Harry Potter 1. Chapter One - Going Under

Chapter One - Going Under

_Screaming, deceiving, and bleeding for you . . ._

Everything he had worked for had come to this: dying on a dusty floor with no one to care, no one to be comforted—none of the usual weepy business that followed a person's death. Severus Snape would never have a funeral; not that he'd ever wanted one. They were far too insincere and sentimental for his taste, and he didn't suspect anyone would be sniveling over him. But still, as he lay dying, one thought that crossed his mind—other than thoughts of _her_, of course—was that a tiny piece of him wished that there was just _one_ person who would have cared that he died. The fact that there was no one, _no one at all, _who would care in the slightest, was frankly, quite depressing. Not that he wanted to admit it. He welcomed death, however. Death meant that the years of silent torture were over, and he could rest. Or so he hoped.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. What had seemed like hours had really only been moments, and as the Dark Lord slunk out of the room, another figure entered, covered from head to toe in a long cloak. He saw the figure for only a moment before it disappeared, and he began to wonder if he'd been imagining things in his dying state.

Then Potter was there, along with Granger and Weasley, and Snape knew what he had to do. From deep within himself, he reached for the memories he had kept secret for so very long, and willed them outward. He had no time and no way to pull them out with a wand. In his desperation, they began to escape from his body like a shimmery steam.

He grabbed the front of the boy's robes. "Take . . . it . . . Take . . . it . . ." he said gruffly, not letting go.

He watched the Granger girl hand a flask to Potter, then stand staring at him as the boy lifted his memories into it with his wand. She had a strange look upon her face, almost like pity. He wished she'd turn away. He didn't like the idea of a public death, and more than that, he hated pity. A subtle anger bubbled inside him—much as it could in his present state—but he used it as a force to get the next few words out of his mouth. Foolish as it was, he had to look into his—no, _her—_ eyes one more time.

"Look . . . at . . . me . . ." he whispered.

He found the green eyes of his youth, of summers spent together, of laughter and acceptance—of the one person he'd ever really opened up to. He was ready to let go, ready to go to her. He loosened his grip from Potter's robes, preparing for death by releasing everything around him.

The world then slipped away into memory, and he no longer felt the dirty floor beneath him, but the soft grass by the Black Lake where he and Lily used to meet. Potter's green eyes were now a bright blue cloudless sky, and he gazed up at it as he waited for Lily to arrive.


	2. Chapter Two - Bring Me to Life

Chapter Two – Bring Me to Life

_Wake me up inside, call my name and save me from the dark . . ._

Only moments passed before she appeared. Her long red hair rippled down her back like a waterfall, and her face shone like the sun. She was happy to see him, and reached for him with open arms.

"Severus," she said, "it's so good to see you."

He did not reply. He simply held her close and wept silently over her shoulder as she ran her hand up and down his back. He did not think he'd want her to see his tears, but somehow they did not embarrass him. They were tears of happiness, as all anguish seemed to have disappeared. It was peaceful here.

"You did great, Sev, so great. I'm so proud of you," she said in hushed tones, reassuring him. For several moments, they stood in an embrace, letting the emotions they felt surround them. No words were needed.

Lily pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Care to sit down and have a chat?"

He agreed, and she led him to a shady spot beneath a tree. They sat down, and Lily gently pulled his head into her lap, like old times. He was filled with so much happiness he thought his chest would burst. Could this be real? Was this what eternity held for him? He wished so, but doubted that so much goodness could be possible.

Finally, he spoke. "Is this what it's like, then?" he said as she stroked his hair.

"What what is like?" she replied.

"Death."

She stopped stroking for a minute, thinking about her answer.

"Yes, and no," she said, eventually.

"What does that mean?" he asked, slightly irritated with her answer.

"Death is complex. It's progressive, and so if you're asking if we'll stay like this forever, the answer is no. But death is peaceful and freeing, always, to those who earn it."

"Earn what?" he questioned. He didn't like where this was going.

"Peace," she replied. "You don't think Voldemort is lying in a bed of grass somewhere, enjoying the breeze, do you?"

"He's dead?" Severus asked. "They managed to kill him?"

"Well, pieces of him, yes. Dumbledore told me."

"You mean the Horcruxes?"

"Yes, those." She shuddered. "I didn't quite understand what he told me about them, but he said that they're beyond help."

Severus sighed. He had hoped that Voldemort had finally been destroyed, but now that he thought about it, it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. It wasn't that he was heartless; he was merely at peace with everything, as if nothing could bother him. It was a new sensation, one he'd never experienced before. Suddenly, what she had said dawned on him, and he sat up.

"You said that death is peaceful to those who earn it."

"Yes, I did. Now lay back down, Severus, and don't make any more sudden movements. You almost knocked me over," she said playfully.

He did as he was told. How could he not?

"But," he said, as he closed his eyes, "why do _I_ feel so peaceful then?"

She hit his arm lightly. "Severus!" she exclaimed, "You don't seriously mean that, do you?"

He did not want to answer, but she saw it in his expressions. After all he'd been through, he sincerely didn't believe he deserved happiness.

She shook her head sadly and caressed his face. "Severus, look at me."

He didn't.

"Severus, I mean it. Open your eyes."

Reluctantly, he obeyed. "What is it?" he said.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I didn't thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for anything—"

She cut him off. "Yes, I do. Thank you for saving my son. Thank you for protecting him all his life. Thank you for being my friend, and for being so brave."

He didn't know what to say. As he was trying to think of something, another figure slowly appeared. He couldn't tell who it was, and found himself desperately hoping it wasn't James. No amount of peace could prepare him for seeing the man Lily had chosen over him, the man who had caused him so much pain.

Thankfully, it wasn't him. The figure became clearer and Severus could see the man's long silver beard.

"Good to see you, Severus."

Severus looked up into the eyes of the man he had killed. "Dumbledore," he replied curtly. He felt a tiny bit of guilt, but it was more like an echo than the real thing. He had taken this man's life from him, but it seemed like ages had passed since then. And, of course, Dumbledore had wanted it. Now, he could finally accept that. This place, wherever he was, was helping him begin to put it behind.

"And you, too, Lily," Dumbledore said, looking at her, "I see you were the one to greet Severus here."

Lily looked slightly surprised. Apparently, she hadn't been expecting him. "Yes, I was. I wanted to."

Dumbledore smiled at her. "I'm sure you did," he said with a twinkle. "However, I came here to relay a message. Severus," he said, turning to him, "She is calling you back."

"No I'm not," said Lily. "What do you mean, calling him back?"

"I apologise. The 'she' I was referring to is someone else; someone on the other side of the veil."

Severus shook his head. "The other side? You mean, someone living? Who?"

"That," he said, "I'm afraid I can't tell you."

Severus huffed. Even in death the man was infuriatingly secretive. "Then why bring it up? I don't care if someone is, as you say, 'calling' to me. I'm not answering."

"Oh, of course, my dear boy. No one said you had to."

Severus closed his eyes in frustration. "Then why are you telling me? I'm perfectly fine here."

"Yes, I can see that," replied Dumbledore. "But why settle for perfectly fine?"

"What are you going on about?" Severus said, almost rudely. Albus was ruining his perfectly good time, and he wished he would just go away.

"I was merely pondering why someone would choose a perfectly fine existence, when a perfectly wonderful one was waiting for them… on the other side of the bridge, as they say…" He paused. "Severus, she is calling you back for a reason. You have a choice, you always do, but remember this: there is a reason the phoenix is reborn from the ashes." He looked at Severus for a moment, like a concerned parent. Then he vanished.

Lily looked at Severus, clearly perplexed. "What in Merlin's name did that mean?" She'd never been able to understand Dumbledore's analogies, as intelligent as she was. Severus, on the other hand, had spent far too much time in the man's presence and had consequentially learned how to decode them.

"He wants me to go back."

"Back? To life?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Can you do that? Do you know how?"

"No, I don't. But I suspect it mustn't be too difficult, since he left me to figure it out on my own. Then again, this is Albus Dumbledore we're talking about."

Neither of them said anything for awhile, but then Lily gave him a sincere smile, as if she had made a decision. "Go," she said. "Go back. He obviously thinks it would be best for you."

Severus looked at her sadly. He didn't want to leave her.

"But I—"

"Sev. Think of what could be waiting for you over there."

He did, and he didn't think it could be anything nearly as wonderful as being here, with her.

"What could be waiting for me? You actually want me to go back to a place where the Dark Lord is probably rising to power every second? To where I will have to endure more hatred?"

"Maybe it won't be like that," she argued. "Maybe Voldemort doesn't have to win."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. The Dark Lord is powerful, Lily. I did what I could, but he's going to win. He probably already has."

"No, he hasn't," said a voice from behind them. "Not yet, anyways. He hasn't got to Harry yet." It was Lupin, walking toward them. And he was followed by his fellow Marauders, minus Wormtail. Severus took a deep breath. This was not going to be enjoyable.

"What are you doing here?" he sneered. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

"I could ask you the same, Severus," he replied, "but I will go as far as to venture a guess that you and I befell similar fates. I was killed at Hogwarts, not long ago."

Severus could have guessed _that_. What he meant, actually, was what were the three of them doing _here,_ invading his time with Lily? He knew, of course, that Lily and James were married, though he shuddered to think about it. He had hoped, perhaps, that death had separated them somehow, though he knew it was a foolish hope.

Lily, he noticed, wasted no time in jumping up and giving Lupin a big hug, much like the one she'd given him. He scowled.

"Remus!" she said happily.

"Lily!" Lupin answered, "So wonderful to see you again."

"You, too," she answered. Her attention had left Severus, and had turned to the other three. Severus sat back and watched their interactions wistfully. They were all talking and laughing, and Lily seemed so focused on them, practically forgetting Severus was even there. It was never going to change, was it? He would never fit into their little circle, not that he'd ever wanted to, but he'd hoped things would be different here.

As he watched Lily and her friends, he thought about what Dumbledore had said, about the phoenix being reborn from the ashes. He thought he knew what Dumbledore had meant: Perhaps these were his ashes, and perhaps he needed to burn away the old, and start over again. Damn him.

He turned away from the group and gazed across the lake, weighing his options. He could stay here, and practically relive his past, or he could go back. Of course, staying wouldn't be as painful as his past had been. He did still feel that peaceful feeling, but it didn't seem complete anymore. He'd be able to see Lily, yes, but at what expense? Would he have to endure eternity with the people who had made his life hell, just to be in her presence? Was she really worth that?

A part of him said yes, she was. He had spent his entire life devoted to her, and now that he'd found her again, he wasn't about to let her go. On the other hand, another part of him said no. Spending time in her presence, rather than _with _her was not the kind of existence he had wanted, especially an existence spent in the presence of _them. _

What good would going back do, though? Who was calling him back, anyway? Nobody wanted him around. Nobody cared whether he lived or died. Not even Lily, apparently. She'd been the one to tell him to go back, after all. She didn't care if they were separated once more. He supposed he could also stay here, in this place, and go his own way. It wasn't as if he were chained to Lily. Not physically, at least. Emotionally, however, he wasn't sure he had the strength to stay away.

He needed to think about it some more, but he didn't know how much time he had before whoever this mystery woman was would stop 'calling.' He didn't even know what that meant, so how could he really make a decision? He turned to Lily once more, but when he did, he saw a strange look on her face. "Do you feel that?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Feel what?"

"I do," said James.

"So do I," said Lupin and Black, together.

"It's like I'm being…" Lily began.

