Chapter XXIX: A Night of Memories

‘How is this possible, Severus?’ Morgaine asked, looking down at their entwined hands. ‘It shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t be able to hold my hand.’

Severus nodded slowly. ‘I have been thinking about this, too,’ he replied. ‘I think it is a memory.’

Morgaine frowned, not taking her eyes off the ghostly hands that held hers. ‘A memory?’

Once more, Severus nodded. ‘One of my dearest,’ he started. ‘Do you remember how your Boggart turned into a Death Eater – into me – in your sixth year?’

‘How could I forget?’

Finding out that her teacher, her mentor, had once been a Death Eater had been a very unpleasant surprise, and at first, Morgaine had refused to believe it. Books could lie, she had told herself. Authors could be wrong. But every book about the First Wizarding War she had picked up had said the same thing: that Severus Snape had indeed been a Death Eater, one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted servants. And although Albus Dumbledore had vouched for him, although his name had been cleared, Morgaine had been forced to admit that she did not feel entirely comfortable around Severus Snape anymore. She had kept quiet about her findings and thoughts for almost half a year, trying to convince herself that there must have been good reasons for Snape joining the Dark side in the first place. He had been young, foolish. Maybe someone had forced him to join, blackmailed him, or Merlin knew what. But deep inside, she had been scared, and her Boggart had delivered evidence of her fears.

‘I thought I had lost you,’ Severus confessed. ‘I was convinced that you would turn away from me once you had found out about my biggest mistakes. Instead, you came down to the dungeons, and you listened. And instead of running away, you held my hand that night. You did it over and over again, at times when the rest of the Wizarding world judged me to be one of the most foul beings on earth. I doubt you ever knew how much that simple gesture meant to me.’

About as much as you holding my hand means to me now, Morgaine thought.

His hands looked like a ghost’s hands, silvery-blue and semitransparent, but at the moment they felt solid, human, and Morgaine was sure that she would feel their grip tighten if she tried to pull her own hands away. But Severus had said it was just a memory.

‘Are you saying that this isn’t real?’ she asked with a slightly trembling voice, feeling a knot form in the pit of her stomach. Heaven forbid Severus would give an affirmative answer. She wanted this to be real. She needed it to be real. She needed his touch.

Severus shrugged. ‘It is only a theory, an explanation for why the only person I am able to touch is you. I cannot touch Minerva, for example, whom I have known since I was eleven. I assume touching her has never meant enough to either of us to enable me to recreate the sensation. And I cannot touch Demeter, who is my own flesh and blood. That, I think, is because I have never touched her while I was alive. There is no memory to recreate.’

Morgaine’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes met hers. No matter what colour his eyes had now – silvery blue instead of beetle black – they were still bottomless and seemed to be able to see right into her very soul.

‘The memory of your hand in mine is very strong,’ Severus went on. ‘And as you can feel my hands as well, I assume the memory is just as strong in your mind as it is in mine. That is the key, I think: a strong memory, shared by the both of us.’

Morgaine swallowed. ‘Could this work with other memories?’ she asked tentatively.

She regretted having asked even before she had spoken the last syllable. Why was she getting her hopes up? If Severus said no, or if they tried to recreate another memory and it did not work, how much would it hurt? Would she be able to handle any more pain?

But hope was all she had.

‘Look at me,’ Severus whispered. ‘Look at me and remember.’

At first, Morgaine fought the memories. What if she got lost in them? What if she did not have the strength to return to the present? What if she didn’t want to return? But Severus’ hands around hers made her feel safe, and as his mind brushed hers, she let her guard down. One by one, the bricks of her protective wall tumbled to the ground and vanished into nothingness, opening up the path to her most treasured memories; moments long passed, hidden away but never forgotten.

Iceland, green hills and fiery skies, an innocent kiss and a loving embrace under the birch tree by the river.

Grimmauld Place, a dark shabby room and a whispered confession of love which no one else must ever know about.

