Harry Potter and the Powers That Be

"Well my siblings, we meet again," a soft, mysterious voice murmured. Like its owner, the voice was sexless, ageless and powerful. Fate was one of the four powers of the universe sometimes called by mortals the Powers That Be, and it was here to meet with its siblings for the first time in many aeons, if one marked the passing of time in conjunction with Earth. These beings are not bound by time as Mortals are. Its silver eyes wandered around the siblings, seeing if they had changed, though it knew that they would not have.

With it was Space, lounging around and looking bored, golden eyes half closed and obviously wishing to be elsewhere. That was only to be expected, giving it's nature, however.

Time's blue eyes were also half closed, but interest sparked within them. Time was a great being, and one who never showed its emotions, even in the most extreme conditions. It must be something to do with the fact that it controlled time, as Mortals know it – Fate reflected that you would need to have a great deal of patience to deal with that particular power, just as you did to deal with it's own power.

And there was Death, with flat black eyes. Death was standing calmly, black robes shrouding much of its form, looking imposing, as it always attempted to do. Death had never managed to intimidate its siblings, but Mortals found it very imposing, as Fate well knew. All Mortal destinies would end up in Death's cold realms, and it pitied them for that. It would certainly not like to have to put up with the other being more often than it had to.

"Can we spare the pleasantries?" Space demanded. Space was a lone power and was well known for it's dislike of the company of any and everything else in the known universe, including its siblings. "I have better things to do than sit around here." Such as watching supernova's occur and creating new planets, Fate thought to itself.

"There is no time here," Time pointed out, "Our father, Destruction, saw that none of his children had any advantage over the others when they met with each other. You are missing nothing in your realm, and we are missing nothing in ours, for nothing happens in any of them while we remain here."

Space shrugged, as ever unrepentant. "Why are we here, Fate? You called our meeting, after all," Time enquired politely, drawing the siblings away from an argument, as so often occurred when they met up. They just didn't get along all that well. Fate and Time were friendly, but Death and Space held themselves apart, and neither of the other two felt any reason to try and mend that particular rift.

"Because Death has taken something from me before it was time for that to happen," Fate replied, turning its silver eyes to its sibling. Although it did not show, Fate was furious. When it's siblings interfered with its business, it always was. They had no need to be interfering–it left them alone, why couldn't they return the favour?

"Do I really have to be here for this?" Space asked, obviously annoyed to be bothered by something that was none of his concern, as most things were. Its siblings were happy enough to leave it to its own devices, and it never troubled itself to inform them of what it was up.

"We all must remain to make this decision," Fate replied, voice cold. "Let me explain what has happened. The mortal, Sirius Black, had not yet fulfilled his destiny, but Death took him away anyway. I demand the return of this mortal to the realms of the living once more."

"The Mortal, Sirius Black, had reached the end of his allotted time to Live," Death rasped. "This is my decision and I have made it. I do not see why you must protest at this, Fate."

"His time had not yet come," Fate replied. "There has always been a delicate balance between light and dark, as my siblings will well know-"

"Light and Dark do not affect us, sibling, for we are neither. Light and Dark are only for Mortals to worry about," Space interrupted.

"Space, be silent if you have nothing productive to say, we all know what you speak of, there is no need to point it out for us again," Time told its sibling. "None of us have any wish to be here, it is uncomfortable for us all in the Meeting Place, and you are not going to achieve your aim, to get yourself, or any of us out of here, by interrupting constantly."

"Thank you, Time," Fate said. "I know that Light and Dark do not directly affect us, but at the same time they govern Mortal life. I know that this means little to my sibling, Space, but the rest of you will know what I mean when I say that balance in necessary. On Earth and on all other planets."

"We know," Time agreed.

"When the Balance has been tipped too far in either direction, someone must come to set it to rights and let it all begin again … Earth has reached such a time, and I have caused a Hero of the Light to be born, to upset the Darkness and restore the Balance that must envelope all living things," Fate said. "But Death has taken into its halls a key player in this. Harry Potter, my chosen Hero, needs someone he can love as a father or a brother. There were three people whose fate was to do this–Sirius Black, Lily Evans-Potter and James Potter. Lily and James Potter fulfilled their destiny in giving birth to the one who would set the Balance to rights, and when Death claimed them, I let my sibling do so, because I knew that Sirius Black would eventually be there for the Hero of the Light, though it was necessary for Sirius Black to be removed from Harry Potter's life for a time … that does not mean that his destiny was fulfilled when Death took him from life. In fact, it had only just begun."

"The Balance must be restored, whatever the cost." Time agreed slowly. "What must be done?"

"One of the three, or all of them, must return to life and help Harry Potter fulfil his destiny, and so complete theirs," Fate replied, voice utterly emotionless. It knew exactly what had to happen, persuading the others to do what was needed would be the hard thing.

"I will not relinquish them all, they are mine, and rightfully so," Death hissed. "If my sibling, Fate, says that the Balance of Power has been disrupted and that I must give up my hold on one or more of those under my command, I reply thus: I will let only one leave my halls."

"Who will be chosen?" Time enquired.

"Let the Mortals chose," Space yawned. "If it concerns them so."

"For once you have a good idea that doesn't revolve around you, Space. I'm impressed," Fate quipped.

"I will call the Mortal, Harry Potter here, so that the decision might be made," Time stated, again diverting the attention of Fate and Space, who were always at odds with one another. An argument would not help them now. "But my sibling Death will have to call the other three, for I will not disturb his Realm."

