Chapter 3

'Crucio!'

Severus crumpled to his knees as brilliant points of vibrant yellow and green light exploded behind his eyes. Painful tremors wracked his fragile body before the curse ended. Darkness was closing in, and the only light was from Voldemort's long, thin wand, which appeared to be made of bleached-white bone.

Voldemort pointed his wand at Severus's masked face. 'You. Must. Suffer. Crucio!'

Screaming, Severus writhed upon the frozen ground, shards of jagged rock stabbing into his back, adding to the blistering fire in his nerves. 'E... En...' he moaned.

'Enough?' Voldemort laughed maniacally. 'Never! Sectumsempra!' He aimed the curse at Severus's scarred, bare chest, ripping along it as though it were ancient papyrus. 'How does it feel to have the curse you invented used on you? Hurts, doesn't it? Rather like... betrayal,' he added, seeming amused, a dark smirk curling his upper lip.

'I'd do it again, you evil bastard!' Severus rasped, his voice growing more ragged with each breath.

'Now, is that any way to talk to a father figure, Severus?' he hissed. 'Too bad I'll not allow you to live to learn the lesson!'

'No!' Severus gasped, fighting to staunch the blood flowing from his wounded chest with his hands.

'You will fail every time you attempt to defeat me, Severus. I am immortal, and you, regrettably, are not,' he said, his tone snide. 'Avada...'

As the darkness closed in on him, he felt a feathery-light weight touch his hand and a bubble of warmth envelop his body, comforting him, easing him downwards.

***

Severus's eyelids flicked several times before finally opening to take in his surroundings. The hospital room was empty except for him and one other: a young, dark-haired man with bluish-purple shadows under his eyes, who occupied a pea-green-coloured chair.

Soft voices sounded in the distance, and dim light from the overcast sky filtered in from a nearby pale-blue-curtained window, illuminating the stark white walls and making the metal tray at his bedside glint. A deep-blue, pealing-at-the-edges plastic bowl filled with tan-coloured liquid sat near a pitcher of water, and he looked longingly at the pitcher before once more resting his gaze upon the hunched over form of the boy.

'I knew you'd survive, Professor,' Albus Severus announced when he saw Severus look across the room at him.

Severus lifted his weak, shaking hand to his throat and felt a large patch of gauze covering the wound. He then opened his mouth and tried to speak, but only a soft 'oomph' escaped.

'Don't try to speak just yet. Nagini's venom affected your vocal cords, so the healers have devised a potion that will ensure your voice will be in working order soon.' Albus Severus approached the bed and sat down on its edge. 'I know you must be wondering why I'm here.'

Severus nodded in assent. If he knew I'd survive, why did he come? Perhaps he wasn't so sure of his potion after all. I knew he...

'Have a little faith in my abilities, Professor.' Albus Severus glared at him. 'I wouldn't be a very good researcher if I hadn't checked up on you. Besides, what's an hour in the grand scheme of things? It's wise to make sure I'd not have to use an alternate plan to save you.'

Indeed, Severus thought.

'The letter I gave you... I want you to read it when you're stronger. My presence, among other things, will make sense once you do.' He paused. 'Potter and McGonagall have a copy as well. They'll use it along with other evidence in their testimonies to free you.'

Severus rolled his eyes and huffed. You're deluding yourself, boy, if you think either of them are going to help me... even after the memories I gave.

'Trust me, Professor. They'll do right by you.'

Severus clasped the boy's shoulder and looked at him for a moment, uncertainty in his eyes. The young man smiled and gave a reassuring nod, disappearing without saying a word.

He has an unfortunate habit of disappearing when I can't ask questions. It's either a talent for evasion or he has excellent timing.

***

The Forest of Dean, he thought, looking at the glittering icicles dangling...a few precariously so as the wind picked up...from the barren branches. I hope she's still here and that she is alone. If she's not, that could complicate things quite a bit.

The sun hung low in the grey, overcast sky. Pure white snow crunched under his hiking boots as he made his way deeper into the heavily wooded area. The happy chirp of birds could be heard, as well as an unidentifiable rumble in the distance. He spared a glance at his compass and then to his watch. He was headed in the right direction as far as he could tell, and he was making good time, as it was still daylight.

He stopped for a moment, watching his breath form smoky circles in the wintry air. The tent will be invisible, and I won't be able to hear her either. I will have to wait for her to appear...she'll have to emerge at some point. He leaned against a tree and closed his eyes, but as soon as they drooped shut, he heard a tree branch snap and feet stomping in the snow.

'Why, why must he be such a pain in the arse? Doesn't he know that going off alone is dangerous?' she screamed, her voice shrieking through the trees, awakening sleeping animals.

