Usual disclaimers apply - the characters aren't mine, the story is - my imagination wouldn't let this one go, so here's the pre-story to go with the thoughts of the Prologue.

"Man and woman, who in natural fashion incarnate the two poles of the alchemical work - sulphur and quicksilver - can by their mutual love, when this is spiritually heightened and interiorized, develop that cosmic power, or power of the soul, which operates the alchemical dissolution and coagulation." Buckhardt

Gold

Gold the Sun - is the culmination of the work. After the ascent of the 'lesser work' and the initial descent of the 'greater work', this is the centring fulfilment of both. It is the culmination of the red process, achieving perfection as the body and spirit fully unite and change each other reciprocally, mingling together such that they can never again be separated. Perfect harmony is achieved in the dissolution of the body and the fixation of the spirit.

"I never giggle!" she protested. Snape just raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if these are the depths to which I have brought you, it's definitely time I should be going." Hermione wondered whether she should ask him to stay; she didn't want the evening to end just yet and, as he stood, summoned up her courage to ask - at worst, after their conversations this evening, she was sure he would only ask to postpone that particular pleasure until they were both less tired.

Snape stood still, looking carefully at her after her hesitant question. Hermione refused to look away, although she could not read anything in his expression; eventually a ghost of a smile crossed his face.

"I would rather not be alone tonight either, Hermione. Lead on," he said, offering a hand to pull her up from the sofa. They crossed the room, leaving the fire in the grate glowing red in the darkness of the room as Hermione extinguished the lights, and descended the staircase that curled downwards into a barely lit room. It held only a bed and a bookcase; an unlit fireplace faced the bed. At the far end of the room a series of doors suggested cupboards and other rooms lay beyond.

Hermione automatically raised her hand to flick the light switch beside the stairs; Snape caught her hand to stop her. "No," he said. "Leave it like this; it's ... calm." In the shadows his face was all angles, suddenly unfamiliar, and Hermione swallowed. Not fear; not even uncertainty but the comfortable awareness between them had spiked and twisted now in the pit of her stomach.

Snape looked at her, eyes hooded and shadowed, then placed a kiss on her wrist; the touch of his mouth abruptly soothed the tension within her, his lips warm and pliant against her skin. Another kiss on her palm. "We both need to sleep," he murmured then, whispering against her skin. "Shall we leave anything else for a time when we're both ... better able to enjoy it?"

Hermione could feel the tension in him; what was the right answer? She thought for a moment then, too tired all of a sudden to second-guess him, just nodded. Today had been long, a jumble of extremes of emotion; it took little empathy to realise that Snape must have been through the same, or similar, rollercoaster. Her nod seemed to be the right answer; he let out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding and a crooked smile lit his face.

"Thank you; today has been difficult enough without adding performance anxiety to it," he said drily. Hermione felt the awkward tension between them snap and she laughed at his characteristic drawl as she slid her arms around him, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"That would be hardly fair," she agreed. Snape's arms enfolded her to him, and she felt him brush a kiss across her hair.

They stood like that, held to each other, for long moments until Hermione eased back in Snape's embrace and looked up at him. His face was still in shadows, but his scent and the feel of him against her gave her back the familiarity she had briefly lost. "Bed?" she suggested. He nodded and they separately reluctantly.

Undressing for bed was an interesting experience, baiting each other in the safety of tiredness; Hermione cast surreptitious looks at Snape as he shrugged the sweater over his head, and realised he was doing the same as she unbuttoned the shirt she wore. She was barely aware of his interest in her, though, as her mouth became suddenly dry at the sight of Snape unbuttoning the fly of his jeans. He looked stronger than she might have expected, although he was certainly as lean as she had anticipated in the moments when she had allowed herself to daydream of him. The muscles in his arms and torso flexed as he lowered the denim, bending slowly at the waist to push the material down. Her hands stilled on her own clothes as Snape kicked the material away, and she realised as he straightened up that he had discarded any underwear with the jeans. He was ... ohhh. Hermione eventually looked up, to find him with an amused expression, his arms folded across his chest as he waited for her to deal with the sight of him.

