Thirty Two: I Have Promises To Keep

Chapter Thirty Two: I Have Promises To Keep

We are entering the home stretch, with only a few more chapters to go, and I cannot thank you for your infinite patience. This story is organic; it has no outline, no chapter by chapter sketch.

And I moved but I moved toward him

Hermione lay floating on a weightless current of numbed grief. She felt hollow inside, as if there was a deep, empty chasm where her heart had once beat. It was the space where Severus had dwelt, all fierce protectiveness and stubborn love and sterling duty. From the day he gave her his Blood Oath, his presence had been a shielding weight, comforting in its complexity and beauty. But now it was gone.

Grief brought her back to consciousness, like a limb, pin-needling after a long absence of blood. There was nothing numb about her now. Her Severus was dead. The Dark Lord had killed him for protecting her.

She could still feel the aching, twitching spasms deep in her tissues as her body tried to recover from the Cruciatus, but it was background noise compared to the horrific pain of losing Severus. He was the only thing that had kept her heart beating, and she was sure as soon as it realised Severus was gone, it would slow down, like a clock she no longer cared to wind. She was hoping that would be soon. The pain was too great to bear. Hermione closed her eyes and wished for the numbness again. It was not possible to hurt this much and survive.

Sometime later, she opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a tiny bedroom; she could hear the boom of the surf beyond the walls. Some kind soul had removed her ruined robe and changed her into a clean nightgown. Her mind was foggy, and she was aching all over. Her heart thudded dully in her chest.

"Are you alright, Hermione? Can I get you anything?"

Harry sat perched on the edge of her bed, looking at her with haunted eyes. She struggled to sit up, but every muscle protested.

"Where's... where's Severus?" she croaked. "What have you done with him?"

Harry swallowed. "He... he's in the next room. Luna is watching over him for you," he managed, but his voice broke, and tears spilled over. He reached for her hand. "We didn't get back to Malfoy Manor in time." He looked at her with beseeching, sorrow-filled eyes. "I sent Dobby back, but it was too late. I'm so sorry, Hermione. We tried. Please believe me, we tried."

Hermione took the proffered hand. At her touch, he drew her into his arms and rocked her. She allowed him to hold her. "I do believe you, Harry. I know you," she replied. "Where are my parents?" Her voice sounded so unnatural to her own ears, she wasn't even sure she was actually speaking.

"They're resting. They're okay," he added quickly, to reassure her. "They're a little weak, but they'll be okay."

Hermione leaned back out of his embrace and nodded, trying to think past the hollow ache in her chest. Her parents were resting. They would be fine after several healing potions. I must get Severus to brew that special – oh gods – Her thoughts, repetitive and circular, wore a deep groove into her bewildered mind. Her parents were alive. Her husband was dead. Her parents were alive. Her husband was dead. Her parents were alive. Her husband was –

She buried her head in her hands and sobbed. She felt Harry's arms engulf her again. "He won't have died in vain, Hermione!" he whispered fiercely. "Everyone will know. I promise. With my dying breath, I promise-"

"Please don't, Harry!" Hermione cried, holding onto him. "Please don't. I can't talk about anyone else dying." She looked up at him, and her misery was so awful he looked away. She gripped his shirt, fighting back hysteria. "Oh, Harry, he killed my husband! The Dark Lord killed him. Severus is gone!"

Harry held her as she howled in pain. Her Severus. Her brave, beautiful, complicated, imperfect wizard. She could still hear his frantic voice, begging for forgiveness, but she had been too traumatised, too absorbed in her own torture chamber within to tell him that she had forgiven him. And now he was gone, believing that she had not.

Gradually, she quieted. Her grief, it seemed, was no match for the crushing exhaustion that rubbed against her ruthlessly. She took a deep breath, and rested against Harry's thin chest, wondering if she would ever be able to rise from this bed again.

She knew there were things she had to do, and soon, maybe even later on in the day, she would have to face the others. First, though, she had to do right by her husband.

"I want to bury him here," she said.

Harry hesitated, then replied, "Neville and Ron offered to dig-"

"No," she insisted, shaking her head stubbornly, her heart burning with resolve. "I will dig his grave."

Harry sighed. "Hermione, I understand, truly I do, but you're still very weak. You've been subjected to torture."

Hermione looked at him with such intensity he actually pulled back from her. She said quietly, "I will bury my husband. I owe him that much." She looked at Harry imploringly. "Your mother stepped between you and that monster, even though he threatened her." She could see the anguish in Harry's face, but she carried on. "She died rather than give you up. Would you be denied, if you had the chance to lay her to rest yourself – to pay that final tribute to her, in exchange for saving your life?"

