Archive of Our Own

There was an illusion of normalcy accompanying the familiar journey up the tall stone steps, through the front oak door, and into Hogwarts' vast entrance hall that balmy September evening. Had it not been widespread knowledge that war had broken out and destroyed half the castle only four months prior, no-one would have suspected a thing. Not a single picture frame was left askew, nor statue upturned; all was as it should be – aside from the condensed collection of students, carrying with them hardened expressions, reduced chatter, and a new air of maturity. While general attendance was at its lowest ever for very legitimate reasons, several of the students who had neglected their final year due to the battle had opted to make a return.

Hermione Granger was one of those students.

Along with her two best friends, Harry and Ron, the three of them had made a collective decision to go back and finish what they'd started precisely eight years ago to that day. The atmosphere may have shifted slightly, but after everything they'd been through they felt more prepared than ever to take on whatever shocking developments may await them.

This was quickly challenged, however, with the new rumour they came faced with the moment the three of them stepped into the Great Hall and took their customary seats at the long Gryffindor table. They heard only the name in passing at first, as the school's chatty ghosts swooped and glided all around them; and then again, strung along more coherently, with the implication that their previous Potions professor, Severus Snape, was in fact floating around the castle himself... as a ghost. It was always at the opening ceremony in the Great Hall where rumours tended to spread like wildfire the most, as they so often did at Hogwarts. Hermione supposed after a whole summer of staying cooped up in the castle with nobody else to share things with, she would get pretty antsy too.

“Is it true, Sir Nicholas?” Harry asked the semi-decapitated ghost, who, along with the rest of the ghosts, had been one of main sources for the unexpected news.

“Supposedly, young Potter. Well, I can hardly say he's done much to show for it. A ghost amongst ghosts, it would seem!”

“So, you haven't actually seen him?” Hermione butt in before he could carry along addressing everyone else's inquiries.

“It was Peeves who'd claimed to have seen him at first, so take of that what you will,” he said, spinning his head all the way around like an owl to look at her. “Others claim to have seen glimpses of him, but with all of us being of the same hue it can often be rather challenging to differentiate. I'd sworn I'd spotted him at one point, but alas, it turned out to be none other than Madam Morticia.” He gave his shoulders a little wiggle, making his head bounce back into its proper place, before sailing away through the air.

Turning back to the table that was now miraculously brimming with food, Hermione didn't really know what to make of the news. From her understanding, people only became ghosts if they had some unfinished business left on earth. Since Snape's role as a spy had been fulfilled to completion, she couldn't imagine what other reason the man would have for returning amongst the living – especially since he'd always seemed to despise everything and everyone involved. Even after hearing all about his memories from Harry, the man continued to be shrouded in so much mystery. It left Hermione with so many questions, and it frustrated her to no end that the answers to these questions could not simply be found in some book.

“Maybe he's come back to haunt us,” Ron grunted, stuffing a heaping forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Hermione frowned disapprovingly at his comment and dropped her gaze to the untouched plate in front of her, suddenly not feeling all that hungry. While Harry had found it within himself to forgive the man, Ron had been far less inclined for whatever reason. Hermione, on the other hand, never made the mistake of doubting the Potions Master again ever since the Fluffy incident – even at the worst of times – and it was for this reason that the matter would not settle with her until she found out the truth.

But as days rolled on and turned into weeks, and an advanced curriculum demanded every bit of attention, thoughts of her late professor naturally slipped to the back of her mind.

It was the first of October when Hermione's entire life was about to change as she knew it.

She was distinctly aware of the date, for the whole interior of the castle had received a dramatic makeover overnight; enchanted pumpkins decorated the halls, candy bats flew around occasionally dropping pieces of licorice, and students were getting tricked left, right, and centre by joke items disguised as ordinary objects.

She had been tucked away in the library late that evening – so late that she'd accidentally dozed off inside her little alcove, and did not awaken until the thud of whatever book she'd last been holding had slipped out of her hands and collided with her foot at the base of the bench.

Hermione jolted awake, her blinking eyes darting around at her dim surroundings in dazed confusion. It took her a few seconds to realise where she was and why she was not in her bed, as her mind slowly started to recover fragments of the material that had put her in that position in the first place.

Hunching over, Hermione hastily retrieved the fallen book and pulled herself to her feet, needing a short moment to lean against the bookshelf and let the deliriousness fade before regaining her sense of balance.

After quietly sneaking out of from library (for what wasn't the first time in her life) Hermione tiptoed along the usual route back to the common room, remaining vigilant in case there were any patrolling professors about.

She had just made a turn at the corner that opened up onto the long East corridor, when she heard a faint whooshing noise, shortly followed by someone wailing loudly in the distance. Seven years at Hogwarts had taught her a lot about the many strange noises emanating from the castle, and this was one of the few that she'd come to learn about the hard way on more than one occasion. Her footsteps died down immediately and she inched her way closer to the shadows along the wall, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead as the alarming noise continued to grow even louder.

With the spiral staircase leading up to the Astronomy Tower now in clear view in the centre of the corridor, Hermione watched as the castle's resident poltergeist came swirling down it, screeching at the top of his glassy lungs and followed by what looked like stream of green peas rolling down the steps beneath him.

“Ooooooh, the Bat Prince wants peace, he does! Silly mesies, thinking he wants peasies! Ooooooh, it ain't easy being Peevsie!”

Hermione's footsteps came to a dead stop as she waited for Peeves to be completely out of sight before even thinking about moving another muscle. Grateful that he had flown off towards the opposite end of the corridor instead of in her direction, she finally felt at ease to release the breath she'd been holding. More importantly, whatever he'd been rambling on about hadn't really registered until this very second, as she peered over at the staircase swirling up in the forefront of a starry black sky. It reminded her just how late it actually was, and that she should really be getting back to her bed in the common room; but something he'd said only just caught her attention.

Bat Prince?

Unless there was a vampire lurking up in the tower – which she found highly improbable – there was only one other individual that came to mind who could possibly bear such a title. Whoever it was, it was as if some kind of mystical force had suddenly taken hold of the front of her robes and had started drawing her towards the foot of the staircase. Pulling her gaze upwards, she could barely make out the edge of the star-shaped wooden beams overhead. Feeling her heartbeat pick up and pound against her ribcage at the sheer possibility of what lay waiting at the top, Hermione put all thoughts of sleep aside – she wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, wondering whether she'd missed out on a golden opportunity – and wasted no time in bolting up the tightly-wound stairs, trying her best to dodge the trail of garden peas left in Peeves' wake.

When she eventually reached the top – now short of breath and with an elevated heart rate – Hermione paused for a moment to allow her body to rest as her eyes went about scanning the dazzling space. The collection of ornate bits and bobs tinkled and chimed in the light midnight breeze, winking brightly in the pool of darkness that surrounded them. The space may have held the illusion of being alive, but was otherwise plainly devoid of any soul but her own.

With her eyebrows pinched, she took a small step forward, pausing only as the floorboards let out a long, weary creak beneath her. A sudden flapping noise made her head jerk to the right, but it just ended up being an owl swooping past the exposed columns through the night.

Twice she circled around the giant Armillary Sphere that took up the centre of the room, before coming to a full stop back at the landing with nothing but a disheartened look on her face and a new level of disappointment in her intuitive abilities.

As she placed her hand back on top of the oak railing in acceptance of her defeat, one final attempt popped into her head right at the last minute.

“Professor?” she called out quietly, twisting her head back over her shoulder to give the room one more glance over.

Biting her lip, she waited, receiving nothing more than a screech of brass from one of the telescopes swaying in the wind.

“Professor Snape?” she tried again, making a point to emphasize his name as if it would make any difference.

Feeling a bit foolish now for wandering off in the middle of the night and speaking to nothing but the wind like some sort of mad woman, Hermione whipped her head back around and had just taken a step down onto the first rung when she heard a familiar smooth, deep voice come from behind.