"I will call them," Death hissed. Suddenly, in a flash of light, four figures appeared, tiny when compared the four figures of Power who stood around them.

"What's happening?" asked the youngest, a boy with shocking black hair and emerald green eyes, he looked around and spotted the other Mortals who were with him. "Sirius? Mum? Dad?" he asked softly, looking around with emotions that played like a picture show across his face. Surprise, fear, pain and grief.

"Harry!" a taller, black haired and grey eyed older man called out in greeting, going to step forward, then glancing up at the figures above them and pausing, not sure what to do.

"My son," the red haired woman sobbed quietly, emerald eyes filling with tears of happiness. But she too stayed where she was, as unsure of herself as the two men in her company. She obviously wanted to go forward and embrace the son she had never known, but she did not, and would not, until the Powers had spoken and let them know what was going on. She recognised Death all too well, and it was not a good idea to anger him.

"Our son," another man, an older version of Harry, whispered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the only real movement that any of them made. His blue eyes were fixed on Harry, however, not his wife.

"What is this?" Harry asked, brows knotted in confusion.

"This is a Council of Power," Fate intoned. "You have been called here because the Balance between Light and Dark has been disrupted. You, Harry Potter, have been given the destiny of evening out the Balance … but to do so, you need to have one of these three people at your side."

"I don't understand," Harry Potter said, looking first at the three adults, then up at the four Powers above him.

"It was not your destiny to face the Dark alone. One or more of these three, a parental figure of some description, was to have been beside you at some point in your life to help guide your steps and teach you to love as you must be able to in order to fulfil your destiny, one of them was to be at your side in the final battle against the Dark," Fate continued.

Harry shook his head slightly, obviously still not able to comprehend what was going on.

"All of them have been taken by Death … in order to restore the Balance, Death has agreed that you might call for one of them to be removed from his realm to join you in the battle you will fight to restore the Balance," Time spoke up now. "But you may only choose one of them."

"How can I be expected to make a choice like that?" Harry demanded, anger taking the place of all the other emotions that had been so easy to see.

"It does not matter how, only that you do so," Space drawled. "We are not concerned with a single Mortal's decisions … only with the continuation of the Balance."

"You will have some time to speak with your three possible choices, and then you will be requested to make the choice, so that we may all leave this place, as it is uncomfortable for all of us," Time informed him. "We will leave you for a moment, when we return, we will expect your answer."

Suddenly the four figures were gone. Harry blinked, "Sirius, mum, dad…" he whispered, and the three adults came forward to embrace him tightly. For a moment, he leant happily against their embraces, then he pulled back, looking each of them in the face. "I can't make this choice," he said, tears forming in his eyes.

"You must make this choice," Lily said, stepping back and looking at her son. "Only one of us can return, and one of us must return. You have to choose which."

"How can I do that? You are my parents, but I can't bring both you back and Sirius, you're my godfather, how can I choose between you?" Harry demanded. "I love you all, I need you all, but I can only have one of you."

"I will make it easier for you then; I do not want to return to the living world," Lily said, "Not without James – I don't want to live if I must live without my love, not even for you, my son, though I would do anything else. I would have lived, if I had not died that night, and taken care of you, but I would have longed for death to reunite us once more."

"I feel the same," James agreed. "As much as I would love to be with you, Harry, I do not want to live without my love … besides, we never knew you, we have no relationship with you, and I would not want to return and find that you and I don't get on well." He winked conspiratorially.

"I have no love to leave behind in the Realms of the Dead," Sirius said, "And while I would not wish to take Lily or James's place, had they wished to return, I would be honoured to be granted a second chance to know you, and teach you everything you need to know, about love or whatever else."

Harry's eyes stung with tears. "Then I suppose the choice is made. I will have to wait to know you until I die," he said to his parents sadly. "I wish it could have been otherwise."

"So do I, my love. No one wishes that more than I do," Lily said, "But it was not to be, and that is all that matters now. Time will pass and you will join us eventually."

"We don't want to be seeing either of you again too soon now, you hear?" James smiled at his son and his best friend. "Live well, my friend, my son, and know that we will watch over you, and hope for your success."

"Has the choice been made?" Time, Space, Fate and Death appeared again around them.

"It has," Harry said, his voice faltering. Before he could change his mind, or think too much about what he was doing, he spoke again, voice chocked with emotion. "I choose Sirius Black."

Chapter One: Beginnings

Part One: The End

Many years earlier, Myrtle, hiding in the U-Bend of her favourite toilet, was, as usual, crying. She wasn't entirely sure what she had been crying about any more, but it didn't really matter; her death was just as her life had been. Utterly miserable.

In the solitude of the toilet, Myrtle had found more peace than she had ever had before. It had proved a great advantage, being able to walk through walls and hide in places where no one would ever look for her: and lets face it – who would look in the U-Bend of an out of order toilet for someone to harass?

And so, it was understandable that she should be annoyed when someone came slamming into her bathroom, without so much as knocking to announce her presence. Even worse, Myrtle realised indignantly, whoever it was had the gall to be crying. That was Myrtle's job! She didn't want other people being miserable around her! If they were, she might have to do the unthinkable and attempt to comfort them. Not that anyone had ever bothered to comfort Myrtle when she ran into toilets in tears. Nooo, they were all too good for that.

Well, be damned if she was going to go and find out who it was, or what was wrong. No, they could suffer as she had suffered. Without a comforting ear, someone to say that things would be alright … or possibly offer to go and sort out whoever it was that had upset her.