Harry's eyes filled again. "No, Hermione," he whispered finally. He clutched her hands within his. "And I won't deny it, either."

In the strange desert world Severus had woken up in, a figure sauntered up to him, arms outstretched, a smile so wide it made the handsome face glow.

"Reg?" Severus blinked, trying to clear the vision that swam before him. He drew a hand across his eyes. "Merlin! Reg, is it – is it really you?"

The young man beamed and with a voice choked with emotion, replied, "It's really me, Sev. Sweet Nimue, it's so good to see you!"

It was Regulus Black, Severus' true friend, whom he'd lost so many years ago. He was even dressed the way Severus remembered; long, sweeping blue-black robes, perfectly tailored, his elegant serge cloak thrown over his shoulder on the wand arm side. Severus flew into his arms, and the younger man held Severus and kissed his cheek over and over, calling his name as if he, too, were overwhelmed at their reunion.

Reg was the first to pull back. He gave a shaky laugh, reaching up to the taller wizard and brushing the tears from his face. "Oh, Sev. Look at you. You're all grown up now!" He tucked Severus' hair behind his ears, shaking his head and smiling. "You don't know how much I've missed you." Severus shuddered and sobbed, and Reg held on, comforting the man who had once been his best friend. "It's alright, Sev. Shh. It's alright."

Severus, distraught, cried against his friend's shoulder, "It's not alright, Reg. I've failed her! I left her to face The Dark Lord alone! I've abandoned my wife!"

Reg shook Severus gently. As if speaking to a child, he said kindly, "Get a grip, mate. You haven't abandoned anyone. Hermione's safe. She's with her mum and dad and her friends, and everyone's fine. Except her, of course."

Severus pulled back to stare into Reg's deep blue eyes. "Except her? What's wrong? I thought you said she was well." He shut his eyes, trying to block out the image of his beloved wife, growing paler and fainter with each breath. "She was so injured-"

"I said she was safe. She's being treated by one of the Order members, so physically she'll be alright." There was sadness and regret in the handsome face. "But she's just devastated, Sev. That witch is hurting without you, my brother."

Severus wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Gaining some measure of control over his emotions, he looked around at the serene, sterile landscape. "Where am I? What happened to me, Reg? What is this place?" He stilled, and readied himself to hear the answer to the question he most wanted to avoid asking. "Am I – am I dead?"

To his surprise, Reg laughed. "Well, now, that is a question. Ordinarily, I would say yes, you are. But you are one of the special ones, Severus. You were the only one who never knew just how special you were."

Baffled, Severus gaped at his friend. "Reg, I really don't know what you're talking about." He looked around. "Where exactly am I?"

Reg took off his cloak and wrapped it around his naked friend. He settled it on Severus' shoulders before securing the clasp at his throat. "That's better. No use getting sand in your bits."

"Reg," Severus growled, feeling as if the younger man was toying with him, teasing him the same way he'd done when they were lads in school.

Reg looked away, turning his face toward the horizon. A soft, gentle breeze stirred and lifted the strands of his long black hair. In the golden sunset glow, Severus looked at the perfect profile he had always secretly coveted, with its noble brow, straight nose and finely sculptured lips. Regulus Black was the very picture of lost potential; the man, the wizard, forever denied.

"Where are you, you ask." He stretched out his arms, as if to embrace their surroundings. "Why, you're here." Together, they looked around at the vast 'here,' then Reg turned back to his friend. "So, you got married. Hermione's a right little work of art, isn't she?" He smiled warmly. "I adore her."

Only talk of Hermione could distract Severus from the bizarre situation. He felt the glow of pride that always came when his beloved wife was acknowledged. "I wish you two could have met," he said. He closed his eyes in frustration. "Reg, I really need you to stop talking bollocks and tell me what happened."

As Reg squinted, looking at something far in the distance, he murmured, "Funny things, prophecies."

Hermione accepted a glass of water from Harry. She took several tentative sips, then drank it down greedily. He had also brought her something to eat, but she wasn't sure was up to solid food just yet. "I need to see him," she said, her voice like a sad little ghost's. "I should be there with him."

"You need to rest, Hermione. You've had some horrific internal injuries-"

"It doesn't matter," she said, stubbornly. "I need to see him. I... I have to..." I have to put him in the ground soon, and then it will be final. I'll have to let him go forever, and this will be the last time we'll be together, and I'll have to live the rest of my life without my heart and soul, so yes, I want to be with him just a little longer. Surely no one can begrudge me that.