“Miss Granger.”

After being struck by what felt eerily similar to a freezing charm, Hermione quickly retracted her foot and spun back around to face the source of the voice that was as bone-chilling as ever – quite possibly even more so. Sure enough, standing – well, floating – right next to the telescope that she was pretty sure had made the extra sharp screeching noise, translucent from head to toe, was her deceased Potions professor.

Hermione's hands immediately shot up and clamped over her mouth. “It's really you,” she muffled through her fingers, eyes widening at the sight. A sight that was far more angelic than she ever thought to befit the so-called Bat Prince.

“Hardly me, I would think,” he retorted, holding himself with the same kind of lofty air she was used to as he directed his unfriendly gaze down at her.

Perhaps it was the lack of black encompassing his form, in violation of the only other version of him that she'd ever known, or maybe it was the offhand thought that she could throw peas at him as Peeves had presumably done and no harm would come of her, but the small prickle of fear she'd ever felt when in his presence previously didn't seem to exist when faced with him as he was now.

“But... You... How...” Question after question was piling up way too quickly in her head that she didn't even know where to begin. Her heart had picked up its pace again as if she'd just gone and done another lap up and down the stairs, making her desperately feel the need to sit down. Instead, she found herself taking a step forward.

“I see you haven't changed whatsoever,” Snape said, the words dripping from his mouth like ice. When he let out a sigh, Hermione could practically see his breath. “Is there any particular reason why you're here – at this hour – and, more importantly – calling out my name?”

Hermione took in a deep breath and allowed her hands to fall gently back down to her sides as she dared another step in his direction, keeping her wide eyes fixated on the ones that once glittered darkly but now gleamed like pearls.

“There was a rumour about you... I wasn't sure whether to believe it or not – well, nobody else does – but then I thought how it wouldn't really make any sense for the ghosts to be going around telling lies about it. So, ever since then, I've always kept my eyes and ears open. And this evening I was studying in the library and accidentally fell asleep... so, as I was heading back to the common room, I was passing the bottom of the staircase just now, where I saw Peeves flying out, and I – ”

“That'll do, Miss Granger,” Snape interrupted, and all of a sudden Hermione was yanked right back down to her bench in the Potions classroom, caught babbling on like the insufferable know-it-all he'd always accused her of being.

But then something in him shifted and the authoritative tone waned slightly. “Satisfied? You can run along and spread the wonderful news to all your little friends now.” He turned away. Class was dismissed.

Hermione snapped back to reality. “No, that's not – Professor, you're alive!”

The way he whirled his head back around at her, shooting her down with an incredulous stare, Hermione tripped a little.

“Well, no, not... not in that way,” she quickly corrected. “What I meant was... you know, you haven't passed over.”

His eyebrow shot up, just as she came to a stop about two feet away from him. “Oh? Haven't I? Silly me, here I was thinking that perhaps I'd wound up in hell after all.”

Ignoring the blatant jab, Hermione's face scrunched up as she came to terms with the fact that now that his transcendental presence was indeed confirmed, she couldn't help but wonder... “This doesn't make any sense though... I mean, why haven't you passed over? Usually it's because of some – ”

“Unfinished business. Indeed.”

Hermione bit her lip. “So... do you – “

“No, Miss Granger, I do not have any unfinished business that I am aware of. My guess is just as good as yours.” And, just like that, she was teleported back to the Potions classroom again. “Does that satisfy you?”

“Professor, I – ”

“I am not your professor anymore, Miss Granger,” Snape snapped.

It was like hot and cold with this man. Old habits really did die hard she supposed.

“Right,” Hermione grimaced. “Sorry – uh... sir.”

Snape sighed, and even though he was still a bit on edge, it felt like the fire might finally be dwindling for good.

“Severus will do just fine,” he said quietly, almost to himself, as he set his gaze outward again.

Hermione fell silent, not knowing where to take it from there. All the questions she'd wanted to ask were still stirring around in her mind and accumulating by the second, but she couldn't get past how surreal the whole situation was, and how dispirited he looked despite the spiritual state he was in. She'd always thought he'd looked quite solemn even while he was alive, but it was always much better masked by his angry disposition. Now, it was as though he'd lost any and all purpose of trying to hide it. She couldn't possibly imagine what it must feel like to be involuntarily brought back as a ghost, but from the sight of him alone, she could hazard a guess that it wasn't very pleasant in the least. It all happened so recently, so perhaps every new ghost felt the same way at the beginning, and it was just one of those things that they would eventually get used to. Come to think of it, all the ghosts she'd ever crossed paths with had already been ghosts for a while, so she didn't have much to go by...

“Shouldn't you be getting to bed?”

His cool voice pulled her out from her thoughts, making her realise just how long she'd been standing there before him like an additional piece of astronomical equipment, doing all but swaying in the breeze.

“I... Yes, I probably should, but – ”

“Miss Granger,” he sighed, turning his whole body around to face her and levelling with her in a way that he'd never done before. “I understand that, being as curious as you are, you must have many questions. But it is imperative that you do not let those questions get in the way of your sleep. Had I caught you wandering about tonight while I was still employed – ” He paused for a moment, sweeping his pearly-white gaze up and down her body. “Well, let's just say it wouldn't be the first time, so I need not divulge.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say 'but you're not employed', but in being humbled by his own restraint, immediately shut it again and bit her tongue. She did know all too well how he would have reacted given different circumstances, so the fact that he also realised how little power he now held and made no effort to hide it, Hermione knew any argument on her part would be unjust. She'd always reserved pity for the man, but even more so now.

“Sorry – er, Severus” – that would take some getting used to – “I... I'll let you be,” she muttered somewhat pathetically, feeling a slight chill brush her skin as she pivoted around to further hide the embarrassment creeping up on her face.

The wooden floors creaked again beneath her shoes as she made her way back to the landing at twice the speed. While it would have been comforting to hear him say something else to her as she did so – even a simple goodbye – it wasn't something she ever really expected.

Whether he expected her to say something else, however, was another story.

As soon her hand reached out to grip the railing, she paused.

“Severus?”

When she glanced back over her shoulder at him, his gaze was still pinned on her as if he hadn't looked away for even a second. But still he said nothing.

“If I come back tomorrow... will you still be here?” she tentatively asked.

He paused and continued to stare at her for a moment, as if struggling to process the question. Had she been so forward while he'd still been alive, Hermione would've probably ended up returning to the common room having to explain why Gryffindor was down fifty points all of a sudden. But a bat without its fangs was far less threatening.

“I cannot imagine why there would be any incentive to return, but – ” his pearly lip twitched “ – yes. I suppose I will be.”

A small smile crept up on her face, which clearly made him uncomfortable, for he chose that moment to turn his back to her once again and let the tail end of his long white cloak wave her away.

Happy to grant him the actual peace that he sought all along, Hermione turned around and scrambled quickly back down the winding staircase without another word.

Thankfully, her journey back to the common room was far less eventful. After inevitably putting the Fat Lady into a foul mood for being woken up at an unreasonable hour, Hermione clambered in through the portrait hole, rushed up to the girl's dormitory, and crept quietly over to her bed. Deciding to let her standard bedtime routine slide for just one night, Hermione changed quickly out of her robes and into her pyjamas before slipping under the covers.

Laying flat on her back and staring up at the roof of her bedpost, eyes wide open, Hermione had never felt more awake. Despite Snape's – Severus' – influence, she had a feeling that sleep would be hard to come by regardless of how much she – or he – may have willed it.

“Hermione. I know you love spending time at the library, but you've been spending literally every single evening there for, what, like two whole weeks now?”

