Severus Snape very slowly became aware of the fact that he was laying, completely naked, on a hard flat surface, surrounded by a shroud of dark mist. As the darkness began to lift and turn to gray, his memory ran backward . . . the green eyes . . . the spilling of his memories . . . the boy, the blood, the snake . . . Voldemort.

The name caused him to sit bolt upright. The gray light continued to brighten to a stark white, and then he realized he was dead.

This thought was not as panic-inducing as Snape expected. He rose and looked around, through the bright mist, but found nothing, and no one. Then he remembered that he was naked, and had not finished wishing for clothes when they appeared. He rose and donned them, and took a few cautious steps.

"Hello?"

Then a voice broke through the mist, which began to dissipate as Snape slowly turned.

"Hello, Severus."

When he met the woman's eyes, as black as his own, he stared for a long moment. She waited patiently for him to greet her. When he did not, she spoke again. "I had hoped we would meet a long time from now, Severus, but I am pleased to see you."

Snape swallowed. "You're so young," he whispered. "Impossibly . . . impossibly young."

She smiled brilliantly. "Your own youth colored what you saw when you looked at me," she told him. "And without the weight that we both carried in that life, darling Severus, you see me as I am."

She was, in fact, bodily younger than he was. She was tall, her hair black, long, flowing, her face bearing a greater resemblance to his own than he remembered. Her robes – which he never saw her wear in life – were clean and neat. There wasn't a scratch or bruise on her. And most significantly – most startlingly – she wore a smile. Not the kind she used to try to comfort him with, the kind that betrayed, more than she realized at the time, how sad she really was. This was a genuine smile.

Finally, he spoke her name, as he knew it. "Mother."

She came forward and touched her hand to his face. He laid his own on top of it and closed his eyes, and allowed himself to be filled up by the gesture. His father crossed his mind briefly, and she seemed to know this.

"When you are ready," she said, "you'll see him. But I suspect that will be a long while."

"A very long while," replied her son, and she smiled at him again, withdrawing her hand. Then suddenly, he took her hands back and, tentatively, began to ask, "The boy. . . ?"

She raised an eyebrow in a way that reminded Snape of himself, only there was genuine mirth in her black eyes. "The boy's name is Harry, darling."

"Yes – where is he?"

She paused a moment before she answered. "Walking to his death."

He let out a breath and lowered his head. "Then I have done all that I could."

"Yes," his mother replied. "You were very brave."

Snape shook his head. "No – please. Don't call me brave. Lily's death might as well have been my own doing."

Snape's mother, Eileen, let out a breath and squeezed her son's fingers. "Lily Potter was destined to die at the Dark One's hands," she said gently. "Had you not been there, the prophecy would have lain quietly at the Ministry as his power grew; as his influence and his philosophies continued to weave a dangerous, destructive web around the wizarding world. Perhaps in a different moment, he would have chosen the Longbottom boy instead . . . but either way, Lily would have fought, and Lily would have died. Either way, Severus. But you ensured that it was not in vain. You ensured an end to the Dark One."

"And an end to Lily's son."

"You created the path that will lead to peace for your people. The direction that the path led was always out of your hands, my dear child."

Snape raised his head then, and looked around at the mist. "What is this place?"

"Nothing more, and nothing less, than a place to wait," she replied. "Some might call it Heaven. During our lives our souls become bound to other souls, through love, or hate, or obligation. When Death comes, we must wait until those that loved – or hated – us during life have let us go. The living must move on before we can."

He tilted his head. "Why are you here?"

"For you, darling," she replied.

He nodded in understanding. "I never got over your death. . . ."

"You were only fifteen." Her eyes clouded over. "So angry. I never wished that for you. But I suppose . . . you never saw anything different. Your father and mine knew very little else."

"I never blamed you," he said truthfully. "I was angry with you. With them. With myself."

"Because you couldn't stop them."

Snape nodded and wouldn't look at his mother. "Yes. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't defend you. You wouldn't defend yourself."