Harry took her hand. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of speaking, but had to wait until he gained enough courage. Finally, he began, "I wasn't actually aiming at him, Hermione, when I threw that Sectumsempra. I just wanted everyone to think he was still my enemy, you know, in case you somehow got away." He shrugged modestly. "I was going for Carrow, actually." He made a face. "Gods, he's ghastly. You wouldn't believe the things he did to Luna before he took her to Malfoy Manor. She told Neville about it when they took us all down to the dungeon. When I think of what Ginny might be going through-" Harry's green eyes grew hard. "I hope I got him good, and I hope Snape's the only one who knows- knew the counter curse." He dropped his eyes. "Sorry, Hermione."

Hermione wiped her eyes with the duvet. "I know. I keep thinking about him the same way. I keep expecting him to come storming through the door, and pull me out of bed and gather everyone together." She closed her eyes, pushing the image of her husband away. "Thank you, though, for trying to keep our cover safe. I was afraid that after Dumbledore-"

"I don't want to talk about that right now," Harry said, a sudden harsh edge making his voice sound strained. "I understand why you did it, but it's still too fresh."

"You understand?" she asked in surprise. "I-I suppose Ron told you about his night at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. "There's that. And, of course, there's this."

Harry reached behind him and brought out a small but familiar object. Hermione looked down in amazement at her own beaded bag. Harry held it up with a smile. "It's been our lifesaver more than once," he said. "I don't know how we could've survived without it."

Looking at the battered little purse, stained with dirt and blood and Merlin knew what else, Hermione marveled. It seemed like a lifetime ago when she and Severus had sat in his dungeon rooms and carefully planned what to place in the purse for Harry to find. The night she took Dumbledore's life and she and Severus fled from Hogwarts, she had kissed Harry and pressed the shrunken bag into his hands as she told him what she had done was of her own volition. It had been so hard to walk away from him that night, not knowing if he would throw the bag away in disgust, or search its contents and realise the significance of what she'd given him.

"You two were thorough, I'll give you that," Harry said. "We only ran out of the food a day or two before we got snatched. We've lived out of this little bag. The tent, the reference books, the first aid kit, the extra clothes." He shook his head. "It was incredible. Anytime one of us said, 'I wish we had such and such,' I managed to find it in the bag. It was almost like our own portable Room of Requirement."

Harry continued. "I didn't tell Ron and Neville about it. I just pretended that I had put all this stuff together myself. I don't really know why, but at the time I was still trying to get my head around everything that had happened."

Hermione briefly closed her eyes. At least something had gone the way they'd planned. But there had been more in that bag besides camping essentials and reference books.

As if Harry could read her mind, he continued quietly. "I managed to sneak back to Hogwarts before the Ministry fell. I used Dumbledore's Pensieve."

He reached into the bag and pulled out a small box. Hermione's eyes filled as she saw what was contained therein. Dozens of tiny bottles, each one full of memories that she and Severus had stored there. Each one an explanation of what had happened, and why and how. Memories that were nothing more or less than prime evidence of every secret, every plan, every strategy, everything that had happened up to the day Hermione had taken Dumbledore's life.

"I looked through all of these," he said solemnly. "I know everything now. About Snape and my mother – and you. It nearly killed me to accept what Sirius had done to you, what Dumbledore forced you to do, what You-Know-Who thought you were doing. I don't know how you did it, Hermione."

"We did it, Harry. Everything Severus and I did was to help you," she murmured.

Harry shrank the little box and placed it in her hands. "These belong to you. Maybe, in some way, they might help."

Hermione stroked the top of the little box. "Thank you. I'll keep them safe until I can find a Pensieve." She closed her eyes, thinking of the myriad memories they'd stored. Their discussions with Dumbledore, their decision to tell Harry the truth, the night her parents were killed, or so she thought, the day she confronted Dumbledore and bartered her life for Severus'. All those memories of him. She could look at him again, alive and whole, in those memories. Why did that thought both comfort and crush her?

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, Harry lost in thought, Hermione lost in grief. Harry stared forward, as if looking down a long, dark road. "One last thing. I know that Dumbledore didn't tell me everything about the Horcruxes. There are five left. Including me." He turned to Hermione. "I know I have to die."

When Reg did not elaborate, Severus asked, "What is so piggin' funny about prophecies?" In the warm silence, he growled warningly, "Reg-"

"I guess the funniest thing about them," Reg interrupted, as if Severus had not spoken, "is that basically, they're shit."

Nonplussed, Severus waited. Reg faced him, and explained, "Take, for instance, the prophecy you overheard about the Dark Lord." Reg closed his eyes and put his arms out before him, as if blindly groping for something in the dark. In an eerie imitation of Sybil Trelawney, he intoned, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."