Yes, Myrtle smirked, forgetting that she had been making herself miserable about all the injustices of her life, It was a good plan. She stopped crying and instead pricked her ears to listen to whoever it was up in the bathroom itself.

It was definitely a girl. Myrtle could tell that from the sound of her sobs. Myrtle was waiting for the inevitable wails of injustice to begin. She well remembered the times that she had stood in that very bathroom, in fact, in the very cubicle above her, and ranted and wailed about her tormentors. Just thinking about it was enough to bring a tear of misery to her ghostly eye.

But she had more interesting things to do than to dwell on bygone miseries. She was curious, because the girl above seemed to be sobbing as though her heart was breaking. Maybe she hadn't been tormented as Myrtle had. Then she had it; the girl was nursing a broken heart. She remembered the time that she had been in here, sobbing her heart out over Tom Riddle. He had been the most handsome guy in school, for all he was several years above Myrtle herself, but she hadn't been the only girl in her year besotted by the king of Slytherin.

She well remembered the day; It was nearly Christmas, and there was going to be a ball. Myrtle had been feeling somewhat buoyant, unusually for her, after a lesson of Cheering Charms. She had seen Tom in the hallways, talking with some girl from his year, and, before she could stop herself, she had asked if he would take her to the dance.

She would never forget, in life or in death, the look that he had given her then. It was the sort of expression one might wear, turning over a rock and finding something slimy and disgusting underneath. He was looking at her as though she was something repulsive, too far beneath him to even bother with an answer.

Oh, how she wished that he had never actually answered her. But he had.

"What?" he sneered, his cultured, haunting voice cutting through her cheer like a knife. "Go to a Ball with you? Why in the world would I want to do that?" he had laughed then, a cold, cutting laugh that held no humour. "I don't think so. No, I will go with someone who is, for a start, my age, and, more importantly, an attractive somebody, not an ugly little nobody."

He had turned his back on her then, and offered his arm to the attractive female who was with him, and together they had walked off, laughing coldly. She had spent the next two days locked in the bathroom, not that anyone had actually noticed her missing … except perhaps Professor Sprout, her head of house.

Myrtle pulled herself from the reverie. She was interested now. She wanted to know what the girl was crying about, whom the heart-throb she'd made a fool of herself over was.

She floated up through the toilet and emerged into the cubicle, drifting through the closed door and into the bathroom proper. In a corner, near the sinks, a red haired girl was curled into a ball, her face buried in her hands and pressed hard against her knees, rocking gently back and forth as she sobbed.

"What are you crying about?" Myrtle demanded accusingly.

The girl shrieked in surprise, and lifted her tear-streaked face. Myrtle felt a brief moment of triumph for startling the girl, but it vanished as she took in the face that looked at her.

This girl would have never been turned by a handsome boy. She had a stunning face, porcelain perfect skin, delicately sculptured features, flawlessly shaped eyes and lovely, full red lips. Her lush red hair tumbled around her shoulders in attractive disarray, and she even managed to pull off the image of perfection with her face blotched by tears.

No, this girl was the type to coolly accept the jealousies of other females and the adoration of the entire male populace. Myrtle was starting think that she should leave the girl to her misery; she had probably broken more hearts than anyone else in the entire school, she deserved some heartache of her own.

But it was too late now, the girl had seen her. But rather than sneering at Myrtle, the moment she was over her surprise, she started sobbing again. "It's awful," she choked out.

"What is?" Myrtle asked, intrigued despite herself.

"She's gone!" the girl wailed.

"She?" Myrtle asked, wondering, fleetingly, if the girl was a lesbian. It would figure.

"Grace," she whispered, emerald eyes overflowing with grief. "Dumbledore just told me... she died this morning."

Myrtle had not been prepared for this. Wails at the injustices of being a lesbian, maybe, but someone dying? Really, she thought, it wasn't very nice to say something like that to someone who was already dead, but Myrtle decided to forego the pleasure of pointing out this fact and making the girl uncomfortable.

"Grace?"

"Grace Malfoy," she whispered. "She was one of my friends, from Ravenclaw. She'd been sick, but none of us ever realised that she was this sick. We never thought that it might be fatal … she was only seventeen." Now Myrtle was struggling not point out that she had been only thirteen when she had died. "Well, nearly … it's her birthday tomorrow … would have been her birthday." She started crying again.

Myrtle was now at a complete loss. What was she supposed to do now? She hadn't ever had much experience with comfort, either giving or receiving. Outside the door, a gaggle of girlish voices could suddenly be heard.

"That's my friends," the girl said softly. "Thanks for listening … I'm Lily …"

"Myrtle," she said slowly. "I'm usually here … if someone hasn't flushed me into the lake, anyway … if you want to come back some time," she added the last almost shyly. Lily nodded slightly and then hurried out of the bathroom to join a large group of friends.

Although she couldn't help but feel slightly jealous that Lily had an entire group of friends when she, Myrtle, had had none at all, Myrtle couldn't help but give something that almost resembled a smile as she thought of Lily's little nod before she left.

The room was made of pale stone, and each of the wide windows, which covered the eastern wall, looked out over the forest. The sky outside was pale, and rain fell slowly from the sky.

The windows themselves were tall and arched in shape. Each was draped with a border of white roses. Similar roses also sat in huge arrangements at the head of the long room and surrounded the enlarged photo of Grace, which was smiling and laughing silently from its frame.

