Chapter 3
Snape is not one to mourn, not openly. He will keep working, and keep pushing himself and his students, no matter what.
Except this.
He couldn’t do this.
Dumbledore let him take a few days off to mourn one of his own, his own Godson even, but it wasn’t enough. He goes back to class and sees his students look up to him and he can’t help but see Draco in each and every one of them. He can’t instruct them properly, can only stop any mistake before it happens, and can’t even take the time to explain why it was a mistake in the first place.
Draco never made mistakes in potions, he was always careful, Snape drilled it into him since he was four and clinging to his robes as they stood by a cauldron. It wasn’t enough to save him.
So, when the Bloody Baron floats into his office one night, head held high for once, he barely notices.
“Severus,” the baron says, in his low voice, “I have something important to tell you.”
“Yes?” Snape answers, putting his quill to the side, and his face only barely betrays his heart dropping at the serious tone.
“It is about the Malfoy boy,” the baron tells him, floating closer, “we think he is…coming back.”
“Are you sure?” Snape asks, confused, “You’ve seen him?”
The baron nods, just once, “he has appeared near the quidditch pitch, I can see him quite clearly moving, flying around.” He pauses, “he has even made an appearance to the living.”
“Someone saw him,” Snape says, and the hope makes his voice shake, “so soon?”
“He is progressing quickly,” the baron says, and there’s a soft smile on his face, “he appeared to Harry Potter of his own power, and has found a safe place to hide. I am still helping him roam further, I hope he will take my place as the Slytherin ghost.”
Snape can’t help himself, he cries, covering his face with his hands as he lets the relief and grief pour through him. His godson has come back to him, it’s a miracle he could not have even hoped for.
“I can show you,” the baron offers, once Snape composes himself somewhat, “I have not told any other living soul.”
“Please, lead the way,” Snape replies shakily, and he follows the baron down the school halls, out to the dark quidditch pitch. The air is cool, so Snape casts a quick charm over himself and then lights a Lumos so he can see. He knows where the baron is taking him before they even get there. It’s the same pole that Draco died on, the same one Snape found him under on that awful day.
“Mr Malfoy,” the baron calls out into the darkness, “I have brought Professor Snape to see you.”
They wait in silence for a while, and Snape worries he’s been pranked, before the Baron’s head perks up and he frowns.
“Oh,” the baron says softly, “he is not formed enough to be seen,” he floats over, closer to the pole, obviously listening to something. “He’s trying very hard to appear for you, but I don’t think he has absorbed enough magic yet. I had thought since a living had already seen him, but perhaps not.”
“Don’t force it,” Snape tells the empty air, “if you need to get stronger, I will wait.”
The baron turns his head to the empty air and nods, before turning back to Snape, “he says he will try again when he feels stronger, but he is glad you are here.”
“I’m glad you’re here too, Draco,” Snape tells the air, hoping his godson can hear him.
So, for the next few months, he comes down to the pitch every spare night he can, bringing treats Draco likes, or spare books. He knows Draco won’t be strong enough to open the book or eat the food, but he still feels compelled to bring them anyway.
Every time he visits he first tries to see Draco, snuffing out any lights to give him the best chance of appearing, but each and every time he never gets anything. Not even a flicker of light. And so sometimes he talks to the empty air, sometimes he opens a book and reads, leaving space in case Draco wants to read over his shoulder.
He has informed the elder Malfoys, of course he did. He wrote them a letter informing them of the ghosts' chatter, but that Draco hadn’t formed enough to be seen, and may not for many years to come. He knows they were both devastated at the loss of Draco’s life, they both knew Draco would be their only child because of their health, and so they poured their whole being into him.
He has mourned with them both, Narciss in soft silence, and Lucius in loud avoidance. But when they get the letter it’s like they both become one in their joy. They write to Draco sometimes, and Snape will leave the letter on the grass for Draco to read, spread out carefully and charmed to stick. He doesn’t know if Draco reads them, or if the pain of not being able to see his parents keeps him away. He doesn’t even know if Draco stays with him most nights, the young ghost too weak to even affect the air around him.