He dropped both his arms and grinned mischievously, the very picture of Slytherin insouciance. "Now, you're a smart wizard, Sev. What exactly does all that mean?"

Puzzled, Severus replied, "We now know it was meant for either Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom, who were both born at the end of July."

"So were you, my friend."

Severus shook his head. Impatiently, he replied, "I was born on the ninth of January, as you well know."

Reg smiled conspiratorially. "Ah, you were physically born on the ninth of January, but you were reborn as a Death Eater at the end of July, just like me." He waggled his eyebrows. "Remember that big speech the Dark Lord made about the glorious rebirth his Death Eaters would experience in him?" Reg poked Severus playfully in the chest. "He really meant it. You were born again that day."

Severus, stunned, shook his head. "But I can't be the one the prophecy means! I'm not-"

"That's why I say that all prophecies are shit," Reg interrupted with a shrug. "The prophecy could have meant one person, or more than one, any or all... and it did. Harry Potter, and you, and Neville Longbottom, were each marked by the Dark Lord. Harry Potter, by his scar, you by your Dark Mark, and Neville by Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Bellatrix? What-"

"Bellatrix marked Neville when she tortured his parents into insanity in the name of the Dark Lord."

Severus simply could not believe this. He would not believe it. "But – fuck's sake, Reg! What about the other parts of the prophecy? 'Born to those who have thrice-defied him?'"

Reg gave him his flirtatious smile. It gleamed with triumph. "That's me, Sev! I brought you to the Dark Lord. I was your sponsor the night you became a Death Eater, which means you were born to the Death Eaters through me. And three times, I defied him."

He held up one finger. "He left Kreacher to die on the island, but I had ordered him home. I went to retrieve the locket, and I drank the potion." His devil-may-care manner dimmed somewhat. "I knew it would kill me, but it was worth it." He held up a second finger. "Then I switched the locket, Sev. I stole the Horcrux, then I left a note in the fake telling the bastard what I'd done."

"And the third time?"

"After I placed the fake Horcrux, I made Kreacher return to Grimmauld Place with the real one. The Dark Lord must have gotten an attack of paranoia, because he appeared on the island, asking me why I was there; what I'd done. I lied - I told him that I tried to retrieve the locket, but I wasn't able. He tried to Legilimise into my mind, but I defied him again and he couldn't." Reg grew pensive. "He left me on that island to die, convinced that his Horcrux was still safely hidden under the potion." His smile was one of grim, hard satisfaction. "He never knew I'd stolen it, right out from under his nose."

Severus nodded. "We've only just found out it was a fake ourselves. The Dark Lord doesn't even know the real one has been retrieved."

Reg nodded. "I know. I can 'see' certain things, sometimes." He placed a warm hand on Severus' shoulder. "That's how I knew where to find you when you arrived. And, of course, another Horcrux has been destroyed."

Severus blinked. "Another one? What was it?"

Reg grinned. "I'm looking at it," he said, waggling his eyebrows at Severus.

Huffing in frustration, he snapped, "Reg, what are you talking about? Looking at what-"

Severus stopped. Reg was still giving him that shit-eating grin. Oh gods, no.

"Well, surprise. Yes. You were his latest, his final, Horcrux."

Severus felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. Almost desperately, he gasped, "That can't be, Reg. I was never-"

"I'll show you." Reg placed a hand over Severus' wildly beating heart, and suddenly, it was as if he were looking into a Pensieve. He saw himself as he was many months back, kneeling before the Dark Lord, his vile Master stroking his face and hair, touching him possessively, like a treasured object. Talking about Hermione, saying those horrible things about her. "Return to your school, to your little plaything... Kiss her goodnight for me."

Then the Dark Lord had seemingly infused him with Votumtactus, the Dark Caress. Severus had withstood a sudden, uncontrollable desire to defile Hermione, to take her against her will, to possess her until she was his. She belongs to me, he had thought in his madness. She is mine... I'll take her over and over and I'll smell her maiden's blood and it will inflame me more and I will fuck her and fuck her I'll fuck her in front of Black and laugh as she comes on my cock... I will see her cower and beg and plead for mercy while I do the most unspeakable things...

Severus shuddered in loathing. It hadn't been the Dark Caress at all. An unstable piece of the Dark Lord's virulent soul had transferred into Severus, making him a carrier, defiling him in ways he had not even realised. That small, malignant piece had stood witness to every loving moment he and Hermione had shared. Every reverent touch, every scalding orgasm he'd given her had been an open show to the Dark Lord's twisted, vicarious lust.