“Not every evening, Ron,” Hermione responded defensively, knowing for a fact that the nights that Astronomy classes were taking place in the tower, she made a point to stay very clear. Although, in accordance with Ron's accusation, those nights she actually did spend in the library... but she wasn't about to go into detail, for she hadn't exactly been truthful to ginger – or anyone for that matter. In fact, ever since they all returned home for the summer, and Hermione had confronted Ron about what had happened to them during the war and what was going to happen afterwards, she'd made it very clear to him then her emotions were all over the place and she needed some time to herself. Well, 'some time' sort of turned into the whole summer and them never really having another proper conversation about it. She felt bad for constantly avoiding him and pulling away every time he tried to hold her hand or be near her, but part of her always reserved the belief that she would come around eventually.

Only now she knew for sure that it wasn't something quite so simple as a 'matter of time'.

It had been roughly two weeks since the night she first discovered the ghost of Severus haunting the Astronomy Tower, and she had been there nearly every night since then to visit him. While he'd been surprised to see that she'd returned at all at first, after a few days of trying his best to uphold his standoffish demeanor, he eventually warmed to her company. Well, she didn't know if she would call it warmed per se, as technically that wasn't even possible, but he'd certainly stopped trying to convince her to leave. She couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly that drew her back there every night; it surprised even her that she seemed to find great comfort in his company. And she was starting to suspect that perhaps he didn't mind hers all that much either.

“Severus?” she asked one night while laying down on the cushions she'd conjured up, peeking over the book she had propped up in her hands.

Severus was hovering over the edge of the railing, as he so often did, looking out at the dark sky. To anyone else, he would appear to not be paying any mind to whoever was speaking to him, but Hermione knew better.

“The Halloween ball is coming up soon,” she continued when he didn't answer, shifting her position on the cushions so that she was seated more upright.

“How wonderful for you,” he muttered, expressing no sign of interest or movement.

Hermione bit down on her lip and returned her attention briefly to the book in hand before clapping it shut and resting it to the side of her.

“Do you know how to dance?” she asked out of the blue.

He paused, but still he did not turn around to look at her.

“Of course I know how to dance.”

A coy smile appeared on her lips, to which he remained completely oblivious. “Show me.”

He turned to shoot her a look then at last, frowning deeply once he noticed the smirk on her face.

“No.”

Hermione matched his frown, almost mockingly. “Why not?”

He sighed. “Miss Granger, you may insist on choosing to spend your free time in my company, but do try to remember that I am under no obligation to partake in whimsical activities or interact with you in any way whatsoever. Should you wish to test me further on this, I only hope solitude will serve you as well as it does – what are you doing?”

Hermione was blatantly ignoring everything he was saying as she pulled herself up off the cushions and crossed the room to him as he spoke. She watched as he rose up defensively to face her, his ghostly robes billowing behind him like white curtains in the wind.

“Come on, it won't kill you,” Hermione said quite frankly.

Severus' face made it very clear that he was not impressed by the distasteful remark. But she was directly in front of him now, staring up into the misty pools of his eyes, and suddenly his bark was silenced.

That smile of hers bounced right back. “Unless... you were lying?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I most certainly was not.”

“Okay, so...” She held out her hand to him. “Show me.”

His eyes fell to stare at her outstretched hand as if were a foreign object. When he looked to her again, she didn't miss the slightest twitch in his brow.

“You do realise – ”

“I know.” Unlike his, her gaze did not falter in the least.

“Then...” Despite the apprehension in his tone, there seemed to be an invisible force that was slowly, inevitably drawing his hand towards her. “How do you suppose...”

She saw him clench his jaw and inhale sharply the moment his hand overlapped with hers, which felt an awful lot like she'd just plunged it straight into ice-cold water. A shiver rolled down her spine as all the tiny hairs stood up on her skin, but even though it made her flinch she did not withdraw her hand. Instead, she reached forward with her other one.

“They're only movements, Severus.”

His eyebrow twitched again at the sound of his name – something that seemed to be taking him longer to get used to than it did her – and once more as he watched their hands follow each other, rising slowly in the narrow space between them.

When his eyes flickered back to hers, he blinked – twice – and she didn't know if it was her imagination, but she could've sworn she'd caught the slightest glimmer of a smile attempting to make a crack in his frozen lips.

She then boldly reached straight through his hand with her left one, and held it right over where it would be resting on his shoulder. Instinctively, he moved the impaled hand out of the way, and without knowing where else to place it let it fall down to lay just beside her waist. She couldn't deny how surreal it felt to have him there with his hands on her in such an intimate way, yet stripped of its most fundamental quality. It was like being stuck in one of those incredibly vivid dreams – one that she could never wake up from.

At least they wouldn't have to worry about accidentally stepping on one another's toes, Hermione thought on a more light-hearted note, as Severus very gently began leading her backwards.

Time seemed to slow down in that moment, and she almost felt as if she were a spirit herself as their bodies moved like two particles drifting aimlessly in a stream of moonlight, accompanied only by a soft breeze and light ringing of astronomical instruments in the background. Both gazes remained fixed on one another, neither of them breaking eye contact even for a second, for it was every subtle movement that steered them.

How something could feel so natural and unnatural at the same time, she didn't know. But as he lifted his hand and motioned for her to do a little twirl, Hermione closed her eyes and did so with grace, allowing her imagination to transport her to somewhere magical. Many would argue that there was no place more magical than where she was right now, but in her mind the only magical place to exist couldn't be further from it – somewhere where they could just be real together.

When her eyes fluttered open and she came face-to-face with his dreamy gaze again, she was hit with a strange pang at the centre of her navel like a jolt of lightening. Her movements rolled to a gentle stop.

“Had enough?” he asked in a low voice, hardly unable to miss the sudden interruption.

Hermione had only ever felt that exact same feeling once before in her life – the time her very first kiss had been claimed by Viktor Krum in the fourth year. The fact that she'd felt it again just now... well, she didn't really know how to feel about it.

“No,” she said unconvincingly, shaking her head and gesturing for them to pick up where they left off.

He didn't protest or question it, which she was grateful for, but from that point onward she couldn't help but feel an ominous prickle of dread creeping up as she continued to sway before his lifeless eyes.

The doom that Severus felt the day he returned to the living as a ghost, he thought this was it. This would be his own personal monotonous hell. Little did he know that the devil had more in store for him than he ever thought possible.

He'd done so well at first – avoiding every living soul, and even his fellow departed for the most part. It was really quite a feat. Why he chose to reveal himself to Hermione that one fateful evening when she came wandering into his designated haunt, he did not know.

But he did now, as his eyes fell onto her lain figure, having fallen asleep atop the cushions she procured every night she spent there.

Being a ghost was lonely. Severus was no stranger to loneliness, but there was something much different about it when there was no longer an end in sight. He thought he'd accepted this fate; but it wasn't until she came clambering up those stairs, calling out for him – specifically – that triggered something within him, spurring him to respond.

What started out purely as something innocent, he never would have expected to develop into whatever it was now. It was his very own unassuming negligence that had slipped up. Tolerating the Granger girl's company? Never. Actually enjoying it? It was absurd – utterly senseless. How foolish he felt, looking back on the past few weeks and having only just come to the realisation now, that if she were to suddenly stop visiting for whatever reason, he might actually feel a tinge of sorrow.

He knew she sensed it too, and yet she continued to add fuel to the fire – a fire that was far more biting than it was scalding.

“Severus?”

He looked to Hermione as she laid on the cushions staring up at the ornaments spinning around the ceiling in the same way they did a baby cradle. His ice-cold heart melted a little.

“What's it like to die?”

It wasn't something that he'd given much thought, really. Until now.

“I suppose it's like being born... only backwards. I remember... I didn't go where I was supposed to go. I just stayed behind.”

He heard her take in a deep breath before rolling over.

“Can I keep you?” she mumbled low into her pillow.

Severus didn't answer.

Instead, he drifted over silently and just laid there beside her for a moment, providing a kind of comfort that he knew could never truly be given.

The moment was short-lived, however, for it was the noticeable shiver and goosebumps appearing on her skin that made Severus recoil at once, filling him with instant regret.