"Summoned," James finished.

"Yes, that's it. Summoned," she replied. Suddenly, her face lit up. "Oh, James, do you feel it? It's Harry! It's time. He's ready."

"I feel it!" he replied, taking her hand. "Dumbledore was right."

"He's summoning me, too," said Black.

"And me," said Lupin.

Lily looked at Severus apologetically. "I'm sorry. My son needs me. I have to go. I'll come back, I promise."

Severus opened his mouth as she disappeared suddenly. He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

* * *

Four figures smiled warmly as they walked toward the boy who really, was now a man. The boy they had all loved, all cared for, and who had summoned them. They stood together in the forest gazing at him with pride.

"You've been so brave," said Lily.

"You are nearly there. Very close. We are . . . so proud of you," James added.

"Does it hurt?" said the boy.

"Dying?" replied Sirius. "Not at all. Quicker and easier than falling asleep."

"And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over," Remus said softly.

They all wanted it over. Lily and James craved the presence of their son, though they wanted him to be able to live a full, happy life. However, they could not deny the fact that Voldemort was going to kill him. Dumbledore had explained everything to them when he told them about the Resurrection Stone, and how there would come a time where Harry would use it to summon them. They had come to accept it, and knew that their son had, as well. He was ready.

The boy knew what he had to do, and they were ready to stay with him until the end. Together they walked through the trees, toward Voldemort. Death was calling, but it was more than that. Peace was calling. Honor, and courage, and sacrifice were calling his name and he marched valiantly into the battle.

And when the moment came, when Voldemort cast his _Avada Kedavra, _and the boy fell to the ground, on the other side of the forest, Severus Snape woke up.


	3. Chapter Three - Everybody's Fool

Author's Note: I want to apologise about the delay in uploading this chapter. The network I was using these last couple of weeks had the site blocked. I should be posting on a more regular basis now.

Chapter Three – Everybody's Fool

_Without the mask, where will you hide?_

Severus opened his eyes slowly, only to greet darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he took note of his surroundings. He was lying on a cot in some kind of underground room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were made of earth, and there was no light, other than a faint hint of it glowing from beyond a short tunnel ahead of him, making it difficult to see. He reached around for his wand, and unable to find it in his robes, he attempted to sit up. A sharp pain shot through his neck and shoulder, too intense to endure, and he fell back into unconsciousness.

Sometime later, he woke once more, with no idea how much time had passed. It could have been minutes or days, for all he knew. His mind felt clouded at first, but after a few minutes he began to remember. Then everything came rushing back to him at once—from Nagini's bite to seeing Lily again.

_Lily . . ._

A physical pain shot through his chest at the thought of her, but it was not only of heartache and longing . . . it was also of betrayal. At long last, Severus was able to see past her façade.

Lily had loved him once, he supposed. But it was not enough. He had loved her all his life. She had been the only good thing in his life, especially when times were difficult, even in memory. He'd conditioned himself to think of her whenever he felt he could not endure, and that had got him through all his suffering. But would she have done the same?

Of course not.

Severus thought about what Dumbledore had said, that some woman had 'called him' back. He supposed now that what she had really done was rescued him from the snake's venom and taken him to this place. It had been his choice whether or not to be saved, though. He didn't know whether or not he had made the right choice, and he didn't know who the woman was. But he was determined to find out.

With great difficulty, he pulled himself into a sitting position. The pain shot through him like fire, burning his veins. It was so great that he nearly passed out again, but he forced himself to stay conscious. Taking deep breaths, he extended an arm out to the side of his bed, feeling around for his wand. There was a table next to the cot, and on it there was a note. Next to it, he found his wand.

"Lumos," he muttered.

Light spilled into the room, blinding him momentarily. When his sight returned to him, he read the words left on the parchment.

_I'm sorry that I had to leave you alone. I went out to get more supplies, and in the event that you wake before I return, please stay where you are. Not that you could really go anywhere, as I've placed enchantments here to prevent this . . . please don't try to break them. I put them there to keep you safe, not to restrain you. And besides, I don't suspect you'll be strong enough to go anywhere for awhile._

_The battle is over, and Voldemort has been defeated, but things aren't entirely peaceful yet. Your name hasn't been cleared, so you need to stay hidden. In any case, nobody knows you're alive, and you need to heal before you can even attempt to get out of bed._

_I know you're probably angry, and don't know who I am, but please trust that I have your best interests at heart. I'll be back soon._

Whoever had written the note had been right—he _was_ angry. He didn't want to be held there without answers. He deserved more than that. But he was also tremendously curious about who in their right mind would rescue him, especially when apparently, his name hadn't been cleared, which meant that there had to be charges against him. Not that he could really blame whoever had accused him. He _had _been the Dark Lord's right hand man, after all. Only Potter knew the truth about that . . . if Potter was even still alive. What had Lily said about being summoned? Maybe she had gone to meet him in death, too.

Whatever the case, he couldn't do anything about his situation until he healed, and that infuriated him more than anything. Severus had never enjoyed idleness, and now was no exception.

Suddenly, a noise came from the end of the tunnel. He looked up. A woman with sleek blonde hair was walking toward him. Severus was oddly reminded of Lucius Malfoy.

"You're awake," said the woman. "It worked!" She smiled broadly, showing a mouth full of glistening white teeth.

Severus didn't know what he'd been expecting, but she was not it. Who was she and why did she call him back? He didn't even know her.

"What do you want with me?" he rasped.

"I just happened to have saved your life," she replied, with a tremble in her voice. "What I want is for you to rest and heal properly."

The mystery woman was carrying a satchel, and she began to take things out of it and set them on the bedside table. She put some bandages and potions in the drawer and placed a cake, a bowl and spoon, and a bottle of milk on top of it.

"Perhaps I would believe you if I knew who you were," he said.

She sighed. "I can't. You just have to trust me."

"I hardly think I should be expected to trust the woman who has taken me captive!" he attempted to shout, but it came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Please don't strain yourself like that. You need to let your throat heal." Her pale blue eyes pleaded with him, full of worry. "It's a miracle you can speak at all, and I don't think it would be wise for you to do much more of it until we can be sure it won't cause further damage."

He ignored her advice. "Who are you?" he reiterated.

"I'm no one," she replied. "You don't need to worry about that. Now please, stop talking."

"If you think I'm just going to lie back and be a good little patient, you're mad."

"Perhaps you're right about that," the woman said with a sad sort of smile, "But I'll do what it takes to make sure you heal properly."

"Why?" he implored. What on Earth could her motives be?

"Just because I will. I can't answer your questions. It's just . . . never mind."

Severus was not satisfied with her answer in the least, but it would do no good to push the question.

"How long have I been here?" he asked, deciding it was something she might actually answer.

"Three days," she replied. "I brought you here after you were left for dead. We've been here ever since, but I had to go out and find something to eat. I'm sorry I left you, but there was no other choice."

Severus brushed off her apologies. He didn't care that she'd given him some privacy. He was only upset that he hadn't been awake for most of it.

The woman began to cut the small cake into equal pieces and her cloak, which had been pushed behind her shoulders, fell down over her arm.

Severus was almost certain he'd seen that cloak before. As he thought about it, he remembered the night of the battle. "You were there, weren't you?" he said suddenly.

"Where?"

"You were in the Shrieking Shack. You came in after the Dark Lord left. I saw you."

"Oh. Er . . . yes. That was me," she answered.

Truthfully, he was a little surprised that she had answered him. But who else could it have been?

"Why didn't you try to save me then? You saw I was still conscious, and yet you let me lay there bleeding to death?"

"It wasn't that I didn't want to help you," she replied. "Don't you remember? Harry came in then—"

"You know Potter, then?" he said, cutting her off.

"Well of course I know him," she began, "I mean, who doesn't?"

He conceded that she had a point, but the fact that she referred to him so casually meant she had to know him on a personal level. When he didn't reply, she gave him a sympathetic look. "Harry came into the room with . . . his friends, and I got scared and hid. But I waited until they left and I still saved you, didn't I?"

Technically, yes, she did. Severus wondered if he would have seen Lily at all if she hadn't waited to save him. He was glad, then, even if he'd never admit it to anyone, but angry, too. Glad that he'd been able to see her once more, and that he'd been able to let go because of it, but the sting of losing her again was still there. He was going to be licking his wounds for quite some time.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you did it?" was his response. "Or who you are, or how you know me?" For the life of him, he couldn't remember ever seeing _her_ before, and yet she knew his name and that he'd been dying in the Shrieking Shack three nights ago.

"I'm afraid not," she said, holding the bowl out to him. She'd put some of the cake and milk into it, forming a soft mush. "Now here, eat this. You haven't had anything in your system for the past three days except potions, and you need to build up your strength."

"You want me to eat?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Of course I want you to eat. I told you, you need to eat to—"

"Get better. I _know_," he said with a scowl. "It was a rhetorical question."

"Oh." She frowned.

"If you want me to eat, you'll answer some of my questions."

The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine," she said, practically gritting her teeth. "I'll do my best."

He wasn't completely satisfied, but at least he'd found a way to make her talk.

She cleared her throat. "What do you want to know? I still don't want to tell you my name, though, so try another question."

His response wasn't exactly what she was expecting.

"_Why_ did you save me?" he said. "No one cares about me. I've made sure of that."

She looked at him sadly. "That's not true. I saved you because_ I_ care about you . . ."

"Why?" he said once more. "How do you know me?"

"You were my professor years ago," she replied. "I know you don't remember."

She was right, he didn't. Truthfully, he wasn't able to recall many of his students from the early days of his teaching career, especially those he only taught for one or two years, so her answer was plausible. She seemed to be about the right age.

He studied her features some more, trying to trigger any memories of her, but was unable to come up with anything. He wanted to ask her a few more questions, but his strength was waning. The woman noticed, and refused to answer any more until after he ate. She fed him herself, much to his chagrin.

After she forced some mashed cake down his throat, she disappeared for a few minutes. When she came back, she had candles with her that she'd enchanted to float, like the ones in the Great Hall. They were also enchanted to stay lit, keeping the dark tunnel basking in a warm glow.

"I'll remove them when you want to go to sleep," she said. "And I'll bring them back before you wake."

He nodded his thanks, feeling too weak to do much more. The conversation had worn him out, and the woman insisted he go to sleep. As she left, he kept his eyes open long enough to watch her go, even more perplexed than he'd been when he'd first met her.


	4. Chapter Four - My Immortal

Chapter Four – My Immortal

_Your presence still lingers here . . ._

The more time Severus spent healing, the longer it seemed to take. The woman taking care of him was often exasperated, and Severus noticed her holding back tears more than once, when she thought he wasn't looking. Her secret sniveling bothered him on a small level, but in a way, he found pleasure in it. He wasn't used to being cared for, and her worry wasn't riddled with pity, but with genuine concern.

The most difficult part of it all was the enormous amount of time it was taking for Severus to be able to do anything alone. He hated not being able to take care of himself, and longed for independence. The woman could tell he didn't like being fussed over, and tried not to hover over his bedside. Often, she'd retreat to the small room she'd created for herself, just off to the side of his. Severus learned that she'd prepared the rooms and tunnel for them just before she entered the Shrieking Shack, which meant she known he was going to die before he had, but no matter how he prodded her for information, she wouldn't say anything.