The Black Lake, autumn leaves covering Albus Dumbledore’s white tomb and a plea for forgiveness between two souls that didn’t know how to exist without each other.

Again and again, they revisited the dungeons where – suddenly – Morgaine found her fifteen-year-old self sobbing on the floor on a Halloween night. That night, Severus had unearthed some of her most painful and disturbing childhood memories. Memories of Death Eaters, the Dark Lord and the night she had cursed her own mother.

Morgaine tried to turn away. She could not understand why she – her mind – had chosen to stop at this particular memory. Severus had asked her to remember something that was important to them both, a strong memory they could recreate. Surely, Severus invading her mind and finding nothing but horror wasn’t a memory either of them was keen to live through once more. But she couldn’t turn away from the memory, as little as she could turn away from the penetrating gaze of Severus’ eyes. Together they looked down upon the girl that was crying in desperation on the cold stone floor and saw the black clad man wrap his arms around her and cradle her against his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And the girl clung to him like a drowning person to a life raft.

Severus’ eyes narrowed slightly, and his ghostly brow narrowed in concentration. ‘Do not fight it,’ he whispered. ‘Close your eyes and hang on to this memory.’

Morgaine’s hands twitched as Severus let go of them, and she felt a bubble of panic rise in her chest. She did not want him to let go. She did not want him to leave. What if he didn’t come back?

But Severus didn’t leave, and while his hands had let go of Morgaine’s, his mind was closer to hers than ever, his memories intertwining with hers. And suddenly, it became crystal clear why her mind had chosen this particular scene.

‘You took care of me that night,’ she pointed out in a low tone, now clinging as desperately to the memory as she had clung to Severus that night almost two decades ago. ‘You held me in your arms and kept me safe.’

‘It was the least I could do.’

At first, his touch felt cold as ice, and for a moment Morgaine feared that the memory had not been strong enough, or worse, that it had not meant as much to Severus as it had to her. But soon the ghostly touch on her cheek grew warmer, and as Severus carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulder, Morgaine could have sworn that it felt warm and solid.

~ ~ ~
Severus couldn’t help but smile when Morgaine sighed softly and rolled around in her sleep. The glow of the fire that was still burning in the next room once more magicked some rosy colour onto her cheeks, and she looked calm and relaxed. Surely, her sigh could not have been anything other than a sigh of contentment.

He had been watching her sleep for a good two hours now. At first, her slumber had seemed troubled. He had heard her gnash her teeth and seen her toss her head from side to side, and he had been afraid that she would wake up again. And so he had whispered to her, told her that she had nothing to fear and that he was taking care of her, just as he had promised her so many years ago. Eventually, she had calmed down. The muscles in her jaw had relaxed, and her breathing had become slow and regular.

He had stayed by her side, watching her sleep, observing her movements and mapping every inch of her face, comparing it to the memories in his head. The fine lines at the corner of her eyes and mouth were still there, proofs of a smile that had once had the capacity to light up even the darkest corner of the dungeons. But now, there was also a deep, angry line right between her eyes, hardening her otherwise soft features. And the dark circles under her eyes bore witness of far too many sleepless nights. But tonight, she was asleep. Peacefully, it seemed, and Severus wondered what she was dreaming of.

As the grandfather clock in the study chimed, Severus frowned. That clock was bewitched to only make any sound when no living being within earshot was asleep thus not to wake anyone. It had struck midnight still, but since Morgaine had closed her eyes, the clock hadn’t as much as ticked. That it chimed now must mean that Morgaine was awake.

‘Are you trying to lure me into thinking that you are sleeping, Miss duLac?’ Severus asked in a mockingly chiding tone.

Morgaine’s lips curled into a smile, but her eyes were still closed. ‘No, I’m not trying to lure you. I am just enjoying the feeling of having someone beside me,’ she whispered, her voice so drowsy that Severus concluded that she had woken up mere seconds ago.

