A/N: DUN DUN DUUUNNN

And so, I left you with a randomly ending chapter and a cliffhanger of an epilogue. Now, I could have been totally mean and left the story as is, but I don't feel like I told everything I could.

Plus, the ending chapter kind of pissed me off. It didn't work like I wanted it to. I'm proud of the epilogue, but the ending chapter…meh. So, I'm going to be weaving some things from the previous story into this one. All of the stuff in the 'future' will be in italics, so you'll definitely be able to tell when the time and the point of view switches. If it's too confusing, let me know. I'll fix it up. ^_^

Oooo, I've never finished a story before! I'm on a total adrenaline rush. Yay.

Disclaimer: I don't own really any of this stuff. Just kind of…borrowing it and twisting it in a way that makes me happy. Everyone in Harry Potter deserves to be happy, dang it!

…Oh, and it might be a good idea to read 'Mixed Emotions' first. You might not get some stuff.

Prologue

"Holy motherfucking shit! Lorissa! Annemarie!" I screamed, my voice echoing off of the crumbling wood walls. "Get in here! Now! I need help!"

There he was, lying there in front of me. Snape. Severus. Fucking. Snape. There was no mistaking who it was. In regular circumstances, this wouldn't have been too surprising, since 1) this was his house, and 2) he was rather mopey.

But, since everyone had said he'd been dead for the past four months…well, that puts a different perspective on things.

"Oh my God, Professor? Professor? Hey, wake back up!" I shook his shoulder, trying to get him to open his eyes again. Nothing. "Help! Call 911!"

"God, what?" Lorissa said as she casually strolled in the room. "We heard you drop the books, what's wrong with-oh my God." Her hands flew up to her face when she saw the mass that was Snape. "Who is that?"

"Never mind that right now, call 911!" I yelled, still shaking him, trying to get some sort of voluntary movement out of him.

"We're in England! It's not 911!" Lorissa started pacing around, her hands flailing everywhere. "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

"God Damnit, Lorissa, go get your mom!" Lorissa ran out of the room, screaming for Annemarie. I was still getting nothing when she came back in, pulling her mother by the hand over to the Bates Motel chair.

"Okay, what's going on?" Annemarie wrenched her hand out of Lorissa's grip, shooting her the famous 'Carter glare'. "You all need to stop screaming. You'll wake the neighborhood."

Snape let out a soft whimper. "Finally!" I yelled, still shaking him. "Come on, wake up!"

"What the hell?" It finally clicked in her head what was going on. "Move!" She pushed me out of the way, flocking to Snape's side. I landed in the fireplace with a lovely 'thud', sending a cloud of nasty ash everywhere. I opened my mouth to complain, but the words were lost on my tongue when I looked up.

There they were - the couple that I could never believe; the couple that I could never fathom, together again after almost fifteen years. Annemarie held onto Snape's right hand, stroking his forehead with her free hand, asking him to wake up with the calmest, most serene voice I had ever heard come out of a person. Her face was a river of tears, however, so I knew she wasn't completely calm.

"One of you has your cell phones on you, right?" She asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"I do," Lorissa said, whipping it out of her jeans pocket.

"Call 999. Tell them to come to Spinner's End. Emphasize that it's urgent."

~*~

I never went to the library. Ever. I thought it smelled like old people and moldy books, especially the farther back you went. Dust covered almost every inch of the place. It was dark and full of cobwebs. You couldn't talk loud and, for me, a boisterous sixteen year old with lots to say, that was a very difficult thing for me to not be able to do. All in all, I avoided the library at all costs.

If Stacie had not needed to find a book on reading tealeaves for her Divination class, we would have never ventured into the dark corner of the library. We would have never sat down at that long cherry wood table in desperate need of a new coat of stain. We would have never gone through the book, gotten bored, and decided to talk in hushed voices about Paul McCartney's most recent album. We would have never gotten in a heated discussion about who's solo work was better – John's or Paul's.

I would have never asked the boy across the table from us his own opinion.

I would probably have never met Severus Snape.

But, the universe had something else planned.