In the shelter of the tunnel room, it was hard to tell day from night, but the woman approached his bedside at what seemed to be regular intervals. Each day, she'd check on him, and then leave to check on how things were proceeding in the outside world. She was never gone more than thirty minutes, but she always brought back a full report. Hogwarts was in ruins, most of the Death Eaters had been taken to Azkaban, but a good number were still missing, wizards and magical creatures of all sorts were milling about everywhere, and a new Ministry was forming in attempt to get things under control.

In her ministrations, the woman was very attentive to his health—focusing only on filling him with potions and food and casting healing spells over him—but each day she grew more disappointed that her efforts weren't producing the results she wanted. After an entire week, Severus was still fragile and practically helpless. The venom had spread too far before she had been able to help him, and it had taken a lot out of him.

One day, the woman came to him with a worried look on her face.

"I'm afraid we've run out of food," she said. "I didn't know we'd be down here this long."

Severus scowled at her. He didn't need reminding that he was still powerless to do anything.

"Why don't you go and get me more?" he said spitefully.

"I didn't want to leave you for such a long period—"

"Or better still," he continued, "why don't you take me to a hospital? Surely I'd receive better care there." The question came out more like an insult than he'd originally meant, but he made no attempt to soften the blow.

"I'm doing the best I can," she said with a quiver, "I'm sorry it isn't enough for you. But I _can't_ take you to a hospital. You'd be on your way to Azkaban in a heartbeat!"

Severus sighed in frustration. She was right, of course. The new Ministry was nowhere near cleaning up the mess left over from Voldemort's regime, and in their eyes, he was still guilty. Still, he wondered if her care was getting him anywhere. It certainly didn't feel like it.

When he didn't say anything, she changed the subject. "In any case, we do need more food. And more potion supplies definitely wouldn't hurt."

"Then I suggest you go and get them," he said. "I will be _fine_."

She still didn't look convinced, but eventually agreed that the need outweighed her worries. She couldn't take care of him without provisions, after all. As she prepared to leave him, she made sure his wand was within his reach, just in case.

"I don't know how long I'll be," she said. "I'll be as quick as possible."

He grunted in reply, something he was pleased to be able to do again. Slowly, his throat was regaining function.

She walked down the tunnel, sneaking looks back at him every few steps. Then, with a turn, she was gone. Severus let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He hadn't been alone, truly, alone, in what seemed like forever. He'd been waiting for this for a long time, but as soon as she left he found that it wasn't as appealing as he'd thought it'd be.

Time passed slowly, and he found himself growing bored. There were some books on his bedside table, but he'd already read all of them. He tried to sleep, but it wouldn't come. He had nothing to do but lay there and wait.

After what felt like hours, he couldn't take it any longer. Though his body was still weak, his mind and willpower were strong. And without the woman there to see, and therefore chastise him, he decided to try getting out of bed. He knew it was probably a bad idea, since he was alone, but his muscles would just waste away without proper use and he was going to go crazy if he lay there one more minute.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, then let himself rest. He took it slow, taking a break after each movement. Finally, he had his feet on the floor. With one hand on the bed, and one hand on the table, he pushed himself up with all his might and nearly fell over. Just in time, though, he caught himself and sat back down. Taking deep breaths, he tried again, this time more ready for how his body would react.

He was definitely shaky, but he made it into a standing position, careful not to hit his head on a candle, he stood and reached for his wand. Using the wall as a support, he made his way down the tunnel, one small step at a time. He made it to the end after several minutes, and was finally able to see what lay beyond the turn. The tunnel sloped upward, and at the top, there was a small space with a makeshift trapdoor above it. Severus could see cracks of light shining from above it.

He made his way upward, and wedged himself into the space, with hardly enough room to sit. He had to hunch over as he tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. At first he thought he just didn't have enough strength, but soon it was apparent that the door was held down by magic. Severus was almost delighted. He'd been craving a challenge.

After many fruitless attempts to break the enchantment, he finally did it. The door made a soft creaking noise, and he was able to push it open. Above the door, there was a view of the sky, surrounded by trees. He must be in the Forbidden Forest. Slowly, he began to poke his head out the opening to get an idea of his exact location.

Suddenly, he was aware of how intensely cold it was outside. His breath rose in swirls, and frost sparkled on the ground around the opening. He was at a loss. How could it be so cold? It was May, not December . . . unless he'd been fooled. How long had he really been unconscious?

Perhaps the woman had lied to him, he thought. Was she holding him captive, keeping him weak on purpose? There had to be another explanation, but now he wondered why he had trusted her so blindly. The woman wouldn't even tell him her name . . .

The cold seeped into his bones, but he found himself unable to do anything about it. He had no strength, having used it all on his trek to the trapdoor. He was going to die alone, for real this time. There would be no going back. There was no point, was there?

Severus didn't feel like there was a point to anything anymore. He'd gone through so much, and had nothing to show for it. Lily had turned from him, and she'd been the only one to like him in the first place.

Why was he focusing on her once more? He tried to push her away, but it was no use. She was there, and she wasn't going anywhere. He could almost see her. Over and over again, the horrible word he'd called her began to taunt him. _Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood…_

He wished he was already dead. The cold was so intense it hurt, and he couldn't get Lily out of his mind. He thought he'd finally let go of her, but the image of her face was haunting him. He wasn't good enough for her, and he never had been. Why had he been so stupid, thinking he could ever deserve her? How could he ever deserve anyone?

Coming back had been a mistake. At least he'd been peaceful before, even if it wasn't complete. Here, he was an outcast. There was no starting over. There was nothing, and now he'd pay for his mistake. He was going to die alone, painfully, and slowly in the cold. He'd never be able to survive the dropping temperature, but he had just enough strength in him to make it hurt. It was what he deserved.

Then, he began to feel numb. It was a welcome sensation. The world seemed to be fading away. All his feelings melted into nothingness, and he couldn't remember caring about anything.

A strange sensation pulled from deep inside him. The sinews that held him together began to stretch and break, first gathering in his gut, then traveling up his chest, pulled by an unseen force. He would have wondered if this was what dying felt like, but he'd been through that once before and it was nothing like this.

A silvery substance spread over the ground, and Severus prepared for the cold to intensify, but it felt warmer somehow. He'd heard that when a person froze, they were enveloped in warmth just before death. This must be it, he thought. He waited.

But the warmth continued to grow. It was as if someone had turned off the cold completely and was filling him up with heat, pouring it in generously. Feeling began to return to him, inside and out. All of a sudden, the world was there again. It all came rushing at him.

A silver Patronus was charging down a group of Dementors. He couldn't tell what form it took, however, because as he strained to look, he was knocked over by a mass of blond hair.

"Severus!" said a voice from beneath the hair. The woman had returned, and she was holding onto his neck with a surprisingly strong grip.

He could barely make out the things she was saying. He picked up a few words here and there.

_Dementors . . . gone . . . soul . . . safe . . ._

It was all too much for him to take in. He tried, but he could feel himself slipping away. His body was too weak to survive such an ordeal, and for what seemed like the thousandth time within days, he passed out.


	5. Chapter Five - Haunted

Chapter Five – Haunted

_When all this time I've been so hollow inside . . ._

_His name is Severus . . . Severus Snape . . . I'm his—his friend . . . He's hurt . . . Please . . . Please help him . . ._

The words rang like an echo in the waking man's mind. He didn't remember hearing them, but they were etched there in his head, refusing to go away.

_He's hurt . . . Please help him . . ._

Automatically, he reached up to his neck. As he thought about it, he remembered the snake bite, and the woman healing him. He remembered it taking so long he didn't think his health would ever be restored. His memory wasn't impaired completely, but there seemed to be holes in it. Had he been Obliviated? Perhaps by someone not entirely skilled at magic?

He opened his eyes slowly, unsure of what he would find. Was he still in the underground sanctuary his mysterious saviour had created for him? Somehow, he doubted it, and knew that he'd moved on from that place, but he couldn't remember leaving.

His instincts were correct; his eyes did not meet the sight of brown earth, but sterile white. Everything around him bore the blank, bright colour, from the walls and ceiling to the gown he was wearing. Next to him, a silver instrument pumped liquid into his arm. He'd been in a place like this only once before—when his drunken father had been knocked out in a bar fight, forced to spend a week in a place just like this. It was a Muggle hospital, he knew immediately, but his memory of getting there was blank. The last thing he remembered was deciding to get up out of his sick bed and trying to walk, with little success.

Just then, the door opened. A short woman dressed in blue entered, carrying a board of some sort and a pen. Her eyes opened wide at the sight of him looking at her.

"Doctor Smythe!" she yelled over her shoulder, "You'd better come in here!"

She approached his bedside hastily. "Mr. Snape. It's so good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"Who are you?" he answered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, "My name is Heidi, and I'm your nurse. Doctor Smythe will be in shortly to fill you in." She then began to poke and prod him with an assortment of unfamiliar instruments, intermittently pausing to write something down on a piece of paper that was fastened to the board she had carried in.

A moment later, a balding man in a white coat entered the room. He reached forward for Severus' hand, shaking it firmly. "Mr. Snape! It's great to see you awake. I'm Doctor Smythe."

"So I've been told," Severus said dryly.

The doctor frowned. "Er… Heidi, could you give Mr. Snape and me some privacy? I'd like to speak to him alone for a moment."

"Of course, doctor," said the nurse, before leaving. The door closed softly behind her.

"Mr. Snape, I understand you must be confused. You've been through a lot, but we're going to make you as comfortable as possible. In a few minutes, we'll start running some tests to make sure everything is still normal. But I'd like to talk to you first. Now, can you tell me what you remember about why you're here? Anything at all? In cases like these, we almost never hear of a patient waking after such an ordeal."

Severus complied reluctantly. "I remember I was ill. I was bitten by a snake, here." He pointed to his neck. "I was resting . . . at home." His lie was a small one, but he didn't know how much these people had been told about his condition, and he didn't want to risk telling the wrong story. "I was resting at home and I tried to get up and take a walk. I remember falling. That is all."

The doctor looked extremely happy. "That's almost exactly what happened to you," he said. "But you weren't at home when you fell. Can you remember where else you might have been?"

"No. Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, really. I just wanted to know if you remembered who brought you here. In any case, your memory seems to be just fine, if not for a little fogginess, but that's to be expected. I suspect you'll be feeling great in a few days."

Severus highly doubted this. He couldn't remember what it was like to feel 'great' at all.

The doctor continued his rambling. "A woman brought you here. She said you were at her house when you fell, and she was so worried about you. I remember it vaguely, as I never spoke with her myself, but we all found it odd that she'd been so worried, and then never once came to visit you."

"I'm sure she has more important things to do," said Severus, feeling slightly dejected.

"Mr. Snape," the doctor practically interrupted, "There's something I need to tell you."

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if the doctor was going to tell him he was dying. At this point, he didn't think anything was really going to shock him.

"Go on," he said impatiently.

"Mr. Snape, can you tell me what year it is?"

"Nineteen-ninety-eight?" Severus responded curiously.

The doctor shook his head. "I was afraid of that. You see, it's actually two-thousand-ten now. You've been in a coma for the past twelve years."

The next week was spent in the Muggle hospital, much to Severus' disappointment. After the initial shock, the news of the time he'd spent unconscious actually made him more curious than anything. Of course, he hated the thought of losing twelve years of his life, but it wasn't as if he'd lived a satisfactory life. The woman who had saved him had told him that his name hadn't been cleared, and who knew how long that must have taken? At least he hadn't been forced to stand trial. He'd take twelve years unconscious over twelve years in Azkaban any day.

