Iphigenia

by

Jeslyn Nighthawk

Prologue

Cliché would have demanded that the dark figure stood hunched over the freshly dug grave in the rain, the grey mist and clouds reflecting the abject misery in his wounded heart. It would have been bitter cold, with more than just the gentle breeze whipping the black hair that fell just past his jaw into a frenzy. But this was a tragedy and not a cliché, and the sun shown down in a nearly cloudless blue sky upon the grave of the savior of the Wizarding World. It was not, as common belief and prophecy had held, the Boy Who Lived—although Potter had struck the final, fatal blow—but the Brains of the Golden Trio who had saved the Wizarding World with her completely selfless sacrifice.

Like in Shakespeare's Hamlet, balance had been returned and the corruption purged when the heroes gave of themselves their greatest sacrifice. Hermione had given her life… and Severus and Harry had given her.

A slight wind came up, lifting Severus' lank hair into his face. He didn't bother to brush it away, as she would have done. He actually welcomed the obscurity such obstruction would give him, should there be any observers. He truly did not wish his grief to be witnessed by any of the throng that had showed up to the former Head Girl's funeral. He thought he was alone now, which was why he finally allowed his tears to fall, but he was still grateful for the veil his hair provided. His grief was visceral, and allowing the tears to finally fall had a sort of cleansing effect.

He was unsure how long he stood there, staring at the plot of earth that embraced her. Only when he felt a hand tentatively touch his shoulder did he notice that the sun was beginning to set. He looked behind him to the young man who had dared to bring him out of his vigil. He looked into the jewel bright eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived-Again, taking in the unshed tears there, reminding himself that he was not the only one to be affected by the loss of the woman who had saved them all.

"What do you want, Potter?" His voice was rough with suppressed emotion, a state that was becoming surprisingly commonplace for him as of late.

"I won't rise to your bait, Snape," Potter replied, his voice steady despite everything. "She wouldn't have wanted this for us. Either of us."

Severus turned away from the earnest young man to the small plot of freshly upturned earth. He knew she would want him to move on, to make peace with those he shared a connection with through her. Potter had been her best friend, and was likely the only one who had known her as well as he… They might not like each other, but at this juncture, it was very likely that they needed each other. And she would have wanted him to live, not just survive, he had no doubt of that. He sighed. "I know."

Not for the first time, Severus wished he had never returned to Hogwarts that night.

TBC

A/N: I know that the last thing I should do is begin another WIP two days before the release of the next book. I cannot, however, say anything to excuse myself except to say that this particular fic has been in the works for nearly a year, and is also nearly done. I had hoped to finish it before HBP, but as that does not look to be the case, I'm posting the first bit now in hopes of avoiding willful AUness. And no, I have not abandoned my other fics, this one has just taken up nearly all of my inspiration for as long as I have been planning it. As usual, super big thanks and hugs to my wonderful beta, Taya, who once again bailed me out at the last minute.

So, thanks for reading, and please do leave a review. I live for them, really.

-Jes