Severus Snape was sitting in the Headmaster's office reading a copy of the Daily Prophet when a curious sound came from the cupboard that housed the pensieve. A sound like dry leaves across a stone floor . In a moment Snape went rigid with fear. He leapt up and tried the door, but it was locked, the window likewise. His wand...was missing...where was his wand?
"Ah...Severus, that sound seems terribly familiar, do you not think so?" mused Dumbledore's portrait.
Snape did think so indeed, with emphasis on the terribly. Infact, the instant he found himself at the Headmaster's desk reading the Prophet he knew it was that exact same dream again. The biggest problem he had with this dream was that he knew how painfully it ended.
Snape's breaths were becoming increasingly shallow and panicky, "I need to get out of this place now, if she finds me, she will kill me!"
Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses, observing the scene with a cool, detached expression. "But my boy, death is inevitable, why fight it? A heroic death is immortalised in history, you will be considered brave by friend and foe, respected. There is no doubt at all you will be posthumously awarded your long wished-for Order of Merlin."
"What would I want with a posthumous award, Dumbledore?" Spat Snape. "What happens if I want to live?"
The old Headmaster did not reply to this. The rustling was becoming louder, more insistent, and the doors of the pensieve cupboard were beginning to creak at the hinges, as if something large and powerful was forcing its whole weight against them. Snape wrenched at the door knob with all his might."
"Dumbledore; unlock this door!"
"This is a new one on me, I must say," remarked Dumbledore. "Do you no longer wish to be with Lily? It is extraordinarily peaceful in heaven, you know, plenty of time for everything you wish to do. It's nothing like the endless war and strife there is down here..."
Snape's energy sapped and he slumped down against the door, his mouth twisting in age-old pain.
"No," he gasped. "No I don't. Not yet. Stop torturing me, damn you...!"
"I hardly think I'm the one torturing you, Severus," commented the old Headmaster mildly. "As I recall a particularly witty Muggle writing some time in the last Century, 'A man who is Master of himself can end a sorrow as easily as he can invent a pleasure.' I believe I have his books about this room somewhere, alas, though, I never got to see his last play..."
There was an almighty crash as the cupboard doors snapped off their hinges and a huge, coiled snake fell down on top of them. As Nagini began to uncoil and sense him out with her flickering tongue, advancing, her scales rustling and scratching over the stones...
Nagini's head began to rear up...Snape gave a howl of horror and pummelled furiously on the door.
"DUMBLEDORE!"
A hand firmly gripped hold of his own, and instantly the room, and snake vanished leaving only greyness and the sound of his hammering heart.
"Professor! It's okay Professor, it's a dream, it's only a dream, you are safe, don't worry."
A voice. This had happened before. He swore it had been Lily before but this time he could tell it was someone else.
He became aware of being very hot, sweating, someone was mopping his forehead gently and still holding his hand. He gripped it back for a moment before a sense of doubt gripped him.
A woman's voice; it was familiar, very familiar...
"You are in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, Severus," came another, also familiar, female voice. "I have a calming draught here for you, I feel it will help."
Suddenly it clicked into place. Madame Pomfrey. Granger.
He opened his eyes to find the younger witch gazing worriedly at him. He stared at her a long moment before he realised she was still gripping hold of his hand. He pulled himself away and grimaced.
"Miss Granger...how very..." he managed to croak before he stopped dead.
His voice sounded...odd...
Unease gripped him. "What the hell's up with my voice?"
"I...I..." The girl paled, her mouth open like a goldfish.
"You haven't spoken in some time, Severus, your voice will be a little rusty," answered Pomfrey, though noticeably uneasily.
Snape attempted to sit up, but found it a harder task than he imagined. His muscles shook and ached in protest, they seemed so weak and wasted!
He next fixed his gaze on the Matron. "My muscles are near atrophy; how long have I been lying here?"
Madame Pomfrey stepped forward with a vial in her hand, "Severus, before we go any further with the questions I would recommend you swallow a calming draught."
"Make that one for each of us, I think we'll all be bloody needing some," quipped a young man's voice dryly from further back in the room.
Snape's head snapped round in surprise.
"Potter? You-you're alive?" His mind reeled in astonishment, and then dread took over. "Is the Dark Lord...?"
Harry walked over to stand in front of a half-drawn bed curtain, his hands in pockets. He let out a great sigh, as if he'd told this one a million times before. "Yes, he's dead. For definite this time. I died, too, but thanks to his using my blood I didn't completely cross over. I left his Horcrux there before returning, though."
Snape gave a slow, amazed nod. "And...Nagini?"
Harry gave a lop-sided smile. "Neville lopped her head off with the Sword of Gryffindor. It was pretty cool."
Relief washed over him. The Dark Lord was finally vanquished, and his own 'death' had been avenged by...Longbottom of all people?
Regardless of life's ironies; he was free...
Pomfrey pushed the vial toward him. "A calming draught, Severus," she urged, more sternly.
Snape rolled his eyes and snatched the vial. "Oh, if you insist Poppy..."
As he paused to peer at and sniff the contents of the vial (a matter of ingrained habit, you never know who might be out to poison you) Snape caught sight of his hand and stared. It was a wide, strong, young hand with callouses on the palms. Firstly, with exception of the times he had to impersonate people under Polyjuice, Severus Snape had never had wide hands in his life, never mind calloused ones. If he wasn't much mistaken they looked more like some rugged sportman's...
He looked up at Pomfrey with narrowing eyes. She looked a little pale, but her mouth pressed into a stern line.
"Yes, there is an explanation waiting; just as soon as you take that potion."
"I am more than capable of judging whether I require a calming draught, or have you entirely forgotten the day job I carried out for a decade and a half?" returned Snape with an icy stare.
"But Sir-" began Hermione.
"Silence Granger! I will not be told what to do!"
"Fair enough, go without then!" cut in Potter above them all. "You want the quickest answer to your questions...?"
The room watched in surprise as the young wizard span round and grabbed hold of the edge of the bedcurtain enclosing the bed next to his.
"Harry, no!"
Hermione reached for him, but it was too late, in one move Harry had swooshed the curtain back to reveal another occupied bed.
Everyone froze. Snape stared at the inert body on the bed a long moment, and all the room's eyes were on him when comprehension dawned.
The calming drought slipped from his quivering fingers, Hermione only just managed to levitate it before it spilled on the sheets.