She had to be strong.

Lily took a deep breath, holding it inside and counting to three before slowly letting it go. She couldn't cry, not now. She looked down at her hands, which were clasping the hanky she was holding so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. It hadn't been real until now, it had just seemed like a long surreal dream, the last week, where she just waited for Grace to jump out from behind a doorway or bush and yell, "Surprise Lily!" and let out that tinkling laugh.

But now it was final. This morning had been Grace's funeral, but only family and purebloods with connection to Grace had been invited.

She was now sitting in one of the spare classrooms at Hogwarts. It had been scrubbed clean and set out with chairs facing a raised dais.

She was at Grace's memorial service, held at Hogwarts for those who needed to say goodbye. She looked out over the people; each tear stained or bereft face. He gaze swept across the room and Lily took another deep breath, trying in vain to find the strength to stand in a moment when she was called and read the short words that had poured from her heart onto the paper.

Gideon Prewett was barely holding himself together. He had been crying when he had arrived back at school with his older brother and sister, both of whom had already graduated, but he had found the strength to speak to Lily for a moment and tell her that the funeral had been beautiful. He had been betrothed to Grace since her birth when he was barely eight months old, and Lily knew he had truly loved the girl.

"I mean, he tries to make me think he's indifferent to our marriage, but I see the way he looks at me," Grace had smiled and looked up at Lily, "I envy you your romance and mystery. Your whole life is an open book; your choices will be yours. I mean, I love Gideon, but he wasn't my choice, you know?"

Lily had laughed and replied that Gideon was quite the catch. But now, looking upon Gideon's truly heartbroken face, flanked on each side by a sibling, each offering him strength, she had to admit. Gideon would have done everything in his power to make Grace's life wonderful. His older sister Molly, who was married with a two young children and a baby of her own, was stroking his hand and whispering to him.

Lily sat next to them and behind that the room was full to capacity. Grace had spread love and joy wherever she had gone… and this was clearly evident in the people crammed around the edges of the room, standing, as there were no seats left.

Dumbledore's words were not registering as he led the group into the memorial service. She could hear him speaking but she couldn't make her mind understand. She vaguely recognised the syllables of her name and stood. Carefully she walked up onto the stage. From her higher vantage point she could see to the far corners of the room and the extent of just how many students had tried to fit in.

Lily's green eyes widened. Severus Snape had come, even when he had sneered to her this morning that he wouldn't have the time. He stood now in the shadows at the back of the room. His head low, his eyes darting about, then settling on the photo of Grace. Lily still to this day didn't understand why Grace had forced Severus to become her friend.

She had first arrived in the Great Hall from the library one Monday evening, amidst a thunderstorm, to inform the other girls at dinner that she had met a new study partner. She had stood there, her hands on her hips, blue and bronze scarf around her shoulders, and a triumphant look in her eyes as she declared him the "cleverest boy she'd ever studied with". They had been intrigued, each girl confiding in another who they all thought the partner could be. A few guessed Sirius Black, a seventh year boy with a reputation for the ladies. But none could have predicted him to be Snape; an unpopular, not handsome at all, unfriendly, Slytherin. Most of the girls in the group had been appalled. Being all from Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

And the way he had treated her in those first few weeks! Stories had gotten back to the girls, of the way he would ignore and sneer insults at Grace when she joyfully sank down at his table in the library, spread her books and quills and other random girly crap from one end of the table to the other, and began quietly chattering away about her day.

It might have been the long blonde hair that hung to the middle of her back, curling slightly at the ends, or it might have been the never ending chatter, but he had, at first, taken her to be an idiot. Grace had confided this to Lily delightedly, when all the other girls had decided that if they didn't hear about Snape he didn't exist. He had been proven incredibly wrong in his opinion, however, when one day she had pointed out an intricate error in a transfiguration essay he was writing. She'd never be called a brain, but she got by. Transfiguration, however, was the one subject Grace excelled at. It was "her thing". This moment had given way to tolerating the chatter and questioning of Grace, and eventually even conversing with the girl.

Only when she was alone.

Lily had once sat next to Grace in the library, and had happened to look up when Severus had entered the torch-lit room. She'd seen the shutter fall across his eyes and had smirked at him in triumph of putting him out by sitting with her friend. The day beside the lake, over a year previous, was in Lily's opinion was clearly unforgiven. He had after all called her a mudblood. She had only defended the damn boy when she had seen Grace pale and her eyes fill with tears when James Potter and the others had begun to tease him. This time she would win.

But he has simply turned on his heel and sat elsewhere… bending low over an essay and never glancing towards the girls. After about an hour, Lily had gathered her things, and on her way to the door remembered a book she had wanted to borrow, making her way to the stacks on the far side of the library. She had been re-emerging when she had seen Grace walk over to Severus' table, placing her bag next to his and complaining loudly about her Potions homework.

Lily had been about to storm over and tell Severus to stay the hell away from her friend when she had stopped in her tracks. Severus Snape smiled. Not sneer, smirk or grimace. He gave a sort of lopsided slash of his mouth and dragged Grace's parchment close to go over it, then they fell into a deep discussion. Severus Snape was counted amongst Graces best friends, and had been for over two years now, much to the chagrin of the group of girls. As much as she hated Snape herself, Lily had defended the relationship within their group till the end. Though never within ear shot of Snape himself.

But now wasn't the time for past digressions. Now he looked truly sad. His pale skin seemed to be devoid of all colour and purplish shadows deepened his black eyes. His mouth was a grim line and his hands were tightly screwed around a piece of violet paper. Lily recognised it to be one of the envelopes from Graces personal stationary.

