Under the Northern Star

She didn't manage to eat more than an apple. The chocolate bars had plenty of nuts and caramel, and the sweet, sugary aroma made her stomach turn upside down. The sandwiches were even worse; she couldn't bear to even look at them.

She refused to think of him any more, or try to explain his presence to her mind. She would try to eat more every day, and gradually, everything would be fine. In fact, Ginny's last letter was still unanswered, and it would provide perfect distraction. It had been a typical one from her: upbeat and full of lively news, but there had been a sense of melancholy underneath.

Dear Ginny, she started writing. Things continue peacefully over here. I spend most of my days at the hotel and walking in the countryside.

Well, she had taken that one walk a week after she had arrived. The darkness had been too much, and she had returned to her room after ten minutes.

Santa Claus's village is right behind the corner. There is also a very nice gift shop in the hotel, and the meals in the cafeteria are very good. I don't know yet when I'll come back. I hope things are well over there. Give my love to Harry, Molly, Arthur, and anyone else you meet.
Love from Hermione

For a while, she held the pen under her signature, almost writing the words, "By the way, do you remember where Severus Snape was buried?", but then decided against it. Ginny would start asking questions, and while she normally welcomed any discussion that steered the subject away from Ron, she wasn't willing to talk about her mind matters. Besides, none of them at home needed a single more thing to worry about.

She put the letter in a small envelope that she slipped inside a larger one with her parents' address. Muggle post was not always as quick as owl post, so she could expect a reply probably only in a week or so.

And in the meantime, she'd eat. A proper meal.

At six o'clock, she left her room and went to the Reception to send her letter. The queue to the cafeteria was longer than she had expected, and when she reached the counter, it was nearly seven already. She ladled a little bit of everything on her plate, even the main course, which was sautéed reindeer and didn't inspire much confidence in her.

When she had poured herself some juice, she scanned the room for a nice, quiet nook, but there were only random seats here and there amidst cheerfully chattering parties and families. Finally, she headed to a table behind the counter. A couple with a toddler occupied the other three seats, and the mother cast her a slightly annoyed look as she laid down her tray with an apologetic smile. The toddler seemed to be in a right temper: she was banging a plastic spoon against the plate, which was dotted with orange-brown sauce.

'Julia, älä nyt viitsi,' the woman said tiredly and stopped the small hand. 'Lähdetään, Mikko.'

The couple stood up and started packing their belongings. The man picked up the child, who started screaming, and the family hurried out.

So, now she was alone with her food. It smelled...not bad, but not enticing either. She drenched a piece of potato in gravy and ate it. It was a strange sensation to feel warmth in her mouth again. She ate another piece of potato, and another. The sautéed reindeer stayed untouched, it was still too much. She ate a couple of mouthfuls of salad, too, and drank half a glass of orange juice. At least she was getting some vitamins.

She chewed the last piece of potato slowly, closing her eyes; she knew she couldn't eat more or she would be nauseous. With a little sigh, she reached for the glass, which was suddenly black.

Black?

She raised her eyes to the dark figure towering in front of her.

'I do apologise for the intrusion, but this appears to be the last available seat.'

She looked quickly around and saw two men eating and talking animatedly on the seats that mother and daughter had occupied earlier. Had they seen her strange enjoyment of the potato? But they didn't even look at her, and she returned her gaze to the dark figure still standing by the empty seat in front of her. Didn't he look slightly less black? A bit more transparent?

'Since you seem to be incapable of speaking at present, I'll suit myself.'

Snape sat down and lifted his tea cup away from the tray. Hermione swallowed and put down her utensils. The men beside her seemed to be completely wrapped up in their conversation; they didn't even glance at the newcomer.

Well, obviously they wouldn't if he was a hallucination.

'Are you really alive?' she blurted. 'Or are you a fragment of my imagination?'

Snape's black eyes surveyed her for a while in silence. She didn't look away; she was determined to stand up to whatever it was.

And then, something warm touched her hand. From the corner of her eye, she saw a black sleeve very close to the sleeve of her own brown cardigan. His hand was resting on hers. A peculiar feeling tinkered through her –somehow, she had always thought his touch would be very cool, almost cold. Inhuman, somehow.
And yet there it was: a firm, slender hand, perhaps slightly paler than hers, but otherwise warm and supple.

It was gone in a few speeding seconds.

'Enough to rid you of whatever silly notions you seem to have been entertaining?'

'But we saw you die,' she whispered and pulled her hand into her lap. His touch was still lingering on her skin, not unpleasant.

'No, you saw a snake attack me. And Potter in his usual reckless style went his merry way without making sure I was actually dead.'

'How could you possibly have survived?'

Snape's lips curled.

'Use your brains. Who in their right mind would not have been prepared with venom antidote when Voldemort was traipsing around with that nasty piece of tentacle?'

'You bled an awful lot, though.'

'Yes, yes,' Snape said impatiently and sipped his tea. 'Didn't Arthur Weasley bleed like a river when Nagini attacked him? I had been taking an antidote in the form of a potion for weeks, and I started nonverbal healing spells on myself as soon as you left.'

'You gave Harry those memories,' Hermione insisted. 'And he said he saw life depart your eyes.'

Snape leaned on the table and crossed his hands under his chin, examining her with his glittering, black eyes.

'What you saw was a show. I needed to get you all out so that I could start the healing spells. Of course, I'm no simpleton, and I knew perfectly well that the snake might have done irreparable damage or I might not be able to do the healing spells in time. As much as I dislike Potter, I didn't want him to keep believing that I was a monster second only to Voldemort. Since Potter has always been prone to emotionality, I thought my memories of his mother would do the trick best. And it was the truth, to an extent.'

Hermione sat still, her mind working frantically. As she looked back, she felt ashamed of her own foolishness. How could she have left the man there without checking his condition?

'I'm sorry that I didn't stay,' she muttered and shoved a forkful of sautéed reindeer in her mouth. It was quite strong and made her splutter into her handkerchief.

'I preferred to disappear quietly without having to deal with the aftermath.' Snape's eyes followed the handkerchief Hermione balled up and put on the tray. 'Please don't tell me you've let yourself sink into this state because of Weasley.'

'So what if I have?' Hermione lifted her chin defiantly. 'I lost him two weeks before our wedding. I'm sorry if you think grieving is out of the question in that case.'

Snape didn't reply, but his lips curved in a way that told he thought it was at least exceedingly silly.

'Ron was a good man,' Hermione said, her lips trembling. 'Whatever you may think. And he was getting a lot of praise as an Auror.'

'Weasley, really?'

'Yes.'

Snape said nothing, but his eyes didn't leave her, and his fingers caressed the rim of his glass thoughtfully. Something in his eyes stimulated a tender spot deep inside her. And she was not ready for that.

'I'm sorry, I must go.' She stood up so brusquely that the remaining juice splashed from her glass. 'Good night.'

She strode out without waiting for a reply. But when she turned around at the door, he was still watching her, that maddening sneer playing on his lips.