‘Did you know,’ he started in a low tone so as not to disturb her in case she was drifting back into sleep, ‘that some nights, I would lay awake for hours just to watch you sleep? I would let my fingers run over your skin to feel your warmth and to assure myself that you were still there.’

‘And did you know,’ Morgaine replied sleepily, ‘that some nights, I pretended to be asleep just to lay in your arms?’

‘As you are doing now?’

Morgaine hummed in agreement, and Severus saw her wrap the blanket tighter around her shoulders as if to use it as a substitute for his arms.

‘I knew,’ he confessed.

He had always known, but he had always chosen to pretend that he didn’t so he could hold her close to his chest all night, inhaling the warm, comforting scent that emitted from her hair and imagining that the world outside their bedroom did not exist. No war, no Dark Lord, no Dumbledore, no Order and no responsibilities; just the two of them.

‘I miss it,’ Morgaine whispered. Her voice had become clearer, but her eyes were still closed. ‘I miss the feeling of having someone watch over me at night. I miss waking up in your arms. I miss ...’

Her eyes flew open and locked immediately onto Severus’. She did not even have to search for them.

‘I miss you. All of you.’

Severus’ ghostly brow furrowed. What was he supposed to tell her now? That he felt the same? That he missed the feeling of her body against his? That he missed her kisses and her warm hands on his back? That he missed making love to her?

For some moments, he tried to listen to the voice of reason in his head. Telling Morgaine that he felt the same way as she did would not help. If anything, it would mean another sleepless night for her, a night filled with regrets and unsatisfied longing. But the voice of his heart spoke louder. They had a chance now, and he couldn’t let it slip away. He concentrated hard, and his fingers came to rest on her cheek. And as Morgaine eyes opened, he carefully let his thumb glide over her lips.

‘Have you waited all this time?’ he asked.

‘I have never felt the need to be with anyone else,’ she whispered. ‘It didn’t seem important.’

‘Does it seem important now?’

Her answer consisted of a flood of memories: tender lovemaking in the dungeons, a forceful yet passionate coupling against the wall in a dark room at the Leaky Cauldron, tender caresses and a confession of love in a dusty room at Grimmauld Place.

‘Which one?’ Severus whispered, his fingertips now trailing down the side of Morgaine’s neck. ‘Which memory do you want us to choose?’

She didn’t answer. Instead she closed her eyes, hiding the mental pictures from sight, and Severus realised that it did not matter which memory they chose. They were about to create a new one.

Her hair was soft as silk, just as he remembered it, and still smelled of sandalwood and honey. Her skin was warm against his lips and tasted sweeter that the most expensive chocolate Honeydukes had to offer. Her breasts were still firm, though somewhat heavier than he remembered. But they still fitted perfectly in his hands. He caressed them, kissed them, thoroughly enjoying the little moans that escaped from Morgaine’s lips.

It is real then, he thought. All this wasn’t just a memory. Somehow – and he could not even try to explain how – he was really touching her, pleasuring her. He could smell her, taste her, feel her. All of it was real. And Severus did not care that every touch and caress defied the laws of physics and magic alike. It did not matter that his brain was telling him that this couldn’t be, that it shouldn’t be. Nothing had mattered. Nothing, except the fact that this night belonged to them and that Morgaine belonged to him. Him alone.

~ ~ ~
‘I’m sorry, Severus.’ Morgaine’s tear-filled voice was muffled by the blanket as she apologised for what seemed the thousandth time. ‘I didn’t mean to ...’

‘I told you that there is no need to apologise,’ Severus interrupted her, rather surprised by the note of patience in his voice. ‘Go to sleep, Morgaine. The world will look much brighter in the morning.’

He saw a shudder go through her body and heard her sniffle.

‘Will you stay?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Yes, beloved,’ Severus promised. ‘I will stay.’

He would stay until the end of time if she asked him to. He couldn’t leave her when he knew that she – once more – would cry herself to sleep. And especially not when he – once more – felt responsible for her tears.

