Delerium
The last moments of Severus Snape.
Author's Note: Severus Snape is one of my most favorite characters from the Harry Potter series, so his death was potent thing for me. In the book, it's one thing; he goes quickly, very little fanfare, no sentiment. I almost felt cheated, to be honest. In the movie, the scene of his death and the scene of his memories in the pensieve that follows rip my heart out and eat it whole. I feel the movie did him so much more justice than the book did, which is shocking to say the least. I always found myself wondering exactly what Snape was thinking in those last moments. Was he seeing Harry without looking through James for the first time? Or was he just finally able to act without the illusion of the indifference that he's put on for the last seven years? Did he feel guilt or accomplishment? Was he afraid to die, or was it a welcome event for him after the past several years?
Severus Snape had never known a pain such as this.
He could feel the sensation of snake venom spreading from his neck and shoulders, downward through his bloodstream. It made his skin freeze, and yet he burned - gasping for air, struggling to make failing lungs function.
He had heard hurried footsteps to his right and felt the presence of someone beside him, but it was only when he heard the clatter of a wand on the floor and a hand on his throat that he forced his gaze to see who had come to witness his death.
Holding a shaking hand to his neck in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood, the boy looked at him with sad, shocked eyes - Lily's eyes.
Severus Snape took in everything about The Boy Who Lived, in that moment. He remembered, with incredible clarity, the first time he had ever lain eyes on Harry Potter - the Sorting Hat calling out Gryffindor as it was placed on the unruly black hair, and feeling a slight twinge of disappointment as though he were reliving Lily's sorting.
The whole of Potter's years at Hogwarts had pushed the Potions Master's patience to the limit and back again - the child had an uncanny knack of finding trouble wherever he could, and his attitude was no less blasé than that of his damnable father. Snape had, at first, meant every negative word he had said about the boy, every insult and cold regard he had sent his way. But, as the years passed him by, he saw that the boy was more like his mother in nearly every way. It was because of this simple fact more than anything, even more than Dumbledore's inane suggestions, that had convinced Severus Snape to take on the monumental and seemingly impossible task of protecting Harry Potter. Memories flitted rapidly through his mind;
Potter, nearly falling from his broom as Quirrell muttered a hex to dislodge him, muttering a counter curse while maintaining a very tenuous hold of his desire to kick Quirrell in his ridiculous, turbaned head. Threatening the sniveling coward in the library afterward.
The return of Sirius Black, who was believed to have been the secret keeper for Lily and James, and the incredulous disbelief that had overtaken him upon discovering that Black had somehow managed to get into castle grounds and had coaxed that arrogant, thick, hot-headed boy and his stupid friends to chase him across the grounds and to the Shrieking Shack. The fury that threatened to consume him when he found Black and Lupin shouting madness at each other and at the three frightened looking teenagers gathered in the corner. The shock, when Potter had suddenly turned his wand upon him and sent him flying backward as darkness consumed him.
... Casting himself in between Lupin, now turned werewolf, and the children, one instinct overriding all others.
Protect the boy.
Fourth year, gritting his teeth as Potter stumbled his way through the tasks of that idiotic tournament. Doing the best he could not to interfere, or curse the opposition into oblivion. For the love of Merlin, there were suddenly more children at Hogwarts than ever, given the presence of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. He hated children.
He remembered one of the only times he had ever felt honest concern; when it was made apparent that Potter's mind had been compromised by The Dark Lord. Occlumency lessons, and the painful memories that accompanied them. He wanted to both comfort Potter and throttle him at the same time, so he instead settled for scathing remarks and burning insults against both the boy and his infernal father.
During Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts, Severus Snape's world was turned upside down. In his heart, he knew - he had always known - that this was the beginning of the end. What he hadn't expected was the request from Dumbledore that would set the end in motion...
"Don't ignore me, Severus," Dumbledore had said harshly. "We both know that Lord Voldemort has ordered the Malfoy boy to murder me. But should he fail, one should presume that the Dark Lord would turn to you."
