And — was a good question. He had felt a tingling. A tingling he hadn't felt when the curse had been put on him but then again, at that time, he had been busy otherwise, not focused on any spells on him. This time, he had only seen her brown eyes and the way she exuded determination. The way he could almost feel she wanted him to have his magic back. Her secure posture, her safe pronunciation and the way her wand had glowed a faint blue.

"And?" she asked again, impatient and he knew there was something inside of him but he wasn't sure what. Maybe it was just his body rebelling before dying, maybe it was his body telling him that his magic was still gone or maybe...

He quickly pried her wand from her cold fingers and gave it a wave.

81. Holophrastic Stage

Between twelve and eighteen months, children being to produce a variety of recognizable single unit utterances. This period, traditionally called the 'one-word-stage', is characterised by speech in which single terms are uttered for everyday objects such as 'milk', 'cookie', 'cat', 'cup'. Other forms may occur in circumstances which suggest that the child is producing a version of what's that, so the label 'one-word' for this stage may be misleading. Terms such as 'single-unit', or 'single-form' may be more accurate, or we could use the term holophrastic (a single form functioning as a phrase or a sentence), if we believe that the child is actually using these forms as phrases or sentences.

(Yule, 1985)

Severus saw the wand and something inside of him told him to grasp it, to take it, to hold it tightly and to wave it. He couldn't explain. He couldn't justify it to himself why he thought it was necessary but he knew, something would happen. He knew there would be a result and from the tingling he had felt, she had triggered with her screeching, from the way his mind felt and the way there were walls between thoughts, he knew that there would be a result. A good result. Quickly, before she could realise what he was doing, he had taken her wand and waved it and barely a second later, energy flooded through him. The wand warm in his hands and humming to him. There was something again — something he had missed all this time. Something bigger than himself and something he couldn't describe. There was something and when he even only wriggled the wand, there were golden sparks erupting from the tips. Golden sparks, red sparks a second later, then silver sparks, then green sparks. There were sparks and they flew around his living room for a moment, lingered at the ceiling before they burned themselves out and he watched them in utter fascination before he tried, slowly, to use his Occlumency shields. They were there as well. He could use Occlumency again. Occlumency and there were sparks.

"You have it," she said breathlessly. "It's back."

He didn't dare to speak. There was a power inside of him that he hadn't felt in over a year. There was something. It was something and it was powerful and magical and wonderful. He felt complete again and there it was. She had done it. He was complete again.

Severus Snape closed his eyes for a second, waving the wand around another time and there were more sparks, multi-coloured. All the colours of the rainbow and Granger watched them.

"It is," he said slowly, staring at the wand and at his hand and being utterly overwhelmed by the feeling inside of himself. A gap had been filled. A void that he had missed sorely and at the same time, hadn't been sure he had missed had been filled. By her.

In that moment, illuminated by multi-coloured sparks, she seemed to be even more beautiful that he had ever thought before. She was beautiful under normal circumstances, in her own way, but under the light of the sparks he had made with her wand, she seemed to be the most beautiful creature on Earth. In the entire universe. The way she stood there, drops of sweat gathering at her upper lip, drops of sweat on her forehead and her hands shaking, without her wand, helpless in terms of Wizarding Law. She had done an extraordinary thing. She had filled a void he hadn't even noticed. She had known and it seemed she knew him better than he thought.

He didn't know what came over him. There were sparks from the wand, there was a powerful force inside of him and he held a wand in his hand that seemed to fit to him quite well and since he had been trained by Eleanor, since he was the happiest he had ever felt before, or maybe since he could remember, since he could easily hit her with any hex in his repertoire, since he knew that there would be potions in his future, potions and Linguistics and hexes and decent food provided by Eleanor and Tesco and spells, he stood up from his chair, quite underestimating how wobbly his legs were. He stood up from his chair, stood on wobbly legs and jelly knees and looked at her.

