Hello readers! Let me just take a moment to say what a relief it is to finally be posting this new story. I have been working on it for quite a few years now, my personal remedy for the great Post-Potter Depression of 2011. However, I have only just gotten up the courage to put it out there for you guys to see. For all my time spent thinking, writing, and rewriting, I hope it was worth it.

Warnings

1. MPREG! I repeat, mpreg! It is not traditional in that said male character is comfortably heterosexual (see hetero mpreg on AO3), but it is still mpreg all the same. If you object, please don't read.

2. Rape/Non-con! I know from personal experience that this is a pressure point, and I certainly don't wish to upset anyone. You have been warned.

3. AU, i.e. known dead canon characters are alive and well, selectively chosen for plot purposes. I know it's not that big of a deal, but it thought it was worth mentioning.

4. Original characters! Chief among them is an OFC that is at the story's center. She and all of my little creations were an obscene amount of work, so please be gentle. If you don't like OCs in general, then I highly recommend that you don't read this.

I really hope you all enjoy what I have written. It has been such a labor of love for an aspiring writer, and I hope its as entertaining to some of you as it has been for me.

Disclaimer:The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to the great and incomparable J.K. Rowling. I own absolutely nothing except for my original characters and their names.

~HP~

He remembered that night. He remembered that dark figure. He remembered that sinister – no – evil voice.

He called him clever, and he called him faithful. But there was no feeling behind it, as if there ever was. And there was no other option to be found. His plan had to be fulfilled, and they all played their part. But to his master, it made no difference as to what would transpire. And he himself knew it would come to this.

But why did it have to be like this?

He remembered the constricting ties of the master's pet circling around his body. He remembered the intense, unexpected, undeniable fear. The fear of the end. The voice explained once again there would be no escape from this, that his purpose was to be a sacrificial lamb to conquer Dark magic. For all his loyal duties, he was still nothing.

And then came that last, hissing command.

He remembered the pain. In all his wretched existence, he had never felt such an excruciating, choking, burning agony. He couldn't stop the horrific scream that escaped his throat. The snake didn't even flinch.

Then it let go.

He remembered the blood; the feeling of crimson life flowing freely out of him. He felt the gruesome wound to his neck. He saw the red spatters everywhere. He felt his strength drain like water.

He remembered falling to the floor; the cold, unforgiving floor. Yet, he remembered the warmth, that of the pool of a violently fading life. He vaguely remembered thinking that he saw someone in the darkness. And as he walked away from his dying servant, he remembered the Dark Lord's cold, unremorseful final words to him.

He regretted it. Regret…there was no regret, only madness.

He remembered Potter suddenly appearing. But no matter what the young wizard thought he could do, he knew it was over. He knew this was the end. And now, in this dying moment, only one thing mattered.

He remembered grabbing Potter, and he forced out the words that were his last command. He let his memories of her go; for the sake of their fight, and for the world, the boy had to know the truth. He held on with what little strength he had left. He held on with the last strength he had to offer. He begged for one last look, and Potter obeyed.

Lily's eyes…he just had to see them one last time.

That was it. He could let go now. Now, he could die.

He didn't remember going limp. All he remembered was the fade to black.

There was no great white light. There was no stairway to Heaven. There was only darkness. All he could see was the faintest of light in the distance. There were voices all around him. Some he recognized, others he did not. But everywhere, there were whispers. And all of them seemed to be pushing him to the light. As he got closer, ghostly faces faintly emerged from the black. But as he drew even closer, a figure began to appear from nothing. And suddenly, there before him…was Lily.

Lily…his beautiful Lily! Where she had been stunning in life, she was now rightfully angelic. There were no flaws in her porcelain skin, and dark red hair softly floated around her bare shoulders. White draped over her delicate form. Her stunning emerald green eyes sparkled like stars as she smiled. But then, she slowly shook her head.

"No Severus," she said, her gentle, melodic voice taking on a soft echo. "This is not the end for you."

"He killed me, Lily," he softly pleaded. "He killed me, just as he killed you."

"Oh no, Severus. It won't end like this."

"What?"

"Your life will not end like this. You are meant to go on."

"Wha…what do mean?"

"You are meant to live your life out after these dark days. Severus, you have the chance to get everything you wanted. You can finally get what you truly deserve."

'Oh, you have no idea,' He thought to himself, if he could even still think at all.

"Go back to them, Severus," Lily cooed. "I know it may not seem it, but there is love left for you. Go back, and be happy."

"But Lily, I…you…how can I go back when you cannot?"

"It was just my time. My life was meant to end sixteen years ago. And I accept that, knowing that my boy still lives because I laid down my life for him. It was meant to be, so they say. And you, you are meant for more."

"But I cannot leave you behind again, Lily…my friend…my…"

"You will always have our memories, no matter what happened between us. I have watched you these long years; I have seen everything you have done for Harry. Take comfort, I will be watching out for you. And you know that I will always live in my son."

In the distance, a vaguely recognizable voice was shouting, as though frantically. "Oh Merlin! He's still alive!"

"But barely!" another joined in.

"Come on, you stubborn old bastard! Don't you dare die on us!"

"Go back to them," said Lily. "Go back...be happy." She began to fade from sight. "Oh, and tell Harry that James and I love him."

And with that, all went black and silent.

He remembered his eyes being forced open. The world was all blurry and out of focus. He heard panicked voices all around him. Wait…some of those voices sounded familiar. Now he could vaguely make out the form of Poppy Pomfrey hovering over him, along with a number of faceless no-ones. He could hear the frantic voices of children somewhere nearby. Where the hell was he?

"Hold on, hold on...he's back! He's back!" he heard one of them say.

"Sir! We've got him!" he heard Poppy shout. Who was she talking to?

"Oh thank Merlin!" a voice came. "I thought we lost him."

"But he's still unstable!" Poppy came again. "We have to work fast! We can't let him slip away again."