On the third day, Heidi the nurse had entered his room with a large envelope. She said that the woman had left it for him, with strict instructions that no one but he should open it. After the nurse left, he broke the seal, which had obviously been charmed to stay closed—the Muggles wouldn't have been able to open it if they'd tried. Inside it, he found one last note from the woman, a small pouch full of gold, and to his delight, his wand.

_Severus,_

_I don't know how much you remember, so I'll fill you in. I left you to go get more supplies, and when I got back, I found you at the entrance to the tunnel. A group of Dementors were there, and they were nearly about to finish you off for good. I was so afraid that I was too late._

_The event seemed to drain you completely, which is understandable. Your body wasn't able to cope with it, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get you to wake up. I waited as long as I could but I had to take you to a hospital, and St. Mungo's wasn't an option. Please forgive me, as I had no choice. _

_I've left you all the money I had available, as I don't know exactly what you'll need. There's no need to think of repaying me. Please, take it as a gift from a friend._

The note said nothing else, and gave no explanation for her disappearance. Severus supposed that she felt her job was done with him, and she had therefore taken her leave. He tried not to let it bother him, but he couldn't help but wonder exactly what had happened to her.

He was sure he wouldn't find rest until he knew, and so, when he was released on the seventh day since he'd awoken, he set out to find the woman who had saved his life. Using a long, blond hair he'd found in the bag of gold and a tracking spell he'd used countless times during his time as a spy, he set off on his journey with full intent to find her.

The tracking was more complicated than he'd remembered, however, and after a few days of turning up with nothing and sleeping rough, he took another approach. He decided to Apparate to common wizarding areas—under disguise, of course—and use the spell to see if there was any hint of her there.

After a few nonproductive attempts, he ended up in Hogsmeade Village, near The Hog's Head. He doubted he'd have any luck, but knew he had to give it a try. To his great surprise, he found his wand nudging him toward High Street. As he walked down the alley with anticipation, he took in the differences the village had acquired in the years that had passed. Madam Puddifoot's seemed vacant, with its windows boarded up, and next to it there was a small bookshop that read Prewett &amp; Hollingsworth over the door. He wondered how long it had been there, and concluded he'd need to visit it someday, if indeed his name had been cleared.

Just then, a group of people came out of the bookshop, and Severus quickly hid behind Dervish &amp; Banges. He watched the group walk down High Street, toward Hogwarts, and a blue cloak caught his attention. If he wasn't mistaken, it looked very similar to the one his mystery woman had worn, and his heart gave a small jump at this news.

The weather was cold, so the wearer of the cloak had the hood up, and Severus couldn't tell if it was her. He supposed that it _could _be her, as her walk seemed familiar, but he was probably just experiencing wishful thinking.

Suddenly, the wind blew harder, and a piece of parchment slipped out of the cloaked figure's grasp. She turned to catch it, and he saw immediately that she was not the woman he'd been trying to find. Her features were too different, and even twelve years couldn't change a person's appearance that much. They did, however, have an air of familiarity, but Severus couldn't put his finger on it until the woman's hood slid down to reveal a mass of brown curls. It was Hermione Granger, though she was much older than the last time he'd seen her. No longer was she the buck-toothed student he'd known. Her hair wasn't as frizzy, and her face had softened into a flattering shape, with large eyes and a small bump of a nose. Severus found himself practically staring at her in disbelief. Time had treated her well.

Soon, however, the group had disappeared, and Severus was left alone again, able to return to his mission. Using the spell once more, his wand pointed him toward Hogwarts. Not wanting to follow the group so quickly, he opted not to take the street. He walked behind the businesses, taking his time to appreciate the view. He could almost see the Black Lake across the way, now and then. Something seemed to get in the way, but he supposed it was just a new building. As he approached it, however, he saw that it was not a building, but something else entirely.

What he found was a vast wall, with names and pictures carved all over it. When he was close enough to have a proper look, he discovered that it was a memorial, built to honour those who had valiantly lost their lives in the war. The amount was astounding. He saw many names he recognized: Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Colin Creevey, Fred Weasley . . . each had a picture and a description of the person being honoured. Just behind the wall, in the shadow of the forest, he could see a small cemetery, where no doubt, the bodies of the fallen laid.

He stared at the wall, absorbing the impact it had on him. He hadn't even liked any of these people, but he couldn't help but feel a small bit of respect for some of them. After all, they had died so that he could have this second chance at life, even if they didn't know it.

Just as he was about to leave, he noticed his own name on the wall, on the far left. Under a picture of him, it said:

_Severus Snape_

_(Body never recovered.)_

_This man was a spy for the light, cast into darkness. _

_He was a true hero, and Dumbledore's man, _

_through and through. He fought to the very end._

_May his spirit find peace._

Severus swallowed hard. An unexpected lump had formed in his throat, betraying him. He was not one for sentiment, especially directed toward himself, but he couldn't deny it felt good to be respected. After all, his dying wish had been that someone would care about him, and it was apparent it had come true in this small way. But Severus had a feeling that Potter had had something to do with this, and he sneered at the thought. However, he was relieved that he'd obviously been cleared by the Ministry, even if Potter was the one to make sure he had been.

Deciding it was time to go, he performed the spell once again, and his wand flew out of his hand. It landed on the ground near the other end of the wall, and he hurried to pick it up and give it another try. He must have done something wrong when he said the incantation.

He bent to reach his wand, and as he stood up, he came face to face with the image of the woman who had rescued him. Just like the others, her likeness and a short description was carved into the wall. Unlike them, however, there was no name. Beneath her face, it read:

_Unknown soul_

_This was a woman with a valiant spirit._

_She courageously jumped in front of a curse _

_in order to save the lives of many. _

_She will be remembered for her honourable sacrifice._

Severus drew in a sharp breath. After everything she'd gone through to save his life, she hadn't even been able to save her own. Solemnly, he vowed to put a name to the face, whatever it took. She had given him the gift of life; she, more than anyone, deserved to be remembered.


	6. Chapter Six - Tourniquet

Chapter Six – Tourniquet

_Am I too lost to be saved?_

Severus made his way to the other side of the wall, where the graves of those who gave their lives for the greater good lay in rows. He took in the sight of it, not knowing how to feel. His own body had come frighteningly close to resting there as well, and he never thought that he'd be grateful that it wasn't. Once upon a time, death had been so welcome that he thought he'd never want anything else. Now, despite everything he'd gone through, he did want something else. He wanted to start over.

Unsure of how he could do that, Severus realised he didn't know where to go next. His mission to find the woman had come to such an abrupt end, and he hadn't planned his next step yet. Instinct pulled him toward Hogwarts—he'd spent most of his life there, and it felt more like home than anywhere. But before making any decisions for his future, he set out to find the woman's grave.

A footstep sounded behind him, and he turned to meet the sight of Hermione Granger once more. Feeling exposed, he quickly tugged on his hood, covering his face from view.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't know anyone was here."

He nodded casually in response, not wanting to start a conversation.

"Do you come here often?" she persisted.

"No," he said softly, and then he turned away, getting back to his task. He didn't need any distractions.

He walked through the rows of graves, reading the names as he went. Near the end of the third row, under the shade of a large tree, he found what he was looking for. The headstone was plain, bearing nothing more than the mark 'Unknown Soul' and the date of death. It was the only one like it in the whole cemetery, so it had to be hers. Severus knelt down before it and conjured a single white rose, placing it on the grave.

"That's a nice gesture."

Severus looked up at the woman who didn't seem to understand the concept of solitude. He gave her a cold stare in response. Who was she to interrupt his private musings?

"Nobody ever visits her grave," she continued. "I mean . . . no one except me."

Severus had to admit this information piqued his interest. "Oh?" he said, still kneeling before the headstone. "Why?"

"I suppose it's because no one else does."

"How considerate of you," he replied, somewhat sardonically, then decided to change the subject. She didn't seem to know anything about the woman, so his curiosity had faded. His interest in the events of the past twelve years, however, had not. "I suppose you work at the school, then."

"Me? Oh, no, I don't. A friend of mine does, and I visit him often."

Severus wondered if she meant Potter or Weasley, not knowing which scenario was worse. He couldn't picture either dunderhead making a sufficient enough teacher, and he began to worry about the welfare of Hogwarts' current students.

"Ah. Well, forgive me, but I've got to be going on my way now." He stood, and turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm.

"I'm afraid we haven't introduced ourselves," she said, releasing her grip, and Severus' heart began beating faster. "I'm Hermione Granger. I work for the Ministry." She held out her hand.

He didn't take it, and didn't know what to say. He'd been planning on 'returning from the dead' at some point, but not like this. Before she could say anything else, he turned to leave. But as he was going, he caught sight of her crestfallen expression.

"Do I know you?" she said curiously, putting her hand away. "It's just . . . you seem so familiar."

"I—I'm afraid not," he lied, and then walked away before she could say anything else. His heart was pounding, and he had to take in several deep breaths before he felt normal again. Why had she affected him like that? Was it her specifically, or was it simply the act of talking to someone who had once known him? Would every interaction leave him this way?

Deciding there was only one way to find out, he made his way up to Hogwarts. To his satisfaction, the gates still seemed to recognise him, and he was able to enter without any problems. He'd wondered if any protections had been put into place since the last time he'd been there, given the nature of what had happened. If there had, though, he didn't notice them.

As he approached the castle, he realised he didn't know who the current headmaster or headmistress was. He'd assumed it would be Minerva, but he had no way of knowing for sure. He began to doubt his plan, and hastily hid behind what he presumed was still Hagrid's hut. He sat down, unable to believe what he was doing. When did he become so reckless? He'd once been one of the best spies known to the wizarding world, and now he was out wandering around heedlessly, without even Disillusioning himself. He'd thought that the past twelve years hadn't affected him, but he was obviously wrong. The former Severus Snape would never be caught in this situation.

Suddenly, the door to the hut opened, and he hastened to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. He could hear two voices coming from the entryway, and he strained to listen.

"Well, thanks fer everythin', Professor," said the first, clearly belonging to Rubeus Hagrid.

"Anytime, Hagrid," said the second, with a Scottish lilt, definitely Minerva's. Severus drew a breath of relief. "If there is a next time, however, do make sure to call before your teapot explodes."

"O'course, Professor. G'night."

"Goodnight, Hagrid."

The giant of a man closed his door loudly, giving Severus the chance to get up and follow Minerva without her notice. She was making her way up to the castle, and Severus was unsure if he should continue following her or not. He didn't want to scare her, and he especially didn't want to be thrown off the grounds. Just as they approached the entrance, however, Minerva took a sudden turn toward the forest. Curious, he followed. When they reached the edge, she continued until she was hidden behind a tree, and then turned so abruptly that he nearly ran into her.

"All right, Severus. Come out."

Astonished, he removed the Disillusionment.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked, eyes wide.

"I saw you out the window," she replied, "I could spot you anywhere, Severus, and I could hear you walking behind me. I'm afraid your stealth skills are not what they once were." Her tone was kind, and she gave him a small smile. Bewildered, Severus continued interrogating her.

"And you're not surprised to see me? Haven't I been presumed dead for the past twelve years?"

"Yes, but Albus told me you were alive—or rather, his portrait did. He also told me to keep an eye out for you, though I didn't think it would take you this long to show up."

"I've been busy," he said, not at all surprised that the meddling old fool was still interfering in his affairs, even in death. "And I don't suspect anyone missed me, in any case."

Minerva gave him a sad sort of smile. "Oh, Severus," she said with a sniffle, then wrapped him in the first real hug he'd had in years. Severus was too startled to do anything but accept it.

