Disclaimer: Characters and plot of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and not me. This story, however, is mine. Please do not redistribute without permission.

MAJOR DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS AHEAD!!

The Bravest Man She Ever Knew

The wound was surprisingly insignificant. After all, it was merely a pair of round holes in his flesh. After everything he'd witnessed, everything he'd done, everything he'd worked for, it seemed somehow ridiculous that this should be what killed him. Pitiful really. He'd spent nearly half his life working to finish the job she has begun, for her sake, because it was the only thing he could give her now, and in the end it all amounted to exactly nothing.

His hands clutched at the wound in a pathetically futile attempt to hold on for a few seconds more. A coward all his life, too coward to stand up to his father, too coward to stand up to Lucius, too coward to speak his mind and heart to the only one that ever mattered, too coward to become close to her son by that bull-headed man, now at the very end he was too coward to let go and face his own death. A coward dying like one.

No, that wasn't quite right. Something in him, some small part, didn't want it all to be for nothing, wanted to cling to the hope that it had made some difference. That something that that fool Albus always claimed would have made him a worthy Gryffindor. Good thing he was a Slytherin, since that measly speck of valor the dwelt beside her in his heart was going to go sorely unsatisfied.

Imagine his surprise, his relief, and his overwhelming annoyance at how right Albus always seemed to be, even from the grave, as the very object of his constant aggravation and obsession for the past 16 years materialized before his failing eyes, staring at him with a blank, shell-shocked look glazing the vivid green eyes she'd given him. Those eyes. Those were her eyes. Here was Lily Evans preserved and enshrined in the body of the son of James Potter, like a shining crystal hidden inside a crude igneous stone.

He could never tell Lily. But he could tell the boy. He could give the boy the truth, all of it, the truth about his heart, the truth about the Dark Lord, the truth about Albus Dumbledore and the truth about himself. The Dark Lord would fall, and maybe, just maybe, that pesky little speck of valor would sit back and let him pass in peace.

His fingers fisted in the boy's robes. He pulled them from the recesses of his mind, memories like outtakes of the whole length of his life, the important ones, and the ones he did not want forgotten, the necessary ones and the ones he felt necessary. Everything that had made up the existence of a single man condensed into a few brief images and instances. And then they were gushing from him, from his lips and ears and eyes, but the boy was just staring at him dumbly.

Always said he was as useless as his father…

"Take…it…." he gurgled, the sound of his own mutilated voice sending shudders through him, "Take…it…"

From behind him, the Granger girl, her eyes wide with some emotion he had no interest in identifying, transfigured a flask, which she handed to the boy. An intelligent and talented Muggle-born girl, just like Lily He suddenly, irrationally, wished that he'd been kinder to her. It mightn't have hurt him…

With the look of one possessed, Lily's son mechanically lifted his wand to the memories hemorrhaging from his mind, filling the flask to the brim.

Done. It was done. He had done what he could, sacrificed everything he had left. The speck of Gryffindor was sated. Time to indulge the Slytherin. He wanted to see her so badly.

"Look…at…me…" he demanded weakly. The boy complied, and their eyes locked. His senses were beginning to fail, his vision going in and out of focus, but all that became real were those eyes, the green, almond-shaped eyes. With the world shifting and distorting so strangely, he found it absurdly simple to pretend he was gazing into the sharp, kind eyes of the only person he ever loved.

Lily…

She was nearby. He could feel her, some how beside him yet not, as though just on the other side of some flimsy, impenetrable barrier, close enough to touch, but absolutely separated.

Lily…let me be with Lily…

The veil was fading. He could feel her nearby, and he had only to reach out to her and she'd be beside him at long last…

The veil wavered, then lifted, and for a moment he saw what was on the other side with his waking eyes. Somewhere in the distance he glimpsed her soft auburn hair framing her soft, kind face, her green, almond eyes. And then he was rushing towards where she was, all else selfishly, rightfully forgotten.

The boy he'd lived to protect for so long saw only the reflection of that sight as it left his eyes before he turned and abandoned the body that had once been Severus Snape, carrying with him the last bit of that man's true self that existed in the waking world.

For Severus was no longer awake. He was dreaming somehow, and for what felt like a very long time, he couldn't seem to make himself work properly, like the dream where you feel like you're running through water, or the dream in which you can't fly, but know you could if only you could remember how.

Some things faded away, some things remained, but became dull, others emerged or strengthened within him, as though things that mattered in life and the things that really mattered were rearranging themselves inside him, like a great knot was coming untied and he was seeing clearly for the first time the way things really were. And for what felt like a very long time he simply observed it, this unwinding knot, and himself, the part of him that was part of the knot coming undone, coming free.

But throughout, he did not forget, nor could he, one simple thing, the one and only thing he'd ever really wanted in life and the final wish at death.