They all sounded astonished. Even he himself was shocked and astounded by the same fact that had them all frantic.

He was alive.

~HP~

Severus Snape's eyes shot open. He slowly sat up in bed. He looked around the room and saw that he was in the bedroom of his small home on Spinner's End. A light sweat glazed over his forehead. He had been plagued by that dream for quite some time now, each time just as disturbing as the last. He had relived that dark and violent night in May over and over again on at least a weekly basis, every detail still fresh in his jaded memory. And each time, when he woke up like this, he could think of nothing but the same thing.

He still lived. He came back from the very brink of death. He didn't know how. He didn't know what had really happened to him, but something saved him. For lack of a better word, it was a miracle. But Severus also remembered everything that happened after the point where he woke up, and some of it made him wish that he had died.

~Flashback~

Once he had returned to consciousness, Severus realized that he was no longer in the Shrieking Shack. It was too bright, and there were too many voices for that famously small space. At the time however, he could not have cared less.

He was correct in his fuzzy identification of Poppy Pomfrey. But he couldn't recognize the other two male figures above him. Together, the three of them were racing around him with different instruments, tools, and bottles.

"Alright, we've got him!" one of the two wizards shouted to Poppy.

"Quick, the potion!" she shouted back.

A bottle was forced into his mouth, and he recognized the taste of the extremely powerful Life-rejuvenating Potion. He felt a tingling sensation move all through his body before euphoria. He suddenly felt the air come painfully rushing back into his lungs.

"He's breathing!"

"Severus, say something!" All he could get out was a weak, almost gutted moan.

"That's good enough!" the second anonymous man shouted. "We need to give him the Blood-replenishing Potion."

"We can't!" Poppy rushed. "We have to heal that wound as much as we can. Then we have to flush out the snake's poison before it worsens the bleeding."

"Will you be able to do that?" another voice, a younger female voice, asked.

"Oh, we'll be able to," a man said. "But it's not going to be easy, and it certainly won't be pleasant."

"And we have to work fast!" Poppy clucked angrily. "He's already lost so much blood! It's a wonder that he's even breathing!"

Severus felt an awful pressure and pain as their gloved hands pushed and pressed against the gruesome gash in his neck. His ferocious healers seemed to have no clue that he could actually feel what they were trying to do, and his inability to scream was worse than torture. Once the wound was crudely, yet effectively patched up, another bottle was forced into his mouth. But this potion, unknown to the struggling Potions master, burned all the way down his throat, possibly one of the most unpleasant brews Severus ever had the misfortune to swallow.

"Will that potion stop the venom's effects? Will it help the wound heal?" The young female voice once again asked, almost a squeak.

"Yes dear, it will work to flush the poison out of his blood and reverse its effects," Poppy explained in a stern voice. "But this antidote is extremely powerful! So powerful, his body will eventually reject it. But only after it has done its job." She turned to her companions. "We need to turn him on his side!"

Severus felt two sets of strong hands get under his body and tilt him over onto his right side, holding him in place. While it was true that his mind was not at its full working capacity, he should have known what all of this meant. What had he just swallowed, how was his body going to reject it, and how much more painful would it be? He however did not have to wait very long, and he got his answer when the burning of the potion that flowed through his veins suddenly rushed back to his stomach.

It had been a long time since Severus had last vomited. He couldn't remember exactly how long it had been. It could have easily been years! However long it was, it was long enough for Severus to forget just how horrible it was. The sickening nausea, the harsh burning in his throat, and the violent trembling throughout his body. None of it he could control. Oh, the lack of control! It had always bothered Severus so much in the past, and even while fighting for his life, it still bothered him.

What was he doing pondering his situation?!

As his stomach continued to revolt, gasping for air between retches, Severus felt a firm, yet comforting hand grasp his shoulder. "Oh dear, this is the worst part. Easy does it, we've got you." Alright, that voice was definitely familiar.

The retching became dry heaves and Severus was laid back onto his back. Then one last potion was forced down his throat. This he recognized as the strongest Blood-rejuvenating Potion available to wizard kind. He must be at St. Mungo's. That was the only place in Britain where that potion would be readily at hand.

The world slowly came back into focus and Severus finally got a look at his surroundings. He was somewhat shocked to see that he was not at St. Mungo's. He was lying on a bed in the partially destroyed hospital wing at Hogwarts. Just outside of the screen that surrounded his bed, Severus could hear the sounds of frantic voices and children crying. A bright ray of sunlight shined through the huge windows. How long had he been there?

Poppy stood to the left of his bed, gently wiping his forehead with a moist cloth. She was careful to avoid his sensitive neck. Severus glanced to his right. The two men who had also fought so hard to revive him turned out to be two of the finest Mediwizards that St. Mungo's had to offer, both Flooed in to assist with those injured in the great battle. They were watching him intently as they tossed aside the bloodstained cloths that they held. Once they saw that he was stable, they sighed with relief and nodded to Poppy. Then they walked out through the screen to help the numerous Mediwitches tend to the children.

Severus felt that there was a presence standing just to his right side, but he couldn't gather up the strength to look up. Instead, he let his head sink into the pillow as his eyes shut. He heard Poppy speak. "He needs to rest now. We can move him into one of the private rooms. He should be away from the children for now."

"Oh yes, of course. After all that, the poor boy deserves to get some peace and quiet."

And with that, Severus fell into such a deep sleep that one would have thought that someone had slipped him the Draught of the Living Dead.

When Severus opened his eyes again, there was far less light than there had been before. He slowly looked around. He saw that he was now in one of the smaller private rooms at the far end of the hospital wing. He looked to the window and saw that a moonless night had fallen. The darkness in the room was broken by an oil lamp on the night stand and a few solitary candles. He was propped up by several pillows and his head rested comfortably. His body ached atrociously and he still felt a bit sick from the various potions that had been poured down his throat. He felt the bandages that had now been properly dressed to his wounded neck. It still hurt to breathe. He let out a soft moan.

