replied sharply.
Hermione's eyes lit up. «Really? The Radicating is a seventh-year potion! I didn't think—»
«Wipe that smile off your face, Granger!» he interrupted coldly. «You are here due to fortuitous circumstances. Now take the seventh-year textbook and follow my instructions word for word.»
Then he turned to the other two-thirds of the trio. «Potter, Weasley, two cauldrons and the ingredients. Move, or I'll make you regret not going back to the Common Room.»
«Yes, sir!» they chorused, scrambling toward the shelves.
«Merlin's beard... when did he get back? Maybe Snape really is immortal! Nobody survives something like that... bloody hell!» Ron blurted out, eyes wide.
«Yeah,» Harry muttered, letting out a sigh of relief—which quickly got stuck in his throat.
The next four hours were a nightmare. They would have sworn they had never so intensely wished for a ghost to be exorcised.
Snape, floating and furious, raged above them like an ethereal lightning bolt.
«Granger! How many times do I have to repeat that snake fangs are not to be dropped into the cauldron?! Or would you rather blow up the dungeons?»
«Weasley, you incompetent fool! The melting agrimony must be finely minced, not torn apart like a weed!»
«And you, Potter...» Snape's voice dropped into a menacing hiss. «Really, after six years, you still confuse a Rooting Collybia with a dandelion root? I wonder how you manage to distinguish a wand from a broomstick!»
«You three wooden heads will be the death of me a second time!» he finally snarled, crossing the desk with a grimace of sheer, exasperated contempt.
«Erhm... I don't think that's possible, unfortunately,» Harry whispered to Ron, trying to suppress a laugh.
«Potter,» thundered the icy voice behind him, making him jump, «I am a ghost, not deaf! If you dare make another comment like that, I'll find a way to make you regret you were ever born.»
Harry swallowed hard. «Y-yes, sir.»
«Good. Now, move! I'm in a hurry to get back into my body before someone decides to decorate it with flowers and candles.»
Finally, after hours of work, Snape stopped. His tone returned to almost neutral—which, knowing him, was already a sign of gratitude.
«At last. The potions are complete.»
He gave a brief nod toward Granger. «Granger, tomorrow morning as soon as you wake up, you will come here and bottle them. Don't be late, or my body will remain a useless shell because of your sluggishness.»
«Yes, sir,» Hermione replied, trying not to look too proud of the result. «See you tomorrow.»
The three of them were about to leave when the ghost's sharp voice stopped them.
«Potter.»
Harry turned back, a little tense. «Yes, Professor?»
«Now that I think about it... how can you even be here? The bond shouldn't allow you to be this far from my body.»
«It seems... there isn't any limitation anymore,» Harry explained. «But I can still see it, the thread. It's thin, translucent... but it's there.»
Snape nodded slowly, reflecting. «Interesting. Very well. You may go. The Headmaster will send for you when it's time to take the potion. We don't know how the bond will react once I... return.»
Harry gave a respectful nod—or at least tried to. «Understood, sir. See you tomorrow.»
Snape watched him go, his ethereal cloak moving like a living shadow. When the door closed, he let out a barely audible sigh.
«Bloody Gryffindors...» he muttered to himself. «They manage to irritate me even in the afterlife.»
***
It was his first night back in the Tower after nearly two months, sleeping among his friends in his own bed. And, he knew, it would also be his last—at least for a while.
He felt a sincere and unexpected relief knowing that Snape hadn't died to save him. But wanting to share his life—or anything else, given the situation—with him was a completely different story. The idea of that invisible bond unnerved him.
And yet, despite the professor's ghostly return, the questions kept gnawing at him. Why had he done it?
There was a reason, he was certain of it. Dumbledore had only confirmed that Snape didn't want him to know... but this only fueled his obsessive curiosity.
What could possibly be serious enough to drive him to silence?
And how on earth was he supposed to find out, he wondered exasperatedly, if the Headmaster kept mum and Snape—obviously—wouldn't dream of saying a single word?
Harry stared at the ceiling for a long moment, his thoughts tangling in his mind. Then, as sleep began to drag him under, a single thought crossed his mind, stubborn and resolute: I have to find out.
He closed his eyes. And the comforting silence of the Gryffindor Tower enveloped him.
***
They arrived at the hospital wing. Dumbledore was already there waiting for them, hands clasped behind his back.
«Good morning, my dear children,» he greeted them. «I believe everything is ready... only a small detail is missing.»
«A detail, Albus?» Severus asked, crossing his arms. His voice was low, but already heavy with irritation.
«Oh yes, Severus,» the Headmaster replied, with that air that always boded ill. «I did mention to you that a little extra something would be needed.»
Here we go. The moment the old madman reveals to me that by "extra" he means some idiotic ritual or some new moral torture. "Just this will do, Severus, and everything will be fine"... for everyone except me.
«Enlighten me,» he said dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Dumbledore calmly adjusted his half-moon glasses. «The potions you have prepared are extremely powerful. Under ordinary circumstances, they would be enough to reunite body and soul. However, your situation, Severus, is not... ordinary.»
«Oh, really? What a dazzling discovery,» Snape retorted, freezing cold.
The Headmaster continued as if he hadn't heard: «Since your essence is still bound to Harry's, the ritual will require an additional catalyst. Something to reinforce the bond and stabilize it.»
Snape narrowed his eyes. «And I suppose you already have your brilliant solution in mind.»
Dumbledore nodded serenely. «A blood tie.»
For a moment, silence fell over the room. Then Snape's voice lashed the air.
«A... what?»
«You heard me correctly, Severus. A blood tie. With Harry,» Dumbledore said, with that sweetness that always preceded a catastrophe.
Severus's eyes widened, then he lunged forward as if he'd been struck. «Absolutely not!»