Physically, they could never hurt one another. But he would take the pain of dying over the pain of what was lost before it was even found.

Hermione awoke to an empty Astronomy Tower and a severe kink in her neck the following morning. Carefully, she sat up and massaged the sore area as she looked around the room, wondering when she'd fallen asleep and why Severus hadn't woken her. In fact, where was Severus?

Once the rest of her body had finally woken up, she rose to her feet and called out to him, but was met with nothing but the sound of wind whistling through the solitary space, lapping at the antique instruments.

Knowing it was early in the morning due to the pastel glow of the sky, but unsure what time it was exactly, Hermione decided to head back to the common room and get ready for the day – she would simply seek him out later in the evening as usual.

But when later eventually came, the tower was just as she had left it, and Severus was still nowhere to be found.

Her first instinct was to start worrying whether something unfortunate had happened to him... but then, remembering that he was already a ghost, something less fortunate than that would be rather hard to come by.

She was conflicted, not knowing whether she ought to stay and wait for him, or just try again tomorrow. Considering the Halloween ball was coming up in two days, and she hoped to cram as much work in before then, she supposed staying focused would probably be better achieved in the library. Then again, it might just backfire and end up making her even more distracted wondering where he was.

Before she was any closer to making a decision, however, the wind let out an angry howl as it whipped around the arched pillars. Hermione's attention was directed towards the night sky, while the instruments responded just as aggressively in a symphony of vibrant tones.

Following whatever her gut feeling was trying to say for reasons she wasn't yet sure of, her feet carried her past the high pillars and out onto the balcony, where she instantly became another target for the temperamental wind.

While bringing a hand up to try and stop her hair from blowing in her face, Hermione caught the sight of something faint and murky up against the otherwise seamless dark backdrop. It wasn't long before she realised that it was not in the sky, but rather perched atop the roof. And it was the very man she'd gone looking for in the first place.

Hermione didn't think twice before stepping up onto the ledge and using the thick vines on the side of the building to climb her way up towards him.

“Severus!” she called out when her head finally reached the surface.

With her forearms propped up over the edge, Hermione attempted to take one last big step to haul herself up, but the branch she chose was too loose and gave way beneath her foot, sending her dangling from her fingertips. As she scrambled quickly to try and find her footing again, what felt like a sudden large gush of wind blew right up from underneath, and she found herself lifted right up over the edge and onto her knees. Her body felt a familiar chill, and when she looked up, sure enough Severus was right there beside her.

“Are you mad, girl?!”

Hermione let out a large sigh and rose steadily to her feet, brushing dirt and stray brambles from her body. Ignoring his outcry, all she asked was, “What're you doing up here?”

She walked over to the small ledge that he'd been perched on prior to her interruption and took it upon herself to have a seat, inspecting herself for cuts.

“Contrary to what you might think, it is the exceptionally large castle that I am bound to, not the Astronomy Tower. I am free to roam wherever I so please,” he said as he floated over to join her.

Hermione didn't want to admit that the bitterness in his tone stung a little bit. It would seem that his dulled edge had been resharpened.

“Have I... upset you in some way?” Hermione could feel the strain in her voice as she stopped what she was doing to look at him, and it apparently didn't go unnoticed, for he took a moment to carefully rove over her with his eyes before looking away.

“No.”

“So, why are you avoiding me all of a sudden?”

She bit down on her lip as she watched him carefully, worried he might snap at any given second.

But his body remained perfectly still – his gaze fixed on something far in the distance.

“Miss Granger – ” Hermione inhaled sharply at his use of her surname, after he'd finally started calling her by her first name over the past few days “ – I don't know what you hope to achieve by befriending me, but it is important for you to understand that even though we may co-exist in the same world, the paths between the living and the dead are never meant to be one in the same. The moment one loses sight of this and tries to go against the natural order of things, they will ultimately be dragged down by the limitations, where the only thing waiting for them is despair. I have seen it happen far too many times in the past – so easily and so quickly, you do not even realise it is happening until it is too late.” At last he turned to look at her, his face like a dark cloud. “I cannot allow that to happen to you.”

Hermione tried to swallow, but her throat had clenched up. His words hit her like a punch in the gut. Words she knew to be true, however, for it was hearing them now that made her realise that the very thing he was trying to prevent from happening to her was happening already – so easily and so quickly, just like he said. It didn't occur to her before, when she'd felt the warm flutter in her stomach during their dance; nor when she felt the irrational pang of concern for his well-being in his absence. It only occurred to her now, after hearing him say it in a way that sounded an awful lot like he cared for her well-being too, that perhaps deeper feelings were emerging.

But that would be absurd.

“I am aware of the limitations, Severus,” Hermione bleated, shaking her head. “I wasn't... I'm not...” She took a deep breath, trying to figure out exactly what it was that she was trying to say. What was she trying to say? Every counterpoint that popped into her head kept getting stomped by an imposing 'Well, actually...' without offering any alternative.

For someone who spent the majority of her waking hours thinking, she sure wasn't doing a whole lot of it right now.

Letting out a defeated sigh, all she could offer was, “I don't know.”

He didn't even blink.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said I don't know, alright?” she repeated sharply, tucking several wayward curls behind her ear as she met his hard gaze dead-on. “I don't know why I like spending time with you so much. I don't know what's happening, and I don't know what to do about it. All I know is...” She averted her gaze, suddenly finding it difficult to face him as she took another deep breath and quietly said, “I don't want this to be the end.”

Severus fell silent, and she could tell from the corner of her eye that he'd started fidgeting with his fingers. Fingers that she didn't even know if a ghost themselves could feel. She had the urge to reach out and touch him, but was forced to resist it when she realised how futile that would be.

“Hermione...” From the sudden movement beside her, she could tell that he'd started rising up from the ledge. When her head snapped up to look at him, a pained expression on her face, he offered nothing in return but the classic cold look he was known for. “It has to be.”

“Wait, don't – ”

But only the wind was able to offer any consolation, whipping at her hair and loosening the strands from behind her ear as she watched his body vanish into dust before her very eyes.

With her mouth hanging open, Hermione tried to inhale deeply once more, but something large seemed to be expanding in her windpipe. In her struggle to breathe, a small choke escaped her lips and a very familiar burning sensation started to well up in her eyes for reasons that were all very new to her. She made an effort to hold back the tears from forming, cursing her inherent fragility, but that too proved to be a futile endeavour. From the moment they began streaming hotly down her cool, wind-bitten cheeks, Hermione didn't even bother trying to wipe them away, for she knew it would make no difference. Instead, she pulled her knees into her chest and rested her forehead on top, hugging them tightly. If she thought the chill she received from being next to him was bad, it had nothing on the chill she felt now as it sent her body into a light shiver.

Time didn't matter in that moment, or for a while afterwards. In fact, nothing seemed to matter. She could die right then and she probably wouldn't even notice or care.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it would serve her better to at least get off the roof and go some place – any place – else, but she just couldn't seem to remember how to work her muscles.

It was only when her body's natural defenses kicked in, propelling her to seek warmth before it reached a detrimental state, that Hermione finally hauled herself up, almost as if being controlled by some otherworldly force. The ability to feel anything at all was still very lost on her. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her as she hobbled unsteadily down from the roof and back onto the balcony. How she managed to make it all the way without falling off was some kind of miracle in itself.

The deep gloom of the Astronomy Tower, with all it's clinks and chimes, threatened a fresh wave of tears as memories – however brief – came pouring back. Unable to handle the increased strain it put her under, Hermione broke into a sprint, clanging heavily down the twisted iron steps.

Had it been any other ordinary night, Hermione would have been much more conscious of the level of noise she was producing, but her priorities were just as skewed as her emotions. It was only when Peeves came swooping out of nowhere, matching her intensity with a piercing squeal, that Hermione stopped dead in her tracks.