"Oh Severus! Thank goodness, you're awake! You gave us quite a scare before. We thought we lost you for a moment there. But oh, my boy! You're still with us, such a happy miracle!"

Severus struggled to turn his head to his right in the direction of the voice. It was the same gentle voice that had conversed with Poppy before. He felt a hand gently brush stray locks of hair away from his face. Even though his vision was still glazed over and blurry, Severus didn't doubt for even a moment about who it was, especially when his exhausted gaze caught sight of a snow white beard and an oh-too-familiar pair of half-moon glasses.

"A…Albus" he managed to whisper.

"Shhh…"Severus felt a warm hand caress his face. "Just rest, my dear boy. It's alright, Severus. It's all over now. Lord Voldemort is dead. The war is over, you are safe now. You can rest peacefully. Everything will be better now…I promise you."

~End Flashback~

Still shaken up, Severus slowly got out of bed and made his way down the stairs. It was unbearably hot that summer night and he was in desperate need of water. Carefully stepping through his pitch black sitting room, he found the door to his kitchen and pushed it open. Flipping the light switch on, he opened up a cabinet, not even bothering with a Summoning Charm to easily find what he was looking for. He fumbled around for a moment before finally grabbing hold of the glass that he knew was back there. Sighing to himself, Severus filled the glass with water and sat down at the table. Again, he sighed as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

It had been nearly four months since that night in May, and what Dumbledore – quite alive – had said was true. The war was over. The unstoppable evil that was Lord Voldemort had finally been defeated by Harry Potter, just as it was meant to be. The Boy-who-lived, now very much a man, would go down in history. He was forever to be known by all wizard kind for not only surviving the Dark Lord's deadly curse not once but twice, but for finally bringing him down once and for all. To Severus, the very idea of Potter's lasting fame was just sickening. But what made it worse was the nauseating truth that if it hadn't been for Potter, he wouldn't be there now. If the boy hadn't been there in the Shrieking Shack, no one would have known that Severus was even there, let alone nearly dead on the floor. No one would have come to collect his lifeless body only to realize that he was still alive.

He would have died that night if it hadn't been for Harry bloody Potter.

'Oh well,' Severus thought. He had saved the boy enough times over the last eight or so years. He could call himself and the brat even. When he had mentioned this to Dumbledore after he had recovered enough from his injuries, the thought-dead headmaster agreed with a rather hearty chuckle.

Dumbledore…promised him…promised him indeed. If the old headmaster had really meant that, then Severus was still waiting for his promise to be fulfilled.

It wasn't just the horrendous pain and atrocious sickness that followed his return to consciousness that made Severus wish he had died. Dumbledore had said that everything would be easier and more peaceful. But his life in the weeks following the Dark Lord's defeat was anything but peaceful.

~HP~

Severus was confined to the hospital wing for several weeks after the great battle. He didn't even have the strength to get out of bed for a full week and a half. And that was followed by another three weeks of being fussed over by a harried Madam Pomfrey and a meddling Dumbledore. It was almost June by the time the Mediwitch deemed him healed up enough to return to Spinner's End for some much needed time alone.

Unfortunately for Severus, that wasn't about to happen.

No more than two days after he returned home, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived on his doorstep along with two Aurors. In his hand was a warrant for his immediate arrest on charges of treason against the Ministry and murder.

Why did Dumbledore have to remain in hiding?! After all, Severus did not actually kill him! All Severus really was was the key role in the play that was an incredibly thought out and painfully detailed plan of Dumbledore's that only he knew even the slightest thing about. Severus could have been spared the charges if Dumbledore would just show his face. He could get him out of this mess and everyone could leave him the hell alone, which was really all that Severus really wanted.

He was immediately taken to Azkaban to await trial.

Never had Severus known any place so close to hell. He could now completely understand the tales of madness that came out that place. How could you keep your mind in these conditions?

He was confined to his dark, dank cell for all hours of the day. These hours were spent keeping his back to the door, listening to the endless hours of the taunting and the insults echoing from down the corridors. Obviously, nearly all the inmates had known what he had done and why he was there. And apparently, they were not going to let Snape just sit there and wait for his trial. Realizing that many of these voices belonged to people he had encountered before, he had a few choice words of his own for them. But Severus could not let himself sink to that level, not if he wanted to keep the last shreds of dignity that he had. With Death Eaters and accomplices being brought in every day, Severus had to be the one prisoner that kept himself together. Besides, it wasn't like Severus was incapable of staying silent for hours at a time.

Severus was only incarcerated for a week, but it might as well have been a lifetime. It didn't matter that the dark shadows of the Dementors had since gone for good, just being there was torture. But of all the things that could have been used against him, of all the things that could have sped up his eventual decent into madness, it was being forced to listen to the screaming. It came from every corner, crack, nook and cranny of the fortress. Hundreds of years of pain, suffering, and insanity. The wailings and screeching, ranging from cries for help to just nonsense, added a terrifying chill to the already heavy atmosphere. The whole damn place reeked of death. Severus even found himself feeling as though someone's life had abruptly ended in his own cell. Was that really where you ended up after a while? Did being imprisoned become so unbearable that the only solution was suicide?

For the first time since he had been arrested, Severus began to panic about the possibility of spending the rest of his life in the wizard prison. If he had bled to death on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, at least it would have been with honor. And Lily had said that he was supposed to live out the rest of his life. Severus seriously doubted that she meant it to be in prison.