"Do you usually sleep fully-clothed?" he asked, his voice as amused as his expression and with a tinge of something that Hermione would have sworn was pride at his effect on her. She almost blushed and continued unbuttoning her shirt, hastily at first and then more slowly, deliberately, as she saw Snape's attention focus on her hands. The sense of power was rather heady, particularly as she became fully aware of his obvious appreciation of her.

She pushed the shirt carefully off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind her; a swift flick had her bra open, and she peeled it from her skin an inch at a time, watching Snape's reaction and measuring the effect of each movement. He took a shaky breath as she let the scraps of lace fall to the floor onto her shirt, and Hermione simply undid her own jeans before pushing them down to the rest of her clothes. This mutual teasing was wonderful, but she really did need to sleep - and if Snape reacted any more forcefully to her, that sleep was going to be a long way off.

Snape caught her gaze again once Hermione was as undressed as he and nodded, as though aware of why she had toned down her show for him. Hermione turned away to reach for her nightdress, tucked under the duvet on the bed; she had barely picked it up when Snape pulled it from her hands and tossed it to the floor.

"I thought ..." she started to speak.

"Just sleep now - but I would rather feel you next to me, not a handful of cotton," Snape offered as an explanation. Hermione eyed him, not entirely confident that the pair of them naked in a bed would be wholly conducive to sleep. In the end, he simply held out his hand; when she took it he tugged her gently towards the bed, throwing back the duvet with his other hand.

Hermione stood at the right-hand side of the bed, watching Snape walk round to the other side and trying not to stare at the shadows shifting across his skin as he walked; she shook her head to bring herself out of another series of unformed but erotic thoughts and slipped into bed, pulling the duvet up over her. She turned onto her side, propped up on her elbow, and watched Snape get into bed. He tucked an arm under her shoulder and pulled her towards him so that she half-fell onto his chest; his arms slid around her.

"Sleep," he said, more of a command than anything else. Hermione smiled and settled against him, curling her leg over his so that her thigh brushed his erection. Snape inhaled sharply, then repeated the command as he exhaled; but he didn't move her leg.

Hermione woke a few hours later, surprised to have gone to sleep so quickly. She was still pillowed on Snape; she raised herself cautiously to look at him, one hand supporting her on his chest. He was asleep, the harsh angles of his face softened in the relaxation of his dreams and the strong moonlight that eased through the window; he looked younger now, and Hermione felt a wash of affection flood through her to temper the arousal she had woken with. His heart beat strongly under her fingers and she shivered when she remembered the terror when she had thought him dead not so very many hours ago. Not to have known this - not to have anticipated tomorrow - would have been more than she could have dealt with, she thought sleepily. The next time she awoke, Snape was tracing her features with his fingers; the featherlight touch was not enough to have woken her, but the sunlight now streaming into the room was certainly enough to pull her from dreams.

"Good morning," said Snape. He watched Hermione blink at him and become aware of where she was; and become once more fiercely aware of his erection as heat flared in her eyes.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice gravelled with sleep; the sound sent shivers through him and his arms tightened around her. He bent to kiss her properly, his mouth brushing hers. Hermione made an inarticulate sound as she returned the kiss, then pulled away.

"Back in a minute," she promised as she got out of the bed; for a moment Snape thought she would give in to modesty and put on her nightdress to head for, presumably, the bathroom but after a quick hesitation and a look round at him, she obviously decided not to bother. There was a subtle swagger to her movements as she headed for the row of doors in the far wall that was entirely too seductive for Snape's comfort.

She wasn't the only one who could entertain herself with piquing the other's arousal, he thought; shortly afterwards, as Hermione came back into the room, he stood and headed in her direction. As he passed her on the way to the bathroom - at least, he hoped the room she had been in was the bathroom, he brushed against her. Just a touch of his hand against hers, but she shuddered all the same. Snape barely held his own shudder in check.