~*~

"Press To Play sucked more than anything I have ever heard," I whispered to Stacie Avery, my best friend of 5 years. Signaling she had given up on studying by closing The Joy of Tealeaves, she shot a glare at me that sent chills up my spine.

"Oh, yeah, Annemarie, and Two Virgins was a musical masterpiece."

"At least John didn't make 'Stranglehold'. That song is all over the place. It's blues, and then pop, and then…hell, I don't even know. It makes no musical sense."

"Okay, then," Stacie said, flicking a lock of her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. "So John's solo stuff always made perfect sense."

I shook my head. "No, not always. It always flowed better than Paul's, though, and Press To Play just further proves that point."

"'How Do You Sleep'?"

"'Silly Love Songs'?"

"'God'?"

"Again, 'Silly Love Songs'?"

"So what? The public loved it. Just because your Beatle couldn't write a chartable tune doesn't mean that mine shouldn't have been able to."

I shook my head, running a hand through my bushy, strawberry-blonde mane. "You have got to be kidding me. 'Instant Karma'? Hello? That was all over the radio!"

"Ssshhh!" the librarian, a crinkly old woman, directed towards us. I hadn't realized how loud we had gotten. Looking around, I noticed people were looking at us.

I leaned closer to Stacie. "Okay, we need a third party for this."

"Agreed." She pointed across the table. "How about that kid?"

Squinting in the dark, I could barely make out the silhouette of the person she was referencing. "Are you sure there's someone there?"

"Man, your eyes are bad. Ask them."

Stealing a glance at the librarian, I leaned over the table as discretely as I could. "Hey! Hey you!"

I felt eyes on me, though I couldn't see them.

"Yeah, hi. Listen, my friend and I here," I pointed to Stacie, "are having a heated discussion about something, and we need a third party to help us out."

No answer. The eyes were still on me, though. A shiver went through my spine.

"All right…so, in your opinion, whose solo work is better – John Lennon's or Paul McCartney's?"

The person put their book down and leaned in towards me. A sliver of light fell on him – a boy, probably 16, like me, with shoulder length black hair, pale skin, and piercing black eyes. "You want my opinion?" he said in a low baritone.

I nodded, swallowing thickly. He didn't blink.

"Well, then, I would say neither. John and Paul make fine music themselves, but George Harrison's solo work is clearly the best. He was always the true talent behind the Beatles. His music is the kind that, if given the opportunity, can make the world a better, more enjoyable place." He leaned back, obscuring himself once more in darkness. "Anything else?"

"No…no, I think we're good." I looked at Stacie, whose eyes were so big that I though they were going to pop out of her head. "Thanks. Come on, Stace." I grabbed her wrist and dragged her away. I heard him chuckle softly as we speed walked out of the library.

"What the hell was that?" Stacie asked after we collapsed into the big cushy chairs in the Ravenclaw common room. Stacie and I had met on the train to Hogwarts when we were both 11. We promised to be best friends, even if we were sorted into different houses. Luckily, though, we were both sorted into Ravenclaw. Ever since then, we had been practically inseparable.

I shook my head. "No idea."

"I bet he was a Slytherin."

"Stacie!" I threw a pillow at her. She let out an 'ow'. "That's mean. You shouldn't judge people like that."

"Oh, whatever. You do it too," she put the pillow under her head and sunk down in the chair. "You know how they all are. I've never met a Slytherin I liked."

"For your information, my mom was a Slytherin."

She sat up. "Nuh uh. Really?"

"No."

Stacie threw the pillow back at me. "You're such a shit sometimes."

"I know."

"Yeah, well, they all judge us, so why shouldn't we judge them right back? Double standard much?" She stretched and yawned, pulling out her maroon headband and shaking out her shoulder-length blonde hair. "Anyways, I'm going to bed. Night, chica. Don't let the creepy Slytherins bite."

I threw the pillow back at her as she headed up the stairs. I turned my attention to the crackling fireplace. The heat in the room slowly made me fall asleep, and I spent the night dreaming of burning black eyes.

A/N: Prologue! Yay! I'm so excited to write this…Happy happy fun times. The rest of the chapters will be better than this one, I promise. And, just so you are completely clear:

Italics = Krystel

Normal = Annemarie.

Love you guys! Read and review!