Eileen was quiet a moment before she spoke again, gazing at the top of her son's bowed head. "The first time he raised his hand to me, I told myself that unlike the rest of my family, I was a Gryffindor, too noble to use magic on a Muggle. It wasn't right. Then I convinced myself that I was brave to stay with him, for your sake. But the truth was that I was afraid . . . I had nothing, I had no one else. And – after having, as my father put it, tossed my family aside in favor of a Muggle – I was far too proud to go to anyone for help."

Snape looked up at Eileen. He wanted to be angry with her still, but the emotion wouldn't come. "And . . . the drinking? The whiskey?"

"Blissful oblivion," she replied. "For me. For you. . . ."

"Lost hope," he replied. "A lost mother to add to a father lost the moment he knew what I was."

"Do you think Tobias would have loved you more, would have paid attention to you, if you had been born without magic?"

Snape lifted his brow. "It had crossed my mind. My . . . oddity, as he put it, was his chief complaint."

"Severus, you could have become the Muggle Prime Minister and your father would still have been a lousy drunk. His drinking and anger had absolutely nothing to do with you."

He lowered his head and knew that she was right. He said nothing for several long minutes, and then looked up at his mother. "How long will you now remain?"

She smiled slightly. "I don't know, to be honest. I will stay until you're ready to let me go, at which point, I believe, I may leave of my own free will."

"Where would you go?"

"On," she replied. "To the next life. A new journey."

He nodded, and then hesitated a little before he asked, "Mother . . . will I. . . . Will I see Lily?"

Eileen smiled at her son. "Yes . . . I think so. She's waiting for her boy right now, Severus." She was quiet a moment, studying his face. "She's very kind. She was with me when you died . . . I'd like to return the favor, darling."

He nodded and dropped her hands, his brow worried. "Shall I see you again?"

"Of course you will, Severus," she replied. "As often as you like. You need only call for me." He nodded again, and she lifted his chin so she could meet his eyes. "Lily will come for you when she is ready."

"Is she angry with me?" he asked, hating that he sounded like an insecure little boy.

"That is not a question I can answer," said his mother. "But you will find, Severus my love, that anger is fleeting here . . . and Lily knows all you have done for her." Then she inclined her head in a farewell, rather more gracefully than he himself would do, and she turned to disappear into the mist.

Snape no more wished to sit than a chair appeared beside him. He sat and felt at his neck, but it was wholly undamaged. Potter, surely, was dead by now, although Snape hadn't the foggiest clue how long it had been since he himself had died.

"Severus."

He sat up straight, alert, and then stood to look around into the mist. The voice he had heard call his name had been faint, but it was there. The chair disappeared.

"Severus."

It was clearer now, louder, and Snape knew whose voice it was. "Dumbledore." And then he turned and saw him, reclining on a deep purple chaise lounge trimmed with gold braiding. He walked over to the old man and peered down into his face.

"Was it part of your brilliant plan for me to have died?"

Dumbledore, his eyes closed, smiled faintly. "You knew it was a possibility, Severus. But no, it was not part of the plan, and I am sorry for it."

Snape was quiet for a moment or two, observing Dumbledore. "Are you unwell?"

"I am quite well, my boy. Simply exhausted."

"From?"

"I have been to the In-Between, and back again," replied Dumbledore. "It takes a surprising amount of energy to travel to another plane of existence."

Snape's eyebrow curled. "The . . . In-Between."

"Yes. You may know it as Purgatory." Dumbledore sat up then, and opened his eyes.

"And have you often traveled for leisure since I killed you?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly at Snape's unchanged drawl. "I went to greet Harry."

"I should have thought that was his mother's prerogative," replied Snape. And then, before he could stop himself, he continued, "Were you so anxious to see the Boy Who Lived To Die that you had to meet him half way?"

"I was more anxious to let him know he didn't have to continue," replied Dumbledore, looking away. "I was more anxious to explain, fully." Quietly, he added, "Everything."