Overwhelmed with revulsion, nauseous with the realisation of what had transpired, Severus felt his knees give. He would have fallen onto the sand, had not Reg held onto him. "Oh, gods, Reg! That fucking, evil bastard! May the Gods damn him!"

Reg, his face filled with pity, nodded. "I think that's a pretty safe bet, my brother."

Severus' helpless, burning anger brought tears of rage to his eyes. "He'll just create another, now that he's killed me."

Reg was shaking his head. "Like Harry Potter, you were an accidental Horcrux. He had killed shortly before you arrived. And like Harry in that moment, you were the only vessel at hand to receive that recently-broken sliver of soul left to him. He's almost soulless now anyway, and it slipped into you without either of you truly being aware of it." Reg gave Severus a grim smile. "But it counts, my brother. Oh, it counts. One more piece of that monster's soul is destroyed, and he did it himself."

Severus digested the information. He did not want to know whose life had been taken. It was difficult enough to accept that it had been exchanged for a piece of the Dark Lord's soul, when Severus stepped in front of the Killing Curse meant for his wife.

"The locket was another matter, Sev. It was made long ago, when his soul was still relatively intact." This time, Reg's smile was wolfish. "Either way, it's too late. He's out of time now. He doesn't have anything left to barter with." His tone was contemptuous. "He's whored his soul away, thinking it will bring him immortality. All it has brought him is emptiness. That's why he has to be stopped, Sev. Nothing will be enough to satisfy him, or his need to destroy. He will spiral down into black nothingness, and take the world with him."

Hermione allowed Fleur Weasley to perform another set of healing spells. The physical pain eased to a dull roar, throwing into sharp relief her bleak heartache.

"Ron told us what happened at Hogwarts." Harry smiled. "You know, I was so angry at him for walking out on us, but I suppose, in a way, it was destiny. He was brought to you and Severus-"

"Harry, please, not now." Hermione closed her eyes tiredly. "I can't talk about him now. I can barely stand breathing right now, knowing he's in the next room." Tears slid down her cheeks, as if she had an inexhaustible supply.

Harry nodded, looking stricken. "Look, why don't I let you rest, yeah? We'll talk when you're stronger." He rose to go, then turned around. "Everyone here at Shell Cottage knows the truth, and I just want you to know you're safe here. I've told everyone that we're going to regroup. But if you want to join us, we could use every wand we can get."

Hermione nodded. "I need to plan for his- his funeral first. After that, we'll talk." She gave a wan smile as he squeezed her hand and left the room, softly closing the door behind him. Hermione rolled over and curled up in a ball.

She tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes she could see Severus, bent over her, pleading for forgiveness. She thought of the times he'd held her, and they'd comforted one another, and made love, and planned, and sheltered one another. She thought of the song he'd taught her so long ago. Lay me low, where no one can see me, where no one can find me, where no one can hurt me....

She had not been able to protect him. He had thought of her as his hiding place, but in the end, there was no place to hide.

She lay in the dark, alone. No shelter. Alone. No safe hiding place. Alone.

No Severus.

Alone.

For a moment, the two men were silent. Severus mentally recited the prophecy, trying to fathom how any of it truly pertained to him. "Reg, I don't have any 'power that the Dark Lord knows not'."

In reply, Reg gently took Severus' hands in his. His voice was quiet, and melodious, like wind chimes lazily sounding in the evening breezes. "You've known love, Severus, and it has healed you. He can't understand love; he can only exploit it, and use it in others. It isn't in him, but you have it, you and that hot-blooded little lioness of yours."

He pushed the cloak aside to reveal Severus' forearm, the fading Dark Mark barely visible. "You and Hermione have all but obliterated it, and now I'm going to finish the job," Reg said, and his jolly manner faded. "I am the reason you took this mark, Sev. I'm very honoured to be ridding you of it."

Reg stroked the inside of Severus' arm, as if he could actually erase the tattoo with his bare hands. His touch was both innocent and sensual; the true potential of the boy he had always been, the unfulfilled desires of the man he would never become. It was the type of caress Severus would not have recognised nor trusted in his youth. Only Hermione ever touched him like this – with love and desire.

Reg looked down as his fingers stroked the underside of Severus' forearm, his expression absorbed and loving. Feeling vaguely uneasy, Severus was about to speak when, to his utter amazement, he saw the scar actually fade under Reg's gentle touch. Reg continued his tender ministrations until the tattoo was completely gone. He reached down and pressed his lips to the pale, pristine flesh, then looked up at Severus and smiled. His voice was as sweet as an angel's.

"There. No more Dark Mark. No more Summoning; no more pain. You are as dead to him as if you'd never been born to him. You are as perfect as the day you first took the mark. As perfect as you were on January 9, 1960. Look."