Albus Severus approached her. 'Au...Hermione?'

Hermione turned around, her foot catching on a branch, causing her to fall onto her arse. 'A hand up, perhaps?' she asked, dusting the snowflakes from her black pea coat.

He extended his hand, and she took it, rising. 'Who are you and how do you know my name?'

'How I know your name is not important. I'm here for a particular purpose, and that's all you need to know.'

She withdrew her wand and pointed it at his face. 'You'll tell me who you are and what you want from me, or I'll...'

'You're just as feisty as I thought you'd be.' He chuckled. 'I assure you, I intend no harm.'

Lowering her wand, she noted his pink cheeks, bright-blue eyes, and messy, black hair. 'Wait, do I know you?'

'No, but I know you.'

'Then how do you know me?'

'It's a long, complicated story.'

'Then uncomplicate it and give me the short version,' she retorted.

'You make it sound so simple...'

'Because it is, or rather, it could be.'

'Hermione, stop. You're distracting me. I have something to tell you, and I need you to listen.' He took off his cloak and laid it on an icy log, then gestured for her sit.

She lowered herself gingerly, her bum still aching from the fall. 'All right, then. Go ahead.'

'I'll need you to try to trust me. Will you do that for me?'

His arms were uncrossed and hanging loosely at his sides, his stance was comfortable, and he was looking into her eyes...not over her head or elsewhere. He had a friendly, welcoming smile as well.

'I'll listen to you, but I won't promise to trust you.'

'That's all I need.' He breathed to steady himself. 'I'm unsure of how to tell you this.'

'Look, why don't you sit down,' she patted the covered, hollow log, 'and start from the beginning.'

'You... like Ron Weasley, yeah? As in more than a friend?'

Hermione's cheeks reddened and she looked away. 'What does that have to do with anything?'

'Ah, so you do.' He smiled knowingly. 'Perhaps you might want to reconsider him, Hermione. He's not the one meant for you.'

'How do you know this exactly? What makes you so sure he's not?' She raised her eyebrow at him.

'He's just not. In the future, you and he are unhappy together. You waste away as if you have lost all of your reasons to live, to love. Of course, there're no physical scars of your relationship...it's emotional. The things you were never allowed to do because you were catering to him and his desires, leaving yourself and your dreams in the dust. It's the look in your eyes when you see old friends. There's no spark, no real desire for life.'

Looking crestfallen, Hermione reiterated, 'How do you know?'

'Because... I've lived it with you. I've seen the disappointment nearly every day of my young life.'

'It can't be. He and I have our problems now, but surely that will change over time.'

Albus Severus sniffled. 'You'd think so, but time does not always change everything. If you don't believe me, Hermione, I have proof...something you can see and judge for yourself.' He withdrew a miniature package from his trouser pocket and brought it to full size.

'You brought a Pensieve?'

'Yes. Like I said: proof.' He pointed his mahogany wand to his temple, drawing a thick, silvery-white strand of memory from his mind. He then added it to the stone bowl and directed her to view the contents.

Immediately, she was drawn inside the memory of a small, black-haired boy. A woman with a worry-lined, frowning face placed a silver tea service on a claw-foot table. Her feet dragged as she greeted her redheaded husband. He dispassionately bussed her lips and walked away. Another memory: she was crying as he...Ron...raged at her. From the look on her older face, Hermione could tell that argument had been one of many. She walked through more unhappy memories, watching opportunities pass by in a flash. Perhaps this boy at her side was correct. If these memories were any indication, it would be best she not change the friendship with Ron.

She came out of the memories breathing heavy. 'This is me, isn't it? The life I'm doomed to live if Ron and I...'

'Yes, I'm afraid so. This is why it's best if you Ron just stay friends and not pursue anything further.' He stood, stretching his long legs from their cramped position on the log.

'May I ask you something?' she asked, touching his freezing cheek.

'Anything, Hermione.'

'Who are you really? That little boy in the memories looks like a younger version of you. And you resemble my best friend, Harry. Your eyes are the only thing unlike his.'

'I was that little boy, Hermione, and Harry and Ginny are my parents. If you marry Ron, you will be my aunt.'

Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, he hushed her. 'I know you have questions, but I can't answer any of them. What I have done already changes events.'

'I understand.'

'Will you do something for me?'

'Certainly. What do you need?' she replied.

'At the end of the Final Battle, check the Shrieking Shack a second time.' He tugged at the golden chain around his neck and started to turn it between his fingers. 'Oh, and one more thing: in the months ahead, please keep an open mind and remember that not all things are as they seem.' With a final turn, he disappeared from sight.