Snape moved to sit down next to Dumbledore on the chaise. He noticed, for the first time, that his robes were white, the knowledge of which seemed to cause them to turn to their usual black.

"So the boy is dead."

"No. No, the boy is not dead."

Snape was surprised when this fact didn't irk him. "Do you mean to tell me that he failed to die – again – or that he failed to do what he knew he must?"

Dumbledore turned to him. "He went to Voldemort in the forest. He faced death willingly, Severus, thanks to you."

Snape looked away, thinking a moment. "Voldemort would have left nothing to chance," he said. "He would not have hesitated."

"He did not. But he succeeded only in killing the part of himself which resided in Harry." And then Dumbledore went on to explain the remainder of what he had just finished explaining to the boy himself.

"How many horcruxes remain?" asked Snape.

"When I left Harry, there was only one."

"Nagini."

"Yes. Nagini. And Voldemort himself."

"And the boy went back."

"Yes."

Both men were quiet a moment. "Severus," began Dumbledore, "You're a very brave man." Snape said nothing to acknowledge the compliment. "Thank-"

"Do not thank me for killing you, old man," snapped the potions master suddenly.

Dumbledore nodded once, and then turned away. "I'm afraid I must ask one more favor of you . . . and this one you may like less than killing me."

Snape rose, irritated, and looked down on Dumbledore, who'd taken the opportunity to put his feet up on the chaise, lay back, and close his eyes. "What is it?"

"Tell them, Severus," he said. "I'm so exhausted . . . I don't think I could summon them if I wished. Tell them about Harry." And before he could protest, Dumbledore was asleep.

Snape closed his eyes and without really thinking about it, wished his former headmaster away. When he opened his eyes, both surprised and vaguely pleased that the old man was gone, he drew a deep breath and let it out. His mother had said she wouldn't come until she was ready – but maybe she was ready. Maybe she was waiting for the boy, anxious, and needed to know where he was.

"Lily."

His voice was low and soft and when he heard it come out of his mouth he feared that it wouldn't be enough. After a moment, he said it again with a stronger voice.

"Lily. Lily . . . please."

Then he heard footsteps, but they were too sharp to be hers. He was surprised to find the familiar face of Remus Lupin when he appeared through the mist.

"Hello, Severus."

"When did you. . . ."

The werewolf smiled kindly. "Not long ago," he replied. "Not very long before you."

"I'm sorry," replied Snape before he realized the words were coming out of his mouth.

Lupin smiled at the flash of surprise that crossed Snape's face. "She isn't ready to see you," he said gently. "She asked me to come. She's waiting for Harry."

Snape nodded his head and looked away. It was disorienting to look at Lupin – even though he was the least hated of his four childhood nemeses – and not feel contempt.

Lupin smiled a little. "I think she feared if she sent James or Sirius you'd assume you'd gone to hell."

"She isn't wrong," replied Snape. "But I need to speak with her. About the boy."

Lupin nodded and turned. "Walk with me," he said, and Snape fell into step next to him. After a moment, the mist cleared and Lupin slowed, and a handful of people came into view. First was Nymphadora Tonks, with her bubble-gum pink hair and a wide smile for Lupin. They joined hands and Snape vaguely recalled having heard that they had married. Then he saw, standing shoulder to shoulder, James Potter and Sirius Black. Their faces were calm and collected, not a trace of malice or scorn, and again Snape felt himself disoriented by the lack of sudden, blinding hate.

Sirius said nothing. James inclined his head. Lupin, his hand still holding tight to Tonks', looked briefly back at Snape, who stood as tall as ever in the face of the three of them. "Severus wanted to speak to Lily about Harry."

"You can try to summon her," said James, "but unless she's ready to see you, she won't come."

Snape let out a breath and it dawned on him where the boy got his incredible stubborn streak from. But Snape had been her best friend for a long while, and he knew exactly how to get her attention. "Lily!" he snapped. "Lily Potter, I want to see you right now! I have news to give you regarding your insolent, disrespectful son and I won't give it to your smarmy pig of a husband."