Severus looked down at his body. To his amazement, there were no scars - anywhere. Even the ones that couldn't be eradicated by the magic he and Hermione created were now gone.

He was blemishless.

A thrill of delight raced through him, followed closely on its heels by suspicion. "And what is the cost of this miracle, Reg? What do I have to give in return?"

Reg stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, then laughed again. "See, Sev, this is what I've missed all these years - your good old Slytherin sense of morality. If something is given, then something must be taken away in return."

Stubbornly, Severus persisted, "That's not Slytherin. That's... karma, yin and yang, Sod's law, what have you. Nothing is given without a price. It couldn't be that easy."

Reg shrugged. "Since when has anything been easy for you, Sev? It's all about balance. Hermione took a curse for you; the only reason I'm talking to you instead of her is that you were able to get her to Madam Pomfrey in time. You've paid enough: for your mother's shame, your dad's fists, Lily's rejection, your bad choices, even Sirius. Your slate's clean now. You settled all those debts when you stepped between the woman you love and Tom Riddle's Avada.

"And the price? Your price is to go back."

Severus gasped. He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly, and was almost afraid to ask, in case he hadn't. "I'm going back? I get to see Hermione again?" His heart was pounding. The idea that he could hold his witch in his arms again-

Of course," Reg said solemnly, "And when you do, the first thing you have to do is destroy it. The locket, I mean."

In spite of his elation, Severus frowned in confusion. "I thought it had been destroyed already. I gave Harry Potter the Sword of Gryffindor."

Reg shook his head. "He and his mates haven't been able to do it, Sev. You have to. You're the only one that can take care of this one." His lovely eyes dimmed. "I wanted to get the real Horcrux to you. I knew you'd eventually figure out what to do with it, but I died before I could tell Kreacher what to do with it. The love I bear for you ties you to this Horcrux. Because of me, you are the only one who can destroy it. Then, you have to destroy him. You and Harry Potter have to kill this bastard once and for all.

"It won't be easy, and I can't tell you that you won't be back here permanently in a week's time. But you have fulfilled your part of the prophecy, and paid your debt freely. You will go back, and you will help Harry Potter defeat Tom Riddle."

Severus closed his eyes. He was actually being given a second chance to make things right. He was being given the chance to see his wife, his incredible wife again, to fight by her side, never to turn away again. It was too good to be true.

Reg shook his head, his expression wistful. "Oh, what I would have given to see that look on your face and know you were thinking about me." He smiled sadly, and added, "Yes, Sev. You get to hold your little Gryffindor girl again. And she is the luckiest witch in the world. I wish I could hate her, but damn it, I love her too much." His eyes filled with tears. "How could I not love the person who has given you so much reason to live?"

He looked at Severus keenly, and something like a blush tinted his perfect face. "You know, after Lily hurt you so, I was convinced you'd eventually turn to me. It was why I wanted you to join the Death Eaters – just so I could be close to you. I was totally in love with you," Reg confessed, looking as pitiful as Severus had ever seen him. The hurt in his face left Severus bereft of words. As if he took the older man's silence a different way, Reg shrugged a little. "I still am. I always will be. You were the only one for me, Sev."

The winsome tone of Reg's voice made Severus' eyes fill as well. "I'm sorry, Reg. I'm sorry you felt that way for someone who didn't return it." He closed his eyes. "I have a little first-hand experience with how that feels."

Reg looked away, and wiped his eyes. "When I arrived, Sev, I asked for this: to wait here until you came, so I could ask your forgiveness. You would have never joined the Death Eaters if not for me."

"You don't know that, Reg. I wanted everything they claimed they could provide: power, glory, recognition. You can't blame yourself for something I probably would have done anyway." Severus shook his head. "I never blamed you, and you have nothing to ask forgiveness for."

Looking at his handsome friend, Severus remembered how close they'd been. He thought of himself at that time: defensive, gauche, awkward, and ugly. He'd been so foolish, so prideful and callow and blind as a young man. He had only seen the outward trappings of the other man: his physical beauty, his privileged bloodline, his sunny nature. He had never entertained the idea that a boy like Reg would find anything about him remotely attractive or worthy of admiration. He had cried for the moon, when the sun had always been there for the taking. Had he realised it, would it have changed his life?

Severus put his hand on Reg's shoulder. He felt a heartbreakingly fatherly affection for him. "I wish things had been different, Reg. You deserved better. I wasn't worth it."

Reg smiled up at his friend. "You don't get a vote on who you fall in love with, Sev. Just like you don't get a vote on who falls in love with you. And even though you never felt the same way for me, I never thought less of you for it."