News of Severus' return to the wizarding world spread like wildfire. People from all over sent him owls either welcoming him back, or expressing sincere apologies about doubting him in the past. He hardly knew what to do with himself, and found that he did not like being in the spotlight at all, never once answering a letter. Thankfully, he was able to avoid direct contact with his devotees as he was staying at Hogwarts for the time being, under Minerva's orders. She had even spoken to him about taking up his old place as Potions Master the following September—Slughorn had kept the post for a few years, but had retired once more, and the position had been hard to fill for more than a year or two at a time. As it was only February, he had plenty of time to think about it, but even he had to admit his hands were itching to get back to brewing, and—he could barely believe it—teaching.

It turned out that it was Potter that worked at Hogwarts now. He was the Defence teacher, and had been for the past four years. Severus' worry for the students was only increased by this news, but he did his best not to show it—so well, in fact, that he felt he deserved at least an Order of Merlin, Third Class, for the effort alone.

Weasley, it seemed, was a well-known Quidditch player for England, and Granger not only worked for the Ministry—she was an Unspeakable. Rumor had it she was working on mending something that had been destroyed years before in the Department of Mysteries. Minerva was convinced it had something to do with the prophecies that had been destroyed when the trio and their friends had infiltrated the Ministry their fifth year.

Severus was forced to listen to such opinions and more each day over meals. Minerva wouldn't hear of him eating alone, much to his frustration. She had seated him between herself and Potter, unfortunately, and Severus began to wonder if their mouths had been hexed open. Each day he grew more annoyed with the constant chattering, but he secretly appreciated hearing about what he'd missed in the time he'd been comatose.

Unfortunately, even with all they seemed to know about everyone and everything, they didn't seem to know anything about the woman who had saved him—not that he'd told them much about her. Telling people felt like a betrayal of some sort, and he kept their time together a secret, feigning interest in the unmarked grave itself.

On one particularly sunny morning, Severus skived off the brewing he'd started doing for the hospital wing and made his way back down to the gravesite. He'd still had no leads, and he thought another visit couldn't hurt, especially since he'd be alone this time.

When he arrived, the place was deserted, as he'd hoped. He made his way down the third row and approached the woman's tombstone. The flower he had conjured was still there, though it had wilted significantly. He removed it, replacing it with a fresh one.

"Back again?"

He couldn't believe it. Was she always going to show up when he did? He turned around to face her, and she gasped.

"I knew it," she said.

"Knew what?"

"The last time we met here, and your face was practically covered up by your hood, I told you that you seemed familiar . . . well, afterward, when I thought about it, I realised that you reminded me of a professor I'd once had, but I couldn't be sure without actually seeing your face. Then Harry told me about your arrival, but I still wasn't sure. It seems I was more right than I'd thought."

"Unfortunately," he said, his voice dripping with scorn.

"Don't say that," she replied softly. "Everything happens for a reason, doesn't it?"

"If you say so."

"I do say so. I believe it, anyway. So, what's your reason for coming here? Why this grave?"

Severus sighed. He wasn't about to share that much information with her. "Suffice it to say that I have a . . . connection with this unknown soul."

"I see," she said politely.

"And what is your reason for accosting me each time I pay this grave a visit?" he sneered.

She chuckled. "Suffice it to say that I also have a connection with her."

He couldn't resist. "What kind of connection?" he asked, desperate to find out anything about the woman that he could.

"I'll tell you if you tell me. Deal?"

"I hardly think so."

"Well, alright then. Goodbye, Professor Snape."

She started walking away, and Severus thought quickly. Granger had information about his mystery woman, and so far, she'd been the only one who did. Regretfully, he couldn't pass the chance to find out more.

"Wait," he called, "Alright, we have a deal."

She smiled back at him.

"Excellent. I've got to go meet Harry for lunch now, then I'm off to the Ministry. I won't be back until next week at the earliest. Why don't we meet for drinks and discuss? How about The Three Broomsticks, next Friday, seven o'clock?"

Severus nodded his agreement. "Fine. Seven, Friday."

"See you then," she said, smiling as she went.


	7. Chapter Seven - Imaginary

Chapter Seven – Imaginary

_I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge . . ._

The week that followed dragged on so slowly that Severus was beginning to suspect Friday would never come. He spent his days brewing Pepper Up potions and sleeping draughts, trying to while away the time.

At long last, the day did come, and Severus spent it going over a list of questions he intended to ask her: How did she know the woman? What was their connection? Did she know anything about his own connection to the woman? How exactly had the woman died? When did she die? And for Merlin's sake, _what was her name? _ Although, he had to admit he knew she wouldn't have an answer to that last one. If someone had known her name, she wouldn't have an unmarked grave. And nothing was ever _that_ easy.

As he prepared for their . . . meeting—the preposterous word, 'date', never even crossed his mind—he truly took in his appearance for the first time in over twelve years.

Thankfully, time had done less damage to him than he'd thought it would. His features had merely matured, rather than aged, though he did check thoroughly for grey hairs—none found, thankfully. He hadn't been concerned with his appearance, really, until he'd found himself thinking about Granger's. The first time he'd seen her, when she'd been leaving the bookshop, he'd reluctantly found her attractive. He'd chastised himself over and over about it, too. He couldn't be thinking about her that way—it was inappropriate, wasn't it? After all, he had been her teacher. But that seemed so long ago now . . .

At six o'clock, Severus gathered his things and began making his way down to Hogsmeade, wanting to arrive early. Though he'd once had a penchant for dramatic entrances, particularly in the classroom, he felt he'd save that for another time. Tonight required subtlety—he needed to leave the pub with more information than he came with, preferably without giving out too much of his own.

When he got there, he was pleased to note that Rosmerta still ran the place. With so many things being different than he'd remembered, it was nice to see a familiar face. He ordered himself a firewhiskey then found a table in the back, where being overheard was less likely, and waited for Granger to show up.

When she entered, he noticed that she was dressed nicely, and her hair was twisted into some sort of up-do, with loose tendrils shaping her face. He couldn't help but think that she looked very pretty, all the while berating himself for it. He'd already gone over how finding her attractive was improper, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd chosen to come back to this life because it had seemed he'd get a second chance at love, and now he was getting ahead of himself with the first woman he saw. With sudden resolve, he determined to stop thinking of her that way. He had more important things to focus on.

"I see you're early." Granger smiled as she approached the table with a gillywater in hand. "I like that in a man," she said, chuckling at the incredulous look on his face. Obviously, she wasn't lacking in self confidence. Severus did nothing but swallow quickly in reply, intimidated by her poise.

She sat down, taking off her cloak, and folded her hands. "I don't want this to be like some kind of business meeting," she began, "So can we skip the formalities? Is it alright if I call you Severus?"

"I suppose that could be agreeable," he replied.

She smiled again. "Good. And of course, please call me Hermione."

He nodded, but doubted he'd be able to use her given name without difficulty. He resolved to avoid using her name at all.

The evening quickly turned to night as the pair found themselves immersed in good conversation. Severus couldn't help but feel a strong connection with Granger—no, Hermione. By the end of the night, he'd called _Hermione_ by her given name two whole times, and felt rather proud of himself. He'd been reluctant at first, but after awhile, she'd got him to open up. They talked about many things, in his life and in hers. He found out that indeed she was working on a project for the Department of Mysteries, mending something that had been destroyed, but she wouldn't say what. She wasn't allowed to. In fact, the only reason she was permitted to divulge that much information about it was that someone else, another Unspeakable, had already let it slip. He or she (she couldn't even disclose _that _detail) had almost been dismissed for it, and were now on a sort of probation. Hermione was therefore consumed by her work, barely finding time to herself once a week, but she assured Severus it was for good reason—even if she couldn't tell him _what_ that reason was.

The downside, however, had been that the conversation had never turned to the subject they'd meant to discuss. Severus had failed his mission to gather information from her, and he was disappointed in himself. Hermione must have noticed his despair, because as they approached the grounds of Hogwarts, she stopped suddenly.

"Are you alright?" she said.

"I'm fine," he replied.

"No, I can tell something's wrong. What is it?"

"It's nothing," he persisted, taking a leaf out of her book.

"Severus Snape, don't you lie to me."

He scowled. "I was just thinking that we didn't discuss what we came to discuss. And now, it's too late. I hope you had a nice time . . . _Hermione_," he said, taking care to emphasize her name. After all, he presumed it would be the last time, and he didn't want to waste the chance.

"I _did _have a nice time, Severus. And I know we didn't get around to what we'd planned on, but I just thought we'd . . . continue that next week," she said with a Dumbledore-esque glimmer in her eye. She was definitely up to something.

And indeed she was. They met again the following week, and still found no time to discuss the woman they apparently both had a connection to. Severus realised he'd been duped once more, but this time he'd caught on to her game.

"I'm afraid we've run out of time once more," he said, feigning disappointment.

"I suppose we'll just _have _to try again next week," she said, grinning.

The next few weeks continued in the same manner: each Friday, the pair would meet at the Three Broomsticks for dinner and drinks at precisely 6.45 p.m. Each time, they'd agree on seven o'clock, but each always arrived fifteen minutes early, like clockwork. They spent the evening talking, sometimes for hours, until Rosmerta shooed them out the door. Severus discovered that he and Hermione had a lot in common, and on top of that, she was the first to challenge his intelligence in quite a long time. She was the perfect company, and he began to wonder where the relationship was going. They'd never spoken of their romantic lives, and Severus had to admit he had no idea if she was involved with anyone, though he couldn't see how she'd have the time. Between visiting him, visiting Potter, and working, she didn't seem to have time for anything else.

One Friday evening, as she entered the Three Broomsticks, Hermione rushed over to their table and pulled Severus to his feet.

"Let's take a walk," she said as she nearly knocked over his glass. "It's such a nice evening out, so warm for April. Let's not waste it. Perhaps we could even do some shopping."

He barely had time to agree before she was whisking him out the door. They walked down High Street, passing all the shops that were closing up for the evening.

"I think we're a little late," he pointed out.

"That's okay. We can just walk."

They continued on down the street, barely saying a word—it seemed their comfort zone had been left behind in the pub. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.

"I've just remembered—the bookshop stays open quite late. We could go in and browse, if you'd like."

"That would be agreeable," he replied.

The bookshop was owned by two women, Prewett and Hollingsworth, and had apparently been in business for nearly eleven years. They'd opened after things had started to calm down, and had been very successful ever since, according to Hermione.

When they entered, a bell over the door rang, and a red-haired woman about Hermione's age walked out from the back.

"Hello," she said in a friendly, business-like manner. Upon seeing Hermione, however, her eyes lit up and she smiled widely. "Hermione! Nice to see you again." She looked over at Severus, then back at Hermione with a mischievous sort of grin. "I see things are going well for you."

Severus didn't know what this was supposed to mean, but he assumed that the woman was commenting on Hermione's particularly cheerful disposition. Being an Unspeakable was not an easy job, and she must have visited the shop in gloomier spirits often in the past.

"Yes, they are, thank you," Hermione replied.

Just then, a brunette woman entered from the back of the shop. She had a large stack of books in her arms, and nearly dropped them all at the sight of her customers. The red-haired woman had to levitate them to their proper places before taking her business partner aside and whisper something into her ear spiritedly. Severus thought it was a sign of bad business, and began to wonder how the shop had been so successful.

Hermione turned to him. "Why don't you browse for a minute while I talk to them?"