Death Eater trials began almost instantly after the war ended, and to Severus, it was all clock work. They were rounded up, tried, and sentenced usually within a week. But the disturbing thing that Severus began to realize was that far too few of these trials ended in a conclusion of innocence. Nearly all the people who were suspected to having any connections with Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters were sentenced to time in Azkaban, some shorter than others. And Severus didn't even think it was necessary to try the Death Eaters themselves. They did everything that the world accused them of, and they made no secret about it. These people were terrorists and they were proud of it. In many opinions, these trials were just reconfirmations of past confessions. Some people were saying that the scars that they all now bore on their left arms should be an automatic life sentence. But true to nature, the Ministry did not take this suggestion and went through with the pointless trials to give all fair justice. But this didn't exactly make Severus feel any better about his own situation. It seemed that the term "fair trial" was a very loose term in the Ministry. After all, these were the same people who at one time listened to Cornelius Fudge and the tyrannical monster that was Dolores Umbridge. Somehow, he had a feeling that more than a few people had been waiting for an opportunity to lock him up for life.

It was a stormy day in June when Severus was transported to London to attend his hearing. This being one of, if not the most high profile case of the bunch, Severus was heavily guarded by the same Aurors that had arrested him. The Ministry was also strangely quiet that particular morning. He was led to the Department of Mysteries in silence. He could hear muffled conversation as he entered the Wizengamot Chamber. But as soon as he was within the court's view, it died down. He was magically bound to his chair as he sat down, and he looked up at his peers.

For the next half hour, Severus was asked a series of questions by the court officials and the Minister of Magic himself, ranging from what he had done in years past to his actions during the war. But more than anything, he was interrogated about what drove him to kill Albus Dumbledore. Was is by order of You-know-who or was it premeditated? And if it was premeditated, what did the former professor have against the old man? Severus tried to answer all the questions as best he could, but he still couldn't tell them what he really knew. He couldn't say that Dumbledore was alive and well and hiding in Scotland, not while he was still under oath to protect that secret. As time went by, Severus's fears slowly became a reality. He realized that with every question, every answer, he was fighting a losing battle. As far as the court was concerned, not only was he a cold-blooded killer, but he was also a convicted Death Eater getting his long awaited justice. Severus felt his heart sink into his stomach when Shacklebolt addressed the court, ready to take an immediate, unanimous vote.

Naturally, that's when Dumbledore decided it was time to come out of hiding, suddenly bursting into the hearing to save Severus's arse like he had done for Potter before him. Of course, having all thought that the headmaster was dead, every single witch and wizard of the Wizengamot was utterly speechless. Incoherent mumbling filled the room, though that rather quickly grew into a mass of unhindered profanities from people who looked like they had never heard such words in their lives. Oh, Shacklebolt's was the best!

"But…but…but I was at your funeral!"

Dumbledore proceeded to ramble on for quite a long while, telling his entire story and his entire plan on behalf of Severus. The Wizengamot, Minister included, listened so intently that it was as though there wasn't a convicted Death Eater in the room. There wasn't one person in that chamber who didn't believe a minute or a word of what was going on. Albus Dumbledore was alive! He was standing before them all! And what was even more amazing was this absolutely brilliant plan of his. It made complete sense to everyone that his death would be a tool to bring down the Dark lord by giving him false security. And it worked!

Suddenly, everything that Snape had done fell into place. But still, they wanted to hear what Snape had to say about this. Was this the truth, or was this some elaborate illusion concocted beforehand? It was then that Shacklebolt called for Veritasserum. A tiny phial filled with a rather potent form of the truth serum was brought forward and Severus didn't fight anything as the potion was poured down his throat. Once the potion had taken effect, he turned back to Minister Shacklebolt.

He answered each question with a short yes or now. With each reply, the story further unfurled in the openness of the chamber. And not once did he hold back, never slipping into the protection Occlumency offered. Slowly but surely, the evident truth was reaffirmed.

During his final interrogation, the whole of the chamber held their collective breath as Dumbledore watched. What they had was a confession, a confession of innocence. Under the most powerful Veritasserum, they confirmed the tall tale Dumbledore had spun for them. It all made perfect sense! The man did everything under orders, under Dumbledore's orders. And in the end, it was all for the better. They couldn't send him back to Azkaban with such solid evidence in his favor.

Severus, also stunned and speechless, could only sit and watch as the committee voted and all the charges against him, however reluctantly, were dropped. He was free.

Severus had the foolish thought that he could be left alone now that he wasn't going back to prison. Oh no! Not after the Daily Prophet (not to mention every other publication in the British Wizarding community) got wind of Albus's return from the dead. His face was suddenly everywhere. Everyone was talking about him, retelling his story. Some may have actually forgotten about Potter for a split second. But what truly bothered Severus was that people were suddenly searching for him too. Once his name was mentioned in the Prophet's interview with Dumbledore, everyonewanted to know what he had to say. The Death Eater trials were covered enough already, his being one of the most talked about. But to some, he was now a war hero.

Thank Merlin that Dumbledore made a plea to the public for Severus's complete privacy following such a trying time in his life. The reasoning was that even though Severus had such a major part in Voldemort's defeat, it was at great personal cost! The man had nearly died, for crying out loud! The elderly headmaster voiced his concerns about the younger wizard saying that he felt that Severus had every right to be left alone after his years-long ordeal. A time may come when Severus felt that he was ready to tell his story, and until then, the media should try their best to not be the media.

Severus did notice that the people seemed to heed Dumbledore's advice. Reporters and letters disappeared after a few days. In fact, it was rather entertaining for Severus to pull his arm chair up to the tiny front window of his house and just watch the few stragglers still trying to get a story being dragged off by their more sensible colleagues. Dumbledore was right to say that there might come a point in Severus's life when he would talk. But that day wasn't going to come for a very long time. He was glad that by July, people generally weren't as interested in him anymore. Most of them were off chasing Potter again. He did still get the occasional owl from Luna Lovegood asking if he was interested in an exclusive interview with the Quibbler, all of which he politely refused. It was now late August and up to that very night in his kitchen, Severus had never publically spoken about his life and involvement with the war. And for now, he preferred to keep it that way.