Oh, gods, that hurt, right down to the quick. Severus felt his breath leave his lungs, and tears fill his eyes. What had he done to deserve this marvelous boy's adoration, and how could he have held it so cheaply?

Reg reached up and stroked Severus' face to comfort him. Gently, he said, "You know, if you love someone, Sev, truly love them, you never stop. Love doesn't end when you die. If anything, it just becomes perfect." Tears spilled down his cheeks. When Severus reached out to brush them away, Reg caught his wrist in his hands. "Hell, I'm just getting off on the fact that I could see you and touch you one more time."

"Reg," Severus began, swiping at his own tears, "Are you happy here? I mean..." He searched for the right words. It seemed so incomprehensible, speaking of death this way. "Are you lonely? Do you know if my mother is here, or Lily, or even Albus?"

Reg nodded, as if surprised Severus had even asked the question. "We are all here, and we are content. Death comes to everyone eventually. But I have purpose and companionship, and I am happy." He smiled tremulously. "Even more so, since I've been given the gift of talking with you here, and preparing you to return.

"Listen," Reg said, then grew still. In the silence, above the whisper of the breeze, they could hear a rustling leaf sound of voices. To Severus, they were peaceful, pleasing sounds.

"Those are the sounds of light and love, Sev," said Reg reverently. "Only those chained to darkness will experience an eternity of nothingness. For those who love, there is always light and beauty and togetherness. That's what I mean by perfect love." His face shone with quiet, serene joy. "I promise you, I'm certainly not bored!" He laughed, and sniffed a little.

Severus felt a sweet, sad rush of affection for his old friend, and pulled Reg into his arms. I never properly mourned you, Reg. I spent so much wasted time wallowing in Lily's death and my guilt, but I never sat down and said goodbye to you. You deserved better from me. We both did. He tried to speak, tried to find the words to tell Reg how he felt – how the wonder, the sadness, the splendor, the sheer beauty of this meeting was as perfect a gift as Reg's love.

Finally, he managed, "I'm so glad, Reg. I want you to be happy. Seeing you here, now, I don't have the words." Severus paused, his throat tightening with unshed tears. "I never admitted to myself how much I missed you. Maybe I couldn't allow myself to think about it. But I did; I do. Every single day, I miss you. You were the best friend, and I'm sorry I didn't value our friendship enough to save you."

"Shh," Reg said, shaking his head. "None of that now, Sev." He made a silly face, the kind he pulled when they were boys to get a rise out of Severus. "We're all about the future now." That mischievous twinkle Severus knew so well was back. "And you're talking to a happy man, my brother. I'm in the arms of the man I love."

Severus could not help but smile, knowing that Reg was only half-teasing. "Thank you for loving me, Reg. I will cherish this moment for the rest of my days." He kissed Reg's forehead, feeling strangely ancient, yet newly born. "I love you, brother."

Reg looked up at Severus with such adoration and hope in his eyes, Severus' heart swelled. Something both elusive and precious passed between them, and he pulled Reg closer, holding Reg like he'd never wanted to when they were boys. It felt as natural as breathing. Because you hold those you love, he thought. You envelope them in a cage of protection and loyalty and shelter them from harm, and they do the same to you.

He gently cupped Reg's face in his hands, and felt a wave of gratitude and affection sweep over him as he looked into the younger man's eyes. There it was: that look of sadness and longing Severus remembered so well as a boy. He was looking into the face of the first person who had ever truly loved him.

Here, in this vast nowhereness, perhaps for the last time in this, or any eternity, Severus had one more chance, one more minute, to be with his friend, to somehow say and do all those things he should have done, to show Reg how much he was loved. In another world, another life, he and Severus would have been lovers, and they would have found happiness together. And Reg had been right; once Severus accepted this, he felt his heart opened wide enough to encompass the vast universe that had granted him this boon.

He opened his mouth to tell Reg, but one look in the wizard's face told him Reg already knew. The sadness in his eyes changed to wonder, to joy, to shining, pure bliss. Reg knew Severus loved him, loved him with the same passion and care as he loved his wife, with the same stubborn pride as he had loved Lily, with the same worshipful wonder as he loved his magic.

Feeling almost outside himself, Severus impulsively dipped his head toward the younger man's. His eyes slid closed as his lips met Reg's in a soft, languid kiss. The warmth of Reg's lips felt no different than the heat of the desert; the breath from Reg's lips no different than the breeze. Almost experimentally, he opened his lips and deepened the kiss, seeking more.

