Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter. Poor Snape...wonderful Alan Rickman!

The dead of the battle were each buried in their own location. With those they loved or without, near, far or somewhere in between. Severus Snape, when the word was spread of his heroism, was interred beside Dumbledore, at Hogwarts, in a place that would soon become, should they wish it, a resting place for various Hogwarts head teachers. Though Harry Potter never visited Snape's resting place – at least not after his funeral, which was more well-attended than anyone could have hoped – he always thought of the man he had hated, who, in the end, had been his greatest, bravest ally. In years to come, Potter's son, Albus Severus, could often be spotted there, paying his respects to his two namesakes in turn, with candles or wreathes or whispered words. Some say the dead do not become ghosts until a long time after their deaths. Others believe that once a person dies, their soul is instantly free, their body left as an empty shell. In fact, neither of these assumptions are true. It is when a person is buried, when the last respects are over and done and no mourner is left at the graveside that a soul emerges into its final place, be it heaven or be it hell.

For Severus Snape, his last mourner, despite their differences, turned out to be Harry Potter. And, as the boy turned and walked away, more a man now than anything else, his soul was finally free. An expanse of white clouded his vision at first but ever so slowly he made out the shape of the retreating Potter and did not know what to feel. He hardly knew whether he now had any feelings at all. That is, until he heard a voice, from just behind his shoulder. A voice he had never thought to ever hear again and his heart swelled with an emotion akin to that stranger called joy.

'You've redeemed yourself to him.'

Snape spun around where he stood, which was difficult, treading on air and all.

'Lily?'

There she stood, (or floated to be more precise) not a mark upon her, red hair aflame, skin flushed with life. And those eyes, those bright, piercing, shining eyes, were greener, more emerald-like, than he had ever seen them.

'Hello, Sev.'

He almost burst out laughing, despite the foreign feeling of it. The sheer disbelief that here she was, after all this time. That something as simple as dying could right the wrong he had tortured himself over, was almost too unimaginable for any sort of reaction. She continued, seeing his inability to form any sort of sentence.

'It's been a long time, hasn't it, old friend?' The soft, sweet, almost pitying, perhaps regretful, smile she graced him with gave him cause for that thing called happiness.

'Far too long,' he croaked, his voice weak and hushed with the impact of it all. She moved closer to him, and slowly but surely, placed her hand on his arm and turned to look back at her son, whose slow progress back to the castle, head bowed, spoke of deep thought. They stood there in silence for a very long while, watching him, even until his feet tapped evenly up the entryway stairs. Snape began to feel uncomfortable, standing there, staring. He turned, desperate to say something to this wonderful woman beside him, but she spoke before he could begin.

'Thank you,' Two words. Two words that tugged at his heart in a way only she ever could. She looked at him, and there were the traces of tears in her eyes, 'For everything.'

'It was the least I could – after…' He trailed off. You coward, he thought to himself, even now, when it's over and it's done, when she knows everything you still can't say it.

'It doesn't matter.' She breathed and the finality of it left him dumbstruck. She noticed and continued. 'I mean, of course it does matter. Or it did. Then. I was angry at you. So angry, for a very long time.' He bowed his head, prepared to accept his newest nightmare: that she'd hate him for the rest of eternity. Despite his preparations, he was even more unprepared for what came next. 'But it wasn't your fault, Sev. Not really. I know that now. And even if I could blame you then, how can I now? After everything you've done for Harry…you've been braver than I could ever be, Severus. You've saved his life, more than once. You've slowly become that man again. That boy who was my best friend in the whole world.'

She smiled at him then, such a genuine smile. And the kindness, the forgiveness in it, cut through his last defence. He cried. Severus Snape, the strictest teacher, the toughest taskmaster, broke down in tears. Immediately, without thought or thinking, Lily took him into her arms and that movement made him all the worse.

They stood there awhile, the black-cloaked men and the white-wreathed woman, the boy and the girl who swore to friends – best friends – forever. When his sobbing ceased, all he could say, like she had said, was:

'Thank you.' It was muffled and soft and fraught with sobs, but he'd said it and she smiled at him again.

'No, Sev, no. Thank you. Now,' she started, pushing him back, only to take his hand, 'There's more to see than just me you know.' He grew nervous at that, but her lips curled again and she said, 'Don't worry. There's nothing but good things waiting for you. Trust me?' She beckoned and he hesitated, just for a moment, until he realised.

This was Lily. Lily Evans. Lily Potter. Whatever the hell she was called, she was here and she was holding his hand and she was smiling at him. She'd forgiven him. With that information, with that knowledge in him, he could take on whatever life – or rather death – threw at him. He cast one last glance back at his tomb, at Hogwarts and its grounds. His home, his one true home since he was eleven years old. And then he walked forward, with Lily, into the final rest. Because death, death would be an awfully big adventure.

The line in italics is attributed to both Aristotle and JM Barrie. RIP Severus Snape. RIP the Harry Potter series. Rest assured, you won't be left down for too long.