~HP~

After he set the now empty glass down in the sink and shut the lights off, Severus made his way back up the stairs to his shadow filled bedroom. Shutting the door behind him, he collapsed back down onto the bed. Even though the bedside clock showed that it was three thirty in the morning, Severus just couldn't fall back to sleep. There was just too much on his mind. The sad part about it was this was to be the third time that week that he had woken in the early hours and would just lie there until dawn.

Desperately trying to prevent this again, Severus tried to put all thought out of his head. He couldn't let his mind wander to Dumbledore, to that night in May…to Lily. Oh Lily! He could not let his mind dwell on her face, her voice, her eyes. Not again. Severus rolled over onto his side and shut his eyes. What seemed like an eternity passed before he finally succumbed to sleep again, hoping to fall into a dream that he wouldn't mull over in the morning. What he got was a dream that was not just disturbing to him, it was horrifying! This was not a dream to him, it was a nightmare.

~HP~

Diagon Alley had always seemed more pleasant at night. The darkness was broken by only a few candle lamps at each door. The noise was replaced by the gentle hooting of owls. And a person had the freedom to walk the streets without pushing their way through people and packages.

Severus had always preferred to visit Diagon Alley at night. It gave him the opportunity to get things done without the stares of annoying bystanders, many of whom he had actually taught by now. This was only enhanced in the weeks following Lord Voldemort's defeat and the days since his Ministry pardon. In fact, it was almost impossible for him to venture out in public without a whole mess of people glancing over their shoulder. At night, the only people he had to deal with were the shopkeepers, and that only involved the bare minimum of interaction.

On this particular night, Severus had ventured out much later than he would have preferred. It was early August, and Severus wanted to avoid the rush of people that he knew would dominate the alley during the day. He had a peculiar feeling that those crowds would linger into the twilight hours. Severus had never liked people in the past, and regardless of what he had been through, he certainly wasn't going to start now. All he wanted was to just go about his business without passing a single venomous stare or hearing an echoing insult on the wind. Even if the end of the war had brought him high regard, there were still many beliefs that could not be broken, and Severus liked to avoid it when he could. The cover of darkness was perfect.

Tucking his shrunken packages into his pocket, Severus made his way up the street. The lights in nearly all the shops were now out and there wasn't a trace of human life around. Severus reveled in this bliss before he would arrive at the empty Leaky Cauldron and its unguarded fireplace. But just as he passed the dark, eerie archway that led down into Knockturn Alley, his steps slowed until he came to an untimely stop. He turned and looked down the dark street. He had been struck by a strong, but not unfamiliar sensation.

He felt like he was being watched. He also had a feeling that whomever it was, they were lurking somewhere in the inky blackness of the descending street that led into the world of Dark magic. All he could see was darkness, broken only by a few dim lanterns that hung outside doors. Like its sister street, Knockturn Alley was silent and devoid of life. But even if it appeared that he was alone, Severus just couldn't ignore his own intuition. He was too used to the feeling of danger. He hadn't felt this way since Voldemort was alive. And experience told Severus that such feelings could not be ignored. He turned to back away.

He heard something move behind him. But before he could reach into his robes for his waiting wand, Severus heard a sickening crack. An intense, throbbing pain consumed his head. He felt sick. He felt dizzy. The world went fuzzy. The last thing he heard before he blacked out was the weight of his own body hitting the cobblestones with a heavy 'thud'.

When Severus came to, it took a long moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His head was throbbing with pain, but he managed to lift it up off the filthy ground to get a glimpse of his surroundings. Brick walls surrounded him on three sides. A narrow street separated him and yet another wall. The lantern that hung from it held nothing more than a smoking stump, the waxy remains of what used to be a candle. Somewhere, he could hear the screeching howl of a cat. The air was close.

He was down Knockturn Alley, very far down.

Severus looked down at his hands and saw that they were covered in scrapes and cuts, which stung with every breath that reached them. He realized that the same sting was also coming from the sides of his face. Someone had dragged him down there, but where the hell were they? As he struggled to get up, he instinctively reached for his wand. But to his shock, all he could feel was the course fabric of his robes.

"Looking for this?" A voice came from behind him. Before Severus could turn around, he saw his wand fall onto the stone before him with a light 'clink'. He crawled forward, reaching for it. He was mere millimeters away; he could almost feel it at his fingertips. But before he could grasp it, out of nowhere, a heavy boot stomped down onto his hand. He felt stabbing pain as he heard bones break under the tremendous force. A hand came down and picked up Severus's wand. It was then that Severus looked up.

His attacker was clad in long dark robes. The length of his clothes stopped mid-calf, exposing the black boots that were currently crushing Severus's hand. His closely cut sleeves reached his wrists and on his hands were leather gloves. The hood of his cloak was up over his head, concealing his face. He fingered the pilfered wand in a slow, yet poised manner.

"What…who…"

"Silencio!" the shrouded wizard hissed.

Severus tried to protest, but realized with quiet horror that he now couldn't speak. Panicking, he grasped his throat with his free hand. He tried to move back, but he was still pinned down by unrelenting pressure of the other man's foot. His heel dug into pale skin. Trying to growl even though nothing came out of his mouth, Severus managed to pull his hand free. His assailant lashed out and kicked him in the face. The pain was quick and sharp. Severus finally forced himself to his feet and faced his opponent. He didn't care that his hand was pulsating and his nose was probably broken. This guy meant business and Snape wasn't going to take it lying down. He stared down with the man, his bloody nose adding a sort of strength to his death glare. He tasted his own blood as it ran down his lips. The other man cocked his head under his hood, and he slowly walked toward Severus. Severus just waited. He might have been wand-less, but he wasn't defenseless

