Memories have a way of getting fuzzy over time. They get so far behind that you can't describe them with proper detail anymore. But some memories stay sharp, no matter the fog of time.

I remember my last night with Severus like it was yesterday.

Severus fell sick when we were both ten. Nothing new there. He'd always been sicklier than me, even as a baby. Momma used to joke that l'd taken all the health in the womb and Severus had taken all the brains. We both bridled at that, and she'd laugh. Momma was like that. She had a queer sense of humor, and not much got past her, but she'd let you know it with a wink instead of a bark.

But the people in town were scared of her. I heard all the rumors, especially at school. I used to get into fights about it until Ma said she'd give my dinner to Severus if I didn't stop. I wasn't willing to see if she meant it. But she isn't cruel. Never has been. She's just clever, more than most people feel a woman has a right to be, and that makes them uneasy. But people get uneasy about all kinds of dumb things.

I'm getting sidetracked. My point is that Severus was always the sickly one, so I didn't think too much of it when he got sick again. I figured he'd be back on his feet in a week or so, like always.

It was a mean winter that year. Meaner than any I can remember, though I may be biased on account of what happened. I remember the house would shake and rattle from the wind, like some giant hands had gotten hold of the roof. There were plenty of mornings where opening the front door was a trial due to all the snow that had piled up. A few times I had to climb out the window and dig a path just so we could get it open.

And through all of it, Severus was sick. I didn't worry too much until I noticed Ma's behavior changing. She normally seemed so confident, like she knew everything that was gonna happen. Even when I broke my arm and we had to set it ourselves, or when Severus got hard candy stuck in his windpipe and could barely breathe, she didn't fret. But this time was different. I could see it in her eyes. She was genuinely worried. It scared me.

Five nights into his fevers, I stayed up with Severus while Momma ran to collect the doctor. I gave him water when he was thirsty, kept the rags on his forehead cool and maintained the fire. It was quiet in the house. Too quiet for me. I made some jokes, and Severus would smile at them, but in a polite sort of way. I don't think he really heard them. When Momma finally arrived with Mr. Winthrop, the doctor, it was late. Mr. Winthrop was always pretty nice to us. He wasn't afraid of momma the way other folks were. He was too smart to get wrapped up in rumors and superstition. Only he and Tom, the neighbor, treated her right.

Momma made me leave while the doctor checked on Severus. I hemmed and hawed, but she wouldn't hear it. So I pressed my ear up against the door. Hard as I strained, I couldn't pick out most of what they were saying. But what I heard didn't sound good.

When Mr. Winthrop left and I went back in, Momma was staring out the window. Just standing there, stock still, barely breathing. The firelight danced along her dress, playing tricks on my eye. I stood in the door a long time before she turned around. She smiled at me, and it was the saddest smile I've ever seen. Looking back, I think she knew what was coming. Momma always knew.

Over the next three nights, I stayed with Severus. The first night he was lost in fevers. He'd just fade in and out, and we didn't interact much beyond me giving him water, or trying to make him eat, which he didn't. I was afraid. I started crying a little at one point. I was grateful that Severus was asleep. I didn't want him to see it. I was supposed to be the tough one.

The second night was better. Severus was awake a lot more, and even talked some. He asked what had been going on while he slept. I made up some stories to make it seem like we hadn't been just sitting around worrying about him. I think he knew they were malarkey, but he played along. He even joked a little. His voice was real weak, and his hands were shaky, but he seemed better than he had in a while.

On the third night, it was snowing outside. It'd been snowing all day, hard, like the weather had something to prove. It howled and beat its chest, and I remember being mad at it. Severus was real bad at first. I could hear him working to breathe and his eyes didn't focus well. When I'd cool his forehead, he just looked through me like I wasn't there. Gave me the shivers. I was glad when he finally fell asleep. He looked at peace all of the sudden, and his chest didn't sound like it was at war anymore.

For a long time I just sat there, watching the candles flicker. Momma wasn't with us. All those long nights sitting up in her chair had caught up to her, and she finally went to her room and slept. I started falling asleep myself, feet propped up on the edge of the bed, when Severus sat up. It was real sudden, like someone had tugged on his night shirt, yanked him upright.

"Sev?" I said, but he didn't look at me.

