I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but none of the characters are mine (if only they were)! I have written about a third of the story and will post 1-2 times per week. I was inspired by two Austen novels (one is more obvious than the other), but at some point I kind of go off the rails into my own territory. Thank you for all the kind reviews so far!

By the war's conclusion, Severus Snape had laid most of his ghosts to rest, most notably that of one Lily Evans Potter. However, one relatively recent addition continued to haunt him. On the same autumn night in a quiet Parisian apartment, that unrelenting ghost loomed out of the darkness.

"It should have been you, Severus," Lucius Malfoy's shade, even paler in the afterlife than the living man had been, murmured in his ear. "You know it should have been you." The ghost silently pulled aside the high collar that made him look like a vicar, revealing two jagged gaping wounds and a dress shirt marred by silvery blood. Severus jerked awake.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, shattered by the dream Lucius's verisimilitude. "It should have been me."

"Uncle?" Draco Malfoy peered at Severus in the darkness. Draco was perched on the window seat in the one-bedroom apartment, staring out into the night at the cobblestones below. The moonlight filtered onto Draco; he could have been mistaken for his father's ghost. Severus closed his eyes.

"Hmph," he grunted.

"He didn't hate you, you know," Draco informed him. "It wasn't your fault."

"That it wasn't," piped a fluty voice somewhere in the darkness. "It was mine."

Three years earlier, on the night of the Final Battle:

Tom Riddle—at that time known to one and all as the dark lord Voldemort—paced the floor of the Shrieking Shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade village. The clamor of shouted spells, the heavy steps of giants and centaur herds and werewolf packs, and the groans of the wounded and dying rent the air and set the ground thrumming at the pace of Narcissa Malfoy's heart. The Dark Lord looked up at Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's entry.

"I see you've made it at last," Voldemort said silkily.

"Good evening, my lord," Narcissa managed bravely. Lucius remained silent at her side. Nagini, the Dark Lord's giant snake, frolicked nearby inside a massive cage. Narcissa resolutely kept the serpent out of her field of vision.

"I'm sure you have noticed that the battle to end all battles has begun," Voldemort said. "Your son is already fighting bravely for our side up at the castle."

Outwardly as composed as ever, Narcissa could feel her insides shrivel with the force of her terror. She did not care what happened to her as a result of this battle, but her son was a different matter. After all that she had set in motion to ensure his safety, from keeping him close at Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang to exacting an Unbreakable Vow from Severus Snape, Draco could not die now.

"I will need you two to join the fight at Hogwarts," Voldemort said calmly.

"Of course, my lord," Lucius responded smoothly. Almost imperceptibly, his stance relaxed. He and Narcissa would be able to look for their son and then, if all went well, flee the country. "We will go at once."

"Oh, but wait, I almost forgot," Voldemort said in a lazy tone. "One last task before you leave."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Find Severus Snape, and bring him here to me." As an aside, he murmured, "Poor Severus. It cannot be helped."

Narcissa's body went into overdrive. Her wand arm began to tingle, as did her chest, and she suddenly found herself fighting for breath. She could not walk; Lucius half-dragged her out of the shack and unceremoniously deposited her on the ground a few yards away.

"What is it, Cissy?" he whispered urgently. "We must find Draco. We can't give up now."

"Lucius," she choked. He conjured up a Calming Draught from the depths of his Death Eater robes, and she chugged it down gratefully. Her heart still felt like it was on the verge of exploding, but at least she could breathe.

"Come along, Cissy!" Lucius begged. He wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and Apparated them onto Hogwarts' grounds. With Headmaster Snape's flight from the school, the anti-Apparation wards had dropped.

"Stop a moment, Lucius," Narcissa whispered. He paused and looked at her, his expression slightly lost. She thought he looked like a young man in that moment, the rather insecure rich boy to whom she had tied her hopes and dreams so many years before. "Lucius, we cannot send Severus to him."

"We don't have time for this, Cissy," Lucius said sharply. Snape was irrelevant in the face of his desire to find Draco.

Narcissa's breathing faltered again. "If we send Severus to him, then I will die, just as surely as Draco will die if we don't get him out of the castle."

"What are you talking about?" Lucius glared at her, as if he could drive away this foolishness with one snooty look.

"I-I made a v-vow, an Unbreakable Vow," she moaned, shaking again. "So that Severus would keep Draco safe. When Severus killed Dumbledore last year, he fulfilled the vow, but he was too thorough. Now I owe a life debt to him."

"Cissy!" Lucius exploded. "What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?"