The more pressing needs dealt with, and a discreet charm applied to protect Hermione, he retraced his steps; she was sitting on the bed, leaning against the pillows which she had propped up against the wall behind her. A slight blush stained her face as Snape leant against the doorway into the bathroom and looked at her; the renewed pressure of his arousal was, he suspected, both the cause and the result of the blush. As he let himself look away from her eyes, to take in the curves of her body as she shifted on the bed, Snape felt the pressure become more acute; Hermione's eyes widened and that was more than enough invitation.

He walked across the room, holding her gaze, and sat on the edge of the bed next to her; one hand cupped the back of her head and he drew her forward to meet her mouth with his. The kiss was long and drugging, pushing and feeding the arousal that flared through him. The quickening heartbeat under his hand as his fingers caressed and smoothed over her breast told its own story. Snape let his hand slid from the nape of Hermione's neck, tracing the line of her shoulder and arm, his fingers finally entwining with hers. He drew away just enough to raise their linked hands and kiss her fingers, one at a time. As he kissed her thumb, Hermione moved it just enough to slide it into his mouth; she tasted salt and sweet, sleep-warm and tempting. He suckled the tip, grazing her nail with his teeth until she hissed with a sharp inhalation; her other hand suddenly gripped his thigh as he tugged slowly until her thumb slid from his mouth. The grasp on his leg turned into a caress as Hermione relaxed and started to explore, smoothing her palm over his skin and trailed her fingers along the crease where his thigh and hip met. Snape found himself holding his breath, unable to move as Hermione brushed the backs of her fingers against the hair between his legs.

"It's soft," she murmured.

"Oh no it bloody isn't," he growled. Hermione grinned.

"Oh yes it is," she teased as she threaded her fingers through the curls before curling her hand around the base of his - achingly hard - erection. "This, I'll agree, is not soft though ..." She let her voice trail off but, in any case, Snape could barely hear for the rushing in his ears. All his awareness contracted to the touch of her hand on him, cool against the heat that pulsed there and pale against the florid red of blood-engorged arousal; still holding her other hand, he tightened his fingers around hers and let his head drop back in submission to her touch.

He fell backwards onto the bed at the sudden touch of her lips on him; the silk of her mouth brought him to unexpected orgasm with a shout of her name. A fleeting blackness, then he looked up to find Hermione smiling gleefully, her tongue flicking across her lower lip as she leaned over him to kiss him. He tasted himself on her lips, on her tongue, as she swept the kiss into his mouth. A small, talented hand was stroking him still, carefully avoiding the now overly sensitive tip but coaxing him into a renewed erection.

He must have looked glazed because, when Hermione lifted her head from the kiss, she laughed softly. "Not expecting this?" she asked, squeezing softly. He shook his head. "I think you were this way," she traced a finger along the length of his erection," all night. I'm not surprised ..."

Her words were cut off abruptly as Snape rolled her over and pushed her hands above her head, holding them in place with one of his hands. The other skimmed down over her body, outlining her nipples; he paused to revel in the firm peaks brushing against the palm of his hand, and experimentally kneaded her left breast as he lowered his head to lap his tongue against the other. Skin so soft; slightly salty, with the sheen of her arousal, and oh ... so responsive to his touch. He trailed his fingers still further down, dipping a thumb into her navel and smiling with delight as he pulled her nipple into his mouth, suckling it in and rubbing his tongue roughly over the peak. Hermione shifted restlessly under his touch and he felt himself swell and tighten again at her low moan of his name.

His hand now rested on the bed of curls between her legs; Hermione shifted again, opening to him and muttering "please" rather incoherently. He wasn't in the mood to tease too much - he wanted this as much as she did - and slid two fingers along the slick wet folds between her legs. His thumb rubbed gently at the nub just inside the folds, increasing the pressure as Hermione moaned; she gasped as he slid one long finger in between the folds, easing past her swollen labia and finally slipping with ease into her.

He withdrew from her then added a second finger as he set up a rhythm, alternating each thrust of his hand with a hard suckle on her breast. He made sure his palm rubbed over the nub as he slid his fingers in and out. Hermione was shortly gasping and moaning, then pulling at the hand that still held hers above her head. Snape let go and gasped himself as one of Hermione's hands went to her breast - he raised his head to watch her pinch and rub the nipple to a hardness that must have been painful; he looked up at her face, flushed and shining. She had her lower lip between her teeth, concentrating on his touch and her own with her eyes shut. She must have felt him watching her, because she abruptly opened her eyes.