She was in front of him in a flash, her red hair blown back from her face. She said nothing, but stared at him, her glorious green eyes blazing.

He soaked it up, as much as he could, before he spoke. When he did, his face and his voice were both more gentle than he supposed they'd ever been.

"Lily. . . . He isn't coming."

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes widened by this news. Then she drew a breath. "He lives," she whispered, but not to Snape. She turned to James. "He lives – James, Harry's alive!"

When she ran to him, Snape turned and walked away through the mist.

"He didn't ask for any of it."

Snape closed his eyes against the voice that had haunted him for so long. Then he turned, and there she was. Her name escaped his lips in a breath.

"Lily."

Heaven, his mother had called it. But if that were true, she'd be in his arms right now.

"He didn't ask to be famous. He didn't ask for so much responsibility."

Ordinarily, he would have retorted that he hadn't done anything to stop the attention; that he had reveled in it; that he had used it to his advantage. These were things that Snape commonly told himself. But though there were many things Snape was, stupid wasn't one of them. This was the boy's mother. He wisely kept his mouth shut.

"You were unkind to him, Severus."

Snape wanted to lower his head, but couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off hers. Since Voldemort's return he hadn't allowed himself to even dream of them; he was vigilant in practicing Occlumency to the point that feeling absolutely nothing had become normal. It was as a drug – without it, every emotion was magnified. He needed to feel the numbness just to function.

There were many things he wanted to say in reply to her statement. That he had to be, that he wanted to be, even, and that at times he simply couldn't control it – her eyes, her lovely, kind eyes in the face of a Potter. But anything he would say seemed too much like an excuse.

"Why would you protect a boy you were so determined to hate?"

"I promised the protection for you. No other reason. I don't . . . I didn't . . . ." He looked away, finally, trying to put his thoughts to words. "I never thought it would be so difficult. . . ."

Lily's lips quirked. "So you led a double life. You consistently put yourself in harm's way. You did whatever Dumbledore asked of you – I saw, Severus. I know. I witnessed every cruelty you endured at the Dark One's hands. And this, all with equanimity. You occluded everything. But you couldn't look into my child's face without controlling yourself?"

Snape turned his face back to hers. "Your child looks exactly like your husband. Except his stolen eyes," he replied softly. "Your son bears a scar; a physical scar, on his forehead. There is no wizard, no spell that can erase it. He will bear it for the rest of his life." He swallowed once, and then again, trying to drum up the courage to say these latent words to Lily. "He and I have that in common, except that my scars cannot be seen. Your husband made them when he looked like that."

"Harry is not James." Her eyes were flashing again, but her tone remained steady.

Snape remained quiet, for a long moment. "I know." He almost didn't say it. Then he looked up at her, into her glorious eyes, and knew that there was nothing he could hide from her. Not anymore. "Lily . . . I love you. I've always loved you."

She nodded quietly, formulating her reply. "I know that now," she whispered. "Severus, you must know I always loved you, too. I loved you very dearly as a friend; my first friend in the magical world. You helped guide me through so many things. Your friendship was so valuable to me, more precious than gold, which I suppose is why your betrayal hurt so deeply. But while I had you, I loved you. I still love you."

"Was there ever any hope for me?" he whispered.

"It is impossible for me to lie to you while we are here," she said, and he wanted tears to come, but they did not. The words stung, but only briefly.

She took his hand and squeezed it. "But life has its cycles. Because I cannot lie to you, you must believe me when I say that there will be another Severus, and he will find his Lily . . . and this time, he will not let her go."

He rumpled his brow. "Why must there be another boy so tortured? Why must someone else endure what I did?"

"That is the way of the world, Severus. The miserable will seek to inflict what they feel on others, and the kind will do the same."

"You were kind to me. . . . More so than I deserved."

