Dislcaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of it's characters or the world in which they roam. This is just something I do for fun.
Severus Snape watched. His eyes fixated unmoving on the unnaturally graceful twisting of the large serpent in her protective sphere. A magical barrier that could have been as delicate as glass, but that he knew may as well have been made of stone.
I MUST get to Potter, he thought urgently. I have..unfinished business to attend to.
He stared blankly at the contorting snake while a voice that was so distantly near continued on its drawling tangent.
"My Lord - Let me go to the boy -"
If only I can get to Potter...
The voice continued to hum in the background as Snape's black eyes slipped back to the long gracefully twisted body. His mind probing the snake as if he could find the answers written on the wall of its brain. It was as if he had sedated her somehow. He sensed an eerie calm about her, like she was drifting lazily through space in a state of semi consciousness.
Odd.
"- While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."
The weight of the Dark Lord's words hit him like a tonne of bricks. It was as if he were being pulled away from himself when he was really just standing still. His heart thudded against his chest so loudly he could feel it, and the early traces of panic began to settle in.
"My Lord!" Snape protested. He raised his wand.
Voldemort stabbed at the air with the Elder Wand and for a moment Snape expected to see bright green light and nothing else. The moment had passed and relief momentarily washed over him, but his intentions were made clear almost immediately when the bubble began to descend over him. Despite its magical properties, it passed through Snape as easily as if it were air.
Snape watched as the writhing body contorted and the snake's eyes focused on his. He sensed her elation, felt the snap of awareness that rushed through her and excited her tremendously.
Even though he had mere moments, time stood still. He was acutely aware of his surroundings. Colors were vivid and details popped into the foreground. Those eyes that were like swirling galaxies of color. A complicated web of greens, yellows, flecks of brown and strands of blue encased in an otherwise clear crystal ball. In the center, a slanted black hole lie in wait, perilous and mysterious.
There was a forceful hiss issued from The Dark Lord from somewhere inside that prison. Or was it outside-
The snake's body stiffened and drew back, poised to strike. The jaw unhinged and an impossible gaping mouth opened to reveal long sharp fangs, slick with beaded poison.
In an instant Snape felt a fierce piercing pain stab through his body. The fangs embedded themselves into the delicate flesh between his neck and collar bone and pools of red overflowed to claim the now empty space.
Nagini. In all the time he knew of her she had never failed to hit her mark. She was a silent assassin, and most unfortunately, a fatally accurate one.
Snape let out a scream of pain. He stumbled backwards and collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor. The back of his head collided painfully with the wall and stars erupted behind his eyes. Somewhere in the distance he heard heavy footfalls cross the room and a door slam shut behind them. He was alone.
Snape gripped the wound on his neck, attempting to slow the flow of blood pouring out of it. Rivers of red seeped between his fingers and ran in rivlets, a violent contrast to the porcelain underneath. His black robes became slick and shiny with it.
He couldn't say he was surprised. He always knew that Voldemort worked for himself and that anyone, anyone, was disposable. He had walked that fragile line between good and evil for so long it was only a matter of time before something went wrong. How many times had he been tortured at the hand of Voldemort for disobedience or merely for relaying news that he didn't like. He was on the receiving end of a grown man's temper tantrum far too many times. If he was honest with himself, he was a little relieved. He was so tired. Tired of so much pain. It may feel good to rest-
Somewhere in the distance he heard more footsteps, but this time they were lighter as they drew nearer. The edges of his vision were growing blurry and the weight of his own body was becoming overwhelming. A face appeared.
If Snape wasn't already dying he would have been startled, but he hadn't the energy for that. Potter's face appeared before him as if from nowhere as he discarded his father's invisibility cloak, letting it slip silkily to the ground. Snape met Harry's eyes, the green eyes that looked so much like Lily's, there was a flash of a second face peering out from Harry's own. It was gone in an instant, but Snape recognized it immediately. It was a face he had never allowed himself to forget. One he thought about every day. One that gave him strength and courage when he felt he was no longer enough. His heart skipped momentarily, letting a spurt of blood gush out from between his fingers.
Lily.
...
Harry.
…
Something clicked.
Harry Potter!
Snape couldn't believe his luck. For once in his life he was happy to see Harry James Potter, the boy who lived. Relief and a renewed sense of duty overtook him. He tried to move his hand but it was so heavy. He couldn't make the fingers move. His skin felt feverish, hot to the touch yet he shivered violently with a cold that penetrated him to the bone. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of Lily. He thought of the promise he had made to protect her son. Now somehow, as if by magic, here he was standing there in front of him. If he could only reach him-
His hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of Harry's robes, pulling him close, leaving behind streaks of red on the floorboards below. The blood was seeping up into his airway making it thick and heavy. He pushed passed the obstruction with sheer determination.
"Take...it….take….it" Snape choked. He silently pleaded with Harry to trust him. For once in his life just, please, trust him.
The memories came spilling out of him from every nearby orifice. A silvery blue substance, neither liquid or gas, came flowing out of him. His ears, eyes, nose and mouth were weeping with it, giving him a grotesque haunted look. The boy had a flask thrust into his hand and he collected the memories, gathering them carefully with the tip of his wand.
I...I did it.
Snape saw a flash of light behind the boys face. Behind his eyes. The room had grown substantially brighter and more vivid. He thought he saw-
"Look...At...Me" Snape gasped.
His breathing was getting shallow and strained. Behind those eyes the face appeared again. It loomed just out of sight, before it glided out from behind the boy's face, separating his from it's own. Ghostly transparent at first glance, but as Snape gawked in amazement it steadily grew more solid. Lily Evans was looking down at him with a proud and satisfied smile on her face. She grinned more broadly as he began to process what he was seeing. Snape could no longer feel his body.
Lily?
She nodded and extended her hand in invitation.
"Take my hand Sev"
Snape smiled slowly and apprehensively. He had not heard that voice in almost 20 years. He broke out into a wide boyish grin, reaching out carefully and taking hold of Lily's hand.
On the floor of the shrieking shack, a lip twitched and the mouth of what remained of Severus Snape turned up in the corner, ever so slightly. Despite his lack of mobility, the smile touched his eyes. His breathing was labored, and he let his chest fall one last time where it remained. To rise no more.