"I - uh - I needed some balance ... too much ..." she said, brokenly. Snape wasn't sure he was any more capable of lucid speech; then he was certain of it when Hermione spread her legs wider still and slid one between his legs to press her thigh against his erection. She flexed her leg just enough to push up against him, using the same rhythm he had kept up within her with his fingers.

Hermione's free hand slid between Snape and the bed, and tugged him down onto her; she rolled towards him, easing her leg over his so that they lay almost side by side, pressed close together. Snape tensed further at the feeling of her heat against him then, at her urging, eased up and over her. Hermione fell back onto the bed, her legs now splayed on either side of his hips and her pelvis pushing up hard against his. Her head tossed restlessly on the pillows, and Snape saw her eyes glitter with heat. A heat he knew perfectly well was reflected in his as he called on the self-discipline that had seen him through hell to help him in this heaven.

He settled now against Hermione, some of his weight pushing her down into the bed, stilling her hips, whilst the rest was supported on his elbows, on either side of her. Hermione raised her arms, snaking them through his to clasp her hands at the back of his neck and pull him down into another time-stopping kiss.

Once Snape had become aware again of something other than Hermione's taste and scent he found himself pressed against her, his erection sliding more lazily than he would have thought possible along the wet length of her folds, the tip just parting the folds and pushing against her nub as he did so. The damp heat was unbearably seductive; Snape concentrated on watching Hermione's reaction as he eased up just enough to change the angle. She moved with him, holding him just at the point at which he would enter her, then nodded as he watched her. "Now," she whispered.

Fighting to keep his eyes open, Snape pushed slowly - very slowly - into her. Just the tip at first, almost too sensitive again now, slipping into the slick heat. He held there briefly, savouring the first sensation of being a part of her; Hermione had other ideas and pushed up against him, taking him further in. A mumbled protest of "more" brought a heated smile to his face; he dipped down to kiss her, sliding his tongue over her teeth and into the taste of her mouth just as he finally slid all the way into her. A stroke of his tongue punctuated the gentle pressure of his balls against her ass when he held against her, buried inside her. The urge to push into her, thrusting hard, was unbearable. When Hermione bucked against him, her vagina massaging him as her muscles flexed in waves with an approaching climax, he lost all grip on self-control; he withdrew abruptly, almost pulling entirely out of her, then thrust into her with a sharp stroke. That one push was enough to send Hermione into orgasm, screaming his name as he'd shouted hers earlier. A couple of quick, hard thrusts sent him with her as she gripped him. Snape felt the pressure build to the point where he thought he would black out; Hermione arched under him, infinitely beautiful at the moment of climax, panting and shuddering against him. The release was a moment of bliss, emptying into her against her cervix.

Hot and slick together, they lay tangled in each other now on the bed. Snape was the first to move; Hermione was sprawled beneath him in an exhausted abandon, with a smile on her face that he felt absurdly proud of. He kissed her, tiny feather-light kisses that covered her face, leaving the taste and scent of her flushed skin on his lips; Hermione closed her eyes, a quick shiver rippling through her. Snape rolled over onto his side, bringing her with him, and pulled the duvet over them both.

An owl fluttered against the window to Hermione's left later that day; the beating wings against the glass distracted her from the translation of Paracelsus that she was trying to compare with the oldest text she had been able to find so far; there was something about the French translation that seemed odd, and she had pulled the older text from the Internet to try to check - with a Latin dictionary - whether the confusion was in the original or simply the result of a lazy translator. Anything that would give them some clues at this stage would be welcome.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, but Snape was busy in the kitchen; she suspected that asking him to come and deal with the owl, when it was only a few feet from her desk, would result only in a sarcastic comment. Not entirely unreasonably, she thought, although she was loathe to interrupt her work any further.