He raised an eyebrow, but agreed. Sometimes women were a real mystery to him. As he browsed their selection, though, he couldn't help but eavesdrop a little. The shop wasn't that large, and they weren't exactly being quiet.

"I can't believe it," the brunette said, "We all thought he was . . . dead."

"I know!" whispered her business partner. "And! When you told us about—well—we never imagined . . ."

"I know, I know!" Hermione's hushed voice said. "But I think I was right."

"Good for you, love."

"Yes, good on you. You let us know how it goes, alright?"

"Of course, ladies." Hermione said. "I think I better get back now, though. My . . . _friend_ is listening in, and I can tell he's getting irritated with us."

"Oh, of course!" whispered the redhead.

Hermione walked back over to Severus and he gave her a grimace.

"Oh, don't be so tetchy," she said, playfully hitting him on the arm.

"Perhaps you could warn me the next time you feel like talking about me?"

"We weren't talking about you . . ."

"Hermione, please do not take me for a fool. Now, I cannot tell you everything that you were talking about, but I know that I was definitely a key subject to the conversation."

"Oh, alright. Remember when we first met? In the cemetery, I mean, not in the classroom."

"Yes," he replied, exasperated. He wasn't stupid; he knew she wasn't referring to that.

"Well, er, that evening, I made a quick stop in here, and I may have mentioned that I ran into someone I thought I knew once. And . . . I haven't been back since, so I was just telling them that I was right when I'd thought it was you."

"I see."

"Oh, you're not angry, are you?"

He wasn't exactly angry, but he was slightly bothered by being the subject of gossip. He liked to keep to himself, and besides, he'd been hoping that . . . well, never mind.

"No," he sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. "But I think I'm going to have to turn in early this evening. I'm not feeling well."

"Oh," said Hermione, plainly disappointed. "Well, I won't keep you, then. You just get yourself better."

As they exited the shop, the owners shot curious glances their way, but Severus ignored them. The walk back to Hogwarts was swift, and he didn't stop at the gates, but continued on through. He could feel Hermione's puzzled stare on his retreating form, but didn't turn around. He was in no mood to explain himself.

After he had changed into his bedclothes and turned in for the night, he finally let himself dwell on what had been bothering him. All this time, he'd been losing focus on what was really important. Two months had passed and he still had no information on the woman who had saved his life, nor had he made any decisions concerning the offer Minerva had given him. He had been wasting all his time and effort on getting to know Hermione Granger. Yes, _wasting. _

When the women had been talking in the shop, he'd secretly hoped they'd been chattering over—dare he think it—his and Hermione's relationship. In the two months he'd spent learning about Hermione, he realised he'd been merely imagining everything. He'd been so overtaken with . . . _feelings_, that he'd been blinded to the fact that a real relationship between them was impossible. She would never think of him as anything more than a _friend_, as she'd put it, and he didn't blame her. He was too old for her, for one thing, and even though he'd lost twelve years of his life, they most certainly still counted in their age gap. He'd been fooling himself, thinking she could ever see past it. He didn't need her.

Oh, who was he kidding? Of _course _he needed her. He was as trapped as he had been with Lily, there was no denying it. And fate seemed to be delivering him the same outcome as before. He needed her, but he'd never have her. He'd been a fool to come back to this life, hadn't he?

He sat in front of the fire for hours, thinking it over, and still coming to the same conclusion. No matter how he tried to change his thinking, he couldn't. And even if he did need her, so what? What he also needed was a good retreat from the world, and as he brooded, he found it in a bottle of Ogden's finest.


	8. Chapter Eight - Taking Over Me

Chapter Eight – Taking Over Me

_But who can decide what they dream?_

The next morning, Severus woke up with a terrible hangover. He'd fallen asleep in his chair, and on top of the pounding headache, his neck and shoulders were so stiff he could barely move. A couple of quick healing spells helped his muscles relax, but they did nothing for the throbbing in his head, so he made his way to the cauldron to brew a cure.

As he counted out the ingredients, he thought over the events of the previous night with indignation. He needed to start focusing all his efforts into his previous mission—finding out more about the woman who had saved him—and not into pursuing anything with Hermione. It was only a fruitless venture, and he needed to come to terms with it.

His brewing calmed him, and when the potion was finished, he swallowed the lot and could feel the pain gently subsiding. After an hour, it hadn't quite vanished, but he felt well enough to make his way to Minerva's office. Though he hadn't given it as much thought as it probably deserved, he'd decided to take her up on the offer she'd given him.

He could definitely use the money, and the stability. After all, he was only staying at Hogwarts because Minerva had insisted, and he didn't want to out welcome his stay. He didn't like being a charity case, and the least he could do was pay her back by agreeing to fill the position.

When he reached her office, he received a scolding for missing breakfast. After he explained that he had been in no condition to show up, and reminded her that it was none of her business, he expected more admonishment, but instead, he was greeted with a smile.

"Out late with Hermione again, Severus?" she said.

"I know what you are implying, Minerva, and I assure you that isn't the case."

"Oh?" she replied, "I was under the impression . . ."

"You were incorrect. Leave it at that."

"You two spend so much time together, though . . ."

"Minerva, I refuse to have this conversation with you. If I cannot convince you of the truth, I have no choice but to let you continue with your delusions. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got potions to attend to."

He turned to leave, but as he went he heard Minerva speaking under her breath. "You haven't changed a bit, Severus."

He turned back around and raised an eyebrow at her.

"You deserve to be happy," she said, "It's time you started seeing that."

He said nothing in reply, but let the door close slowly behind him, and made his way back to his quarters, irritated. He didn't need anyone telling him how to live his life.

Severus spent the rest of the day brewing again, bored with the orders sent to him from Madam Pomfrey. The repetition was driving him mad, so he decided to do a bit of experimenting. He poured over his old notes, revising some recipes and testing out others. The day was consumed by his work, and it was nearing evening when a knock came on the door. Suspecting it was Minerva coming to drag him out to the Great Hall to eat, he approached the door.

"_Intrusive woman _. . ." he said under his breath.

When he opened it, however, he unfortunately met the face of Potter.

"Yes?" said Severus, keeping the door nearly closed.

"I — er — need to talk to you."

"Concerning?"

"Hermione. She sent me an owl —"

Severus closed his eyes fleetingly. He wasn't in the mood to talk about her, especially with _him_. "I'm afraid I'm busy at the moment."

He began to close the door, but Potter had the audacity to stick his foot in the way.

"Look, I know you probably don't want to talk to me, but there are some things we need to discuss," he said.

When he didn't relent, Potter continued. "Hermione is one of my closest friends, and I'm looking out for her best interests. She sent me an owl this afternoon and she seemed really upset about whatever happened last night. Just let me in for a moment, then I promise I'll leave you alone."

"_Fine_."

Reluctantly, he let Potter in. He went back to his cauldron, and signaled for Potter to start talking. He wanted to get this over with.

"Alright," he said, "Hermione sent me an owl, like I said. She said that you two had been visiting a bookshop, and that you told her you weren't feeling well so you decided to turn in for the night."

"That's correct," Severus said as he began to chop up some daisy roots.

"Only, she said you didn't look unwell. She said you looked angry, and that you were acting strange."

"Is that all?" he replied. "I assure you, I _was_ feeling unwell."

"I'm not here to argue with you," Potter said. "I was only telling you what she said. I'm here to make sure you understand what you're getting into."

"I'm fully capable of —"

"I know you're capable of taking care of _yourself_. I was talking about Hermione. She likes you a lot, you know, and I don't want her getting hurt. I know that you and I don't always see eye to eye, but just promise me you'll take care of her."

"_What_ are you talking about, Potter?"

"It's pretty obvious that you two . . ." he trailed off.

For the second time that day, the assumption that the two of them were dating came at him like a slap in the face. It was hard enough dealing with what he'd come to terms with the night before; he didn't need constant reminding of what might have been, had circumstances been different.

"Get out," he said, not even looking up from his cutting board.

"But—"

"Out!"

"Alright, I'm going. But this isn't over," he said as he turned to leave.

Severus scowled at the door after it had closed.

"I assure you it is."

By the following Friday, Severus had begun creating a new potion. He wanted to fine-tune his memories of the woman who had saved him—he'd been using his pensieve repeatedly during the week, but some of the details were still vague. The potion would be difficult, but if it worked, it would help him remember.

That evening, he made his way across the grounds and into the forest to gather ingredients. He could purchase them, but by harvesting them he could ensure they would have a higher potency.

When he reached his destination, he barely got started when he heard footsteps behind him. He extinguished his wand light and slunk into the shadows. A person walked into view, unable to see him.

"Severus? I know you're here somewhere." It was Hermione. Severus sighed.

He stepped out and re-lit his wand. "How did you know where to find me?"

"I was on my way up to the castle to see if you were okay and I saw you walking down here. Why didn't you come down to Hogsmeade?"

His shoulders tensed. "I was preoccupied."

"Severus, what is going on?"

"I'm harvesting—"

"I don't mean that. I meant, what is going on between us? We were getting along great until last week, and for the life of me I can't figure out what happened."

"Nothing happened, Hermione. I simply realised that I needed to be spending more time focusing on important things, and this is one of them," he replied, but it came out as more of an insult than he'd intended.

"I suppose I'm not important, then?"

He sighed. "I didn't mean—"

"What, then? What is so important that you can't spend time with me?"

"As I tried to tell you, I'm harvesting roots. In a few minutes, the moonflower will be blooming and I'll be able to harvest that, too. I'm creating a new potion that should help improve my memory so that I can . . ." He paused. "It's not important. I am busy and I do not wish to be disturbed."

"So you can what?"

"It's _not _important," he reiterated.

"I think it _is_, but I'll respect your privacy. I do understand the intense gratification of creating something. Did you think I'd be upset that you were spending more time with your potions than with me? Didn't you think that I would appreciate your work?"

"I did not doubt your appreciation of innovation," he said, "I was simply too focused to think of anything else."

"I see. Well . . . I suppose I'll leave you to your harvesting. Please send me an owl once you're finished with your potion," she said.

"I will. I still need to talk to you about the woman of the unmarked grave, after all."

Hermione took a small step toward him. "Is that all you want? After I tell you, are you going to be done with me?"

"I never said —"

"How could I have been so stupid?" she said as she began to pace back and forth. "All this time, I thought you were actually interested in getting to know me, but you were just waiting until I would give you the information you wanted."

He gave her a dark look. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to," she said, nostrils flaring.

"Do not attempt to presume you know what I am thinking," he countered.

She was silent then, but her eyes were teeming with emotion. Her anger flashed in them, but there was something else there — Severus couldn't decipher it. He turned back to his task, hoping she would leave. It was hard enough to work without her standing over him.

Hermione followed, but she remained silent. She watched him as he worked, and he chose to ignore her. He wanted to interrogate her about the woman, but knew he'd get nowhere if he tried now; he'd ruined that in his haste to gather information. Once again, he sighed inwardly, chastising himself for losing his touch.

After a few awkward moments, it was Hermione who finally broke the silence.

"Are we finished, then?"

"Finished with what?" he replied, knowing deep down, what she meant.

"Finished with each other? You don't have to be so subtle about everything, you know. If you want me to go away and leave you all alone—" her breath hitched, and she fought off a bad case of the hiccups before continuing. "I will leave you alone, if that's what you want."

Severus allowed himself to take in her features for a moment. Her hair was frizzing at the ends, her lip quivered, and her eyes sparkled with what had to be the verge of tears. He thought he'd never seen anything so pitiful.