For a brief moment, Severus felt a swooping sensation, as if his feet had left the ground. His fingers tightened and he felt the boy gasp and he drew in more of Reg's breath, as though hoping to hold some of it in his body forever. Time seemed to stop - or were they outside time? - and all they could hear was the sound of their breathing, their heartbeats. It was a healing, crystalline sound, mingling with the whispering which Severus now knew was the music that souls make when they share love.

As they ended the kiss, Severus pressed Reg's head against his chest, cradling the boy in his arms. He smiled, and gave a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for this moment, this gift from the heavens.

He would go into that final battle with the word 'love' as his war cry.

Severus felt pure and clean, awash with a peace within that he'd never before known. Every regret, every folly, every foolish choice, every wrong turn in the road that led to this desert, was forgotten, tossed away like the rubbish they had been, and with them Severus felt the years melt away, leaving him as new and hopeful as the day he had been born. His house was clean.

An unbearable excitement gripped him. In that instant, he couldn't wait to see Hermione again, and tell her everything that had happened since they'd parted. He threw back his head and laughed. Hermione! Oh, lass, I'm coming home.

Suddenly, Severus straightened. He could feel a tautness in his gut, as if an iron band were being squeezed around his middle. It was both painful and thrilling. A wild elation seized him, and he cried, "It's happening, isn't it? I'm being pulled back to life. I can feel it!" His entire body was tingling with the knowledge of it. "I'm going back now, Reg!"

Reg stepped back, and with a quick movement, whipped the cloak from Severus' shoulders. "There are several people around you who are going to get the shit shocked out of them, but remember everything I've told you." His radiant smile dimmed the sun. "I really, really hope it will be a long time before I see you again, Severus Snape, and I pray you will be happy for the rest of your days. Take care, until we meet again unto the veil."

The feeling of being compressed terrified Severus. "Reg, what do I-" His words were lost in a sudden rush of wind, which blew around him and snuffed out light and sight and sound, and his world went dark again.

Luna Lovegood sat upright in the most uncomfortable chair in the room. When you sat up with your departed ones, you needed to feel the pain of loss as a physical thing. She had been taught that. She had volunteered to watch over the slain Headmaster because she knew he was not the evil man everyone called him. She had always believed in him, even after all that had happened. She still believed in Hermione, who had been a good friend, had never ridiculed her beliefs and had never been unkind. She had once even helped Luna find her clothes, when some others had hid them for a prank.

She wiped away a tear; she could feel Hermione's grief through the walls, like smoke drifting through the cottage. Headmaster Snape looked peaceful. Luna had never seen him without a scowl of dissatisfaction upon his pale face.

When Bill Weasley had brought the body into the room, Professor Snape had been covered in blood and sand, and looked awful. Luna felt sad seeing him so unkempt; he was a dapper dresser, like her father. She had cleaned the headmaster carefully, by hand, of course, because that's also what you did to show respect for the departed. She had tidied his clothing, and brushed the tangles from his long, black hair. It wouldn't do for Hermione to see her husband looking anything but his best, Luna decided. Finally, she had transfigured a bed sheet into a transparent veil, and draped it over him.

Now, in the quiet of the cottage, during that time between night's seductive pull and morning's enticing sun, Luna's head dropped, and she straightened and stretched, fighting the urge to sleep. She had been knocked around quite a bit at Malfoy Manor, and she knew her body needed rest, but she had a job to do, and Luna didn't believe you should shirk your duties just because you'd suffered a curse or two.

So she knew she wasn't dreaming when she looked up and saw the boy standing by the Headmaster. He was just a little older than herself, and reminded her of someone, but she couldn't quite place who it was. He was very handsome, with long, black hair and lovely, sapphire blue eyes. When he smiled, he had white, perfect teeth. "Hello gorgeous," he said, giving her a thousand-Galleon smile.

"Hello," Luna said pleasantly, rubbing her eyes. "You're rather beautiful yourself."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Where have you been all my life, Luna Lovegood?"

Puzzled, she replied, "I've been here." A thought occurred to her. "But you haven't, have you?"

"Well spotted," he replied, impressed. He gazed down at the Headmaster's body with an expression of such tenderness that Luna thought he must have known Professor Snape personally. "He looks peaceful, doesn't he?" he asked, and stroked the shoulder through the transfigured veil. He looked up at Luna and winked. "Now that I look closer, actually, he looks a little bored."

Luna thought for a moment, before replying. "Well, I have no idea how to answer that." The beautiful boy laughed again. "Are you here to take Professor Snape away?" she asked.

He seemed surprised at her question. "Why, no." That sunny, perfect smile returned. "I'm here to bring him back."

And I Moved- Pete Townsend – Empty Glass