"You were miserable. But everyone deserves kindness." Tears spilled from Snape's eyes, which vaguely surprised him. She held his black gaze for a long while, and then said, "Time has little meaning in this place. It may seem a moment, or a very long time before you see Harry again, but you will see him. You saved him; he is bound to you."

"You are not leaving. . . ?" He wanted to panic, and it bubbled up in his throat, but fizzled.

"I am not. I wait for Harry, too. And Petunia. James will have words with Vernon." She smiled at him then, and held fast to his hand as she began walking. He kept the slow pace beside her, nothing left of his quick, purposeful stride. His robes did not billow. He simply was, side by side, with his friend.

"Is there a way to look?" he asked, glancing sideways at her. "Down upon the world . . . the things left behind." He swallowed. "Upon Harry?"

She rewarded him for the use of her son's name with a dazzling smile, which faded as she formulated her answer. "Yes," she said. "But caution must be taken. There is nothing at all you can do about what you see. I once looked – I wanted to see how Harry had grown up. I wanted to watch just one small moment, to see him do his homework or play with a friend. So, for a brief moment, I looked, and afterward, I never wanted to look again."

"What did you see?" asked Snape, quirking an eyebrow.

Lily stopped, and when she turned her face up to him, the look in her eyes unsettled him. "I saw a boy with green eyes and unruly hair and a scar on his forehead. He was unwashed and unfed and unloved and terrified, locked in a cupboard."

Snape was dumbfounded. "Harry?"

"Yes," she said. "Petunia and Vernon. . . . I didn't think they would hold such a grudge. I didn't think they would be so afraid. He was a boy – just a little boy, without the comfort of a mother." She shook her head and looked up at him. "Well. I do not know what will become of them, and I'm not sure I want to." Then she smiled. "Less direct, perhaps, is the way. Would you like to try?"

Her story had given him pause, but she was smiling, and she was so lovely when she smiled he'd agree to anything. "Yes," he said.

"Close your eyes," she said, and when he did, he felt her let go of her hands and touch the sides of his face, and then he felt as though he were falling into a Pensieve.

The Greengrass family had always had a reputation for their tempers. Snape had known this since his first year at Hogwarts, when, fearing he'd be late for a class, he rounded a corner too quickly and ran right into Dominic Greengrass, who was then a seventh year student. There was a lot of shoving and yelling and name-calling, and at the time, Snape had counted himself lucky to have come out of the encounter physically unscathed. Other students, he knew, were not so lucky, particularly those not in Slytherin.

When he met Dominic's children as a professor – Marcus, Astoria, and Daphne – Snape knew nothing had changed. Marcus was a miniature of his father; the girls were proud, outspoken, and as catty as other teenaged girls, but he never saw them outright bully anyone.

Marcus, like his sisters, grew and survived the war, and then married. Although he wanted a son, his wife presented him only with a girl she called Aurora. Marcus resented not getting what he wanted, and as his daughter grew and it became apparent that there would be no further children, he began to resent that his daughter looked so much like her mother, on whom he blamed his lack of sons. Aurora came to Hogwarts an awkward and angry girl who was as anxious to prove herself as she was to escape her parents.

Snape saw so much of himself in the scrawny black-haired girl. He could relate to her fascination with learning magic and particularly her disregard of whether the magic was dark or not. The more powerful it was, the better. He could relate to her viewing her gift as the tool that would get her out of her unhappy life. But he also knew that at the tender age of eleven, in her heart, just as it was in his, there was no true darkness, no malice, no bitterness, only anger that things were the way they were, and frustration that she couldn't change them. She was not so lost, however, that the moment she got her Hogwarts letter, she didn't find a reason to hope for a better future. Like him, she knew that Hogwarts, and the things she could learn there, would show her the way out.

The poor girl was so morose and awkward that it was difficult for her to make friends, even amongst her housemates. Her cousin Scorpius Malfoy was nice enough to her, but she couldn't relate to him. She didn't know what it was like to be adored by her mother or encouraged by her father; she only knew that her Uncle Draco and Aunt Astoria pitied her. She knew plenty of resentment, however, and that was what she felt.