Snape suddenly found his mouth very dry at the prospect of having to kill Albus Dumbledore. He narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster, knowing denial at what he was getting at coloring his expression.
"You must be the one to kill me, Severus," the old man had said, with a hint of what Snape thought may have been sympathy. "It is the only way."
And so it had been.
What he had not predicted was that Potter would be there to witness the act. That the stupid, hot-headed boy would give chase, following him across the grounds and attacking him with his own bloody spell.
Snape had felt both disgust and an odd sense of pride at that. Obviously the boy was able to follow his notes successfully, but the idea of Potter ending up anything even remotely similar to him had made his skin crawl. He had lingered for a moment, soaking in Potter's hatred for him before fleeing with a sweep of his cloak.
When he found himself in the Headmaster's position the following year, Snape had done what he could to help the boy, but there was only so much he could do when he had no idea where Potter was, or - at times, if he was even still alive. The thought made him uneasy and anxious, and eventually he grew restless. He couldn't help but mentally flinch away from the jumbled memories that followed.
"There will come a time when Harry Potter must be told something," Dumbledore had said, and for one reason or another, it made the unflappable Severus Snape suddenly uneasy. "But you must wait until Voldemort is at his most vulnerable."
"Must be told what?"
"On the night Lord Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow to kill Harry and Lily Potter cast herself between them, the curse rebounded. When that happened, a part of Voldemort's soul latched itself onto the only living thing it could find; Harry himself."
The hair on the back of Severus Snape's neck stood on end and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.
"There's a reason Harry can speak with snakes. There's a reason he can look into Lord Voldemort's mind. A part of Voldemort lives inside him."
Realization, hitting him like ice water, of what Dumbledore had been referring to. Snape felt ill, in that moment, and had to fight the urge to bend over and expel the meager contents of his stomach onto the floor of Dumbledore's office.
"So when the time comes ... The boy must die?"
"Yes," Dumbledore had said. "Yes, he must die."
"You've kept him alive so he can die at the proper moment," Snape breathed, appalled that such a thing could even be feasible to the old wizard standing before him. The old wizard who had cared for Harry, had guided and nurtured him for years... had convinced Snape to protect him in the first place. "You've been raising him like a pig for slaughter!"
"Don't tell me now that you have grown to care for the boy."
The memory flitted away, and the darkness of the shack Severus Snape lay in came back into focus with sharp clarity. He felt warm wetness on his cheeks and, knowing what he must do, looked beseechingly to the boy knelt before him. "Take them," he gasped through the blood pooling in his throat, hands blindly reaching to indicate his tears. "Take them... Please."
As Harry obliged, Snape struggled to stay conscious. He knew he was fighting a losing battle.
"Take them to the pensieve."
So much had been left undone, unsaid. But there was nothing for it now, he realized. He would be dead in a matter of moments... and Harry, in a matter of hours. He only hoped that Harry would understand. That he would forgive. That Harry would not go to his own death hating him as much as he had hated himself these past seven years. That he would understand why he did what he did.
"Look at me," Snape said gently, gratified as Harry brought still-shocked eyes up to meet his.
Harry had no parents to keep him safe. No godfather to watch over him. Half of The Order was decimated, the rest were scattered. Dumbledore, gone. Dead by Snape's own hand. He had spent half his life trying to protect the boy kneeling in front of him now. Merlin knows he had tried. It was his only true purpose, to protect Lily's son. He could not escape the feeling that he had failed. Of course he had. Harry was, as Dumbledore so eloquently made him realize, meant to die. Lily's son, meant to die, and he could do nothing to stop it as he lay here, dying while the boy stared at him in shock and, dare he say it - dismay. Lily's son.
"You have your mother's eyes."
Severus Snape blinked, fatigue overwhelming him, and turned his head away. He felt his lungs give in, his last breath escaping him in a shallow gasp, his last thoughts of The Boy Who Lived.
Who would protect him now?