She reached the podium a white marble column in Roman style with a glass top, and looked out over the group. It was a sea of broken faces. Tears fell and her eyes swam, making the room blur and sway. "Lily, get it together, you can do this," she berated herself.

"Once in a lifetime anyone who is truly blessed will get the opportunity to meet someone who truly sparkles. Grace was someone who lights up the room simply by walking in to it. Who made the storm clouds vanish with a smile, whose voice made the world make a little more special. Someone I could call my best friend. I feel so honoured to be able to say that, for she truly was a blessing. She made my life white instead of grey. She made the little things magnificent and the dark times a shared load.

I'm thankful. I'm thankful for her kindness, I'm thankful for her laugh. I'm thankful for the times we would stay up late and talk about everything in our lives. I'm thankful that she shared that with me."

Lily looked up from where her eyes were barely making out the scrawl she had jotted on the paper last night in bed through her tears, and saw at once that Gideon was hunched forward over his knees, sobbing silently, while Molly and Fabian comforted him as best they could. Next to him the other girls from the group were all holding hands, looking up at Lily, silently offering their strength, except poor Arianna, who was sobbing into her boyfriends arm. Lovegood, the Ravenclaw boy in question, looked down at her petting her hair and whispering.

Three sets of eyes caught hers in that brief moment. One broken and desolate, one comforting and soft, the other blazing with some unchecked emotion, leaving her with the impression he would come to her if she gave him the slightest sign. The three kings of Gryffindor were standing leaning against the wall opposite to the windows. Sirius, James and Remus. Their little sidekick wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Each wore their black school robes over a clean uniform, out of respect for Grace, and Lily nodded to them each in turn before looking back down at her paper, feeling somewhat empowered.

"She touched everyone who met her in a different way, and I will miss that, always."

She folded the page and put it in her pocket, then left the stage.

Part Two: When it all falls apart.

A seventeen year-old Severus Snape stood there, trying to pretend to himself that he was okay and knowing in the back of his mind that it was futile, the tiny pillars of happiness he had allowed into his heart were shattering like spun glass. Grace Malfoy, was gone. His parents were gone, not that the loss of his father was a hardship. Now he had lost Grace. She was annoying, persistent, and goddamn, she could chatter about absolutely nothing for hours. She was the best friend he had ever been forced to have. And he had lost her.

Her portrait on the front podium grinned at him. He had to get the hell out.

In that moment he didn't think anyone else could understand Lily's words like he could. He pushed his way through the crowds, the last of Lily's words tearing his heart right out of his chest.

Damn it, could fate be this cruel? Hell, she was the only person who had given enough of a damn about him in this school, and even the world, to tear down his boundaries and get to know him. With her he had experienced what it was to have a friend. She only had to smile at him to make his day.

"Hmm… ok… prettiest girls at Hogwarts?" Grace smiled impishly as she drew a heart in his potions textbook with a flourish, next to where she had written her name. They had been outside, one of the few times they had gone out at night, laying in squishy sleeping bags by the lake, studying by candlelight.

Severus had sighed deeply, closing his eyes and cursing under his breath playfully, "Why do you proceed with these pointless questions Grace?"

She petted the top of his head and grinned "Why do you proceed to answer them? We have a pact to never tell until we're dead – so answer the question."

"Oh Merlin. Fine. Either you…"

Grace lit up, "Aww… y'think I'm pretty?"

"You know you are. Either you, the Black sisters, umm Lily Evans or Sophie Wexton.."

Grace paused a moment and looked supremely pleased with herself. Damn, he thought for a second he'd gotten away with it. "Lily Evans… well well well,"

He broke into a run tearing through the halls of Hogwarts as fast as he could his mind racing and his heart pounding, and found himself heading for the library and before he could stop it, the thought that maybe she would be there formed. He stopped running and slammed his fist into the wall on a broken scream, crumpling and leaning on the wall, before sliding down it.

He had stood all alone in the headmasters office, expecting to have to go through this all alone. His father, in a drunken rage had killed his mother, finally. Beaten her to death, then killed himself. The headmaster had tried to soften the blow, but Severus had known, had gotten the drift.

"Severus, are you sure, there's really no one? Your mother's funeral is not an ordeal you should undertake alone."

Severus had avoided eye contact with the headmaster. He was starting his seventh year, and had no close friends, and now, no family. But he swore he wouldn't cry.

"There's no one headmaster. When do I leave?"

There had been a knock at the door then, before Severus had gotten his answer, and she had been there, having heard about the situation from the Head Girl. He had forgotten - he had a friend. Grace had simply walked to his side, scanned his face intently for a moment then taken his hand. Her hand had stayed in his all the way through the burial, though they stood in the rain.

He lifted his fists to his forehead, only then noticing he had cut his hand open when he had struck the wall. Blood pooled in dirty streaks across his clenched fist. Then he remembered the letter. It had been on his pillow when he had gone to his room last night, and he just not been able to open it. He looked at it now. Crumpled, slightly dirty with a faint blood smear on the corner, but unmistakeably it was Graces stationary, and her hand across the front spelling out his name.

He flipped it open and pulled out a page of lilac paper and as he read the short message, his heart leapt into his throat.

