Snape lay on the floor of the Shrieking Shack as the last drops of life evaporated from him. Blood red as rubies trickled steadily from his neck where Nagini had bitten him. The pain was excruciating, but he had already felt pain worse than anyone could imagine. No, dying wasn't the problem. Dying could possibly end his suffering, a feeling he had felt every day of his short life. It was the fact that no one was there, no one to comfort him, no one to collect his body, no one to collect his memories. A rustling sound came from somewhere he could not see, then footsteps. It was Potter, Weasley, and their Mudblood friend, Granger. No. Not "Mudblood." Just Granger. As much as he despised Potter, he let out a sigh of relief, coughing up blood. He saw a liquidly silver substance swirling around him and rasped, "Take it…take it…" He grabbed Harry's robes, watching as Hermione's conjured vial was filled to the brim. Weakness poured through him, and he loosed his grip on Harry's robes. Knowing he had moments left to live, Snape whispered, "Look…at…me…" His jet black eyes met Harry's green ones. "The precise shape and size of Lily's eyes," Snape thought. Then darkness overcame him.