«Severus, please, be reasonable—»
«I said NO!» the Potton master snarled, his voice low and venomous. «Not even your usual ration of sugar and optimism would be enough to make me change my mind.»
Dumbledore sighed, but didn't lose his composure. «I merely remind you that if the potions don't take effect, we won't be able to repeat the process. You could remain in this condition forever. After all—»
«After all what, Albus?» Snape interrupted in a sharp tone. «Are you implying this would be my punishment for not submitting to yet another of your follies?»
Harry, who had remained silent until then, stepped forward hesitantly. «Excuse me, but... what exactly is a blood tie?»
Snape slowly turned toward him with a thin, menacing smile. «Your ignorance is disarming, Potter. It means that, technically, it makes us... relatives.»
«Re-relatives?!» the boy stammered, eyes wide.
«Yes, Potter. Do you have hearing problems on top of everything else? Relatives,» he repeated with utter contempt. «A prospect so unpleasant that only Albus Dumbledore could possibly conceive it.»
Harry turned to Dumbledore, looking for an escape route. «But... what about the Dursleys? You told me I had to stay with them because they were my mother's only living relatives! If we do this thing...?»
«We are not doing anything!» Snape cut him off, his voice echoing through the room. «I will take those blasted vials, and if they don't work, I'll remain a ghost. For eternity! I am not tying myself to you, Potter!»
The silence that followed was so tense that even Dumbledore lowered his gaze for a second before speaking in a calm, serious tone.
«Severus, I only ask you to think about it. It's not a coercion, but a possibility. After all, your lives have been intertwined for a long time.»
«Spare me your philosophy, Albus,» Snape hissed, turning toward the wall. «I don't believe in destinies. I believe in mistakes. And this would be a colossal one.»
«Severus,» Dumbledore continued, «it is nothing earth-shattering. It won't really change all that much.»
Snape fixed him with a stare, his eyes reduced to two dark slits. «Oh, really? Do you have the audacity to tell me it won't change much?»
Then he turned abruptly toward Potter. «Out. I need to speak with the Headmaster. In private.»
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but stopped before making a sound.
«Out! I said out! NOW!» Snape snarled in a tone that brooked no argument.
Shaken, Harry backed away and hurried out of the hospital wing, slamming the door shut behind him with a dull thud. He leaned against the corridor wall, his heart pounding hard, still convinced he had heard the ghost's growl screeching louder than fingernails on a chalkboard.
Dumbledore waited for the door to close, then let out a long sigh.
«Calm down, Severus. I understand this idea upsets you, but it's for the best.»
«For the best, Albus?» Snape countered, his voice low and venomous. «Interesting. Because your 'best' never seems to include me. Tell me, why do you persist in pushing me toward Potter? You've been trying for months.»
«I have my reasons,» the Headmaster replied, and his tone, for once, lost its usual lightness. «I cannot reveal them to you now. But you will know, I promise you, when the time comes.»
«No, Albus. You will tell me now. Because if—and I emphasize if—I were to accept this folly, that boy would become my responsibility.»
And I do not want him to be.»
Dumbledore observed him for a long moment.
«I saw what you did the other night, Severus. You didn't just protect him: you were ready to give your life for him.»
«We both knew the Dark Lord wouldn't kill him. And anyway, you know well enough: I had no choice.»
«Oh, but you did, indeed,» the Headmaster replied gently. «You want to protect him, Severus. You don't do it out of duty, you do it for reasons you won't admit even to yourself. So why not go all the way? You could teach him more than anyone else. Truly prepare him for what lies ahead.»
«What else do you want from me?» he hissed, his face contorted in restrained anger. «I hate that arrogant brat, and the feeling is mutual. End of story. Now, give me the vials.»
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly with a look full of a patience that bordered on exasperation.
«You didn't see him when he thought you were dead... to save him, Severus. He doesn't hate you, not anymore. When he walked into the office, he was relieved to see you.»
«He felt guilty,» Snape countered sharply. «You know very well how much guilt can weigh on someone's shoulders.»
Dumbledore took a step forward. His voice was still calm, but now carried a shade of reproach.
«Do you really want to remain a ghost for all eternity? And for what? Just to avoid acknowledging what you've been doing for years? I've watched you, Severus. You never lose sight of him. You've protected him since day one. Yet you stubbornly keep him at a distance... why? He is not James.»
«Enough!» Snape exploded, a cry that bounced off the white walls of the hospital wing. «I do it for Lily! Only for her!»
His breathing became ragged, his voice almost a growl.
«You know very well I begged the Dark Lord to spare her. I didn't care about Potter then, and I don't care now. He is a Potter, Albus!»
The Headmaster looked at him with infinite sadness.
«And yet, Severus, that boy is also Lily's son. She gave her life for him. What do you think she would say if she knew you could make his life easier and refused to do so out of pure stubbornness?»
Snape stood motionless, his face rigid, but a glimmer of pain ignited in his eyes.
He knew all too well what the answer would be. Lily would look at him with that silent disappointment that had tormented him for years—ever since the day he had screamed that foul word at her.
Every time he met Potter's green eyes, he felt the same wound reopen: the loss, the guilt, the inevitable truth that devoured him. It was he who had condemned them. He had betrayed the only person he had ever loved.
«ENOUGH!» he finally roared, his voice broken and furious. «I won't listen to you, Albus! Keep your vials, your plans, and your damned hopes! I won't do what you want. Not this time. Not for him!»
With an abrupt and silent motion, the ghost glided away, disappearing into the shadows of the corridors.
Dumbledore remained alone, staring at the closed door.
Then, with a sigh that sounded almost like a prayer, he murmured:
«Ah, Severus... my boy. Will you ever manage to let go of that pain? You insist on carrying the weight of the world all by yourself. If only you could see what you and Harry could become... together.»