'Dearest Severus,

I have no time to explain fully now, but I swear to you I'm not dead. My illness has reached my heart, and I fear I have no more time than just a few days. They have decided to put me under some sort of suspended animation until there is a cure, however long that takes. Sev, I'm so scared. I beg you, please find the cure. I have faith in you, my potions prince, you, along with Lily Evans are the best and cleverest friends of my heart.

Save me

Grace'

"She seems to believe you are her greatest hope." The voice washed over him like water, stealing his breath and brushing a tender chill down his spine.

Before him stood, in all his supercilious glory, the heir to the Malfoy fortune and older brother to his best friend, apparently his very alive best friend, Lucius Malfoy. He was dressed in finely cut black robes, his sheet of white blonde hair held back by a black velvet ribbon.

He knelt down to Severus's level, and looked him dead in the eye. "Snape, you have more talent than any other student before you, according to Slughorn. If you had the power to save her, if I could get you the power to do whatever you heart pleased, the world pure and at your feet, for her, would you take a chance?"

Severus saw something almost scary in the other mans eyes, but the words left a trickle of interest in his mind. He stood and nodded, and followed the other boy towards the dungeons of Hogwarts.

Part Three: Sins of the son

He sat, staring at the fire in front of him. The last of the suns rays had moved across the pale stone walls of his room, then faded away in splendid sunset, but his eyes never left the fire, trained on the flickering light. The sun had set, night was falling, and Draco Malfoy was dreading the long dark ahead. A night like all the others, when the sins of his past would haunt the small amount of sleep he did get, images of the atrocities he had witnessed, caused, and even committed in the name of a madman, whose cause was not his own. And all the gain the favour of his father, whose dedication to said madman, the Dark Lord, bordered on the obsessive.

It seemed so insignificant from hindsight, that Draco fought his whole life to emulate such a father, and deny himself even the smallest amount of individuality. For twenty-one years now he'd been someone else. It was all a load of crap. Legilimency at this stage might be the only one thing keeping him alive. For sure if the Dark Lord had seen his current thoughts he'd be put to excruciating death. Hell, with the thoughts he was having of late… he should have killed himself by rights for loving…

But he questioned it all now. Everything he was taught, everything he belived.

Draco lifted the glass of fire whiskey to his lips and took a mouthful, rolling it over his tongue. It burned a fiery trail down his throat, and he savoured the sensation. It was better than dwelling on the situation he now found himself shackled to.

What had happened that night? When Dumbledore had spoken to him, offered him redemption, it was as though every weight he had imposed upon himself was lifted, and he had opened his mouth to accept the offer when Severus had arrived. The goddamned pact with his mother had forced Severus to do the deed Draco could not. Dumbledore had been killed. Because of him.

He had managed; through the dropping of a lot of galleons and through some of the surprisingly few connections the Dark Lord had left in the ministry, to maintain his freedom. A signed testimony from Severus Snape that he had acted on his own to kill Dumbledore had been important in his defence. But it had not been enough. Then there was the most surprising testimony of all… Harry Potter had arrived, using a complex spell to bring the witness of Moaning Myrtle. Between the two of them Draco had found himself free. Heavily fined and a "tainted" person, but free.

His final year of school had been hell. The animosity of most of the school towards him, for what he was accused of and for what he had nearly done. He had learned fast not to leave the dungeons after dark. Slytherin had hailed him a hero, which seemed the greatest travesty of all. He eventually just kept his head down and went about his business.

To top it all off he had never seen Potter again. He didn't return to Hogwarts, in fact none of the golden trio had stayed on at school. Though Weasel and Granger had arrived on the day of the first NEWTS, taking the tests alongside the rest of their once classmates, and staying in the nearby town, but not staying on the grounds.

He had rebuilt his fathers vast Malfoy Empire Corporation after school. Now stable and practically running itself he was forced to realise the truth. He had thrown himself into the business not because it was floundering; it hadn't been in the slightest. He buried himself in the numbers, calculations and screwing whatever blonde was his current secretary. He had been trying to work off the remorse. He felt… guilty.

So he attended the appropriate meetings, went to all the right parties. Became his father's perfect son and wore the Dark Lords white skull mask. He avoided being alone in public and allowed Pansy to flirt with him and occasionally gave her a good shag. He acted for the entire world to see like he was perfectly happy, but inside… inside he was caught, dying. He hated the way he treated life and took what he wanted.

But for now he sat, night after night, watching the flames, wishing for that moment back, when he had almost been allowed freedom and redemption. To be his own self… Wishing for – wishing for the chance to have her. Love her. Her…

Part Four: Here cometh the Night

The sun was setting over the hills painting the sky in hues of gold, pink, orange and yellow as Nyxia stood on the balcony outside her bedroom waiting. She had an air of solemnity, her dark eyes betraying none of the true emotion that she felt, her face like a mask of calm to hide the turbulent beating of her heart. Like the night she was named for, she knew people said she was secretive and solitary. Only a handful of people that she counted a friend knew her true self, and she frankly liked it that way.

A few tendrils of her long, jet-black hair was lifted up by a rogue breeze to be blown about before drifting gently back down to rest. She drew her midnight blue robes closer to her body as another breeze whispered by sending goose bumps rising on her skin.

"Uh, miss?"

She turned to look at the house elf cowering at her feet, "What?" she asked her voice soft, speaking her native tongue, Russian.

"The master, he asks for you."

Without another word Nyxia through her room and headed straight for her grandfather in the east wing. It was only a few short months ago that her grandmother had taken sick and died and now it was her grandfather who now lay upon his deathbed. She arrived in a swirl of heavy silk and sat down on the stool next to her grandfather's bed. Gently she reached to take his hand in her own.