He had his head cocked funny, like he was listening to something outside, something in the wind. I asked him what was wrong, but he just pulled his covers off. Then the damnedest thing happened. As he climbed out of bed and went to stand, his feet didn't touch the ground. He just hovered there, a good twelve inches from the floor. I was struck dumb. Couldn't get a word out. My heart was beating fast, like it was trying to crack my ribs. And then he started to move. No motion from his body, though. He just floated forward as though pulled by some invisible rope.

He moved past me like that, still listening to the thing I couldn't hear. He had an intent look on his face as he opened the door and floated through the frame. Without questioning it, I got up to follow. I'd always protected him. Momma said it was our job to keep each other safe, and with me being two minutes older, twice so. We moved through the family room to the front door, his night clothes all orange and red in the firelight, our shadows dancing along the walls, his feet still a foot from the ground. He opened the front door with surprising ease and hovered outside. I started to follow, then ran back inside. It was vicious cold out, so I grabbed Momma's knit blanket off the chair near the fireplace. When I got back out the door, Severus was already halfway across the yard, moving toward the trees. A chill shot through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

Once I caught up to Severus, we moved at an even pace. The pines seemed much taller than they did during the day. Then the snow stopped falling and the world was completely still. With the moonlight pushing through the branches up above, everything was the color of ghosts. And quiet. The loudest sound was my own breathing. I didn't say anything as we went. I knew better. The moment felt fragile. Like if I spoke, it'd all shatter and the consequences would be enormous. But I remember looking back and seeing only one set of footprints. Mine. That, of all things, confirmed to me that this wasn't just some trick.

We approached a clearing. I spent a lot of afternoons in these woods and knew them as well as anyone, but l'd never seen this place before. I don't know how I could have missed it. The clearing was maybe thirty feet across, perfectly round and completely undisturbed. In the center, tall and proud, stood a single tree. It's naked branches were spread wide like the bones of bird wings. I stayed at the edge of that clearing. It didn't feel right for me to enter. Some part of me knew I didn't belong. But Severus didn't slow. He hovered across that space and right on up to that tree. And as he got close, he lifted up into the branches and leaned his body against them. Like the fingers of some great hand, they folded around him. I was afraid suddenly. I thought the branches were hurting him, or worse, taking him away. I almost stepped into the clearing then.

Severus must have known what I was gonna do, because he looked up at me suddenly. His eyes were clear, sharp, blue as a robin's egg. None of the fever haze was in them, and he said,"Don't, Stone. Stay where you are. And don't fear for me. This is where I'm supposed to be."

I nodded. Severus closed his eyes, and then the world went white.

It felt like I just blinked a few times. But suddenly I was awake and everything looked different. I was back on the front lawn, wrapped in the knit blanket I'd snatched from the chair, just sitting in the snow. It was morning. I must have been sitting there for a while, because I was shivering and my skin was pale.

When I stood, it was hard to walk. In part because my legs were numb, but more because I knew Severus was gone. Momma says it's because twins share a connection other folks don't. I guess that's true, because when I woke up that day there was a hole in me. Some piece I'd always had was missing, and the space it left was the size of a canyon.

As I stumbled back into the house, I heard Momma crying in our bedroom. It took me a moment to realize what the sound was. I'd never heard her cry before. When I entered the room, she didn't turn. I saw that she'd combed Severus's hair. She doesn't remember doing it, but I do. It struck me as strange.

"You okay, Momma?" I asked. She turned and hugged me, and we sat like that for a long time. We didn't talk. There wasn't any point.

The following day was bleak. We buried Severus in the backyard. It was hard work. The ground was half frozen and I had blisters on my hands before we were done. The neighbor, Tom, came and helped. He didn't say anything, just brought ashovel over and started digging. Always was a quiet man, but I liked him.

We did a small service that evening as the sun was going down, just the three of us. It wasn't snowing anymore and the sky was prettier than it had any right to be. All oranges and pinks and purples. Tom was silent until after it was all done with. "I'm really sorry," he finally said to Momma, then he walked home. We went inside.

Momma went in her room and closed the door without eating. I sat near the dwindling fire and ate cold soup that'd been made for Severus. It tasted like ashes. I almost started crying again, but I was cut short by one hell of a surprise. Severus had only been in the ground about an hour when I heard him speak, somewhere in my head, and I felt some of the link we used to share.

"Hello, Stone," he said. And the bastard was laughing.