Other Pairing(s): brief Ginny/Harry.
Warnings: eventual student/teacher relationship, language, some sexuality and some violence. If you would like to read the uncensored version (which will contain explicit sexual content and slightly more graphic violent scenes) refer to AO3 where I reside under the same username.
A/N:This first chapter is more of a prologue and treads some very familiar ground in terms of the book/film. Probably in fic, as well. But please bear with me. The title of this fic is named after a song from Arcade Fire, and I thought the lyrics fit theme of this story fairly well. Titles aren't my strong suit.
Chapter One
Lying prone and nearly paralyzed on the cold, dust-carpeted floorboards of the Shrieking Shack, Severus Snape felt a horrifying mixture of terror and despair. His hands scrabbled uselessly at his own neck in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood gushing from the puncture wounds there. Immune as he was to the snake's venom, he could do virtually nothing without the aid of his wand, which had fallen from his numb fingers and rolled into a distant corner of the room when Nagini had struck, rendering him as useless as the common squib.
It stung to know that in spite of his many precautions concerning the wretched beast, he was laid out on this dirty floor dying of blood loss. The place he'd been struck by those impressive fangs was swelling rapidly and his blood was seeping alarmingly fast across the floor, black as oil in the darkness, permeating the air with its distinctive coppery scent.
He couldn't die; not like this. Not when there was so much left to accomplish.
It was ironic, he thought bitterly, that he would die here, where he'd almost met his end decades ago because of Sirius Black's underhanded, deadly trick. Here, where he'd been saved by foolish, weak Potter. It was far too much to hope that such a miracle might occur a second time...
As if on cue, a floorboard creaked from the direction of the hidden passageway and someone cloaked in the shadows took short, hesitant steps in his direction. Snape felt a brief surge of hope (could it be a pitying comrade?), and annoyance (that his unseemly death was being interrupted).
Then the spectre of James Potter appeared suddenly out of the darkness, looming over Severus with a silvery invisibility cloak clenched in one fist and lit wand in the other. Severus's body went, if possible, even colder. It was as if his own reminiscing had drawn Potter there to haunt him in his final moments. Before he could give voice to his fear, some small shred of rationality prevailed and he noticed the differences. Narrower nose, fuller lips, and startling emerald eyes flashing behind a messy, black fringe. Not James, but Harry.
What little breath was left in Severus's lungs fled his chest until it felt like it was caving in. Those exquisite eyes were fixated on him with an undeniable, fiery hatred, and something else too... Regret, perhaps? That he was too late to kill Severus himself? The relief flooding him was too sharp for Severus to muster similar feelings of loathing.
Now was his moment. His final act of redemption and damnation.
As Potter bent over him, Severus reached for the boy with a trembling hand and snagged his robes, tugging him down until Potter was practically kneeling beside him. Drawing desperately upon what little magic he could still muster, Snape managed with great difficulty to summon the essential memories—more than were perhaps necessary. They leaked crudely out of his eyes, ears and mouth, but Severus had no time to spare for self-consciousness
"Take it," he urged, the blood and swelling in throat causing it to come out as a gurgle. "Take it."
Thankfully, Potter seemed to comprehend what was happening, for within a moment he was holding a flask and siphoning Severus's memories into it.
After Potter had carefully collected them all, Severus finally allowed himself to relax. Whatever came next for the boy was far beyond his concern or abilities to assist. The knowledge was comforting.
The edges of his vision began blurring heavily and the throbbing in his neck didn't hurt so badly anymore. But Severus still needed one last thing. Just the one.
"Look at me," he pleaded faintly. "Look at me."
And Potter did, those perfect eyes flicking up to meet Severus's gaze one last time.
As his vision faded to black, he could almost fool himself that Lily was by his side, silently passing judgement.
Harry knees ached as he stayed crouched on the floor by Snape's side, the memories clutched tightly in one hand and his wand in the other, light wavering because of how badly his hands were shaking. He tucked the memories into his trouser pocket and, after a moment's hesitation, pressed his fingers to the unblemished side of Snape's neck. His skin was still warm and there was the faint beat of a pulse.
Indecision wavered so strongly within him that he felt dizzy for a moment. Snape was just as much a monster as Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback, and he deserved to die like this; betrayed and murdered by his master, left for dead. It was fitting after what he'd done to Dumbledore and the Order. After what he'd done to Harry...
But, no. A quick death was far too easy for the likes of him. He deserved much worse. He deserved to be put on trial and shamed before the entire wizarding world. He deserved Azkaban. Snape would face the full force of the law if Harry had anything to say about it.
"Hermione," he said unsteadily, "help him, please. If you can. I need him alive."
She dropped to her knees instantly, hand squeezing his shoulder, while Ron crouched on his other side, frowning heavily, and seemingly beyond words.
"Are you quite certain, Harry?" she asked tentatively.
The only thing Harry was certain of was that he wanted to vomit.
"Just do it," he said through gritted teeth. "Now. He can't get off this easily."
Hermione sighed and cast him a rather doubtful look before turning her full attention to Snape.
"I don't know if this will work on these, but…" she trailed off.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hermione passed the tip of her wand over the puncture wounds on Snape's throat while murmuring an incantation that Harry vaguely recognized, though he couldn't possibly say from where. He watched apprehensively as the flow of blood slowed, then stopped altogether. On her third recitation Snape's skin knitted itself together, so that only faint marks left behind from the bite.
Harry breathed an unintentional sigh of relief. Hermione regarded him with something that too closely resembled pity.
"If these wounds are anything like my dad's they're gonna reopen pretty soon," Ron said quietly. "I never did learn how they managed to put him to rights. He'll also need quite a bit of blood-replenishing potion. He'll probably be dead before we make it back to the castle."
Hermione nodded at Ron's pessimistic words, and said in a small voice: "It's all I can do, Harry."
"Thank you," he told her numbly, but not untruthfully. He stood abruptly, his limbs still quaking slightly. "We've wasted too much time here already. We'd better go."
They'd hardly taken a step towards the tunnel when Voldemort's voice reverberated through the house.
I don't really consider this a cliffhanger. Everyone knows what happens, right? RIGHT?
This is my first Snarry and first fic for the HP fandom, btw. So, I hope no one judges me too harshly.