"I'm here Grandfather."

He opened his eyes and peered at her for a moment.

"Ah, Nyxia, my darling grand-daughter. I have something very important to tell you," his voice raspy and a bit hard to follow, "I am sorry we couldn't find him, we tried very hard so that you two could grow up in a proper household together. So many secrets…"

"Find who?" Nyxia asked, thinking that perhaps the old man was starting to lose his marbles.

"What do you mean who? Your twin brother of course, that's who." Her grandfather muttered, "We managed to find you alright, but we suspected that maybe your brother was taken out of the country because we could never find him. Not that the Ministry was any great help. Stupid idiots should never have tried to take you away from your rightful family."

As he rambled on Nyxia just stared at him in shock. She had a brother! Her mind was frozen unable to form any other coherent thought beyond the fact that she had a twin brother.

"Your poor parents were heartbroken when they took the pair of you away, didn't even give them a chance to hold either you before they whisked you both away to be put up for adoption." Her grandfather had continued talking, he now gave her hand a pat, "My Nyxia, I'm sorry that we had to lie to you, but your parents aren't dead. They are very much alive and well last I heard."

Nyxia's carefully placed mask of indifference cracked revealing a flash of confusion, sorrow and hope, "What?" she whispered.

"Are you deaf girl? I said your parents are alive, not dead." He took a deep, shuddering breath, "Ah my poor sons, locked away in that cursed prison. That's why you and your brother were put up for adoption, you were born in Azkaban, but since your parents were considered criminals, the Ministry wouldn't let them keep either of you. But if they were stupid enough to get caught with the Dark Lord then it is their own fault," the old man heaved a sigh, "I just wish they had chosen a different way to express their opinions instead of following some stupid power hungry idiot. I am proud that my son stood up for his beliefs though. He managed to do this family proud."

"Grandfather," Nyxia said slowly and carefully least her voice should crack and unleash a torrent of emotions, "What are their names?"

He look at her as though she were stupid, "Haven't you been told?" he asked.

"No Grandfather, I was never told my parents name, I have only seen a photo of them that you and Grandmother showed me once when I was younger." Nyxia replied keeping an iron grip on her emotions.

"Ah, yes, we never told you because we didn't want you to be hurt by the mindless dribble of others…" he started to cough, each breath a struggle to draw.

Nyxia calmly picked up the goblet of water that was on the bedside table and handed it to her grandfather. Although she was outwardly calm and unruffled, inside panic was staining on all her bounds, threatening to spill over. The old man could not die before he told her the names of her parents! He just couldn't! Eventually her grandfather stopped coughing and took a sip of water before handing the goblet back. His breathing was very shallow as he sunk back into the bed and his voice, when he spoke, was raspier then before.

"Your father's name is Rudolphus and your mother is Bellatrix. They are no longer in prison, they live somewhere in Britain, fugitives. But I don't want you to go there to find them. Not after all we went through too keep you away from their life, to not let you be tainted by their reputation. If you go to Britain, search for your brother, let him know about his real family, his true heritage. Start at the Ministry in London, your mother named him Phineas, but no doubt he has a different name now." another short cough, "where you are the night, dear girl, he is the day. Find him, he is family."

Just as the full moon rose over the hills he took one last rattling gasp before releasing it with a sigh. Nyxia waited for the next breath, but it never came. A high-pitched wail sounded beside her, she turned to find a house elf wailing its heart out on the floor. She hadn't even realised that it was there.

For a few long moments she struggled with her own emotions, stopping them from surfacing, but the wailing of the stupid elf was not helping.

"Quiet you!" she snapped at it, though not unkindly, the elf i had /i been with her Grandfather its whole life.

Instantly the house elf fell quiet allowing only a few sniffles to escape. Nyxia turned back to the problem at hand. Still struggling with her emotions she started to snap out orders.

"I want funeral preparations made immediately," She stood to her full height, which was quite tall, and straightened her silky robes, "I also want preparations made for me to travel. After the funeral I am going to Britain. Now go!"

After the house elf fled to obey her orders Nyxia turned and slowly drew the black velvet comforter up over her beloved Grandfathers face with respect and dignity, then turned and left the room, walking through he dark halls. She carefully entered her room, closed the door, then leant heavily against it with a gulping sob, and crumpled to the floor. Crying as though her heart was broken.

A soft cracking sound from her fireplace drew her attention, and she turned, brushing the back of her hand over her eyes. Two boys entered her room, and as their eyes adjusted to the half-light they saw her and the larger of the two said her name, softly. "Nyx…"

The second boy, slightly taller but finely built moved swiftly to her side, sweeping her into a hug and holding her tightly as she indulged in a rare moment of release. She tended to keep her emotions to herself, and both boys were glad she was mourning. The first boy, whose name was Viktor, walked over to the others and rested a hand on Nyx's shoulder, a silent way of saying that he was there for her.

For a long time he stood vigil over her as she cried in to their friends shoulder, never saying a word, never moving. Just standing and watching as she emptied her heart in the night. Finally she fell asleep from exhaustion and Viktor picked her up and carried her to her bed, where he tucked her in and moved to sit opposite the other boy in the lounge. Both boys giving each other an understanding look before settling in. They would watch over her. Nothing would be said tomorrow morning about her emotional indulgence, her mask would be repaired and back in place by the time she woke up.