She was beautiful. Why had it taken him so long to see it? So exhausted with rings the size of Jupiter around her eyes, with tears of exhaustion or happiness or whatnot clinging to her lashes, with a deep cleavage and not quite a smile on her lips, she was beautiful. And there was something inside of him that he had missed and she had brought it back.

Maybe, but he didn't want to think about that now, he only considered her beautiful, only saw her as being beautiful because he had brought this back.

No, in that moment, only that filled void and her, who had filled it, mattered, and because he had been taught by Eleanor, because he had been raised, the second time, by Eleanor, it was the simplest thing imaginable to just stand there and raise his hands and put his hands on her shoulder and let them slide down her back. It was so simple to just envelope her in a hug and to just pull her to him and he was right, her forehead fitted easily into the juncture between his neck and his chin. It fit there perfectly.

Her hair smelled like apple and cherries and he had to sniff it and his nose was close to it, he knew, but he also knew that he wasn't acting like himself and he knew that it was just the extraordinary happiness and the feeling of fulfilment that made him want to smell her hair and his hands were splayed over her back, holding the wand between two fingers.

He was whole again and that mattered. That, and the smell of her hair and the feeling of her face pressed against his bare skin.

It was, honestly, like an out of body experience. Suddenly, there was warmth enveloping her. Fingers splayed across her back and a nose buried in her windswept hair. There were her own hands which didn't feel like her own hands at all, splayed across another back and she just held onto the body that was holding onto her. There was warmth and the smell of sandalwood and lavender and paper. Smelled like a book and she was holding onto that smell.

He was hugging her. He had come, had walked, towards her and had pulled her to him and it was like she was seeing this from another perspective. Not her own, someone else's, someone who could see anything, not just the black of his jumper and the exact same shade of his skin. Even when she closed her eyes, she could see how it had happened. The way he had looked — so relieved and so young and so happy and she had suddenly just found herself into those arms and had smelt this smell and she hadn't wanted to ever let go. She was there, hugging Snape.

Or Snape was hugging her. She wasn't sure and she didn't care. As much, it seemed, as he was clinging to her, she was clinging to him. They were whole. Both of them. She had given this gift to him, she knew, and he appreciated that, she knew that as well. They were both there, appreciating the fact that there had been something missing from his life. Something that had been reinstated the moment her wand had produced golden and silver and red and green sparks. And all the other colours of the rainbow. The moment he had waved the wand and the moment there had been a reaction, it had been all too clear. Snape was a wizard again. A powerful wizard. Someone to be reckoned with. She knew it and she knew that he knew it. It was all there.

And in there hug, there were so many different things. His smell and the way he held her tightly but tenderly — there were appreciation and gratitude and all those feelings that so many people had trouble expressing.

He didn't. One simple hug.

Snape hugged her.

Snape held tightly onto her and made no move to let go.

This wasn't right.

Hermione pulled away. This wasn't right. This wasn't what she had wanted. This wasn't why she had done this.

She shoved his hands away and stepped out his embrace, not looking at his face.

She suddenly pulled away. Just when he had begun to see what Eleanor had meant all those times when she had said that there were other people to embrace, other people whose embrace would feel so different from hers, other kinds of affection, Granger pulled away and stared at the floor. Stared at the floor, then at her wand which she snatched ever so quickly from his fingers.

"I have to go," she said without looking at him and his arms, still feeling cold being not around her, were empty. His hands were empty and he could see the panic rising in her. Panic in her eyes which she kept casting downwards.

"Granger, I..."

"No, I have to go," she said again and stepped further away from him. This wasn't right. He hadn't been done hugging her. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't justify it, but he hadn't been done. Embracing her had been...

"I have to go," she cried out, panicky, and a moment later, only shooting a glance at him, looking in his eyes, she had darted away.

She had to go. This was an illusion. He had been grateful and he had hugged her because she had given him his magic back. Everything else she had felt in that embrace had been an illusion. Nothing but her brain making connections that weren't there — and she had to get away and quickly.