Standing up she stretched, yawning; she had been sat at the desk for - she glanced at her watch - two hours, barely moving. Muscles protested, then protested again as she stretched to unfasten the window catch and heave up the lower sash window. The owl flew into the room and perched on the back of her chair, neatly dropping a letter onto the desk. Hermione looked at the owl; it had a Hogwarts band on its leg and the letter carried a Hogwarts seal. She opened a drawer of the desk, looking for the box of cereal that she kept in there to feed the owls that occasionally arrived - she had discovered once at school, during breakfast, that owls seemed to have a penchant for granola. Handing the owl a few nuggets of grains, she picked up the letter and broke the seal by sliding a fingernail along the envelope closure. The owl picked up the treat, took off and wheeled once around the room before leaving through the open window.

Snape had turned to watch the owl circle the room, and Hermione glanced round to see him watch her expectantly as she unfolded the letter. She scanned its contents, blinked, and re-read the short message more closely, then read it aloud.

"Hermione and Severus," read the letter, "I believe congratulations are in order." She heard Snape mutter "Dumbledore", and something that sounded suspiciously as though he was casting aspersions upon the Headmaster's parentage. She continued, smiling at Snape's reaction, "I have, as you requested, been monitoring the progress of your experiment here at Hogwarts; I am very pleased to be able to tell you that, at some point this morning, you achieved all that you set out to do." Hermione looked up from the letter, surprising a look of astonishment on Snape's face, before finishing the letter. "I believe I will see you here shortly, as a result. I find that I look forward to that very much. Regards, Albus Dumbledore."

Snape seemed faintly speechless. Hermione smiled, her mind considering several possibilities to explain the sudden success; she discarded all but one. "Well, it looks as though we have achieved the necessary state of mind and soul for the Stone to emerge," she said in the end. Snape looked at her and she saw the realisation appear from confusion; he nodded. She suspected he had worked out the implications immediately, but refused to acknowledge them until she did.

"I certainly have," he admitted. Hermione wondered whether she could tease him by simply agreeing - a moment's reflection suggested that this, right now, was not something about which he should be teased. One of them had to be the first to say what they both now knew.

"I love you."

Easily said in the end; weeks if not months of practice in her mind made it so. Hermione found herself caught up in a tight embrace, although she hadn't been aware of Snape crossing the room to her. He had buried his face in her hair, holding her closely to him, and murmured almost incoherently; he was just audible enough, though, for her to understand the repeated words. "Love. My love." She lifted her head, meeting his mouth in a kiss that celebrated all their achievements.

Hermione was in a rush to leave, to check the laboratory in Oxford before they went to Hogwarts; Snape had other ideas. He found himself suggesting that they eat before they headed out of the flat. Practicality forced its way through his own euphoria, subtly expressed though that was, and he was aware that Hermione hadn't eaten properly for at least a day.

Eventually he managed to get her to sit down and eat some pasta - it had been quickly made, with a prepared sauce he had found hiding in the fridge. He didn't think it was too far past its sell-by date. Conversation over lunch was sporadic; Snape was still absorbing the reality of their situation. Hermione was simply enjoying the reality, and in too much hurry to get on to do anything but eat. Eventually they left, with Hermione promising that they would get some chocolate in college before they went on to Hogwarts.

They apparated into the alleyway and ducked through the quadrangles of Oriel to reach the entrance to Amergin, shimmering quietly on the High in full uncomprehending view of the tourists.

A few rapid paces brought them to the laboratory, where Hermione unlocked the door and the wards. Snape waved her in ahead of him; his manners were never forgotten, simply occasionally ignored, but this was her project and her expertise. He would not ignore manners for Hermione in any case.

The glass sat on the bench at the other end of the room, lit by a shaft of light that fell through the bars on the windows. It was still cushioned in the fire which licked lazily around the glass. Inside the glass ... inside the glass, even from here, Snape could see a brilliant red stone. Lacque, he thought irrelevantly. Hermione reached the glass and lifted it carefully, holding the contents to the light and apparently mesmerised by the light falling through the bottle. He followed her, stopping just behind her to put his hands on her shoulders.

