-RESURRECTION-

Harry hadn't ever suspected that he would have to go back to the Forbidden Forest to get back the Resurrection Stone. But here he was, stomping through the overgrowth, and wondering where the blasted thing was.

His life was a mess. Ginny and him were engaged. And yet, there was no happiness. No happiness from the fact that his best friends, Ron and Hermione were going to marry, no happiness from the fact that the war was finally over, no happiness from the fact that everything was finally back to normal.

No, Harry felt as if a heavy weight hung inside his heart, and as if it had sucked in all of the guilt of the world inside itself.

Remus, Tonks, his parents, Sirius...They shouldn't have died. Fred, Dobby, Colin, even Snape shouldn't have died, for Heaven's sake. There was nothing left for him now. Harry felt suicidal sometimes, as if, if he slit through his hands, the debt would be paid. He couldn't live with the horrible feeling, the horrible feeling of guilt...all the lives which had died for him...

He needed help. That's what Hermione had said anyway: "You should talk to someone, Harry. Counseling. It helps heaps,"

But who should he talk to? How could he face Mrs Weasley after killing her son? How could he face anyone at all? He needed to talk to someone dead. So that they could tell him...Tell him that they were fine. Oh, they could tell him anything. He just wanted it all to stop.

Harry's shoe hit something hard and he wrinkled his nose at the slight jolt of pain. Looking down, he saw a large stone. Could it really be...?

Heart drumming, Harry stared down at the object, disbelief etched in every line of his face. Had he actually found it? Was it still here?

He picked up the stone and turned it three times over in his palm. And suddenly he heard some scuffling. He didn't know who he had wanted to summon-His mother? His father? Sirius, Remus? Maybe even Fred or Tonks? He just wanted help. Someone to reassure him. To tell him that it wasn't his fault. Even though it was.

He saw shifty white mist swirling in front of him, a solid figure forming. He could see that the figure was a little taller than him. It couldn't be his parents. His father and he shared the same height. Harry wasn't sure about Remus and Fred. Maybe it was Sirius?

But he was horribly mistaken. The figure turned into a man with shoulder-length raven hair. The face transformed into Snape's, high cheekbones and hooked nose and all. To Harry's horror, he saw Severus Snape form in front of him, wearing his usual black robes and looking extremely disapproving and startled.

He hadn't meant to resurrect Snape! He had just wanted someone to help and counsel him. Why had Snape come then? It would sooner be Voldemort than Snape who helped him recover.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Snape stared at him for a few long moments, and when Harry just gaped at him in shock, he snapped, "Why have you summoned me, Potter?"

"I-I didn't." Harry finally found his voice.

"Funny, I thought I were standing in front of you, even though I was dead."

"I mean-I-I didn't mean to summon you. I just...wanted someone. To help me."

"Then please send me back, Potter." Harry hated Snape's tone-a tone of impatience and nonchalance. The man didn't even care about what he had meant by 'help'.

"Wait! I mean, no! I mean..." Harry gabbled, desperately. "I-I need help." Harry didn't know why he was asking Snape of all people for help. But somehow he didn't want the man to leave just yet. If he was here, he might as well just make use of him.

There was a pause as Snape waited for him to elaborate.

"I'm going crazy-I think that it's my fault that everyone lost their lives, including you and I can't get over it. I can't do anything right, it's all-"

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Snape's voice was cold. "I am dead, Potter, I cannot help you."

Harry stared at him in shock and disbelief. He felt helpess. "I..." Harry whispered croakily. "Sometimes...I wish I were dead,"

He looked at Snape, hoping to find any emotion. The face remained as blank as ever but the man's voice was less harsh the next time he spoke: "I...I understand."

"You-you what?"

"I understand how you feel. Believe me, Potter, the numerous lives lost in the war were not your mistake. They chose to die in war, and you neither had nor have anything to do with that choice-"

"But you-"

"I was going to die, anyway, when the Dark Lord found out that the Elder Wand belonged to me."

"It didn't. It belonged to-"

"You, yes, I know, Potter. That was a mistake on Dumbledore's behalf."

Another pause. The silence stretched on for a little while. The air around them felt melancholy.

"How..." Harry said, quietly. "How does it feel to die?-I mean-"

Harry was sure that a flicker of a smirk passed through Snape's thin lips. The taller man relaxed slightly, looked less cold and indifferent. "Well...You are at peace. There are no more worldly worries," he said, simply.

"So it wouldn't really matter if I-"

"I do not recommend suicide, Potter," Snape sounded sharp and even though he was not a ghost, not a body, Harry saw his eyes flicker with impatience. "How many times will I have to tell you that none of the murders were your fault? Get that into that thick skull of yours and pull yourself together,"

Harry's lips trembled. "But-"

Snape glared at him dangerously and Harry hastily changed the subject, "What about you? You weren't evil, after all. How did you bear it? When everyone thought you were on Voldemort's side and you weren't-"

"It was not enjoyable," Snape amended, looking at him closely. "But I bore it...Like you must bear the pain now, Potter."

"What d'you mean?"

"I understand how you feel, Potter. Believe me, I've had my fair share of it. But I still strove to live." Snape said. He paused. "I am sure your friends will not want you to be gone. People would be devastated, of course, if they found the Boy-Who-Lived dead, wouldn't they? Their precious savior?" Snape was back to his old sarcastic self, but the words were not stinging and Harry did not feel angry. He was also sure that Snape hadn't meant for them to sting him, which was odd, of course, but he couldn't dwell on it too much.

There was a silence and Harry's suddenly hitched breathing could be heard along with the rustle of the flying leaves.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, tears threatening to fall. "For everything."

There was an awkward pause. Harry looked up and saw Snape looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I am sorry too," he said, his voice quiet. The sentence was startling. He didn't elaborate and that drove Harry mad.

Another sad, small pause and Harry worked up his courage to ask Snape about something he had desperately wanted to ask ever since he had seen the man's last memories.

"Did you ever see her again?" Harry asked, swallowing. He hoped Snape would answer. Even though he hadn't really said which 'she' he meant, they both knew who he was referring to.

"I did," Snape said. He looked at Harry as if daring him to ask him anything else about that particular matter.

"Oh." Harry said, a little dumbly.

Another silence. Harry was deep in thought. Snape didn't want him to die. Snape didn't think the deaths were his fault, not even his own. Snape wanted Harry to live. Snape had apologized to him. Snape's advice had made him feel all warm inside, and he didn't know why.

"I will appreciate it if you allow me to leave now," Snape said, a little snarkily.

"Oh," Harry blinked, coming back to the present. "Okay then. Goodbye." Somehow he didn't feel like having Snape go. He still had so many questions.

Harry could have sworn Snape whispered his own goodbye to him before he dropped the stone to the ground and the figure of the man disappeared.

And somehow Harry felt much better. He really owed a lot to Snape. When he left the forest, his face wasn't miserable and white anymore, it was much happier and brighter. Harry wondered if he dared summon up the man again. Their conversations may not be warm and loving, but they'd be worth it. Harry finally decided that he would definitely try.

-End-