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Chapter One: Awake.

Blood gushed from the wounds on his neck as Severus Snape's back fell against the glass window, Nagini's fangs sinking into the warm flesh beneath the folds of his collar. Puncture after puncture made his body spasm before the snake was finally torn back to its master, the Dark Lord merely walking away from his most faithful of servants (to his knowledge).

The turn of events had even been a surprise to Snape, but he should have seen it coming when Voldemort's tone turned on him. He was a smart man—so Voldemort had pointed out mere seconds ago—but killing him?

Was he afraid of death? He didn't know. And everything just seemed like such a rush.

He could barely move, feeling the venom going deep into his veins. All he could do was gurgle and try to hold the loss of blood off for as long as possible, his eyes glazing with fear. However, he knew what the snake's bite was capable of. He'd seen it before.

Arthur Weasley.

Though the man had been inches away from death, he did have the help of that arrogant boy. Harry Potter had seen it in his visions, and thus there was immediate help. Him? He was in the Boathouse, the only company being Death that he could see slowly circling before him.

At the sound of footsteps, something in him wished it was the Dark Lord coming back for him. How merely pathetic of him. He hated Voldemort, despite what everyone thought of him. He'd done this to protect her son. Lily's son. For her! Not for Potter. Not even for Dumbledore. He did this for Lily Evans and no one else; because he knew she would have wanted her son to be protected.

It was that moment he saw her. He saw her eyes. Those gorgeous, green eyes looking at him, a hand against his neck as if to stop the bleeding. He wanted to touch her, to greet her. Of course, he was out of his mind, mere inches from death, and at first hadn't realised it was actually Harry.

What was he doing here!? He was going to get himself killed! Voldemort had been just there; ready to kill him, and the boy was coming after him like some daft hero? Bloody Gryffindors!

But there was something inside him, wanting Harry to know the truth. He was going to die. He was going to die nothing but a traitor to Dumbledore and Hogwarts. A traitor to Harry, and in turn, a traitor to Lily. He couldn't let that happen. Not to mention the fact that Harry had no idea he was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Dumbledore's words now made sense more than ever. That there was a time he needed to know. And in his death, that was how Harry would know. Had the old wizard planned this, too!?

Lifting his shaken hands to the tears that were beginning to dribble down his cheeks, he choked out a, "Take it," to the boy. Harry seemed confused for a moment, so he tried again before the boy finally understood him and he felt the unsettling warmth of the phial against his so cold cheek.

"Look… at… me…" he whispered, bringing back those green eyes. They were wide in worry, and something Severus never thought he would see turned to him. Hate, annoyance, of course. It wasn't like they got along. Harry was so much like his father that they couldn't possibly. Running into danger all the time, breaking the school rules. It was impossible for Severus to take a liking to the boy when he was so much like James. But those eyes? They were so much like his mothers.

"You have your mother's eyes…" he breathed, and somehow it didn't take any of his strength to look into them before darkness took him.

Severus found himself—uncharacteristically at the age of thirty-eight—in the grass back at Spinner's End, his old home town. Of course, he figured this was just his transition from life to death.

Looking down at himself, he realised he was no longer in his thick, black teaching robes. Instead, he was in a white undershirt, much like the one he still wore beneath his robes, and black trousers. But that wasn't what his eyes were on. Instead, they were on the pale skin, revealed from the coiled up sleeve of his left arm. His clean, unmarked left arm.

The Dark Mark… It was gone. He placed his fingers to where the connection (and slavery) to the Dark Lord had stained his skin. This was most certainly life after death. Maybe not Hell, though. If he were in Hell, then surely the mark would still be there. It haunted him, as well as his sleep at night—not that he'd have to worry about that anymore.

"Does it hurt?" The man's dark eyes turned at the soft voice that was at his side. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the pale, red-haired woman.

Lily.

She was here? But why!? This was his death… Why would she be here? Why now? Where was Potter? He almost groused, but realised this was not the time. Not when Lily was here. He'd already screwed up once around her, and it had torn them apart horribly. He could hold his tongue—hopefully.