Once the dark wizard was within reach, aiming Severus's wand at its owner, Severus swung his injured hand and socked him square in the jaw. The pain from the hit was enough to make him heave, but he swallowed hard when he saw that his wand had gone flying again. His attacker briefly stunned, Severus made a mad dash for his wand, which was lying in the street. He could fight back, he thought, but this was obviously a planned attack, and he had no way of knowing what this assailant was ready to do. Not bothering to stow away his wand, Severus turned to run down the street. His were driving him back up to Diagon, where at least there could be witnesses to this unprovoked violence. He had to get out of there before…

*Bam*

He fell to the ground, face first. His legs had locked together mid-stride. Severus looked back to the alley and saw that the hooded man now wielded his own wand. Another flick and Severus felt himself being dragged backwards. His panic increased as he watched his surroundings being closed in by brick walls once again. The wizard swung his wand violently. Severus was thrown against the wall with incredible force. He felt as though some invisible hands were dangling him by his neck. His legs flailed and breathing was difficult. But still no noise came from his mouth. He couldn't cry out for help. Yes, he admitted that he needed help. As clever as Severus was, he could not overpower this man.

The wizard's wand fell to his side, with Severus falling to his knees along with it. He casually tucked his wand into his belt, but he was by no means finished. Without a word or even sighing – in fact, his crooked mouth almost looked giddy under the cloak – he clenched his fists and just went to town on Severus. This man could have been taken for a Muggle boxer by the force and strength of the punches and hits that were pounding into Severus's face, head, and neck. Severus fell forward, his assailant stepping to the side. Once he was back down on the ground, those heavy boots went to work on Severus's stomach and chest. His breath was stolen away with each blow. He felt ribs crack and he was sure that he had internal bleeding. The beatings ceased and Severus coughed as he fought to breathe again. He looked up at the dark wizard and raised his wand to attack back.

"Expelliarmus!"

Severus's wand flew from his reach, hit the wall, fell to the ground, and rolled into the street. Severus watched the black boots walk around him until they came to a stop some five feet from his head. "Now to take care of you…" Did he mean to say that he hadn't already? He took hold of his wand again and upon pointing it at Severus, the latter's arms were magically bound behind his back, as though invisible ropes were restraining him. His agony-filled face looked up at the hood and saw a vicious sneer.

"Oh, you poor dear!" the dark figure taunted from beneath his shroud. "It can't hurt that badly. Come now, a wizard such as yourself, former servant of the Dark lord…oh wait. You never were his servant, were you?" Severus tasted his boot again. "Despicable! One of the Dark lord's most loyal Death Eaters and you turn out to be Dumbledore's spy. In the same boat as Harry fucking Potter! A war hero! You just make me sick…bloody traitor." He pointed his wand. "Crucio!"

The worst pain and anguish yet engulfed Severus's whole body. No matter how many times you fell victim to the Unforgivable Curse, you could never stand the torment. Severus twitched and shook, powerful surges of magic coursing through him like thousands of volts of electricity, burning his insides and crushing his bones to dust. Inside his head, Severus was screaming, just dying to be heard.

The wizard released his hold on Severus, letting his wand hand ease back to his side. But his grip on the dark wood didn't let up. Remarkably, considering that he still didn't have any use of his arms or legs, Severus managed to roll onto his back. He gasped as he was finally able to breathe. He was brought back down to earth by a hard jab in the side. A swish and flick, and Severus was back on his stomach.

"It's all your fault, you know," the cloaked man whispered. "Everything that Lord Voldemort worked for will never be so…all because of you. Think about it, Snape! A world where pure wizards reigned supreme. Half-bloods would fall down before us, and Mud-bloods would cease to exist. Muggles would know of our world and fear it, powerless when faced with our superiority. The Dark Lord would have gone down as the most powerful being to ever walk the earth. His Death Eaters would have been gods among mortals! We could have had it all! And you betray us!"

'The Dark Lord was a madman and you know it,' Severus's inner voice cried out. 'He cursed us as often as he did anyone else.'

The dark wizard continued. "What? Did it all get to be too much for you? Did the coward run to Dumbledore for protection?" Severus wriggled on the ground at the mention of the word 'coward'. The man sneered in such a vial and evil little way that it made Severus's skin crawl. "And to think; all those years ago, you were the one who tipped off the Dark Lord about Potter's prophesy. You end up helping the damn brat! How many times you could have killed him, and you were protecting him! The Dark Lord spoke of you like you were his most loyal servant. You were giving that old codger ideas, weren't you? The Dark Lord's demise could have been more of your doing than Potter's."

Severus watched as the boots slowly walked around him, towards his feet, until they were out of his view. The low, dangerous voice continued its threatening rant. "The world could have been changed for the better, if not for you. Lord Voldemort could have revolutionized the Wizarding community, and he was destroyed before his plan could be seen for what it was. If you ask me, it wasn't because of Potter. It was because of you. Crucio!"

It was several excruciatingly long minutes before the bone-racking torture let up and the hissing voice went on still. "If you hadn't been helping Dumbledore, Potter, and their band of simpleton twats, we would have succeeded. Potter didn't stand a chance without the information that you so graciously fed to him. Severus Snape the war hero is nothing more than a slithering, back-stabbing coward. Scum off the bottom of my boot!"

"You know that you deserve all of this. A crime such as yours is worthy of extreme punishment. So if no one else will, then I will have to do it myself. I could kill you, you know, and I probably should. But I have far too much to lose to risk a lifetime in Azkaban. However, that doesn't mean that I can't give you a hell you've never known."