“Ickle Hermy sneaking off to be with her phantom prince again, eh? Tut tut, no good that is!”

She straightened up at once and made a quick attempt to wipe away all evidence. “Peeves! What're you – Wait. How did you know – ”

“Hah! The misses seems to think she can keep her wee secrets to herself! Oooh tricky, tricky love affair! Live entertainment to Peevesy, it is! Tricky, tricky!”

Hermione felt her face grow hot.

“What?! That's not – Oh, piss off, Peeves.” She turned to leave without another thought.

“Pity Hermy knows not of the ol' Lazarus to bring her icky batty back to El – Eye – Eff – Ee!”

Hermione froze and whipped right back around, her eyes wide. “What did you just – ”

“Toodle-oo!”

Cackling maniacally, Peeves swirled down into the floor as if being flushed down a toilet.

Hermione didn't know how much longer she remained rooted to that spot, but it was long enough to consider the insinuation behind his words and make it her new mission to find out.

After spending her entire free period in the library the following day looking up anything and everything that mentioned the term Lazarus, Hermione was sorely disappointed when she came up empty apart from the typical slew of biblical references. Assuming the infamous prankster hadn't simply been messing with her – which was actually a very big possibility – Hermione knew she had to dig a little deeper if she wanted to get anywhere. Considering the topic of interest, there was only one other potential source that came to mind – another ghost, whose speciality conveniently happened to be History.

“Again with the myths, Miss Gengar?” Professor Binns said dully, when Hermione showed up at the staff room after her last class to request a private word with him, at which point she didn't waste any time dilly-dallying with the details.

“Perhaps, sir, but if you recall the so-called myth about the Chamber of Secrets, that one turned out to be true, did it not?”

Binns gave her a measured look before drawing out a long sigh. “Very well. It was in the 19th century that a gentleman by the name of Bartholomew was employed as the Potions professor at Hogwarts. He was a rather eccentric man – kept to himself most of the time, never made an appearance for supper, nearly impossible to find outside of classes. Many assumed he just liked to be alone. But it was one particular brisk Autumn day – I remember it very well – when he invited a special guest to the school. A guest by the name of Viktor Frankenstein. Nobody else knew who the gentleman was or how the two became acquainted with one another, but they were inseparable – spending all their time together, often locked up in the Potions classroom for hours on end. Speculations arose, naturally, but it wasn't until one day, when they were holed up in the Restricted Section late one night, that one of the resident ghosts happened to stumble upon them. He spread the news to others at once, claiming to have heard talk about this Lazarus contraption designed to bring back those from the dead. You can only imagine the uproar this caused – all the ghosts pooled together and started stalking them wherever they went, and it wasn't long before the Headmaster approached them personally about the matter. They both denied it, of course, claiming the ghost had misunderstood them. Unfortunately, the matter was never really resolved, for the very next night the two had fled from the castle, never to be seen again. It wasn't much longer after the fact that news of their untimely deaths reached the school, and the rumour inevitably faded away with time.”

Hermione took a moment to let the whole story sink in.

“So... if we were to say that, hypothetically, if the rumour was true... that the Lazarus would be somewhere here in the school?”

Binns let out a low hum, as if he were very reluctant to entertain the idea. “That is beyond anyone's knowledge, I am afraid. People and ghosts alike have wandered all around the castle in search for it, but nothing has ever been found.”

Hermione nodded slowly, and then thanked Professor Binns very much for his time. After making an excuse that she had to go meet her study partner in the library, Hermione turned on her heel and sped out from the staffroom.

But she had zero intention of going back to the library. Instead, she clambered up the spiral staircase to the Astronomy Tower, even though it was much earlier in the evening than her usual visits.

The hollow feeling that expanded inside her chest when she arrived to an empty tower brought her feet to a halt the instant she reached the top, with one hand still attached to the railing as though it were her only lifeline. For a moment she just stood there taking in the sight of the warm glow radiating within it versus the cool darkness she'd grown so accustomed to. How strange it was that a blazing room could somehow feel colder.

She wasn't surprised to see that Severus was still nowhere to be found, but that didn't stop her from spontaneously ripping out a blank page from her notebook and scribbling down a somewhat cryptic message that only he would understand:

'I may have found a way to bring you back. Something called the Lazarus. It might only be a myth, but I think it's worth looking into. The Halloween Ball is tomorrow evening, so I will return the following night, same time as usual. Please be here. - H'.

As she looked around for a good spot to hide it, an additional thought came to her.

“I don't know if you're here right now, but if you are... I need you to read this,” she called out to the empty space, hoping he actually was there and had only turned himself invisible.

Whether he was or wasn't, she never got to find out; so she tucked the note somewhere out of plain sight – a place she knew he would definitely find it – before disappearing back down the staircase.

Later that night, while laying in bed at a reasonable time for once, Hermione felt herself slipping in and out of sleep's grasp. Whenever she would start to drift off, nonsensical images would flash before her, jerking her body awake every time with a cool shudder. Even though the windows were all securely shut, she could hear the wind rattling angrily against them, and for some reason this made the temperature in the room feel like it was several degrees lower than it actually was.

She rolled over and pulled her covers as high up over her neck as she could in an attempt to fight off the recurring chill that tickled her skin. She kept her eyes shut, but the amount of disturbances must have been nearing the double digits by the time she knew she felt something breeze across her face. Wondering if perhaps the window had somehow unlatched itself, Hermione pried her eyes open and was about to roll back over to check, when she spotted something white and transparent hovering directly above her.

She let out a sharp gasp and nearly screamed into the hand that she'd clapped over her mouth, but it was at this very same moment that the intruder raised a finger to his own lips in a request to remain silent. Had recognition not set in so quickly, she probably would have had the whole common room running to her bedside in a panic. But the instant she realised who it was, Hermione dropped her hand and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Severus...” she whispered. “What – ”

He leaned right over and brought his lips to her ear, making the numbness in her cheek tingle even more so, as he uttered in a low voice, “Meet me in the Potions classroom tomorrow evening.”

And, just like the time on the roof, that was all he expressed to her before rising up again and sparing her one last look as his celestial body melted away into the darkness.

“Wait – ” she rasped. But it was yet another attempt in vain.

Hermione barely made it through her classes the next day. The lack of sleep – before and after Severus had visited her in the middle of the night – was one thing, but the anticipation of meeting him later that evening was causing her to lose focus on any of the material at hand.

The instant she was dismissed from her last class of the day, Hermione wasted no time in finding her way to the Potions classroom.

Before she let herself in through the antique oak door, she peered around at her surroundings to make sure nobody was watching, and stealthily slipped inside.

“Lock the door behind you,” she heard the instant she shut it with a soft click.

Whirling around, she saw him hovering over the middle of the room; but as soon as their eyes met he turned around and began drifting over to another area, and through a back door that she'd never been permitted to enter before.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” she asked as she dashed over to catch up with him.

“You'll see soon enough,” he said, pulling up in front of one of the few shelves inside the small room. “See that unicorn skull? You'll need to stick your wand in its eye socket and cast Lumos.”

Hermione's first instinct was to question why, but remembering that he promised she would find everything out soon enough, she decided to take his word for it and do just as she was told.

The minute the spell was cast, the whole bookshelf started to rumble, puffing dust out from every nook like some sort of malfunctioning Floo network. She gathered this particular bookshelf didn't get all that much attention; and a brief glance at the title of one of the books – Dracula – made her realise why. They were all Muggle books.

What they were doing in the Potions classroom, she didn't ask, for in that moment the bookshelf started sinking down into the ground, revealing a long, twisting staircase – not unlike the one leading up to the Astronomy Tower.

“After you,” Severus said, making a sweeping gesture with his hand for her to enter first.

Hermione inhaled deeply, staring at the misty entrance with trepidation. As a Gryffindor, however, she was inherently committed to putting on a brave face.