One night, after the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff quidditch game (it would be the finals, but everything had been postponed after the accident), Snape brought some equipment out on the field with him. He extinguished his light, fumbled with the locks for just a moment, and then let the snitch fly out into the open air. Thankfully, the lighting charms within gave it a slight glow that Snape could watch as it zipped around.
Then, as Snape watched it, he saw the slightest glimmer in the night sky. It could have been a star, a stray spell, or even just his imagination, but then as he watched, he saw it again. And again. And again.
A faint blue shimmer, mostly a shapeless blob, like a cloud, constantly zipping just behind the snitch. It makes a dive, a rise, does a full tumble in the air, and Snape watches with growing joy.
At least, even if nothing else, he can watch Draco fly again.
—
Harry comes out to the pitch one night after finals, ready to just expel some nervous energy after facing off against that damn snake. And Voldemort. And cursed Ginny.
(The fear when she had crumpled to the ground, not again. It couldn’t be happening again.)
Listen, he’s had a very hard week, and he just wants to fly.
He walks out onto the field and almost kicks off when he realises there’s someone else there. A faint glow near one of the goalposts, and the blue shimmer of Malfoy. He honestly had forgotten about him, but he figures that after his near-death experience himself, he can be excused.
“Sorry, Professor Snape,” he calls as he walks over, “I didn’t realise you were out here so late.”
“Potter,” Snape drawls, snapping his book shut, to which Draco looks mildly annoyed, “what are you doing outside of curfew?”
“Oh, I have permission from Professor Dumbledore to fly by myself, let me get the note,” he rifles around in his pockets, “and you should probably re-open the book for Malfoy.”
“What?” Snape asks, and there’s a sharp bit to his voice.
“The book,” Harry explains, “Malfoy was reading over your shoulder, that’s why you’re out here right?”
Snape turns his head sharply, scanning the pitch, but his eyes gloss over Draco, as if he’s not even there. Malfoy, meanwhile, is staring straight at Harry.
“I was,” Draco says softly, as if he’s testing the waters, “I was halfway through the page.”
“I figured,” Harry says, “you got all huffy when he closed it.”
“Huffy!” Malfoy sneers, at the same time that Snape lifts his wand.
“Potter,” he says lowly, dangerously, “do not joke with me about Mr Malfoy.” Harry is genuinely a little worried at the pure rage on Professor Snape’s face.
Harry frowns, confused, “I’m not, he’s right behind you, can’t you see him?”
“He hasn’t absorbed enough of the Hogwarts grounds magic to be seen yet,” Snape fires back, “I have been in discussion with the other ghosts about it.”
“No, he’s right there,” Harry protests, “in his quidditch robes and everything, he was reading your book over your shoulder, I saw him from halfway across the field.” He crosses his arms, “I’m the one that told the ghosts about it in the first place.”
Snape does falter then, and he re-sheathes his wand. “Can you talk to him?”
“Yes,” Harry says, “like with Nearly Headless Nick, it’s the same for me.”
“Okay, can you tell me what my book is about?” Snape asks, putting it back in his robes so Harry can’t read the cover.
Harry looks over to Draco, who is still staring at him, “help me out here?”
“He’s reading an advanced novel on potions and defence, we were in the middle of the chapter about magical shields in potions.” Draco crosses his arms and turns up his nose, but Harry can tell it’s not as harsh as it used to be, almost like he wants Harry to ignore his challenge and help instead. Obviously, death has changed him.
“It’s potions,” Harry starts, and Snape looks unimpressed, “and shields? Malfoy said that’s what the chapter was about, shields in potions.”
Snape looks at him, and then back to the empty air behind him, “thank you, Potter,” he says, “you may go. I will finish this chapter with Mr Malfoy.”
“Um, okay,” Harry says, looking back between the two, “well, bye Professor Snape, bye Draco.”
“Bye Potter,” Draco returns, “and come back soon.”
“I will,” Harry promises, and he does, for many, many years to come.