Part Five: Redefining the Living

Harry Potter was lying flat on his back on the roof of his apartment building; overhead the serene moon sailed through the star-strewn sky. Harry's eyes watched the moon, as they had for some time now, tracking it as it followed on its path. The cycle of the moon was never ending, and had been going on since as long as man could remember. It was soothing, watching something so dependable.

He looked away from the moon and out at the sky, automatically naming the constellations as his eyes passed over them, remembering his Astronomy lessons at Hogwarts, all of his thoughts pausing for a moment as he reached the constellation Canis Major, and the star Sirius.

Sirius, Harry's godfather. Was he watching, from that star that Harry was now looking at, the star that he had been named for? If he was, what did he see? Did he see is godson, the son of his best friend, and a child that he adored, or did he see the boy who had led him to his death. Did he blame Harry? Or did he forgive him? Even if Sirius did forgive him-and he had no way of knowing if he had or not-could Harry forgive himself?

He had been twenty-one for exactly, he looked at his watch, eleven minutes. He turned his eyes from timepiece to the stars once more.

Harry knew that he had not forgiven himself yet, not for what happened to his parents, or Sirius, or Dumbledore, but who knew what would happen in the future? He had to come to grips with losing them, but the wound was still there, unhealed, and Harry wondered if it ever would truly be healed. Another thing that only time would be able to tell him.

Suddenly there was a flash of white and Harry followed the shooting star across the sky, remembering an old Muggle tradition; that if you wished upon a falling star, that wish would come true. A smile formed at his lips, and he whispered, so softly that he almost couldn't hear himself, "I wish that I could be normal, plain, and still happy. I wish this were all finally over…"

He shook his head slightly at the folly of his thoughts, but he couldn't help it. He was so tired of being sad and angry at the situation, while trying to find happiness in his life, but it all seemed so unattainable, only a miracle could bring it to him now. Would a miracle be forthcoming? Something else I'll have to wait and find out he decided, smiling faintly.

With that, Harry rose to his feet, figuring that since it was around one in the morning that he should probably get to sleep. In his room, he pulled back the sheets and slipped into the bed, wishing as always that he had Ginny. But she would never be his, not till it was over. He would never let happen to her what had happened to his mother. Until Voldemort was dealt with, he was doomed to be alone. Almost the moment he slipped into the bed, his eyes closed and he sank into the soothing depths of a very deep sleep. He dreamt of massive beings of power, of his parents and Sirius, and of a choice.

The next morning Harry opened his startlingly green eyes and stretched, pushing himself into a sitting position. He smiled faintly as he looked around his room, remembering his dream. Nothing had changed, but everything seemed different. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was out of place. Almost like he had felt in the Dursley's house.

Harry shook his head. It was nice to have a new, soft mattress to sleep on, and a proper, warm quilt to sleep under, as well as new sheets, in comparison to his terrible old room at the Dursleys. His apartment overlooked one of the side streets off Diagon Alley, and was convenient to everything he needed.

It didn't seem all that weird that he was dreaming about Sirius being brought back to life, though he wasn't sure why he was dreaming of having to choose between Sirius and his parents. The summer of his sixth year he had had dreams to the point of Cedric Diggory being alive after all, although he had also had plenty of dreams about the graveyard and Cedric dying … but this one had seemed so real. Somehow, he almost found himself believing that it could be.

He passed into his living room, tying the cord on his white drawstring pants, and wearing nothing else. On his counter was a pile of his mail from yesterday. One of the letters from his friends had put a very sour note in Harry's life. Ron and Hermione were now officially broken up – Ron had pissed Hermione completely off with his "prattish behaviour". The fact he was sleeping with someone else, Hermione suspected it was Lavender Brown again, had been a undertone of annoyance in the letter.

That was just great. Harry didn't know all that much about love and after his experience with Cho Chang and Ginny, he wasn't sure that he wanted to have anything to do with it. From what he did know, however, from observing others, was that Hermione and Ron were about to get VERY volatile. Great. Just great.

Besides, it was more than likely that they would both want him to side with them, and ignore the other. How could he choose between Ron and Hermione? They were both his friends, but from what he had experienced of their previous arguments, neither of them would want to spend time with other until they got over it. Then again if Ron really was cheating on Hermione…

Harry sighed and got dressed in his Auror robes. He didn't really want to go to work today. He was good at his job, but with the war and the pressure placed upon him to defeat Voldemort, it all seemed to be a weight on his shoulders lately.

Ron was with him in the Auror department. He wasn't very good, Harry lamented to say, mediocre at best, but his passion and dedication to the work more than made up for anything he lacked skills-wise.

Harry just wanted to escape from his life. He wished that his dream of the night before could come true, and Sirius could return to help him out here. He didn't have to like it at all, and he didn't.

Harry left his apartment, locking the door, and grabbed coffee from the shop on his way to the Ministry. Hermione worked there in the research division, and he thought perhaps he should go see her, make sure she was ok, so he grabbed an apple cinnamon muffin too. As he was paying he felt the presence of someone behind him.

"Hello Harry," a soft, almost familiar voice said. Harry started and looked up. Standing before him was a young man, probably around Harry's age, with longish black hair and grey eyes. Harry stared at the boy for a moment, wondering what in the world was going on. Finally, he could come up with only two explanations. One was too out-there to be considered, so he went with the other.

"Tonks, if this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny," Harry said harshly. He liked Tonks, but this was going too far. Way too far.

"Tonks? Who's that?" a young Sirius Black asked.

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