She took a step down onto the first rung; and when it proved not to set off some sort of booby trap, she carried on down further, eventually feeling like it might never reach an end.

But once it did, Hermione stepped off with relief onto solid stone ground and felt her mouth drop as she glanced around in awe at the room she found herself in. It looked like some sort of abandoned laboratory. It was in quite a state, with pieces of apparatus knocked over and papers strewn everywhere. But what was grabbing Hermione's attention the most was the large fountain smack dab in the centre of the room. It seemed so out of place considering everything else.

“Wow... what is all this?” Hermione asked, just as she felt a cool draft come up from behind, which she only knew to be Severus as he floated right on past her.

“I stumbled upon it by accident one day while I was still alive. At the time, I just assumed it was a spare laboratory and didn't think much of it. But, see here – ” He dropped down low and indicated towards something etched onto the side of the fountain.

Hermione followed him over to it and had to crouch down to read what it said.

“Lazarus...” she whispered.

“After seeing your note, I knew I recognised the name from somewhere. It took me a second, but then I remembered this place. I know nothing of its significance, however.”

Hermione sprung up. “This is it... it must be here!”

“Do enlighten me,” he said, turning to regard her with tempered impatience.

“I went to see Professor Binns yesterday... and he told me the tale of how one of the past Potions professors was rumoured to be working alongside someone else to create something that would bring the dead back to life – something called the Lazarus. He didn't mention if they were ever successful or not – I suppose they left the school before anyone could find out. But if it is true...” All of a sudden, Hermione darted away from the fountain and towards the nearby desk, where she started rifling through the mess of papers. “We need to find it.”

“What are we looking for, exactly?” she heard from behind.

“I don't know...” Without slowing down, she thought of all her past experiences with Horcruxes and magical artefacts. “It could be a stone, a ring, a potion, anything – we just have to search everywhere.”

And so they searched the whole place from top to bottom, but nothing seemed to give any clear indication as to what the Lazarus actually was or how to acquire it.

Hermione didn't know how much time had passed, but after a while it felt like they'd been searching for hours. She could feel the doubt starting to creep in, trying to convince her that the whole endeavour was nothing but a wild goose chase. But they were so close – she knew it. There just had to be some way, somehow...

And then, as she placed her hand on the skull of an unassuming model of a skeleton, hoping to move it aside to get to the portrait behind it, the head twisted sharply to the right and she heard a click, and then something that sounded like gears turning went off as the ground rumbled beneath her. When she spun around, her eyes landed on the fountain again, where a gigantic mechanism had started rising gradually from the water.

“Oh – ” she gasped, running over towards it.

As it reached its final peak and came to a dead stop with another loud click, Hermione stood back and ogled at it in wonder.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath, just as Severus swooped around from the other side looking expectantly to her. “The man that Bartholomew was working with... he must have been some kind of Muggle scientist. Magic and Science infused together... it all makes sense. Look – ”

She pointed to a shelf that had risen next to the contraption where a lone vial sat harboring some sort of blood-like liquid. Quickly, she rushed over and grabbed it, holding it up to inspect it closely.

“So, it's a kind of... primordial soup mix, I guess?”

“Let me see that,” Severus said, closing in on her. Hermione was more than willing to hand it over to the Potions expert, but just as she extended the vial out to him a loud screech split through the air and bounced off the stone walls, creating an echo all around them. She jerked her head up just a second too late, for it was in that moment that an indistinct white blur whooshed past and plucked the vial right out from her hand.

“Peeves!” Hermione shrieked, recognising the prankster at once as she spun around just in time to catch the sight of his receding back, hearing him cackling maniacally as he attempted to make off with it at double speed. Thinking quickly on her feet, she whipped her wand out from her pocket and pointed it directly at him.

“Immobulus!”

The poltergeist froze mid-air with an unsavoury grunt, but the vial apparently had its own fate set out for it as it shot out of his hand from high up and started plummeting towards the ground at rapid speed.

Hermione was thinking on her feet again as her only instinct was to lunge forward and leap into the air to save it.

“Hermione – NO!” was the last thing she heard before she landed and collided with something extremely sharp.

Excruciating pain hit her only for a second, and then the whole world seemed to slow down, her clarity progressively waning as a weightless dark blanket fell over her. The lingering sound of Severus' voice calling out to her was the last thing to fade out as she could feel herself growing colder – colder than Severus' touch – colder than anything she'd ever felt in her entire life. Everything around her fell eerily silent, and as far as she knew she was just slipping into another dream. Or perhaps it was a nightmare. That ice-cold feeling only intensified within the everlasting darkness, and after feeling nothing for a while, suddenly she was feeling everything. It was like a million and one needles stabbing into her at once as the darkness started to churn out what looked like curling wisps of multi-coloured dye. As she rode out this kaleidoscopic storm, all she wanted to do was curl up and weep.

Just when she thought it might never end, the pain started to ease up, the colours faded away, and everything else was being pieced back together again in greyed tones, as the scenery she last remembered crawled slowly back into view. She was grateful to be out of the darkness, but at the same time something felt very off – very, very off. She felt light as a feather, for one; and she was gazing down upon a lain version of herself, for another.

That was when the panic started to set in, just as she found her voice again. “Severus... I – Oh my God...”

“You fool!”

Looking up, she saw Severus hovering right beside her, his face somehow even whiter than before.

It all made sense now.

She, too, had become a ghost.

“I – I'm sorry, I... I was only trying to – ” Glancing back down to her prostrate body, she saw the very vial that had been the cause of it all, clutched in her hand fully intact. Then it hit her. “Hold on – the vial...”

But as she lowered herself to reach for it, Severus chose that moment to swoop in and snatch it up before her.

When she looked to him, about to protest, the look he gave her sent her nerves dying all over again.

“This? You mean to tell me you gave up your life for this?” He shook it around like some cheap toy.

“Careful – ” Hermione yelped, lunging forward, but he only steered further out of her way.

“I came back, didn't I?!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, but what if you hadn't come back?”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but quickly closed it again and pulled her pasty eyebrows together instead as she took a second to mull it over.

This could only mean one thing.

Lowering her voice, she intoned, “Wait. I only came back because I still have – ”

She didn't get to finish her sentence. Severus had glided right over to the entrance of the mechanism and was beckoning her over. “Get inside,” he instructed, gesturing stiffly towards the iron door.

In any normal circumstance she wouldn't even bat an eyelid at the proposition, but it was only now, as the gears in her non-existent brain started churning, that she was met with a whole new kind of struggle.

She didn't budge.

“No, I – I don't want to go back without you – ” she said in a small voice.

The look on Severus' face turned livid. She would even go so far as to say it was the most furious she'd ever seen him.

“Don't be stupid, girl! Get in! Now!”

Hermione had the impulse to breathe in sharply, but was taken aback by the lack of air. Instead, it was like some weird tickling sensation – there was no air, yet somehow she could still breathe.

The slight panic this caused, coupled with the crushing pressure brought on by the whole situation, made her eyes start to well up as she looked into the face of the man that she'd inadvertently just failed. As with the lack of air, no actual tears were produced, but the pain in her chest certainly felt real enough.

“I won't,” she choked, shaking her head.

In less than a second he was directly in front of her again, his face mere inches from hers; and even though she couldn't feel him, she felt him.

“You won't?” His tone dropped dangerously low as his frosty eyes swept down his nose at her.

She shook her head again meekly, feeling exposed beneath his chilling gaze.

“Hermione, your spirit remains for a reason – but I assure you that sacrificing yourself for me is not it. If you deny yourself this, I will never forgive you for as long as we both haunt these walls.”

Her lip was trembling uncontrollably, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye contact with his colourless face a constant reminder of their compounding misfortune. It was disconcerting to think that he now looked upon one just the same. She'd give anything to turn back time and have it all go as planned.

“You were brought back too – you deserve it just as much as I do!” she cried.

