A/N: Poor Snape. The most misunderstood character in literature... I can't help but feel for him, for his lost chance at love. So. This is what I came up with. The scene after (spoiler alert?) Snape's death, when he is in that limbo space before moving on. Lily, of course, is the one there to fetch him. Please leave a review and tell me what you think!

Words: 1534
Characters: Snape, Lily
Time: Post-DH (Snape's death)
Genre: Friendship

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

Formless mist glittered like so much steam, like frozen breaths in the wintertime, rising in periodic little puffs that disappeared at the same pace as they were created. It wasn't that the mist wasn't changing – it was neither dissipating nor thickening, but rather doing both in such equal measure that his surrounding were never made more clear. He floated there, for a time, in the pale haze, his sense of existence being noteworthy and intriguing to him, for he felt no pain. It had been a long time since he had felt no pain – not in his left arm, where the Dark Mark burned, nor in his heart, where her memory lingered like shattered glass.

It was, all of a sudden, a very uncomfortable situation, to be so resolutely alone and painless. It was so unknown that it frightened him, and he longed for something familiar.

No sooner had the thought formed in his mind than the mist around him began to fade and reveal the true, solid form of what looked like the inside of a grand room, with stone pillars and great wooden doors looming up above him. At his feet, a floor with tiles made of swirling fog gave him a place to stand, rather than float; he noticed, too, that he was wearing loose black robes that were undoubtedly wizard wear, but were causal enough that they would not have looked out of place in the Muggle world, either.

Gradually he recognized the shrouded scene. He stood in the entrance hall of Hogwarts castle, that home of his grandest dreams and darkest nightmares, in front of the magnificent double doors that led into the Great Hall.

From the doors – not through them, for they remained closed, but literally just appearing in front of the doors – emerged a familiar, heartwrenching figure. Dark red hair, the most vivid color in the place, gleamed and danced as she walked; bright green eyes so familiar to him (not only because of her) pierced him through to the soul. She was younger than she had been when she died. Her skin was smoother, her posture more loose; there was no worry and fear in her countenance. Only everything that he had always craved, always loved; her kindness, her empathy, her affection.

"Severus," she said softly. "Oh, Sev, it's been so long."

She was so close to him now that he could see the tears in her eyes that she refused to let fall. Instinctively, it seemed, for he certainly did not decide to do it, he extended his hand to her. When she took it in hers, her fingers small but so strong, so warm around his… only then did he realize that she was truly present, in as close to flesh and blood as she could be, physical and real. nothing like the wraiths conjured by his memories and his dreams. He was struck speechless with shock.

"It's all right," she said. "You don't have to talk yet. I can talk for a bit, if you want."

He nodded dumbly.

Her smile was just as effervescent as he remembered. Squeezing his hand, she guided him down to the floor, and they sat cross-legged and facing other, their knees barely touching. "It's been so long," she said again. "Severus, I wanted… I want to apologize. For what you've suffered. I've seen it all, the pain, the danger you've known for so many years, because I was always looking out for you… I never stopped caring about you. I want to apologize, but I also want to thank you. Everything you've done for me, and… and for Harry… I saw how much it tortured you, but nevertheless you saved him, even if in the betweentimes your relations were… less than friendly. I didn't care. For my sake, you always put his life, his safety, above all else, and for that, Severus… Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

It seemed she could restrain her tears no longer. They began to slide over her cheeks, catching on the corners of her lips, though she tried to wipe them hurriedly away. Only then did he find his voice.

"Lily, don't cry," he said. Her name felt so strange on his lips; he had not spoken it aloud in decades. "Please, don't cry, don't thank me… I was not being noble. I was not being kind. Everything I did… it was from my guilt over killing you. It was my fault you died, and I couldn't save you, could never tell you… I attempted to compensate by saving your son's life only when necessity demanded it, then torturing him for the sole crime of living when you had died."

He was gripping her hand unnecessarily tightly now, he knew, but he could not help it. He looked down, at their clasped hands, away from her compassionate gaze, but he could not escape her gentle, forgiving words.

"Was it really only guilt, Severus? I don't think so. It was, always, no matter how overshadowed by anger or remorse… it was always love."

Seemingly of its own accord, his head dropped and fell heavily on to her wonderfully warm and solid shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, comfortingly. He breathed in the scent of her, so familiar yet so distant, always bittersweet.

"Love," he murmured under his breath. "Lily… did you… do you - "

"Yes," she said, and he was startled to hear that her voice was tight and soft, as if she were holding back tears. "Yes, I love James. I know how much that must hurt you, and I'm so sorry… He also thanks you for our son, though I know you do not want his gratitude."

He did not want to hear any more, but he could not tell her so, and so he hugged her more tightly to convey his meaning without having to speak. She seemed to understand, for she returned his embrace with equal strength. Her face was buried in the curve of his shoulders. It was some time before he regained his senses enough to draw away from her and breathe the fresh air – mist? – again. He glanced around at the foggy version of Hogwarts. "Where are we?" he asked Lily.

"You tell me," she said with a shrug. "I don't know. This is… your death, after all."

"My death," he repeated. "So, then. It finally happened. I'm dead?" Instantly he raised his hand to his neck, feeling for scars of snakebites, or at least some remnant of the cruelty he only just remembered. His skin was smooth. Pushing up the left sleeve of his robes, he noticed his inner wrist was clean too, though he had guessed, from the lack of pain, that that was the case.

Lily touched the flawless skin. "I'm afraid you are," she said sadly. "I'd always hoped that you would live, Severus - "

"I was miserable."

"But you were alive. There's always the possibility for change if you are alive. You could take your life once again in your own hands," she said. "But when you are dead, you are powerless… you can only watch…" She seemed to catch her breath, looking once over her shoulder. "Never mind me, Sev. I am curious, though. Where are we?"

"In Hogwarts. In front of the doors to the Great Hall."

She laughed – a sound so clear, so beautiful, so heartwarmingly sweet, that he couldn't help but smile along with her. Her eyes glowed. "Hogwarts! Really? Now I can see it. It fits you. You always did belong here."

"Is this it, then?" he asked. "Is this where we stay?"

Her auburn hair rippled as she shook her head. "Oh, no. We're in front of the Great Hall, aren't we? With those big wooden doors that looked as high as a skyscraper when we were eleven? Well, when you go through those doors… that's it, Severus. Just like when we were eleven. I know that last time, after we went through those doors, we were separated, but it's different now, Sev." Gently she reached for his hand, squeezed it with her delicate fingers. "Crossing this threshold… you will not end up alone ever again."

"You promise?" he asked, hesitant and unable to meet her eyes, like a child once again.

"I promise," she said. "I came to get you didn't I?"

With that, she rose to her feet, still holding his hand, so he was forced to rise with her. She seemed to be waiting for him to do or say something. Her gaze was tender, encouraging.

"I'm ready," he said at last.

Lily smiled. She turned her head towards the great double doors, and Snape looked at them too, standing side-by-side with Lily. When her hand squeezed his once again, he took the first step, and continued until he opened the doors and disappeared into the mist, with Lily close by his side.