So when Aurora boarded the Hogwarts Express on September 1, 2018, she avoided Scorpius entirely. As soon as she'd gotten her trunk loaded, her mother had nodded tersely to her and left the platform. She was vaguely acquainted with a handful of other students, but since her father wasn't a particularly nice man to be around, he hadn't many friends, which meant his family wasn't terribly well-known, except in reference to his temper.

She tried to find an empty compartment, but it was no use – there were too many shrieking, happy children. Finally, at his insistence, Aurora joined Scorpius in a compartment he shared with only one other boy.

The boy was shy with coal-colored hair and brilliant green eyes, but as it turned out, he was a Gryffindor, and she knew better than to associate with one of those. Scorpius got away with it, but Aurora's father always said that his brother-in-law was soft. Aurora found, against her will, that she very much liked looking at those green eyes, which were always kind to her, even when she wasn't kind in return.

All throughout her first year he was terribly nice to her – not pitying, not like her cousin, but genuinely nice. He offered to help her with her Potions and Charms work. When he learned from Scorpius that she was struggling with flying, he offered to fly with her, and when she turned him down flatly, he was there when Scorpius tried to help.

He never gave up being kind to her, not once through their seven years of school, and he was rewarded with a steady friendship which reminded Snape, as he watched, fiercely of himself and Lily in reverse. And as he watched he recognized the shift in the way Aurora treated his cousin's green-eyed friend.

The feelings growing in Aurora's chest continued to grow, but she continued to guard those feelings, or so she thought. Scorpius often teased her for how often she looked at his friend.

It was late May, on a Saturday morning in the great hall. Aurora sat with her charms book, ostensibly reading, but really looking three tables over to where the Gryffindors sat. The green-eyed boy sat next to his fire-haired sister, going over potions. There were only a handful of days remaining in the term, and then they would graduate, and she didn't know when she'd see him next. He was going to Wales to continue his potions studies. She was going anywhere but home, where her father had already caught wind of rumors that his Slytherin daughter might've taken a sideways glance at a Gryffindor.

Worse – a Potter.

An Evans, thought Snape as he watched.

And Aurora rose from her table, ignoring Scorpius' questioning, and she walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down across from the green-eyed boy.

There were tears – of fear for his rejection, of pride in herself, of embarrassment – swimming in her eyes, and she looked at him a moment, soaking up the concern and love she finally allowed herself to see in those glorious emerald orbs.

She took a breath. "Can I come with you?" His brow twitched, and he tilted his head. "Can I come with you to Wales? Please, Albus."

He didn't even hesitate. "Yes," he said, and reached for her hand. And incredibly, she smiled. And then he smiled. "Yes, you can come with me. You don't even have to go home; you can stay with us. You can stay in Lily's room until we leave."

"Oi!" protested his fire-haired sister. She was ignored.

The tears spilled down Aurora's cheeks as she laughed and held tight to Albus' hand.

As he felt himself being pulled back, Snape saw swirls of Aurora's future: a first awkward meeting with the Potters, at Platform 9 ¾; the first time Albus kissed her and how she floated for days, having never known that kind of happiness existed in the world; their wedding, and subsequently the birth of their children.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks when he opened his eyes to find himself standing in the mist with Lily.

"Your grandson," he said simply.

"Yes."

He smiled at Lily. He felt lighter. He pulled her close and held her.

When he finally pulled back, she smiled. "You and I have made our peace," she said. "We are no longer bound. But you have peace to make with others."

He understood, and nodded. "It won't come as easily as it did with you, Lily."

"You are right," she agreed. "But you have time."

He nodded. "Will I see you again?"

"If you like. Call for me."

Snape leaned down and kissed her cheek. He felt nothing but love and light as she smiled at him again, and walked away into the mist.

Thanks for reading!