"That isn't what I want," he said quietly. He was done with subtlety, at least for the evening. He'd tried to make her take a hint, but unfortunately she was as stubborn as she'd always been, and didn't understand his intentions. Did he want her to leave him alone forever? Of course not. Did he think that things between them would end like that anyway? Definitely. There was no use in denying the truth; they were not a good mix, and anything he did to draw her in would only cause grave consequences. He was better off cutting the connection now, when it was least painful.

"Then what in Merlin's name DO you want? I just need an honest answer, please."

"You want a completely honest answer?"

"Yes. _Please_."

He didn't know if it was the quiet setting, or if it was simply the fact that he was talking to _her_, but he decided to honour her request. Doing so would only help her understand his plight.

"I don't _want _you to leave me alone. I _need_ you to. I cannot fathom the trouble we'd both be in if this were to continue, Hermione. It does neither of us good to pretend we could ever be anything more than pleasant acquaintances. I'm offering you a chance to never look back, and I beg you to take it."

The tears building up in her eyes swelled and spilled down her cheeks. She gave a soft little sob, and then turned away, walking away, and out of his life. Reluctantly, he hoped it was forever.


	9. Chapter Nine - Hello

Chapter Nine – Hello

_Has no one told you she's not breathing?_

Weeks passed before Severus heard from Hermione again, but he knew it was for the best. He spent his time fine tuning his potion, testing it out over and over again until it was perfect. The day he'd set aside to use it, however, was not. That morning, as he prepared to go down for breakfast, lest Minerva scold him again, a knock came at the door. It was soft, and for a moment, he thought he'd imagined it.

"Hello?" said a voice from the other side.

He crossed the room to open it and was met with the sight of Hermione once more. Her eyes were focused on the floor, and she was wringing her hands.

"Yes?" he said, perplexed at her appearance. It was both painful and wonderful, seeing her again.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she began, her once exuberant confidence now seemingly lost, "But I had nowhere else to go. I came here to ask for a favor."

"Go on," he replied, wondering what she could need from him.

"Can I use your Pensieve? I won't take too long, and then I'll get out of your way. I know I could have used one at the Ministry, but . . . can I come in and explain?"

He nodded, and held the door open for her.

"I have the information you want," she said as she entered. "I'll tell you about the woman as soon as I use your Pensieve, if you'll let me."

"I was just preparing to leave for the Great Hall. Can I trust you to use it in my absence?"

"Of course, Severus. You know I can I be trusted," she said.

"I'll retrieve it for you, then. And when I return, we can discuss the details."

"Thank you," she said, smiling sadly.

He left her then, and made his way to the Great Hall reluctantly, the discussion they'd soon be having weighing on his mind. After all this time, he'd finally be able to learn more about the woman who had saved his life. He'd tried, in vain, to find another source of information, but he kept being lead back to Hermione. Somehow, she was the only one who seemed to know anything about her.

There had been one other lead, but it had ended abruptly. Her memorial said she'd died saving other lives, but so far, he hadn't been able to find anyone she'd allegedly saved. In fact, it had been Potter that ended his search. He'd heard Severus and Minerva discussing it, and of course, decided to intrude. He said that no one had known who she was, and that everyone wondered who had written her memorial. No one remembered her. Minerva confirmed it, which made him all the more curious about Hermione's connection to her, and why she hadn't told anyone about it.

Breakfast was painstakingly slow, of course. He tried to get away numerous times, unsuccessfully. Finally, when he was able to get away from the madness of breakfast-time with two of the world's most irritating Gryffindors, he made his way back to his rooms.

Hermione was there, still immersed in the Pensieve. He patiently waited for her to finish, ready to begin the interrogation. But when she surfaced, the look on her face stopped him. She stared at him, eyes wide.

"What is it?" he asked. She was pale, and began shaking. He reached a hand out to steady her.

"I—I'm fine," she said. "Thank you for the use of your Pensieve."

"I hope you were able to accomplish whatever it was you needed it for," he replied.

"Yes . . ."

"And now, on the matter of—"

"The woman who saved your life," Hermione quickly responded.

"How did you . . . ?"

"It isn't important," she said, with a wave of her hand.

"It damn well is important!" he said, tired of hearing that. "How do you know she saved me? What is your connection to her?"

"She also saved me," Hermione replied. "She took a curse for me, no one else. I was the one who wrote her memorial. I don't know why I lied about it, except for the fact that I didn't want to be singled out as the one person she died to save. I didn't think I was worth it."

Severus stared at her. "Of course you were worth it," he said quietly. How could she ever think otherwise?

"Well, it doesn't matter," she said absentmindedly.

"How does it not matter? You and I are the only people to have any sort of contact with this woman. No one else knows anything about her."

"I know. She made sure of that . . ."

"And she made sure to save our lives. She wanted us to live. But why?"

Hermione was shaken out of her reverie. The question remained unanswered, however.

"I have to go," she said suddenly.

Severus shook his head. "We haven't finished our discussion," he said firmly.

"For now, we have," she retorted. "I'm sorry; I need to clear my head. I'll come back soon."

She hurried out the door before Severus could object.

Hours later, she still hadn't returned. Severus grew worried, wondering where she could have gone, and why she had left so abruptly, but he didn't chance leaving his rooms in case she came back, like she'd promised. She hadn't seemed frightened by whatever she'd seen in the Pensieve; she'd seemed numb, as if in disbelief. He didn't know what she had seen to make her react that way, but he had a feeling it had to do with what they'd been discussing.

Finally, late that evening, he couldn't stand it anymore. He put on his cloak and made his way out of the castle. With no idea where to look first, he made his way to the memorial, in hopes that the unmarked grave would somehow give him inspiration as to where to find her.

It was dark as he padded across the sloping lawns, so he cast a Lumos to light his way. The wand shone brightly in the night, casting shadows across the little graveyard. He made his way to the woman's grave, expecting nothing. But when he got there, he saw a figure slumped over on the ground. It was Hermione, and she appeared to be sleeping, but as he stood over her, she stirred. He looked down at her, and as she looked up, he noticed tear tracks covering her cheeks.

"Oh no!" she said, voice shaking, "I haven't missed it, have I?"

"Missed what?" he inquired.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts before answering. "Nothing," she said. "I was dreaming, that's all. I was confused."

"Have you been here all this time?"

"Yes," she replied, voice thick with emotion. "I've been making peace."

"With what?"

"With myself. Severus, there's something I need to tell you."

_Finally_, he thought. He'd been waiting for answers far too long.

"I know who she is," she said, still sitting. "Will you sit down here with me?"

Reluctantly, he agreed. He didn't particularly like sitting on the ground, but at this point he was almost certain he'd do anything to hear what she had to say.

As he sat down next to her, he noticed that her hand gave an odd sort of twitch, moving closer to him. "Who is she?"

"Let me show you," she said, pulling out her wand.

She pointed it to her face, and slowly her features changed to match the woman who had saved their lives.

"What is this?" he asked, "Some sort of Polyjuice spell?"

"Actually, yes," she said, "It's something we all learn as Unspeakables. Much more convenient than toting around vials of potion, not to mention bits of the person we want to change into. Especially when we need to be discreet."

"So you can mirror the woman's appearance," he said. "That still doesn't tell me who she is."

"I know. I'll explain a little better," she replied, using her wand to change back into herself. "Before she saved me, the woman gave me a vial of memories. That's why I needed to use your Pensieve, and that's how I know she saved you. She showed me."

"Why?"

"I'll explain that, too. You see, it was days after Voldemort's defeat that she saved me. I was here, on the grounds, helping restore the castle. A lot of people were. She must have been following me, because she cornered me one day, the only day I was actually alone. Most other days I was with Ron or Harry, but that day I wasn't. She told me that it was of utmost importance that I follow her instructions. At first, I didn't know what to think, but then I could feel the honesty behind her words. She begged for me to listen to her story, and I did."

Severus listened carefully, not wanting to miss a word.

"She told me that she needed my help—that she needed to save someone she loved, and I was the only one that could, and that's when she gave me the memories. She told me not to view them until it was the right time . . . she said the right time would be when I met someone who wanted to know more about her."

She paused, taking a deep breath, then continued.

"So, after years had passed with no one interested in her, or even knowing who she was, I soon began to forget about the memories. But I always carried them with me, just in case. Then one day, out of nowhere, you showed up asking about her. I couldn't believe it, and I was scared. It had suddenly all become so real, and so that's why I put off telling you about her. I wasn't ready."

"So you met with me each week, just to procrastinate what you'd promised to do?"

Hermione blushed. "At first, yes. But the weeks seemed to fly by and soon I was unable to stop myself. I looked forward to our weekly meetings. They were all I began to think about."

Severus sent her a quizzical look. She couldn't really mean that.

"And then everything changed, the night we visited the bookshop," she said. "You became withdrawn, and I thought I'd done something to offend you. You don't know how much it hurt to stay away from you."

Severus disagreed. He _did _know how very much it hurt to stay away from _her_, though he couldn't believe she felt the same.

"So after weeks of denial, I finally conceded that it was time to view the memories, and it's a good thing I did. I used your Pensieve because I honestly just wanted to see you again, and I knew that we needed to have this conversation when I was finished with them."

"What did you see?" he asked.

"Exactly what I expected."

"Which was . . . ?"

"You dying, the woman saving you . . ."

"And why did you expect to see that?"

"Because by the time I decided to watch them, I'd already figured it out. Don't you see, Severus? It was me. I'm the woman who saved you."

The impact of her words seemed to hit them at the same time. Hermione had already figured it out, of course, but now it was real, for both of them. The irony of it all mocked them; she had died because she saved him, and now Hermione was sitting over her own decaying body, and Severus was unable to do anything to stop it.

"What did you use? Or rather, what _will _you use?"

"This," she replied, pulling a chain out from beneath her robes. "I've been working on it for years now, but it's finally ready."

"A time-turner?" he said, astonished. He'd never heard of a time-turner going back more than a few hours.

"Yes, a time-turner. It's been my project for the Department of Mysteries; it's a time-turner that can go back years with a few turns. I told you I'd been repairing something that had been broken years ago. The night we broke into the Ministry, when Sirius died, we broke all of the time-turners. It's taken this long to fix them, plus enhancing this one."

"So you . . .?" he began.

"Yes. I have to go back in time, to save you. And then, I will die."

The words stabbed Severus over and over, cutting deep. "No," he said resolutely. "You're not going."

"I have to do it," she replied. "I'm all ready. I've got a strong antivenin and several other healing potions."

"Where did you get them in such short notice?" he asked.

"I bought them last week, after I'd begun to really suspect what I'd see in the memories. I wanted to be ready at any moment."

"You think of everything," he said quietly.

"I always do . . . I always have to be prepared, and now I'm prepared to do this. I'm scared, Severus, but if I don't, we create a major paradox. Because if I don't, then you won't be saved, and you wouldn't be sitting here discussing this with me."

He knew she was right, but he still didn't want her to go. He couldn't just send her off to her death. Not now, not ever. Because deep down, even though he didn't want to admit it, he didn't just _need _her. No, deep down, and with every piece of him, he loved her.

"Here," she said, handing him a vial. "These are the memories. Watch them tonight, after I go."

"You can't go tonight!" he exclaimed.

"I can't wait any longer," she said. "I have to leave tonight. Don't you know what day it is?"

