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The ground beneath his feet was soft and giving with layers of soil, moss and decomposing loam. Branches, softened by the damp, bent and split beneath his heels and he placed his hand against the side of a mossy tree as he turned around it, heading now toward the north.
An owl flew overhead and Harry paused for a moment, thinking of Hedwig and the fluttering sound of her wings. He continued on, stepped over a fallen log, long ago toppled by age, and immediately bent to pick up the small, angled stone that lay waiting for him. He closed his fingers around it.
Another owl cried out and he lifted his face to gaze around him. The forest was quiet and still, although clearly not without its own nocturnal inhabitants. The creatures were slowly reclaiming their ground amidst the trees, although no person, save himself, had yet dared to venture into the Forbidden Forest since the Battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort still hung heavy between the branches.
He turned the stone in his hand once, feeling the smoothness between his fingers. Twice, catching his thumb against an edge. Thrice, and he gripped it.
He looked up.
Snape crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Feeling sentimental, are we?”
Harry smiled a little. The curve of it only barely touched his lips. “Maybe.”
“You are aware that I am quite dead, and that no amount of fiddling with that pebble will bring me back?”
He nodded slowly. “I am.”
Snape rolled his eyes, but uncrossed his arms and gestured for Harry to follow him. Side-by-side, they followed Harry’s meandering path back out from the forest.
“Did you or did you not say that you would not retrieve this stone from its resting place?”
The smile touched Harry’s lips this time. They curved upward and he lifted his eyes to meet his former professor’s. “I lied.”
“Ah, Mr. Potter. We shall make a Slytherin of you yet.”
Harry snorted. “Not bloody likely.”
He glanced up to see a smirk slide across Snape’s face and disappear beneath the edge of his hair.
“And what shall we do now, Potter? Or do I dare ask what plans cogitate within your skull?”
Harry smiled to himself as he picked his way over the fallen branches and logs. He dug his left hand into the pocket of his jeans and tried to keep the smile from widening. They crossed the forest’s threshold and stepped out into the moonlit night, the air cool and soft against his skin. He lifted his face and looked at the castle, at the moon hanging heavy over it. The castle flickered and twinkled with lit windows, small shapes of people moving about within it. Alive. Everyone was so alive now.
He looked over at Snape who lifted an eyebrow as he noted the gaze, and Harry smiled at him.
The eyebrow quirked higher. “Well, Potter?”
Harry turned toward him. Reached out and grabbed a handful of silvery, translucent robe and fisted his hand around it. Snape looked down in surprise, his mouth falling open momentarily. Save poltergeists, incorporeal beings could not typically touch or be touched. Snape lifted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“I’m going to grow up,” Harry told him and pulled him closer. Snape didn’t resist. In fact, he may have moved closer willingly. “I’m going to get stronger. My magic is going to grow and you already know that I don’t let silly things like rules stop me from doing the impossible.” He tugged once to prove his point. “One day, when I’m old and grey, I’m going to be as powerful as Dumbledore and twice as flipped.”
“I believe you are nearly his equal as far as sanity is concerned,” Snape muttered, but he reached out and carefully picked a leaf from Harry’s shoulder, his expression wondering as he rubbed the leaf between two fingers.
Harry reached for Snape’s hand, closing his fingers around Snape’s wrist. The leaf fluttered to the ground.
“And you…”
“Yes, Potter?”
Harry smiled widely at him, nearly glowing in the moonlight. “You, Snape, are going to be there the whole way.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “And why would I choose such a fate for my afterlife?”
“Because, you idiot,” Harry grinned, making Snape narrow his eyes again. “You’re still here. And because you fell in love with me.”
Snape snorted. “Spare me your romanticisms, boy,” he reproached, but tilted Harry’s chin up with one long finger. “I’m still here because I haven’t yet decided where else I might go. Don’t flatter yourself on that count.”
“Of course not.” Harry stepped closer, tipping his head back farther, glowing. “Now, stop pretending you don’t want to kiss me and do it already. You already put it off long enough to die first. I’m not going to let you do that again.”
A smirk danced over Snape’s lips and he shook his head. “Very well, Potter. But you know as well as I that the dead feel nothing. I left my nerve endings in my body, you fool.”
He bent and touched his lips to Harry’s. Harry exhaled and slid his palm around the back of Snape’s neck, squeezing gently, leading Snape to close his eyes as goosebumps rose along his skin. “How…?” He breathed and stopped when Harry’s tongue touched his lips. His own parted in surprise and he cautiously reciprocated, and the moment he slid his tongue against Harry’s, shivers spread like lightning down his spine. He pressed closer, delighting as his spiritual form reacted in a very corporeal manner.
They broke apart with mutual gasps of air, something which Snape then frowned over and attempted again, taking in and releasing another breath. It frosted in the cool air. He shook his head, planning further experiments to test his newfound limits, and he looked at Harry and tilted his head in consideration.
“Why?” He asked and Harry smiled at him.
“You died for me. I think the least I can give you is a century or two of increasingly excellent shags. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Snape lifted his eyebrows, considered and finally nodded. “Agreed. Shall we begin immediately?” And he pushed Harry backwards into the trees and onto the forest floor, meeting him step for step and following him down.