There was the swishing sound of a wand on the air. Severus braced himself for another bout of Cruciatus. But instead, he heard what sounded like cloth ripping and then felt an incredibly disturbing draft. His robes had been pushed away and his trousers had been torn off. Behind him, he heard further rustling of clothing. Exposed and breathless with panic, Severus looked behind him and saw that his attacker had gone to work on his own garments. He had already unbuckled his belt and opened his outer robe. Severus watched with wide, horrified eyes as he undid his trousers. Even in the shadows, his manhood was still absurdly visible and, not to mention, aroused. Severus fought fiercely against his magical restraints, not giving into the thought of being paralyzed by his fear…yes, fear. Severus wasn't naive. He knew what this guy was intending to do to him. At the moment, it could have been enough to drive him into madness.

He felt the shrouded man's knee on his back, pinning him down. A strong hand gripped the back of his head and slammed it down onto the ground. Severus prayed that he didn't lose any teeth on that one. The other wizard put all of his weight onto Severus, solidifying that he wasn't going anywhere until he was through with him. "I hope you realize that you have left me with no other choice," he growled, positioning his other hand on Severus's lower back to support himself. "Let's just say that I'm the only one of us to see this as a suitable price to pay. But believe me, Snape. You're getting what you had coming to you, you useless bastard!"

He impaled Severus with incredible force. The sheer strength and the intense pain that came with it stole Severus's breath away. Desperate gasps escaped with every athletic thrust of his deranged attacker. He clenched his fists with enough strength to draw blood. To his shame, despite his ordeal, Severus felt the sting of tears forming in his eyes, burning his skin as they ran down his face onto the cold stone ground. If he had been able to make a sound, his rapist might have been able to enjoy hearing his racking sobs.

On and on and on this torture went. More than once, the thought that this would never end raced through Severus's head. The only thing that made it worse was listening to the aggravated grunting of that psychotic monster. Occasionally, such as with a particularly strong force, Severus's head would be yanked up by his hair and slammed back down. Again and again and again for what felt like hours.

Finally, the still shrouded man pulled out and got to his feet. Fixing his trousers and seeing to his robes, he sneered under his hood. "Hmm, maybe you're not as useless as I thought," he said with malicious mockery. Severus's bloodshot eyes looked up at the wicked smile that was still visible under that hood. The dark wizard tidied himself a bit before he pulled out his wand again.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Severus felt his suddenly clothed legs unlock and his hands fell to the ground. He groaned, discovering that his voice box was functioning again. He brought his hands up towards his head, glancing at the bleeding gashes he had inflicted on himself. His face contorted; his entire body ached. This pain was just unnatural. The air was rank with the smell of the fresh blood that dribbled across the cobblestones. And just to add insult to injury, quite literally, his assailant hawked and spat at Severus's tearstained face.

"You had best watch your back, Snape." This was said with a very distinct snarl. He hurled one last violent kick at Severus's face. "Enjoy your glory…while it lasts." And with that, the black leather boots walked out of the alley and the black figure disappeared into the shadows. Severus listened to the clicking of heels and the swishing of robes until they disappeared into the silence.

~HP~

Severus was nearly blinded by sunlight as he sat up in bed in a cold sweat. He gasped for air, fighting against the knot in his throat. Shivers ran up and down his spine and he shook despite the heat of the morning. Just the images flashing through his mind were enough to make him feel nauseous. It was rare for him to be so disturbed by a single memory that he would work himself into somewhat of a panic attack. He pressed both hands against his face and over his eyes. He could not let himself lose his composure, not again. But within minutes, Severus gave up on his own battle of wills. Why should he care if he cried in his own home? He was alone.

Three weeks…three weeks it had been since Severus had been violated so brutally. And like many rape victims before him, it was impossible for that whole incident to transpire without having a drastic effect on Severus. It was easier thinking back on the battle in May than on that night. At least he could tolerate that dream-time de-ja-vu. It was almost hard for Severus himself to believe how unnerved he was. But still, of all the things that Lord Voldemort had forced him to endure for all those years, nothing compared to that one sickening deed. Never had he been mistreated in such an unspeakable way.

The assault only made daily life harder. It started with the pain. The act was excruciating in itself. And Severus didn't exactly help his injured body by eventually picking himself off the ground, limping all the way back up and out of Knockturn Alley, nearly collapsing upon arrival at the Leaky Cauldron, and then actually collapsing after stumbling through Dumbledore's office fireplace at Hogwarts. While he had been able to get quick and effective aid from the headmaster and Poppy Pomfrey, the pain still continued for quite some time afterward. For days, his entire body ached for all it was worth. But whether this was actual recovery pain or just chronic aches that Severus's mind created was anyone's guess. Even when that was over with, a dull soreness remained where the horrendous bruises would surely form. And if that wasn't bad enough in itself, the headaches and the nausea they caused certainly helped it along.

Then there was the isolation. In the long weeks since the rape, burdened by anxiety and disgrace, Severus had only left his house three times. If the jaded wizard hated venturing into public before, that was nothing compared to now. Now, he could barely stand the thought. There were too many prying eyes, a chance for something like that to happen again. If there was one psychopath with the gall to do that, who was to say that there wasn't another? If you had to ask Severus, which was the willing task of one Albus Dumbledore, it was safer for the time being to stay held up at home. The only times he did take that risk and go out into the world (albeit the Muggle world) was when his situation was rather dire. After all, a man has to eat. But this had been his post-war life; hours and hours he wasted on the painful memory of his attack, thinking about it over and over with no one there to snap him out of it.

Because of this, one of the worst things for Severus was the dreadful fight within himself that plagued his mind each day. It was a good idea to keep himself away from the world. Then, at least, the world wouldn't be able to see him in such an emotional turmoil. He had put on a brave face for folks like Dumbledore and Pomfrey. Alright, he had put on an annoyed face for them. But they didn't know the half of it.

