Author's note: I've categorized this as angst/friendship because the first two chapters (of four, probably) are quite sad, but then it picks up. The chapters will get longer, too – this first one is a brief vignette to connect what follows to the book. Yes, in my fic Snape is truly dead . . . but that's not the end of his story!
-----
Lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, the same place where he'd almost met his end so many years ago, Severus Snape felt cold and empty. The last of the memories he'd released drifted upward in lazy swirls. The boy, Potter, drew the tendrils together with the tip of his wand and deposited them in a bottle, sparking a long-forgotten image in Snape's mind of watching through the slats of a fence as a muggle rolled cotton candy onto a stick.
It was over. He'd done everything he could. The boy would either understand what he needed to do, or he wouldn't. If Potter accepted his fate, he would die, and all of Severus' work protecting him would be for naught. If Potter refused to die, Voldemort would win, and so much the worse for the wizarding world and, eventually, for everyone else as well. On the former possibility, Severus would have failed Lily; on the latter he would have failed Albus.
Despite these dismal options, he felt, if not peace, quiescence. Finally, it was out of his hands. Finally, he could rest.
The cold was ebbing now, as was the pain from the gash in his neck. Under normal circumstances, Nagini's venom would spread throughout his body, bringing death within a matter of minutes. Rapidly losing all of one's blood was a clever way to thwart this process, however, and also made it moot. He would be dead from blood loss before whatever poison remained could take effect. The anti-venom potion in his pocket might as well stay there.
He thought he should, perhaps, be more disturbed by the prospect of dying than he was. But other than frustration at work left undone, departing this world didn't seem like such a bad thing. Not because, as the old Headmaster liked to say, death is just the next great adventure; Severus didn't believe that optimistic nonsense. Rather, he simply wasn't all that attached to his life any more – if ever he was.
But there was one thing he wanted before he ceased to exist . . . no, it was indulgent . . . sentimental even . . . yet, somehow these counterarguments didn't carry the weight they should have . . . he needed it . . . His grip on the boy's robe loosening, a welcome numbness sapping his strength, he put all of his remaining energy into breathing the words, "Look . . . at . . . me."
For once in his life, Potter actually obeyed a command, his green eyes staring full into Snape's. And, for once in his life, Severus allowed himself to see her in the boy, rather than the face of his childhood enemy. It hurt like hell, as he knew it would, setting off a flood of grief and loss which up until now he'd always kept properly dammed by emotions more conducive to getting done what needed to be done: guilt, anger, the desire for retribution. Finally, he saw past the grand drama of good and evil surrounding Lily's death, and his own role in it, and was struck by the simple fact that he missed her desperately.
Everything else was fading away now – the aches in his body, the musty smell of the dilapidated old building, even the face surrounding those eyes. Suddenly, inexplicably, he was sure that she was there, staring back at him kindly, as if conjured up by his need for her to be with him at his end. The intensity of feeling (relief? joy?) that came with this connection was overwhelming enough to bring him to helpless tears.
Fortunately for his dignity, however, he was dead before a single tear could fall.
-----
I know it's short, but feedback is appreciated! Still working on chapter 2 . . .