The After part II

AN: I would love to know if anyone is interested in this story. Lack of interest will not stem the updates, but they are quite nice to read.

Thank you,

DGM

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Chapter Two—The Breakfast of Champions

Breakfast was now being served in the great hall, and he had the mantle of Severus Snape to don once more. Mentally, he reviewed where he was in this timeline. N.E.W.T. revision was taking place for his older classes. O.W.L. and end of term for the younger, not that any of it would matter next week. He grimaced in disgust. The Dark Lord would call him in two days time to ask for an update of the goings on at Hogwarts. He would tell him of Dumbledore's worsening condition and Potter's worsening ineptitude and get crucio'd due to Bellatrix's mistrust.

He would then meet with Albus and finalize plans for his euthanization cum homicide at Severus' hands and Potter's fate would be discussed at the hands of the Dark Lord as well. Occlumency shields and fiercest scowl firmly in place, Severus quit his rooms and made his way to the Great Hall.

Slowing down, he stopped momentarily before entering, staring at the mass of students and professors assembled: all of them innocent. Alive. Unprepared for the horrors that await them in the coming months. His jaw tightened. "Come Severus, surely it cannot be that dire." Severus flinched as he felt Albus' uncursed hand pat him on the back.

"Never before my morning coffee, Headmaster." Severus scowled making his way up to the dais and seating himself ceremoniously at Minerva's right. She gave him a distracted nod as she continued to talk to Pamona. He had a pang of longing, guilt, and loneliness—pass over him. She would hate him next week. And she would actively be working against him next term. He quickly occluded the thoughts and emotions away, focusing on the dark brew before him.

Taking an appreciative sip, he scanned the great hall over his cup, his eyes honing in on anything suspicious. The Slytherins—Malfoy and his group taking center court. He studied him covertly. The boy had used a vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement in order to smuggle the Death Eaters into the castle. Could he perhaps…?

But no. His job was not to rewrite history, nor to change it but only to save the Dark Lord's shattered soul. He snorted into his coffee cup. "Something humorous, Severus? Is it something you'd care to share with the rest of us?" Minerva looked at him inquiring, a teasing glint to her gimlet eyes.

He raised a solitary eyebrow, "Questions this early in the morning, Minerva? Curiosity killed the cat, you know." He looked at her blandly and smiled.

Her teasing glint turned dry. "But satisfaction brought it back, my boy." They both smiled at the long-standing joke between them as Severus once more returned to his closet surveillance. The Gryffindors—Potter taking center, his group of followers surrounding him. Weasley with his usual vacant expression, Granger—nose buried in a book as she ate distractedly and jotted down notes.

His expression gave way to disgust but then softened slightly. Granger had not made it to the final battle. She had perished in Malfoy Manor along with Luna.

Luna.

His heart set to racing, Severus scanned the Ravenclaw table to locate her, and there, alone with only her thoughts for company, sat the other half of his soul.

As he looked, she looked up, and for an instant, a moment, her eyes had met his—and held. Emotion lodged in his throat, and he swallowed blinking. Occlude! Occlude, damn you! Her eyes, so large and expressive, so calm.

She blinked and gave him a sunny smile, and remembering at the last moment, he tightened his jaw and scowled.

Oh, this would be difficult, having the memories he did of her—of them—of their lives together.

His scowl didn't faze her one bit as she continued to hold his gaze; her smile for him luminous in the weak, early-morning light. He narrowed his eyes and breaking eye contact, turned to Filius at his left—perched upon one of his ever-present books. "Oh, Severus! Good morning! Did you get a chance to brew that arthritic elixir yet? I meant to ask yesterday, but…" The wizened dwarf trailed off, thankfully not oblivious to Severus' scowl.

At least its effect had not diminished for anyone besides her. Had it ever affected her? "Yes, Filius. I will bring it to you after lunch." Severus allowed barely suppressed irritation to color his voice.

"You did wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, didn't you?" He looked over at Minerva. She gave him an irritated scowl and mumbled, "Merlin help your first class this morning."

He stated dryly, "Yes, indeed. I do believe a quiz is in order and such a shame too. I expect many of your third year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to be in tears before lunch." Severus smiled malevolently; already savoring the tears as the two beside them tsk'd and clucked their disapproval. Unwittingly, his eyes strayed back to her.

He was more careful this time, not focusing on her solely, but on those—or rather the lack of those—around her. Had he ever noticed just how alone she was? She was seated dead center at the Ravenclaw table. But it was as if there was some shield around her. All around her conversations were occurring between her classmates.

But not a one paused to talk to her. As he watched, a fourth year Gryffindor—Creevey was it?—came over and swiped a bit of toast from her plate. His jaw hardened as his eyes narrowed. But she looked up at the boy and gave him a vacant smile, asking if he'd like the rest. He nodded, and sitting down, helped himself. Severus looked around. This behavior went unremarked by any of her tablemates leading him to believe that this was a habitual occurrence. As he covertly watched, Ginevra Weasley and Neville Longbottom made their way over to her.

Now what could those three want with her?