When her sobs finally subsided, Severus sighed heavily. This was not how he had wanted this night to end. But if he were honest with himself, he should have seen it coming. He should have understood that being intimate would end in nothing but heartache.

But it had felt so right. The lightest of touches had been like balm on his soul. And every sigh, every moan, every syllable that had tumbled from Morgaine’s lips had been like an elixir and had made him feel him rejuvenated, healed somehow. And all he had wanted had been to drive her over the edge so she would call out his name.

She had indeed called for him, with a hoarse voice and between gasps of breath, but not to urge him on. Instead she had begged him to stop, and he had let go of her hot skin and stared at her, at a complete loss to why she had stopped him. But before he had even drawn breath to ask her about her reasons, Morgaine had started to apologise, over and over again, until the flood of tears had become so intense that it had drowned her words. And all Severus had been able to do was wait. He had not dared reach out for her, neither physically nor mentally, out of fear that his touch was what had made her cry in the first place.

‘Severus?’

She sounded as if she were suffering from a severe head cold, and the way she trembled under her blanket suggested that she was indeed running a fever. But Severus knew that neither was the case. Her voice was hoarse from crying, and the trembling was caused by nothing but exhaustion, both mental and physical.

‘Didn’t we agree on you going to sleep?’ he asked.

‘I wanted to know if you’re still here.’

Severus drifted closer to the bed, not really knowing if he should frown or smile. He wished for her to sleep, to drift away and forget about her heartache for some hours.

‘I promised that I would stay,’ he said. ‘You know that I mean it.’

Pulling the blanket tightly around herself, Morgaine sat up. It was too dark to make out her eyes, but Severus still knew that she was looking straight at him.

‘Is this all we will ever have?’ she asked with a note of resignation in her voice that made Severus cringe. ‘Old memories patched together into new ones?’

Now Severus did frown. What they had shared was more intense and intimate than anything most lovers were ever able to experience. But he held his peace. He doubted that this argument would do any good.

Morgaine drew a shaking breath. ‘I wish all this were real.’

‘This is real,’ Severus argued, but Morgaine wouldn’t listen.

‘It might be real in our minds, in our hearts, but ...’ She sank her teeth into her lower lip, biting it so fiercely that Severus feared that she’d draw blood. ‘I need more, Severus. I cannot live from memories alone.’

Severus nodded slowly, silently wondering what Morgaine wanted him to say. Did she want him to give her permission to be with another man? That permission wasn’t his to give. He was dead, after all, nothing more than a ghost. And even if he had still been alive ...

‘Will I ever be able to be with you again, Severus?’

Severus’ head snapped up. ‘What do you mean?’

Morgaine shrugged. ‘I know that there are spells that ensure that one’s soul does not pass on. But will those spells guarantee that my soul will end up at your side?’

‘I forbid you to even think about this, Morgaine!’ Severus realised that he was shouting, but he did not care. He did not want Morgaine to think about what was going to happen after her death. He did not want her to think about dying at all. He knew how hard it was to direct one’s thoughts into another direction once they had got caught in this self-destructive spiral. Morgaine mustn’t have such thoughts. She was still young, and her whole life lay ahead of her. By the Gods, she should not even have any reason to think such things.

‘I wouldn’t ask you for permission, you know,’ Morgaine murmured, wrapping her arms around her knees. ‘But you do not need to worry. My knives are blunt, and there are no poisons in my cabinet.’

She looked up at him, and despite the darkness, Severus thought he could see her blue eyes. ‘I am not about to leave Demeter,’ she declared, her voice firm. ‘I know how it feels to grow up without a mother, and I know how it feels to lose someone you love. I am not doing this to my child.’

‘Is that a promise?’ Severus asked.

‘Yes, Severus, this is a promise.’

She slipped under the covers again, lying so still that one could have thought that she had finally fallen asleep. But Severus knew that her eyes were open, searching the darkness for his outline without finding it but refusing to give up.

She would never give up searching for him.