He heard what sounded like silverware clinking together softly. He felt so weak, his head pounding. His mouth was dry; he could really use a drink.

I must be dead. He thought. Obviously.

Snape forced his eyes open to slits, allowing the light in slowly. He realized he was in his bedroom, well, Dumbledore's bedroom he had moved into last year. He couldn't really see clearly, all the light in the room caused his eyes to blur his surroundings. He saw motion out of the corner of his eye by the foot of the bed. Focusing his eyes as much as he could, Snape saw a little witch with light brown hair sitting in his favorite armchair. Her ankles were crossed and perched on the bed, and she was sipping tea while reading the Daily Prophet.

"I see you are awake." A strangely familiar voice told him. She lowered her newspaper and her light blue eyes peered at him curiously. She looked so familiar to him.

"Who are you?" He managed to ask through a raspy voice.

Her lips pursed in disappointment before smirking, "Really? I thought you had stopped writing because you were busy, not because you had forgotten I existed."

She lowered her ankles to the floor and stood up, leaving her newspaper and teacup on the table she had moved from his study. She began pouring another cup of tea.

"Kara?" He realized.

"Oh, you do remember? I know it's been fifteen years, but hopefully I don't look that terrible." She said in a dark way that only he knew she was teasing him. "Here. Drink this," she commanded, flicking her wand in Snape's direction to sit him up against pillows at the headboard. The teacup floated gently to him.

His arms felt atrophied, but he managed to lift them to the cup and saucer. She nodded to acknowledge the feat.

"Am I dead?" He asked with his brow furrowed.

Kara gave a throaty laugh. "No, of course not. Do you think I would be the first person you would go looking for in the afterlife?" She turned from him to motion her wand at the table and chair, sending them walking back into the study.

Snape knew she was right.

"How?" He rasped and one hand shot up to his neck. She turned back to him and sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled his hand from his neck.

"You always did underestimate me," she rebuked him, "I mean, there is a little scarring, but no one else could have done any better. Not even you."

"You? How did you know..." he began, but she interrupted.

"Did you really think Dumbledore was not aware of that snake?"

"I see you still interrupt me constantly." His expression did not change, but a faint smile crossed her lips. Dumbledore. "How long do I have until they haul me off to Azkaban?"

"Honestly. Did I not already tell you that you have underestimated Dumbledore," she paused, "and me?"

"You? But..."

"But how did I know? Really, Severus, you are beginning to sound thick. You know as well as I do, Albus Dumbledore preferred not to keep all his eggs..."

"In one basket." He finished her with a frown. Particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort.

"Now who's interrupting whom?" She broke his thought. "I'm going to go down to the kitchens. You need to eat or you will never get out of this bed."

With that, she pecked a kiss on his forehead and turned to walk toward the door.

"Pot roast." He advised, and she stopped but did not turn around. "I know your insistence that I eat only vegetables."

"What makes you think I haven't changed?"

"Because I haven't."

She shut the door quietly behind her.

He placed the now cold tea on his nightstand, his back sore with every movement.

After so many years, Snape was surprised at how easy it was to be around her. It seemed as though nothing was different between the two of them. Despite everything that had happened, neither of them had changed at all.