The woman sat beside Severus. She wore a thin, white dress, her hair drifting in the light breeze that rustled the leaves on the tree above them. She looked at the man that had been her friend since they were young.

Although he was dark in many ways, there was a certain light in Severus that not many saw—including James and his friends. She had always wished that they could put their differences aside.

"Why are you here?" inquired the former Death Eater, though his eyes not once leaving that gorgeous, pristine face of hers. He could feel the gentle breeze against his skin, amazed that he could feel anything right now. Whatever this place was, it wasn't real. It was just a dream before he was swallowed up in the blackness.

Lily smiled gracefully, lifting her hand. Severus flinched as she brushed a dark lock away from his pale skinned face. "Nothing will hurt you here, Sev," she reassured. "I've been watching you."

Watching him? His brows furrowed. It sounded stupid to ask where he was, and what this place was. Clearly he knew he was in Spinner's End, he just didn't quite know why he was here. Especially now, after death. Somewhere familiar, perhaps, for the transition? He was a Slytherin, after all, and logic seemed to be one of their better traits.

He didn't often come here. Of course, it was still his home out of Hogwarts, but to be honest, Hogwarts always seemed more of a home than here. He only returned here when he had to, like at the start of the year with Bellatrix Lestrange and Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy.

"Potter… I could not save him," he said softly, almost regrettably. Of course he regretted dying and not being able to keep him safe for Lily. The only reason he'd betrayed Voldemort was because of Lily and the Prophecy, amongst his other views on the Dark Lord and having to occasionally suffer the Cruciatus curse.

Feeling a hand against his bare arm, Severus couldn't hold back the flutter inside his chest as her hand gently touched his own. He'd missed her so much. He'd been distraught to see her lying there on the floor, cold and dead while a young Harry wailed in his cot.

He was selfish, he knew. The right thing would have been to aid Harry, to sooth him. But he had never been a gentle, loving or caring man. He had gone straight to the fallen Lily, the love of his life as she lay dead.

Even in his time at Hogwarts, he didn't go out of his way to be nice to Harry. In fact, sometimes he just couldn't stand looking at the boy without his blood boiling. It wasn't like he did it on purpose, though. Maybe if Potter didn't strut around the castle like he owned the place and constantly went looking for trouble…

"Harry will come out of this alive," Lily said, as if she knew he wouldn't die. She believed in her son, and she was there, watching him as well. She knew the battle between her son and Voldemort would be tough, but Harry was such a bright and brilliant boy, with such courage in his heart. She didn't understand why Severus couldn't see that in him. Why he looked past his heart and saw only the torment James and Sirius made him suffer as a child. Harry was not James.

"And you know this for a fact?" he asked almost too coldly. He immediately regretted it when Lily's hand slipped away from his arm. He looked away, across the field that seemed like it never ended. And maybe that was what this place was. His eternity after death.

"I should have done more," he murmured softly, his dark eyes lowering.

Lily watched the man curiously. She held no contempt for what he had called her all those years ago. She'd been just as stubborn in her time, but it had hurt her more than it should have. Severus was her friend before James and his obnoxious crew. It was the Slytherins that had gotten into Severus' head. She always knew he didn't like his parents fighting, and his father had been an abusive, neglectful Muggle. She never did forgive him for that single slip, and before she could persuade James to try and get to know Severus, it had been too late.

They both sat there in silence for what seemed a long time, as if trying to find what to say to one another. Nothing could take it all back. Nothing could be said to make Lily know and understand how sorry he truly was that all of this had happened. That she had died from the Dark Lord. That he had followed him!

Snape hated himself for doing so. He'd been weak. He'd been so easily persuaded that it was the right thing to do. He was just so pissed off at the world around him that… well, it had seemed a good idea at the time. He soon came to regret it. And he'd tried to make up for it with his loyalties to Dumbledore and the Potter boy. He'd risked his life time after time for this, and for what? So Harry could just die in the end like the rest of them?

"Do you truly think he can survive this?" he asked, looking back to the love of his life. Her green eyes were on his once more, gracefully as ever touching parts of his soul that she would never know. Even in death he still felt like a child to her. How pathetic. He was a grown man. A dead man. And still… the mere look from the woman had his heart moving in ways it shouldn't.