He watched from his periphery as they talked for a moment, his gaze lowered, lest they sense it. He watched as quite suddenly, Luna got up from the table and made for the exit, the other two following with Creevey once more making his way back to table Gryffindor.

Wiping his mouth, Severus got up from the table, and unobserved, made to follow.

"—I tell you something's wrong with Harry. He's being distant again. "

"Perhaps the glumbubbles have finally tracked him down. They are attracted to residual curse damage after all." Severus quickly hid in a darkened alcove as the three strode in front of him.

He watched as the Weasley girl rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Glumbubbles? Luna, honestly! I'm telling you both, something's off. The three of them are at it again. They're keeping something from us, and Harry keeps going to secret lessons with Dumbledore. He thinks I don't know, but I do. I don't know what they're about, but I do think they can't keep keeping us in the dark." The Weasley girl stopped in front of his alcove to make her position known, and Severus smiled at her predictability. She was all but stomping her foot.

Neville—the witless wonder—Longbottom chose that moment to speak, "Perhaps Dumbledore is trying to prepare him to face Volde—…well, you know who?" His already pallid complexion paled even further at the mention.

"Don't you think I've thought of that? I understand why it's necessary, but what I don't understand is why Harry feels he has to go it alone. I've had that vile bastard inside my head. I know how he thinks, I could be of use. But do they see that? No. They tell me to stay away, keep my distance, preserve my innocence. From my parents, to Ron, to Harry!" She growled, and this time, she did indeed stomp her foot, "They don't understand that I haven't been innocent since first year. It's enough to drive me mad."

During this exchange, Severus' focus was drawn to both Weasley and Longbottom but curiously not to Luna. He looked at her to find her staring up at him, blinking owlishly.

Severus started for once taken unawares.

"Hello, sir." She stated respectfully, if absently.

"Fifteen points from Ravenclaw, Ms. Lovegood, and fifteen points each from Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Weasley, for gossiping in the corridors." He was thankful for his reputation as both Longbottom and the Weasley girl jumped satisfactorily. Luna—Ms. Lovegood, drat himself, didn't even bat an eye. He gave a malevolent smirk as he stepped from the shadows. "And I dare say detention for all three of you with Mr. Filch tonight."

He walked away robes a-billow, catching the frantic whispering, "Do you think he heard—?"

"Oh, Sweet Merlin! What did I say?!"

Severus made his way back to his office, mentally reviewing the week to come. Potter was going to go with Albus to destroy a horcrux. A necklace if he remembered correctly. Albus would come back poisoned, the Death Eaters already in the castle thereby forcing his hand. He remembered her saying something about Felix Felicis when he had questioned her. She and her friends had taken some before the skirmish in the astronomy tower. But where…? Severus jogged his memory of Luna's fifth year, trying to recollect where Potter could have received the very valuable brew—Slughorn—his memory supplied him.

Slughorn had bragged in a staff meeting that Potter had won it, managing to successfully brew Draught of the Living Death. Severus snorted, knowing for a fact the only reason he was able to do so was because of his old potions text. Half-blood Prince indeed. Somehow, he would have to make sure Potter had enough of the valuable potion to make it through. He would not want Luna endangered because there wasn't enough to go around.

Going automatically to the blackboard, he began posting questions for the third year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors to answer, smiling to himself when he thought of a particularly obscure footnote that none but the most dedicated and enterprising of potion's students would be able to remember.

Absently, he thought of Luna again.

She had always puzzled him. Her work in potions—as in all of her classes—was above reproach. If he called on her, she would give him the answer—more or less—in addition to citing some random bit of nonsense about some imaginary this or that.

She really was quite clever, his Luna. If it wasn't for her tendency to lose focus, to lose sight of what was really important.

Again, he snorted.

Wasn't that the crux of it? The reason he had thought himself worthy of hell.

He had lost focus, lost sight of what was really important. And wasn't she forever telling him this?

You are too much of the world and what's in it Severus.

And you are too much in the clouds, my sweet.

His heart ached at the ever familiar argument. They had it once a life at least in some form or fashion. She had lectured him just this past life about being so. And he had to admit she was right.

If he hadn't have let their circumstances overcome him, he never would have committed suicide. He never would have elected to take up the mantle of Severus Snape—spy, traitor, and martyr to the wizarding cause so that he could equal her in lives accomplished and experience gained. He never would have thought himself worthy of hell afterwards, and she never would have been compelled to rescue him thereby accomplishing the impossible.

And they wouldn't be here—again—reliving this nightmare! Curse it all!

The chalk he was holding crumbled to dust at his uncontrolled outburst. Closing his eyes, Severus drew a deep breath, and waving his hand over the dust, picked up the chalk again and finished his instructions.

Giving another wave of his hand, the instructions disappeared as the first enterprising students began to trickle in. Seating himself imposingly at his desk, he opened his potion's text on brewing Felix Felicis and began to scan it. It wouldn't hurt to refresh on how to brew it in case more was indeed necessary.

Once all the little blighters were quietly seated, he deliberately closed his book with a thump, knowing all eyes were trained on him.

With a wave of his hand the instructions appeared. He smirked, "Begin."

The cries of distress uttered by adolescents caught unawares were a thing of beauty to Severus' ears.

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