Could there have been a more emasculating experience? Could there have been something to make him feel worse? It was unbelievable. Thirty-eight years of unfortunate events and pitiful circumstances had left him with enough reason for self-hating woe. And one outlandish attack had outdone it all. Severus had never felt lower than in his self-imposed solitude. He was unbearably humiliated; it was as though he was at the hands of James Potter once again. But at least Potter wasn't so inbred to think of something like using sex as a weapon. He was angry; not at his attacker, but at himself. He should have been able to stop him. He should have been able to defend himself, and he ended up bound on the ground with no trousers. For God's sake, why didn't he put up more of a fight? Several of the bruises Severus bore on his knuckles were his own doing, as was the fist-sized dent in the wall.

But above all else, there was the utter shame. It was the shame that kept him away from the world. It was the shame that created the lie about what happened that night, that he had been beaten to a bloody mess and nothing more. And it was the shame that brought such misery every time Severus looked into a mirror. Time and time again, Severus couldn't help but wonder if this dark wizard was right. Did he truly deserve what he got? Was he really so worthless that this man would think of doing that to him? Even if he had spoken to someone of the assault, nothing would have been able to change Severus's mind. He had hit rock bottom in his lifelong self-loathing. He had turned away letters from Dumbledore inviting him to quiet tea. He couldn't comprehend the idea of facing the old headmaster and his ability to see that you bore a heavy heart. Dumbledore already knew way more about him than Severus would have liked. Who knew how he would look at the Potions master after hearing that. Severus couldn't even look at himself without a hard knot forming in his throat, especially when he caught sight of those bruises on his arms, legs, and lower body. Even though it was August, Severus had kept himself covered up for his own sake. If he could ever describe himself as a martyr these days, it was when he was forced to look himself over when he bathed.

If he really had seen Lily that night in May, and if she had truly meant that his life was worth living, surely she didn't mean a life like this.

~HP~

Severus was very slow to get out of bed that morning. In fact, it was nearly midmorning by the time Severus did haul himself to his feet. But this was only after he had calmed himself down. Not to mention that he had sweated himself into a puddle and was in rather desperate need of a shower. He slowly walked down the hall from his bedroom to the tiny bathroom, stripping off his damp clothes once the door was closed. Severus then spent a good half hour in the shower, which was really more for dunking his head under the cool water than for actual hygiene. He emerged in a gray dressing gown, cooled off and refreshed. He decided to bypass dressing for now, instead choosing to head downstairs.

The sun poured in through the windows of the little house in a way that was only possible in the morning. The outside world was also quiet, aside from the persistent chirping of the sparrows and magpies. Severus took pleasure in the relative silence. After such a rough night, all he wanted was a calm, relaxing day. Who knew? Maybe tonight would be the same.

He put on a kettle of water for tea, careful to avoid the burner that had stopped working long before. Breakfast this morning would be simple; just a few pieces of toast with a bit of butter. He had only taken a few bites when there was a rattling tap at his kitchen window. He pulled back the shades to see an owl with his copy of the Prophet in the windowsill. He pushed open the window, grabbing the rolled up parchment and tossing out the owl's payment. The bird was quick to fly off again. Severus chose not to unroll the newspaper until he had finished eating and poured his tea. He carried the cup and paper into his sitting room, and he settled down into his chair in front of the fireplace.

It was another slow news day at the Daily Prophet. The summer had been filled with reports of arrests and convictions of witches and wizards with some connection to the Dark Lord; stories of who was who and just how long they would be in Azkaban. It was now going on ten days without a capture. It was rather funny because Severus could come up with a list of people that hadn't been caught yet. But they too would be uncovered in time, if the Prophet's reports that the Ministry had increased Auror security were true. Nowadays, the news mostly concerned the rebuilding of the Wizarding world. It was little stories of shops reopening, heroes returning to their families, quickie marriages, and growing prosperity. On that particular morning, it was cover to cover with articles relating to the youth. With September fast approaching, families were venturing out as they always had, causing an economic explosion in Diagon Alley. Prophet writers seemed to go on and on, page after page, claiming that they had a new Renaissance on their hands. Let Harry Potter lead the way!

Severus tossed the paper aside, annoyed and frustrated. Like he really needed to read about how lovely other people's lives were. Once he had gotten past the embarrassment of being saved by the little sod, Potter also had been amongst the furthest from his mind, and Severus had every intention of keeping it that way. Talk about Dumbledore knowing more than Severus would like. Potter knew way too much. And it took Severus a while to stop kicking himself because that was his fault. All in all, Severus didn't let this get to him too much. He didn't need any more stress. He tried to rid himself of the tension in his head as he relaxed into his chair and carefully sipped his tea.

He had let his eyes wander around the room when something caught his eye. It sat on a small table by the front window. Setting his cup down, Severus got up and walked over. He looked down at what so quickly got his attention, and then cautiously picked it up. It was a letter from Dumbledore, the only one he hadn't set fire to. And yet, Severus didn't regret it, even though this letter had been the cause of much confusion and stress in the past several weeks. And even there, long after he first received it, Severus couldn't help but reread it again with the last scraps of doubt that his soul could offer.

Severus,

I say, it has been a shame that I have not had the chance to speak to you, face to face, in quite some time. How have you been fairing? I speak for plenty of others when I say that I hope you have been well.

I understand why you would wish to keep yourself away. These reporters have been absolutely dreadful. I question if they have forgotten the meaning of the word "privacy." I do apologize for the trouble the media attention has caused you. You, especially, could have done well without that nonsense. I also feel just awful for those editorials about you. It's appalling to think that people would still question your loyalty, even after I come to your defense. If only they knew the full story of what you have been through. However, I'm not beyond hope of changing their minds. You know that I don't like to boast about my influence, but I find that it can be quite handy in times like this. I'm sure that you have been reading the Prophet. They say we could be on our way to a golden age. Well, I say that if we are, we should be able to start anew. We should do what we can to return to a sense of normalcy, and then live out the rest of our lives in our various forms of happiness. My dear boy, I'm no different, and neither are you.

Severus, I have a proposition for you…

~HP~

Kind and constructive reviews are more than welcome and greatly appreciated. Much more to come.