She took her wand from him and, only briefly looking at him, ran out his house, into his garden. There, she could apparate. There she could get away from this.

Snape hugging her. Her, hugging Snape. Utter insanity. Utter, sincere insanity. She had to get away. Back to Harry and Ron and little Ted. Back to her own life. She had done her job. Everything else was immaterial in any case. He was grateful and instead of shaking her hand, he had hugged her but that was bad and she didn't want it. Her crush, such as it was, was bad enough and she didn't want to suffer anything more.

Her job was done, she didn't have to see him again anymore. She could get over her crush and it would be simple now. If only she could forget the crush.

Suddenly, she was gone. All warmth he had felt was gone with her. Everything. Gone. His arms empty, and the void that had been filled inside of him yearning for her again. Had left so quickly.

Severus sat back down and tried hard to analyse his feeling. Tried to keep his Occlumency shields down, tried hard not to compartmentalise but it didn't work. It didn't work at all. His shields had snapped up again but he nevertheless felt a pang of regret, thinking about Granger.

His mind was working at double-speed and even though he could still feel her face pressed against his neck, the reinstated Occlumency kept him from thinking about it too hard.

82. Fossilisation

If some learners develop a fairly fixed repertoire of L2 forms, containing many features which do not match their target language, and they do not progress any further, their interlanguage is said to have 'fossilised'. The process of fossilisation in L2 pronunciation is one obvious cause of a foreign accent.

(Yule, 1996)

Eleanor was awfully suspicious. She knew something was going on but whenever she asked Severus, he didn't answer her. He didn't smile as often. He had shrunk back the day before when she had taken his hand. Had been strange for the last three days. Something was odd and his face seemed colder than it had before. He still went to Uni and he still came over for meals but other than that, he kept very much to himself and that worried her.

Something had happened and she didn't know what it was. Asking didn't help. Nothing helped. Not his favourite foods and not setting Draco and Aideen on him. She was worried and it showed. Usually, when she had been worried, he had seen it and he had done something about it. Not now. Now he almost seemed absent and detached — when he was there. She didn't hear him during the night, never any shouts triggered by nightmares, nothing.

She was worried and she had to talk this over with Draco and Aideen again. Those two sat on her table and waited for her to bring the tea and even though she had told both youngsters to get in touch with Hermione Granger, the young woman had not yet shown up and Eleanor doubted, somehow, that she would.

She dragged herself to the table with the tray with the tea things in her hands. Her back was giving her trouble again and her feet hurt. She wasn't getting any younger and she knew it. The worry about Severus didn't necessarily make her feel better also.

"Gran?" Aideen asked gently, reacting to her soft sigh.

"I want to know what's going on with him," she said severely.

Draco cleared his throat and looked at her intently. "If I didn't know it better, I'd say that he's back to his old ways. To the way he was at school and hence, has his magic and with that, the Occlumency back," he shrugged. "I tried asking Granger but she wasn't answering her phone when I tried to call her and when I went over the London to see her, she wasn't there either. At least Potter and Weasley said so."

"Can't you call them Harry and Ronald, Draco? And Hermione?" Aideen punched him playfully. "Maybe it's got nothing to do with magic but she didn't answer the phone when I called her either and when I asked Severus where she was, he sort of scowled and said nothing either. What if..."

"This is just lovesickness?" Eleanor gasped. "If those two...well...they would go well together but she's so young and...are you sure?"

"Granger certainly..." Draco began but the gentle hand of her granddaughter on his arm stopped him and made him look at her.

"I think Hermione has feelings for him," she said softly. "But Severus..." she shrugged.

"Those idiotic children," Eleanor said angrily and pushed her palms against the table top, pushing herself (with a painful moan) up and glaring at the two young people. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Draco shrugged. "I wasn't sure."

"I thought that maybe they'd manage, somehow. That if he continued sulking like this, he'd talk to her," Aideen said apologetically. "I mean he can't go moping about like this..."