But it was easy to hide it all away once she had died. It was easy to become cold, dark and cynical. Lily had been the light of his life. His best friend, and the woman he loved. Once she was gone, there was nothing to be happy about or for.

How he'd tried to look forward to Potter coming to Hogwarts just for her! But even if he did like the boy (which was incredibly difficult to even try), he couldn't let the better side of him show either way. He had to convince the Dark Lord that he was utterly loyal to him, even in putting Harry in potential harm by giving away his moving from Privet Drive, and harming one of the Weasley twins in the process by pure accident.

Nothing could take that back. He was no hero. He never would be. And if Harry could make it back to the Pensieve, that didn't mean a thing! Voldemort could still very well kill the boy. How Dumbledore had so much faith in a seventeen year old boy, he had no idea.

Once more, Lily Evans put her hand against the warm skin of the Slytherin. "I have full faith in Harry, Sev. He will do what he knows is best. He will do everything he can."

Snape almost scoffed. "He's a seventeen year old boy!" he cried out, though his voice not nearly as harsh as he thought it was. It was almost like this place wouldn't allow such emotion. As much as he had great control on himself (usually), he was still a very dark and angry man. His past had not been pleasant to him, and although Gryffindors wore their hearts on their sleeves, Slytherins did not.

Lily seemed surprised, giving a soft hum and taking Severus' hand into her own. Her fingers trailed down his arm before taking his palm and intertwining their fingers. "I recall a certain seventeen year old boy being quite a powerful wizard at his age," she said gently.

Snape's dark eyes widened a little, as if shocked she would bring anything like that up. This was not about him! This was about the fate of the world he had just been ripped from so viciously. Harry Potter could very well die tonight, and if he did, there was no hope for the wizarding world. Not even for the Muggle world.

He looked down at her hand in his own, their fingers crossed now. He wanted so much more, though. It was as if she were teasing him now. The whole world could die tonight, and yet, here he was, being selfish again by wanting Lily Evans against him. Against him in a soft embrace. A soft kiss. Anything.

"Lily…" he began, looking back to those glowing eyes of hers. "I'm… sorry for what I said," he apologised. "For calling you a…" He stopped. He would never let those words touch his lips again. He should have never called her a Mudblood in the first place. How sick and vile of him. How… Death Eaterish of him.

Lily remembered how apologetic Severus had been when it had happened. He'd apologised week after week for what he had called her, but she had been stubborn, like she'd thought before. In response, she just gripped his hand even tighter into her own, smiling gently and leaning into his side like she once had when they were friends, watching the field as it swayed from the breeze.

Snape swallowed hard at the sensation of the woman being against him. He'd been single for a lifetime. His heart and love had been loyal to Lily, even though he knew she would never be his. It hadn't stopped him from being faithful though. Plus, he knew he wasn't much to look at. There honestly wasn't much point in trying to date or look for someone else; especially when he knew he wasn't the most nicest man, nor the most attractive.

They stayed sitting in silence for another moment, and Severus just enjoyed the touch of Lily against him after all of these years. He wanted to question why she was even here, and what Potter would think of it. After all, even in death surely they were still together in the afterlife.

At the same time, maybe he didn't want to ask. Maybe he wanted to be selfish again in keeping it to himself, in basking in her attention that he so craved all this time. He was dead anyway, so it wasn't like it mattered. He couldn't possibly die again.

It was strange, though. The sensations that went through his body. He hadn't felt them in a very long time. He was still a man, but with his career as a Potions master, Professor, then Headmaster and of course being a double agent for Dumbledore, he just didn't have the time to think about such things. And he didn't want to.

The last thing anyone could ever imagine was Severus Snape in a relationship. Merlin, they probably thought he was so strict because he wasn't getting laid. Sure, the sexual frustration could be annoying, but that hardly was the reason why he was strict to students. He was just professional and didn't take any of their rubbish. He was respected (or had been) by the other professor's at Hogwarts, not to mention the Ministry with his knowledge in potions. Not just any old one could be a Potions master. It took a lot of skill, and he had very skilled hands. Hands he'd like to touch Lily with. He'd like to sooth down her soft, silky skin…

"Sev?" came the woman's voice, startling him out of his impure thoughts, which was probably for the best as his body had begun tingling with a strange sensation in his stomach. He looked away from her, but gave a curt not in acknowledgement as she asked what he was thinking.