Of course he did. It was the first of May; the night Voldemort had taken over Hogwarts twelve years ago, and was finally defeated the following morning. It was the night before his own 'death' as well, which meant that she did have to go now, or wait another year, if her time-turner worked like he thought it did. "I will not let you do this."

"It isn't up for discussion, Severus. I have to do this."

"I know," he said sourly. He knew she had to uphold her duty; it was just who she was. Not to mention that if she didn't, the consequences would be catastrophic.

She stood, and he followed her lead. She wrapped her cloak around herself—the blue one he remembered the woman wearing—then pulled out her wand, transforming her features once more. Before him stood the woman who had saved him, shivering in the cool wind.

She reached up and touched his face with one hand, then the other. She held his cheeks between her palms and looked up at him. "I have to go now," she said.

All he could do was stare right back into her now blue eyes. He wasn't about to acknowledge that she was marching off into battle, never to return.

"Severus, promise me something."

_Anything_, he thought. "Yes?" he said.

"Promise me you'll live a long, happy life."

"You can't really expect me to promise such a —"

"Yes, I can." She began crying once more. "Please, Severus. Just promise me."

"I promise," he said, sighing.

She nodded, sniffling. "Goodbye, Severus."

She let go of his face, then reached for the necklace again, then began turning it. It took all his strength not to stop her.

And then, she was gone, and Severus was left with nothing but the empty space in front of him where she'd just been, and the words they'd both left unspoken.

_I love you._


	10. Chapter Ten - My Last Breath

Chapter Ten – My Last Breath

_Can you feel me in your arms?_

She was gone. Severus stared at the tombstone in front of him in disbelief. _Unknown Soul . . . 15 May 1998 . . ._

She hadn't even lived two weeks after she saved him. It felt strange, knowing it had all happened in the past. Hermione had just left moments ago, about to go save him, but that had happened twelve years ago. Nevertheless, it still felt like she was alive, like there was a chance she could survive after all, and show up any second. Though he knew it was impossible, he couldn't help but keep an eye out for her.

Severus spent the next two weeks avoiding the vial. He'd set it up on a shelf, just out of reach, though he knew he needed to view the memories contained inside. He felt like he couldn't, though, not until the day of her death. He knew it didn't make any sense, but each day he counted off another day until she died, in some sort of morbid game.

Finally, on the evening of the fifteenth day of May, he gave in. The memories swirled in his Pensieve, beckoning him. He plunged his head into the vessel, preparing to say goodbye.

_He was taken to the place where the cemetery should be, but there wasn't a grave in sight. Hermione, in disguise, appeared next to him, then ran toward the forest. When they were safely hidden from view, she fell to her knees and began to sob. Severus reached for her, but as she was only a memory, she couldn't feel his touch. After a few moments, she straightened up, a look of determination blazing across her face. She Disillusioned herself, and then made her way to the Whomping Willow. _

_The castle was quiet; things hadn't escalated yet. Severus remembered the night well, however, and knew that she didn't have much time. She took the tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack, but just before the entrance, she began creating a tunnel off to the side with her wand. Severus recognised the tunnel he'd been kept in while he was healing, but it didn't make any sense—the tunnel he'd been in had lead to the Forbidden Forest, not the Shrieking Shack._

_The memory shifted, and they were in a dark room. Severus wasn't sure of their location, but then he heard a voice . . . a very familiar voice. They were in the Shrieking Shack._

"_Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?" Voldemort's cold tone said. _

_A shiver ran down his back. He knew what was coming . . . the memory shifted again, though, and suddenly they were walking into the room where he'd almost died._

_It was an odd experience, seeing himself lying on the floor, covered in blood. He could definitely say it wasn't one of his finer moments. He turned to watch Hermione, and saw her slink into the shadows. Her face was twisted into a grimace, as if she were in horrible pain. She bit her knuckle, trying not to scream._

_Severus stood with Hermione as Potter, Weasley, and the younger Hermione entered the room. He watched himself give Potter the memories, then look into his eyes. The trio left quickly, thankfully, and Hermione rushed over to his seemingly dead body. She began a series of complicated healing spells, all the while forcing antivenin down his throat. She was shaking, wiping tears that were dripping down to her nose._

_She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, then placed a levitation charm on his body. Slowly, she moved him out of the room and into the tunnel leading to the Whomping Willow, and from there, into the tunnel she made herself. But it was different than he remembered; the direction was all off._

_She brought him to the room she'd made for him, and conjured the cot before gently placing him on it. She looked at him with such compassion, but there was a fear there, too._

_After a long wait, in which Hermione had walked around the room several times muttering, and had conjured a bedside table, Severus' body stirred. But Hermione was pacing at the foot of the bed, and by the time she reached him, he'd attempted to sit up and had fallen unconscious once again. She began to cry._

"_I'm not going to fail you, Severus. I promise. I promise . . ." she said. _

_The memory changed again, and Severus went with Hermione as she left the dark sanctuary, after placing a note and his wand on the bedside table. Suddenly, they were in a Muggle bakery, though he wasn't sure how they'd got there. Perhaps the protections on the castle weren't in place and she'd been able to Apparate._

_It was dark, and obviously closed, but Hermione seemed to know her way around the place. She took a few things, including a small cake, leaving money on the counter._

_Then they were back in the tunnel room, and he noticed that his other self was sitting up._

"_You're awake. It worked!" she said, smiling wide. He watched the other Severus glare at her, remembering well the shock of seeing this woman he'd never met._

_The memory shifted once more, playing a series of moments quickly: Hermione in her own little room, looking extremely frustrated, then closing up the part of the tunnel that lead to the Shrieking Shack and creating a new exit into the forest, visiting another bakery, stroking his hair while he was sleeping . . ._

_It slowed down again, and he watched as Hermione saved his other self from the Dementors, this time hearing everything she'd said, rather than the bits and pieces he remembered._

_She ran toward him after she'd fought them off._

"_Severus!" she screamed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was sobbing._

"_Dementors! But they're gone now. Gone. I thought they'd . . . your soul . . . it's okay, you're safe . . . you're safe . . ." She was stroking the back of his head, but his body didn't know it—he'd passed out. _

_Another shift and they were at the Muggle hospital he'd woken up in. His body was lying on some kind of rolling cot, and Hermione had her hand on his._

"_His name is Severus . . . Severus Snape . . . I'm his—his friend . . . He's hurt . . . Please . . . Please help him . . ." she was saying, almost in a trance. The Muggle healers were wheeling him away, and then he was gone, and she was left standing there alone. She sniffled, then made her way out the door. _

_He watched her return to Hogwarts, and again a series of short moments began flickering. She was stalking her younger self, at a number of different moments, but never seemed to be able to get her alone. Severus noticed that the castle was slowly returning to its former glory as the memories went on, pleased to see the amount of people dedicated to restoring it._

_Finally, she cornered the younger Hermione, and told her story. _

"_Please," she begged, "Trust me. You're the only one who can save him. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth. I wouldn't come to you if I didn't have to. But I can't let him die. I love him."_

_Severus gasped. It wasn't exactly news, but he'd never heard her say it before. It had all seemed like something he'd made up in his head until now. _

_Just then, everything went dark. Severus didn't know where they were, but then he heard Hermione mutter something and her wand light flooded his eyes. She was at Hogwarts, in an empty classroom. She held out a vial and placed her wand at her temple. _

"_This is for you, Severus," she said aloud. "It's not going to be easy to watch, but . . . I think it will bring closure."_

_She pulled a memory from her skull and placed it in the vial, and then the scene changed for the final time. _

_It was different this time, because the memory was the younger Hermione's. He sat with her as she took a break from cleaning up the remnants of the broken castle. She was alone, he noted, and looked as if she hadn't slept in days. She closed her eyes for a moment, but a noise nearby brought them wide_ open.

_Severus recognised Mulciber walking toward her, almost gleefully. The other Hermione, in disguise, was close behind._

"_It isn't safe out, girl," he said. "Didn't your mum tell you not to go anywhere alone?"_

_She reached for her wand, but in horror, was unable to find it. Her fear-stricken eyes searched in vain._

_Mulciber smiled then raised his wand. "Imperio," he said, pointing it at her, but the other Hermione rushed forward and met the curse before it could strike the girl._

_The young Hermione tried to run off, seemingly in search of help, but Mulciber cast a full body bind at her. She fell to the ground, forced to watch the Death Eater's sadistic game._

_Mulciber stood over the disguised Hermione as the curse apparently forced her to the ground. Severus watched in horror as she took out her own wand and pointed it at herself. He saw her struggle to break free of the Imperius, but it was too strong. _

_She cast the Unforgiveable on herself and Severus watched as the light left her eyes. He ran to her, though he knew it would do no good. But just as he reached out to touch her, the memory ended and he lifted his head out of the Pensieve. _

* * *

**Author's Note: **To everyone wondering how the curse worked on Hermione, here is my explanation. In order to use an Unforgivable, you have to _really_ mean it. Here, though Hermione did not want to die, she was prepared to sacrifice herself for Severus. She knew she couldn't create a paradox without disastrous results and so she was able to curse herself knowing, in a way, that it had already happened.


	11. Epilogue - Whisper

Epilogue – Whisper

_Forsaking all I've fallen for, I rise to meet the end . . ._

Years passed, and Severus never fully recovered from witnessing the death of the woman he loved. And yet, he knew she'd been right to show it to him. Without it, he would have lived his life hoping she wasn't really dead, and he'd never be able to move on. She was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. But he knew what lay beyond the veil, and waited for the day he could see her once more.

When his black hair had turned to grey, and the bones and muscles in his body didn't work like they once had, he prepared for that moment. On his deathbed, surrounded by empty space, the healers felt such pity for him that they constantly tried to do things to cheer him up, only aggravating him further.

_Is there anyone we can get for you? Surely there's someone . . ._

They didn't understand. There was no one on Earth he wanted there, no one to hold his hand and coddle him. He was going to die alone, like _she _had. She'd had the worst death imaginable, and he felt like the only thing he could do to keep his dignity was to march into death as bravely as she had. She'd known what was going to happen to her when she took Mulciber's curse willingly, after all, and maybe, just maybe, if he held his head high, he'd be worthy of seeing her face one more time.

When the moment came, he was alone. He was simply there, and then . . . wasn't. His last breath came not a moment too soon, in his opinion. He was ready.

Everything was bright all at once. He couldn't make out where he was, but he didn't care. He just wanted to see her.

After a few moments, he looked around, beginning to think she wasn't going to show up. He panicked, nearly stumbling over something behind him. It was a chair, one he recognised from ages ago. Another chair sat next to it, with a table. It was the Three Broomsticks, he realised suddenly. He was alone, but a firewhiskey suddenly appeared in front of him, and next to it, a gillywater.

No sooner had he taken a seat than a bell over the door rang and a beautiful woman entered.

_Hermione_.

She'd come. He could hardly believe that he was seeing her once more. He wanted to say so many things—that he'd kept his promise and lived a long life, but obviously she must know that; that he loved her and never wanted to part from her again . . .

"I see you're early," she said, smiling broadly, "I like that in a man."

She chuckled at the look on his face, remembering the first time they'd met there, before running up to him and pulling him to his feet.

"What do you say we ditch this place and go for a stroll outside? The weather's great—it always is around here."

He nodded, but paused for a moment.

"Wait," he said.

"What is it?" she replied

He removed his hands from hers and brought them up to her face. He held them there for a moment, drinking in the adoration in her eyes. Then he brought his lips to hers for the first time, and finally found the warm, complete peace he'd been searching for all his life.


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance, Suspense