"The s-same th-thing that is driving us to grab Draco and move off the grid!" Her teeth began to chatter, and she fell to the ground, convulsing.

"S-Sev is going … die in there," she bit out between convulsions. "Don't … let … him! Or … I will die, too."

Lucius cursed and fell to her side. "Don't leave me, Cissy. I'll do whatever you say."

Severus recalled what happened next. He intercepted Lucius's patronus, and an invisible scuffle nearby led him to believe that someone in the Order had overheard as well.

"Severus, my friend," Lucius's voice rasped in a rougher tone than usual. "Please meet me in the cave near the Shrieking Shack as soon as possible. Our lord would like a word."

Severus cursed silently to himself. He still had not conveyed certain pertinent information to Harry Potter, and it was unlikely that he would manage the feat in the midst of the battle brewing in the castle. But the Dark Lord could not be put off. Severus took off at a run, propelling himself into the air like a Muggle air jet. Flying: the sole perk that being Voldemort's right-hand man had earned him. He amused himself for a second by cartwheeling through the air, remembering the Catherine wheels that the Weasley twins had dreamed up to infuriate Umbridge. All told, he had rather enjoyed that year. It certainly beat the following year's highlight of killing his mentor and being thought a heartless murderer by all whom he respected.

Touching down behind the shack, where he had nearly died in his fifth year when he had followed the Marauders on a full-moon night, Severus flung up his Occlumency shields. Whatever the Dark Lord had in store for him, it could not possibly be worse than being attacked by a fully-fledged werewolf. All the same, it would not do to put the idea of a werewolf attack into the Dark Lord's head if he were to attempt a Legilimens.

"Severus." Lucius materialized from the shadows. He stood, erect and regal, like the proud man, so full of promise, he had once been. So enticing to a lonely boy whose only true friend had deserted him.

"Lucius." The two men drew nearer to each other. Up close, Lucius looked as pale as death. Severus had the decency to look concerned. "Pull yourself together, man."

"Severus." Lucius withdrew a shaking hand from his robes. He unclenched his fingers, and Severus had a brief glimpse of a pair of vials, their contents a distinctive sludge.

"Lucius, what—Merlin, what are you doing?" Severus murmured as the other man suddenly yanked on Severus's well-oiled black hair, freeing a fistful of black strands. Lucius pulled the same move on his own silky blond mane.

"Severus," Lucius said urgently. "Narcissa is hiding at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Whatever you do, do not play the hero and ruin everything by following me into the shack. Please, go to her and help her find Draco. This is the last thing I will ever ask of you. Thank you for everything, my friend."

Severus felt like he was having some kind of bizarre out-of-body experience, a feeling that was only compounded when Lucius dropped Severus's hairs into one of the vials and downed the concoction. A moment later, he was staring straight into his own, Polyjuiced eyes. Lucius quickly dropped his blonde hairs into the other vial and handed it with trembling fingers to Severus.

"Drink it quickly, and go! Take Narcissa and Draco and go, as far away as you can. Don't return until it is safe."

Severus was dumbfounded. He had no intention of leaving until he had given Potter the necessary information, but he knew that Lucius had just granted him the only out he had ever had in his life. Even working for Dumbledore had not been a safe option; he had to risk his life on a daily basis in his capacity as a spy for the side of the Light. Perhaps, once he was safely in hiding, he could find a way to communicate with Potter.

"Did Narcissa put you up to this?"

"There is no time to explain." Lucius looked squarely into Severus's eyes. "I am doing my best by my family, and that means I must do my best by you."

Severus read the other man's honesty and made a snap decision. "All right. Just in case, keep a copy of these with you," he muttered, withdrawing a long, silvery strand from his temple and depositing it into his empty Polyjuice vial. "Once you're done in there, Potter will probably try to hunt you—me—down. Don't fight him. He must have these memories. It is the only way."

The two men exchanged a long look, each taking a final measure of his old friend. "Good luck," they said, almost simultaneously. Severus dropped into the shadows from whence Lucius had come, watching compassionately as Lucius squared his shoulders, planted Severus's trademark sneer on his face, and headed inside the shack to meet Severus's fate.

Hermione woke up in a cold sweat, a familiar nightmare replaying in her half-drowsed mind.

"Nagini, kill."

"Look … at … me." Hesitatingly, she proffered the professor a vial, but he was already gesturing to one in the pocket of his robes, right on top of his heart. Blood pooled onto the dusty floor, dripping all too hastily from the gaping wounds on the side of his neck. Hermione was reminded of the first words she had ever heard from the dying professor's lips.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death …"

But you didn't teach us!

Sitting upright in her bed, she sobbed.