"Well done," he breathed, rubbing his thumb along her jaw. "How does it feel?"

"Like I haven't slept in weeks, but absolutely bubbling. I don't think it's all to do with the Stone though," she added as she turned in his arms. Snape smiled; her efforts to reassure him were sweet. He knew enough to know that she had to have received other offers; that she had refused them all and accepted his was enough to refute any uncertainties he might have. He dropped a kiss lightly on her mouth before holding his hand out to her.

"Howgarts?" he asked. Hermione nodded and took his hand; hand in hand they walked back through the college, the Stone hidden in Hermione's bag, until they reached their apparation alleyway.

A blink of cold and they were at Hogwarts' gates, Hogsmeade a blur of evening blue behind them in the twilight. The gates swung open as they appeared; Snape tucked Hermione's arm under his and they headed up the path to the school, some way off in the distance. Leaves crunched underfoot, autumn turning now into winter, and the lake around which the path skirted was grey and whipped by the wind - or perhaps it was simply the squid being restless; Snape snorted with amusement. That was an unusually frivolous thought by anyone's standards, he thought.

They bypassed the main door, branching off towards the dungeon door that Snape preferred to use. If he appeared in the Entrance Hall with Hermione, his students would become unbearably curious; time enough for that when they had to put in an appearance at dinner.

The path was now mud under their feet and their boots were unpleasantly clinging, catching in the soft earth; once inside the castle walls they stamped their feet on the stone floors as the door swung silently closed behind them. Clods of mud flew from their boots until their feet felt considerably lighter. A little way on, through another set of doors, they reached Snape's rooms. Once past the wards and locks, Hermione immediately headed for the bookshelves, activating the mechanism that opened the door to the private laboratory. It was warm in there, the fire that that had kept the mixture at the correct temperature also heating the small space. The warmth was welcome against the chill of the day.

This time it was Snape that collected the glass with the Stone; as Dumbledore's letter had indicated, it had indeed made the final transformation, glittering red in the transparent glass. Snape held the glass with awe, astonished that they had finally managed to achieve it. He felt a subtle pull from the Stone, almost willing him to touch it. He glanced round at Hermione, who simply nodded and confirmed his suspicions.

"Yes, mine does that too - it feels like being an iron filing near a magnet, I think." Her analogy was whimsical but remarkably accurate, thought Snape.

"We should go to the Headmaster," he said, holding carefully to the glass and contents.

He felt oddly lightheaded as they made their way through the castle; Hermione stumbled over a step all of a sudden, and he wondered whether she had felt the same thing. A short nod gave him his answer; it had something to do with the Stone.

The staircases were unusually cooperative and they reached the Headmaster's Office quickly. The password for the day took a little guesswork but, in the end, they found their way into the waiting room through "cr?me egg". Snape looked quizzically at Hermione when she tried it; she simply shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll explain later," she said. The staircase revolved them up the stairs and into Dumbledore's working area. They were immediately joined by Fawkes, who swept around the pair of them twice as they walked in, before settling down on his perch again.

"Ah, Hermione, Severus. Come in, come in. It is a delight to see you both - I trust you are well? Hermione, it is a pleasure to see you in my office again. It has been some time, I believe, since you were last here."

Snape saw Hermione nod her head with fervour. "Oh yes," she said. If he remembered correctly, the last time she had been here before the Headmaster it had been for a minor infraction of rules - as usual, thanks to Potter and Weasley. It had been Snape that had caught them that time and hauled them off to Dumbledore. She took a quick sideways glance at him.

He whispered "you deserved it," and she grinned. He delighted in her smile, then shot her a quick grin of his before turning back to Dumbledore. The Headmaster had watched the exchange with an amused affection on his face.

"Oh, I am pleased. This is wonderful."

Dumbledore's abilities to talk on multiple layers with an innocuous phrase was a skill that Snape worked to emulate and devoutly hoped to gain with age and experience.

"May I see the Stones?" he asked. Snape tipped his onto the desk, and Hermione rummaged in her bag before finding the glass and stone. She too tipped the stone onto the desk. Dumbledore bent low before them, examining them carefully. "Excellent, excellent," he said. "Now, do you know what you do with them?"