He did go stiff, and as much as he didn't wish to, he pushed himself up from the grass and took a few steps away from her. "Why am I here? Why are you here?" he suddenly interrogated. He didn't understand any of this. "If this is just a dream… then I don't wish to have it," he told her. Not if he had to wake up with her gone.

Lily seemed hurt, and a frown appeared on her usually soft lips. "Have I done something wrong?" she asked.

Wrong? How could she possibly do something wrong? Despite the fact that she went with Potter, but it wasn't like he could blame her for that. Potter was more attractive and clearly more heroic than he ever could be—even if he'd risked his life so many times for her son. Clearly intelligence had nothing over bravery and looks.

"No," he finally breathed, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt. He folded his arms, looking over the vast area.

Following Severus, Lily stood beside him, placing a hand to his arm. "You want to ask why I'm here when I'm with James," she spoke gently, her voice as gentle as the wind that made the grass dance before them. "I know you and James never were friends, but he really did change for the better, Severus. Before we… I told him to make amends with you, and he agreed that he would."

Snape almost rolled his eyes at that. He wasn't interested in making friends with James Potter. He was and always would be an arrogant man who flaunted his magic around as if he were better than everyone else.

Was this supposed to make him feel better? He wanted Lily, not to befriend Potter. He wanted something that he could not have, and even in death he was going to be denied that. Maybe this really was his Hell. Then again, did he expect any different? Of course not. Life wasn't fair—he knew that all too well.

Taking Severus' arm into her hand, she turned before him, looking up to his dark eyes. "You don't belong here, Severus," she said, which seemed to shock him. "You do not have to stay, Severus. You are welcome to go back any time you wish. Harry still needs so much protection and care. You're all he has left now…"

What? What was she talking about? Had she gone bloody-well mad!? Of course he had no choice! He was dead! His brows creased in curiosity, though, questioning what she was talking about. Lily merely took both of his hands into her own, making him move uneasily even if he wanted her comfort so much. He was not used to this level of comfort.

"Sev, you must go back. You must go back and protect Harry for me," she urged. Once more, she lifted her hand and drew back a dark lock from his face. She smiled, though, leaning in so their foreheads touched. And then she kissed him. A small, but gentle peck on the lips.

"Open your eyes, Severus."

Snape couldn't do anything but look at her in a confused manner as her lips pressed gently against his. He'd wanted so much more than this, but he couldn't even find himself to kiss her back properly.

He had no idea what she was blabbering on about. He moved into her warm palm though, watching her eyes bewilderedly as she leant back. "I don't understand…" he whispered, watching her green eyes upon him.

The breeze seemed to pick up around them, and he looked up, seeing the branches sway above them. But when he looked back, Lily was gone, and he spun around stiffly, feeling pain sting his left arm and all down his neck.

He hissed as he felt the warmth of the Dark Mark on his arm burn his skin, pulling up his sleeve. It was raw and red, a scar, but no Dark Mark. It wasn't a living thing anymore, but rather dead against his skin and pale. It still ached and burned, and he closed his eyes, trying to compose himself.

When he opened them, the imagery changed, and his body ached. He was lying down, somewhere soft, despite the aches and pains that were going through him. He swallowed dryly, everything out of focus before him.

Looking down, he saw that he was dressed in not white but black. His own nightclothes. As he moved his neck, pain shot through his left side, and he felt cold. Why he had been taken away baffled him. Maybe he didn't belong with Lily, and this was his punishment. To live a life of pain, feeling as if all the magic was drained from him.

He lifted his sore arm and pushed up the sleeve to see that the Dark Mark was like it was before. Not alive, but not gone. It was a scar. Like a Muggle tattoo but faded. However, the next thing he wasn't expecting to see were green eyes looking at him. Not from Lily, but from Harry Potter.