Lily…I want to see Lily…Let me be with Lily…

And here was Lily, beside him, yet still apart from him. He frowned in consternation. Before him was the shifting veil, translucent and roiling strangely around a single shining point, a dark, shattered stone. Beyond the veil, so insubstantial and unreal that he could barely bring himself to register it, was the boy Lily gave her life for, the boy he'd devoted his life to, the boy known as Harry Potter.

Lily was here, and so were a number of people he felt very certain he had disliked very much for some reason that no longer seemed clear. But they were neither here nor there, neither on this side or that. Rather they were within the veil itself, brought through that shining portal that had opened for the one that had mastered it at long last, unable to enter the waking world, but pressed as close as was ever possible.

He could go there. He could stand beside them and watch his long labor come to fruition beside them. He could take his credit and his rightful place.

But he wouldn't. Because it wasn't about him. It never had been. Always, always it had been about her. And right now, she was with her son, for whom she'd given her life, and he'd dedicated his life to this moment of which he could not be a part.

She was gazing at her son as though he were the world itself, as though he were everything. Distantly Severus realized that the boy was here, at least in some small way, by his efforts, that the look of joy and pride and gratitude on his beloved's face was there because of him, the knowledge of which made all the sacrifice and suffering through the long, lonely years absolutely, unequivocally worth it.

Therefore the look she cast him as her son stepped into the firelight of the Dark Lord's encampment, sharp and focused and knowing and so wonderfully familiarly warm even from within the veil, was something like shining alms from an angel. She met his eyes for but a moment before she turned back to watch her child give his life for those he loved, as she had done, but it felt as though she had given him an absolution more complete than any real angel could.

And then the portal faded as the stone clattered to the forest floor, and the souls within the veil were around him, within the dream they were all dreaming. The meeting was strangely discomfited. The conflicts and transgressions of life seemed so dim and distant now, so that all that remained amongst them was an awkward uncertainty.

That is with the exception of Lily. His certainty of her had not dimmed in the slightest, and now that his vision seemed to have cleared, he could see just what to do, what he should have done so many years ago. The time had come to speak at last what so many times he'd failed to say.

"I always wanted to tell you…" began a nine year old boy staring at the talented Muggle-born witch from his perch within the hedge. "…I watched you because you were so much warmer than the rest of the world. I hated James," confessed the nervous eleven year-old from his seat across from her on the Hogwart's Express, "…all the more because he took your beautiful eyes from me. I hurt you, pushed you away," an awkward teenage boy told her by wandlight, almost nose to nose outside the Gryffindor common room, "because I was afraid you'd reject me. And I watched over your son from the day you gave your life for him," said the dead man to the dead woman, "because I have always loved you."

Lily's face was serene as she listened at last to his true confession, accepting his words with neither surprise nor disdain. She seemed to contemplate his words for an eternity before a smile curved her lips.

"I know," she told him, and he felt her fingers curl against his cheek; he leaned unashamedly into her touch, "I think I always knew, somehow, though it didn't become clear until after…well…I think, if given the chance, I could have loved you too. You are, after all, the bravest man I ever knew, Severus Snape."

There was no lie in her words. Perhaps she could have loved him. They would never know; life had unfolded differently, she had loved James Potter in life and he had gone on alone. No more. She had no intention of leaving his side again. But then…

"What about Potter?" he wondered, and his disdain was token.

"Things are…different…here…" she informed him as though she didn't quite know why it was true herself, "You'll understand in time…"

"Or at the least get used to it."

Speak of the devil.

"Better luck next time, mate," James grinned devilishly as he threw an arm around Severus's shoulder, reminding him instantly why he had once so forcefully disliked the man, "After all, we none of us know what will happen next time…"

"Indeed," Severus agreed grudgingly as he shrugged the arm off, his urge to argue tempered by the realization that James was right as much as by Lily's hand wrapping around his own. Maybe next time. Maybe…just maybe…

The lot of them began to walk, meandering carelessly, chatting idly about everything and nothing, the veil at their backs and the dream unfolding before them. Before it slipped his mind completely, Severus managed to feel one last twinge of profound annoyance at Albus for being so irritatingly right as he fell in step with Sirius, James, Remus, with Nymphadora Tonks at his side, and Lily. It seemed, as an unexpected sense of belonging stole over him amidst his old enemies, that really did have some Gryffindor in him.

After all, he was the bravest man Lily Evans ever knew.

FIN

Note: I know, I know, its terrible, but I had to, I just had to!! Snape did not get enough love at the end, and I had to give him a happy ending! My only saving grace is that this was written at an ungodly hour of the morning, and directly after finishing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at which point I was ready to shriek with delight and burst into tears, so I clearly wasn't emotionally stable... Meh, enough, my fellow Snape fangirls understand! Well, review my pretties! Uwahahahaha!