His face twitched, and she knew that had they both been alive he'd be shaking her by the shoulders right now. “For Merlin's sake, girl, I have lived my life. There is nothing left for me to accomplish. You still have your whole life ahead of you – I would die a thousand more times before I see you throw that away.”

With words that cut like scissors, she was probably better off dead. Even though she understood where he was coming from, there was still some ingrained part of her that refused to accept it. Just like how she'd been refusing to accept the fact that she might actually have feelings for him – something that she was beginning to believe might not be her own burden to bear – it was always her stubbornness that got in the way.

Well, there was no sense denying it now. She had nothing left to lose.

“But then we will never... We can't...”

“Hermione, look at me,” he said, his voice softening. And she did, not realising that her gaze had drifted. “Being together like this... it won't make it any better. Trust me on this. You are the brightest witch I have ever had the pleasure of knowing – please don't disappoint me now by making the biggest mistake of your life.”

Hermione blinked as she continued to stare up into his misty eyes, feeling very much like the rope in a game of tug-of-war. “Severus, I...”

Raising his hands to her face, even though she couldn't feel them, the gesture alone amidst the sincere look he inflicted upon her was effective enough. “Please.”

Hermione tried to bite down on her lip, but it was the lack of actual flesh between her teeth that failed to provide any sort of comfort. Turning her palms out in front of her, she glanced down and peered straight through them to the floor, making her seriously consider whether she would truly be content with remaining this way for the rest of all eternity. Everything he said made perfect sense – was she really going to throw her whole life away for this? Being in this form was equally as tragic, but at least as a human she could actually feel things – even if it was all but a cold draft.

Hermione let out a shaky sigh beneath the tears that refused to let up. “Okay...” she whispered, practically inaudibly, letting her hands fall back down as she lifted her glossy eyes back up to him in defeat.

A look of relief swept over his face, but beneath it was a grim undertone that failed to retire, she noticed, as he gestured her forward once again.

Uncertainty followed her every inch of the way as she approached the massive industrial chamber.

Pausing momentarily just before the steel door, she slipped him a sideways glance. “What if it doesn't work?” she asked quietly.

He didn't respond right away, and Hermione could tell from the look on his face that he was probably wondering the same thing. But then he smiled – a weak one, but a smile nonetheless.

“It will.”

Hermione tried her best to return the smile, but she wasn't overly confident in its authenticity as she turned back and carried on forth straight through the door. When she spun around to look out through the lone circular window, invisible tears continued to pour down as her eyes landed upon the face of the man that she'd just implicitly agreed to never see live and breathe again. Never feel the beat of his heart. Never feel the actual touch of his fingers on her cheek. Never feel his lips on hers –

She heard a loud click, and all of a sudden the machine roared to life, spewing steam out from tiny holes dotted all around the interior. As it started to fill the tight space and cloud her vision she shut her eyes, embracing the darkness that enveloped, and only praying that the process would be quick and painless.

But, much like what she'd experienced when she'd died, everything around her suddenly went quiet as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. It didn't seem all that long before she started to feel something; but instead of the excruciating pain she experienced previously, this time around it felt no worse than recovering from a bout of pins and needles – only it was happening all over her body. It was rather uncomfortable but not overly unpleasant, and certainly didn't clamp down on her with an impeding sense of doom like before.

After an indistinguishable period of time, her sense of hearing eventually returned, prompting her to open her eyes and watch as the steam gradually started to clear. When she looked down to inspect herself, sure enough, she was certifiably human – clothes and all. How that was even possible, she didn't know, but it was a query worth pocketing for another time. With far more pressing matters at hand, she quickly reached forward to wrench open the heavy door, allowing the last little bit of steam to escape with her as she stumbled out.

“I can't believe it worked – ” she breathed excitedly, only to come to the instant realisation that there was nobody around to hear it.

Looking around frantically, whatever elation she'd felt prior to that discovery was now buried under a mountain of concern and doubt.

“Severus?” she called out.

Desperately she searched, but he was still nowhere to be found. She looked over to where her body had lain previously, but that too had miraculously disappeared – only her wand remained in its place. Had she really been brought back to life? But then she glanced up, and in seeing that Peeves was still suspended in mid-air – an extremely ugly look on his face – that was when her heart dropped. Yes, it may have worked, but it was Severus' words from the rooftop that chose to make a reappearance then, ringing through her ears and making her acknowledge that their situation prior to the incident remained very much the same, and was something he probably only hoped to reinforce.

This realisation hurt her more than she could justify. As real, solid tears started welling up in her eyes again, Hermione sprinted over to retrieve her wand before making a dash for the staircase. In her haste, one misstep led to the tip of her shoe hooking under the second slab of iron, sending her whole body lurching forward. Her palms reached out just in time to soften the blow before causing any real injury, and for a moment afterwards she didn't move, only continued to kneel there while allowing the tears to fall and splash against the backs of her hands.

Love. Even though she now understood what it was, she couldn't do anything to help it. She only had herself to blame, for stepping into the tower that first night, and defying all common sense by making a routine of it thereafter. Severus was right. She was a fool. A fool who'd just gone and ruined the one and only chance of them ever making something more out of whatever unusual connection they'd created.

She hardly felt conscious when the strength to pull herself back up brought her to her feet again, however feebly. Turning around and taking one final glance at the lab through glazed eyes, she would have no choice but to bury him along with it.

Sticking out her wand, it trembled in her hand as she pointed it at Peeves and pitifully uttered, “Finite Incantatem,” before hastily resuming her journey up the stairs, two steps at a time.

She didn't dare look back again.

Upon exiting the dungeons, she only had one direct route in mind – up the grand staircase and straight towards the Gryffindor common room. She had no intention of attending the Halloween Ball now, even though she could hear the liveliness of it as she passed right by the Great Hall.

But apparently fate would have it some other way, when the sound of her name being called out struck from behind, making her stop just before reaching the first step.

Spinning around, she came face-to-face with none other than Ron Weasley, dressed as some sort of werewolf-looking thing.

“Hey Her – Blimey. Better hope Myrtle doesn't see that you came dressed up as her. Nice one with the tears though – they look bloody realistic.”

Hermione gave her eyes a quick wipe with the back of her sleeve, having only just realised that she was still wearing her school uniform – which was probably what helped to sell the look all the more. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, she felt him seize her spare hand with his and start dragging her towards the Great Hall before she had the chance or even the energy to muster up any explanation. “Come on, let's dance!”

Severus waited until both she and Peeves had left the room before making himself visible again, at which point he drifted sullenly over to the messy table and started waving through random sheets of paper. What he was looking for, he didn't know – perhaps some kind of indication as to how this whole thing was even possible. He couldn't believe it was real and actually worked, and that it had been right under his nose this entire time. If someone had been capable of making that possible, then surely –

“That was a very honourable thing you did.”

Severus whipped around, not recognizing the voice or having even realised that anyone else was present in the room.

At first he found himself blinded by a great white light that had appeared next to the machine, then was soon able to make out the figure of a frumpy-looking man emerging slowly from the centre of it, approaching him steadily. His first instinct was that it was merely another ghost; but even though the figure was transparent, once the light had disappeared he could see that the he still had all his colours. And Severus certainly did not recognise him as any of the known ghosts currently registered inside the castle.

“And you are?” he asked unkindly.

“Ah, where are my manners?” The man gave a regal bow. “I am Bartholomew – well, an illusion of him, more or less. Something I believe the Muggles would refer to as a Horrorgram? Anyhow, I placed a spell on the Lazarus right before I left in case I did not return, so that should anyone come along and reactivate it, I would appear in this temporary form to relay a message.”

Severus furrowed his brows, trying his best to follow along. “What message might that be?”