This was the difficult part - neither was entirely sure what was involved in order to be able to use the Stones in the way they wanted. The texts were silent on these powers, concentrating instead on the production of precious metals and the Elixir of Life. Snape had been doing extensive research on the topic; there was one common theme to the use of the Stone - contact. Each element to be projected, or converted, had to be in contact with the Stone in order to be changed.

"I suggest that all we have to do is hold it," he said. "The Stone should enable the projection into the quantum at that point."

Hermione looked dubious but asked which Stone they should use. Snape looked at each Stone. "Perhaps we each hold the one we created, then join hands," he suggested.

A quiet murmur came from Dumbledore. "If you will excuse the meanderings of an old man," Snape laughed, not unkindly, at the Headmasters self-deprecation. "I would recommend that you join hands first, then seize on the Stones together.

Snape faced Hermione and held out his hand; she took it gravely, although with a glint in her eye that recalled him holding out his hand to her last night. He shook his head in mock reproof; she simply laughed and said "later."

Once they had a firm hold of each other's wrist and hand, they turned to the desk and picked up the Stones at the same time. The subtle pull of the Stone intensified to the point where Snape felt as though he echoed in a migraine within his own skull; abruptly, the pressure and intensity eased and he opened his eyes. He hadn't been aware that he had shut them. In front of him, Hermione also opened her eyes.

They looked around themselves; to Snape it seemed that they were still in the Headmaster's study, although the study had never looked like this. The colours were dazzling, shimmering at the edges, and something sang through the room - not Fawkes, but something not dissimilar to phoenix song. The answer came to him, unknown but always known; it was the sound of life. Hermione was staring about her; her thoughts as clear to him as his own. His awareness eased outwards, encompassing Hermione and enfolding the order of the universe; he could not begin to describe it, even to himself, and he simply let go, opening up to the experience.

Hermione looked at the intensity of the world around her, feeling it fill and expand through her. She was the world ... the world was her. She felt a moment's fear at the enormity of it, then calmed as she enfolded, and was enfolded by, a familiar touch. Snape. She could see him - and then see herself through him - and then was him; and herself. All points in all times in one point and one time. Snape steadied her, although she knew exactly how overwhelmed he was. The same thought echoed through both of them - to find Voldemort and leave. The human mind - even the more developed mind of a magician - was barely able to deal with what they felt, reduced to allegory as it was.

Hermione reached out, Snape reaching with her. They acted as one. They were one. All things were one; Hermione was fundamentally aware of the truth of the alchemical assertion that the entire universe was a single material. Within that unity lay the mind they sought; hidden within their own minds. For a moment, Hermione panicked with terror at the enormity of the task; they would search forever. She went blank, then smiled. Snape smiled with her. They knew where Voldemort was; in the same way that they knew how to breathe, how to make their hearts beat. The knowledge just was and together they neatly, tidily, released the energy that was Voldemort - briefly acknowledging the truth of Snape's fears. They had very nearly been too late; that which was Voldemort was almost as aware as they were - but not aware enough to hide from the pincers of their consciousness as they peeled apart the quanta that formed his soul and redistributed it, scattered throughout the universe in a random reassignment of spin and direction, unlinking the connected matter and dissolving it into the quantum foam of energy in which they moved.

Then, at last, they hesitated. Hermione looked at Snape and saw herself; Snape looked at Hermione and saw himself. For an eternal moment they were folded together, within each other in a merged consciousness which they savoured, knowing they would be left with nothing but a shadow of the memory. Then, before temptation could call them further down, they nodded and dissolved the Stones they carried, disassembling them quanta by quanta as they had done Voldemort. With the last dissolution, the last unchained spiral of energy, they found themselves again in Dumbledore's study, in familiar surroundings and with the memory only of a universal understanding.

Hermione wasn't sure which of them moved first; Dumbledore and Fawkes were ignored, spectators as she and Snape fused again in a kiss that shook them both. They had played God and survived.

© MetroVampire 14-May-2002