“Well, as you can see, I had reached a significant breakthrough in my work, but the operation was interrupted before I could ever really see it through to completion. That is where you come in. Well, you and the aid of a human accomplice. I had taken all my research with me to these coordinates – ” he pointed to the side of the machine, where a series of numbers were roughly etched into the metal “ – so it is there that you will find everything you need to revive the project, should you wish to. I am assuming that you did not come looking for the Lazarus purely by chance.” Severus was overwhelmed by everything he was hearing and had many questions that he wanted to ask, but held them back as he let the man carry on. “I had hoped to return here myself as a ghost, but alas, it would appear as though the Fates had something else in mind. In any case, I had imbued this illusion with the same magic used for the concoction, which is not powerful enough to bring one permanently back to life – hence the basis for the Lazarus – but enough to grant someone mortality for a limited period of time. Since it is clearly no longer an option for me to fulfil it myself, I pass the opportunity unto you.”

“Am I correct to assume that you are implying I can be turned back into a human?”

“It will only be for a couple hours, but yes.”

That was all he needed.

“Tell me how.”

The man straightened himself up and gestured emphatically with his hands as he explained, “You must chant my name precisely three times. This will trigger the end of the spell, causing my illusion to disappear and transfer the last of its magic into you. From the moment you are conscious again, you will have exactly two hours in that form before you start to turn back into a ghost.”

Severus felt somewhat weird about the notion, but this was no time to bring his pride into it.

“That's all?”

The man gave a slow nod.

So, clearing his throat, Severus went ahead and abjectly uttered, “Bartholomew, Bartholomew, Bartholomew,” as instructed.

For a second, nothing happened, and then in a quick flash everything happened – a bright beam of light shot right out from the illusion and projected directly into Severus' incorporeal chest, spreading from that one point to the rest of body. Even though he could see it happening he felt nothing. But then the light started flickering violently, and all of a sudden the entire room started clouding over and trapping him into what felt a vicious lightning storm.

“Best of luck to you!” was the last thing he heard echoing all around him before fading away and leaving nothing but crackling static in his ears. Once every inch of his body was covered in the glowing light, everything else around him went dark, and it was only a matter of time before he did as well. And then he felt it – actually felt it – as his front collided with something cold and hard.

When he came to, his eyes shot open, and even though he felt sluggish and everything around him appeared to be swirling in blurred motions, Severus wouldn't say it was all that incomparable to a heavy night of drinking. Unlike being intoxicated, however, the feeling passed much quicker, and he was soon able to see everything as clear as day. As he heaved himself up off the floor, he was met with resistance for the first time in several months, reminding him of the full weight of gravity as it made his long hair fall as lank as ever over his ears. Had it always been so heavy?

With the clock ticking perilously, Severus didn't spend much longer thinking about it before bolting up the spiralling staircase.

No amount of twinkling lights, freaky costumes, or thrilling music were able to pull Hermione out of the dark void compressing in on her.

After half-heartedly indulging Ron in the dance he'd more or less forced her into, she managed to conjure up an excuse and make her escape to the catering table, where an abundant selection of spooky sweets and delectables could be found laid out across it.

From that point onward, the only way for her to leave that spot would be if someone were to come along and literally sweep her off her feet, for it was then that she'd resolved to spending the rest of the evening drinking her pain away with the sour pitch-black party punch that sat right next to the toxic-coloured punch for those not of age.

But, as time trickled along, all it seemed to do was replenish her tears with fresh supply.

As she slumped back against the tacky tablecloth she let her wet eyes wander around the vibrant room at all the happy, dancing people, and for some reason it just made her feel so much worse.

In a room crowded with people, she'd never felt more alone.

It was like she'd stepped into someone else's dream. Everyone was oblivious to the internal reality she faced alone, simply living in the moment and existing as though nothing else in the world mattered. But, to her, it was exactly everything else in the world that mattered.

She'd just taken another hearty sip of her drink, when the music changed and something in the air shifted. The entire atmosphere appeared to dissolve into slow motion; the lights dimmed, and Hermione had to squint through the soft, flickering lights to see anything. She recognised the song from several years ago – some nineties ballad about destiny.

Resting her cup back down on the table after draining the remainder of its contents in one gulp, she was just about to turn and pour herself another helping when something bright caught the corner of her eye. When she glanced back up, there looked to be a spotlight shining down on the crowd, and splitting it right down the middle was a dark, masked man who appeared to be gliding straight towards her. The spotlight then flickered away, and she wondered if it had even existed at all.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as she watched him getting nearer, wondering who he was and whether it was really her who he was approaching or the catering table.

She got her answer the moment he came right up to her and smoothly extended a pale, gaunt hand – a hand that looked all too familiar.

Eyeing the hand suspiciously, Hermione hesitated before placing hers in it, flicking her attention back to his masked face as she did so. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he whisked her away before she could even utter a simple Hello.

As she was spun around and felt the light touch of his hand meet her waist, however, it didn't take Hermione very long to recognise the distinct finesse in which he guided her.

“Severus?” she whispered, squinting up at him in disbelief as he pulled her in closer to him. Perhaps it was a dream after all.

With the mask shielding his eyes, the only indication she had was the soft smirk that pulled at the corner of his lips. “I told you I can dance.”

Hermione's heart jumped. “Wait. You're – How is this possible?”

He took his thumb and rubbed it over her tear-stained cheek as he said in a hushed tone, “I'll explain everything later.”

But his touch only seemed to have the opposite effect, making Hermione come to an abrupt stop – her entire body freezing beneath the very touch she thought to be impossible.

“No,” she said, feeling her heart begin to pound in her chest as she promptly took him by the wrist and led him away, holding on tight as she weaved hastily through the crowd.

Even as they broke free from the Great Hall and navigated their way through the entrance hall, Hermione did not reduce her pace or spare any glances back. Through the passage at the end of the tunnel they went, followed by two separate flights of stairs, and at last unto the corridor that was home to the spiralling staircase.

Not once did he protest or make any effort to slow her down as she continued to lead them up towards the very tower where it all began.

It was only when the clear night sky came into view, enhanced with the ambient tinkling that she'd come to grow fond of, that Hermione turned back around to him and nearly let go – but something had stopped her. As she reached up to remove his mask and gaze into his black eyes that now glittered as she once remembered, she realised then that she was afraid to let go; afraid that if she did, she would never be able to hold him again. So she let her fingers slide down from his wrist, and took his hand firmly in hers instead.

“Please tell me this is real,” she whispered pleadingly.

Severus tried to offer a smile, but it wasn't enough to convince the perceptive know-it-all. Clenching his jaw, he said, “For now, yes. It's a long story – we only have a couple hours, but – ”

“A couple hours? What do you mean a couple hours?!” Hermione hissed, gripping his hand so tight it might break.

Her blood was pumping hard and her breaths were coming in quick as she felt the familiar pressure behind her eyes beginning to distort her vision. But before she could reach that breaking point, he silenced her by lifting his free hand to her cheek and dipping his head down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

For a moment, Hermione's heart stopped beating, and everything leading up to that point seemed to have been swept away with the gentle breeze that swirled around them. But as she closed her eyes and welcomed the blissful feeling, it wasn't long before the reality of the situation doubled back and seemed to hit her even harder than it would have otherwise. Hot tears came pouring down her cheeks as she continued to savour the taste of his lips on her own, only making her want to take him in deeper and make it last. She parted her lips and gently guided him in with her tongue, surprised by how delightful he tasted for an undead dead person. This only made the tears fall even harder, however, as it failed to mask all the uncertainty still surrounding them.

“Severus,” Hermione gasped, finally mustering the courage to pull back and level with him through glossy eyes, her hand still clinging tightly to his. Her voice cracked as she said, “Can I keep you?”

Severus' eyes appeared quite slick themselves as they searched her face. He seemed to be struggling with words for the first time in his life, which Hermione took to mean only one thing. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was equally as frightened.

But then he licked his lips, and it was as if all doubt was henceforth banished when his dark eyes locked firmly on hers.

“Yes.”