Some parts of the conversation between Voldemort and Snape are taken from HP & Deathly Hallows and are only altered slightly. I used them only as a reference.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Snape basked in the light of his doe Patronus, and in the memory from which it was produced. The boy gazed at the doe and slowly reached out to touch it. Something snapped in Snape when he saw what the boy was trying to do. No, he would not allow it. This little piece of Lily was his only, and he would not share it, not even with her son. He flicked his wand, the light was gone, and he felt empty again. The boy stared wide-eyed at the spot where the doe stood a moment ago, and then slowly lifted his green eyes.

"Who are you?" he whispered. "You are not Snape; you couldn't possibly be him!"

Of course. The stupid brat now assumed he was god knows who in disguise because he simply couldn't put two and two together. Did he really have to tell him everything word by word?

"Sit down," Snape said curtly again and this time Potter miraculously obeyed. Now he had to prove his identity to the boy, and he had just the right thing on his mind.

"Our first Occlumency lesson. I asked you who the dog belonged to. You told me your Aunt Marge."

Potter stared at him dumbstruck.

"You were the one who sent me the sword?" Potter whispered in disbelief as if he barely believed those words were coming out of his mouth.

"Obviously," Snape retorted.

Potter narrowed his eyes with suspicion and disbelief. "Why?"

"Because Dumbledore ordered me to. He didn't tell me why, but he told me you needed it," Snape answered him.

Potter didn't say anything; he just stared at him, the wheels in his brains clearly rotating wildly. Snape could almost hear the boy's inner struggle.

"I don't believe you!" Potter finally uttered and jumped to his feet. "You're just trying to trick me, you two-faced bastard! It's not going to work like it did on Dumbledore!"

Snape sighed and murmured, "You always had a thick skull."

Potter glared angrily at him, his lips pressed together in a thin line, but he did not retort.

"Severus, you need to show him," Dumbledore said from the portrait behind him. "You need to give him a reason to trust you. Show him your memories. It will be quicker and easier. For both of you," he added softly.

Potter looked wildly from the portrait and back to Snape again, clearly confused. Snape closed his eyes briefly, and then slowly he nodded. Dumbledore was right. He couldn't stand to look at the boy while telling him he had been protecting him for Lily all along and sending him to meet his end in the same breath. He wasn't even sure he could say her name in front of him. He stood up, feeling as if he was carrying an enormous burden on his shoulders. Potter flinched as he rounded the desk and followed him with his eyes with uncertainty. At least he didn't jump at him and tackle him to the ground. Snape could tell Potter was confused and curious.

The stone Pensieve lay in the dark cabinet by the door where it had always been. Snape heaved it onto the desk and pulled his memories, all he could think of, into the wide basin. Now was not the time to hide anything from the boy. It was time for the whole truth. Otherwise, Potter would not believe that Snape was truly conveying him Dumbledore's message.

"Have a look. This time you have my permission. It's all in there, all you need to know. Perhaps even some things you don't..." he said to the boy, his voice calm and collected, revealing not a hint of emotion. "I won't force you. It has to be your choice," Snape added quietly, the true meaning lost on the boy for the moment. Snape grabbed the boy's wand, offered it to him handle-first and waited. Potter stared at the wand, his eyes wide, but didn't touch it. Snape was about to deposit it back on the desk when Potter's fingers clenched around the handle and yanked it out of his grasp without a word.

The memories swirled restlessly within the Pensieve on the desk between them, silvery-blue and mysterious, and then without hesitation, wanting to know the truth, Potter dived.

Snape did not linger. He did not want to face the boy when he emerged from his memories. He could not bear to look him in the eyes.

He Apparated, but not into the Forbidden Forest to his Master. No, he had to wait and appear at the last minute, pretending he didn't manage to find the boy. Perhaps Potter would already be dead by then. He was convinced the boy would show up. Oh yes, the boy had it in him, that urge to save others without thinking about his own safety. That which the Dark Lord called his greatest weakness. He would sacrifice himself. He was Lily's son after all.

Severus Apparated to the top of the Astronomy Tower. He felt immensely tired, but he couldn't rest, not yet anyway. He only had about twenty minutes or so to stop for a while. To gather his strength and take a deep breath. To build up his impenetrable mental shield. To remember what he had done less than a year ago atop this very tower, and why he had done it.

It was dark and quiet. Everything was so still. But it was not peaceful. It was a deadly tranquillity. Hogwarts – his Hogwarts, his home, as he knew it, and as it had been entrusted into his hands, was destroyed. He could see the faint outlines of the many turrets pointing up into the dark star-less sky half demolished. A cold iron fist clenched around his heart. He failed in this task, he failed to protect Hogwarts and its students.

He looked up. It must have been nearly dawn, but the sky was pitch-black as if it was covered in a heavy dark mourning veil. Just a little more... In a little while, it would all end.

Time was a funny thing. How fast it went by when you wanted it to stop! One hour was up, and so Snape closed his eyes and let the Dark Mark branded on his forearm take him to his Master.

He Apparated to a clearing deep inside the Forbidden Forest. A few of the Death Eaters pointed their wands at the newcomer, but they soon recognized his features in the glow of the small fire in the middle of the clearing. He didn't pay any attention to them as they murmured into their beards when he passed them.

The Dark Lord was standing by the fire, the Elder Wand rolling around in his bony fingers.

"Ah, Severus. Apparently, you haven't managed to procure the boy for me after all," he said in mocking disappointment as Snape approached him. A few of the Death Eaters cackled under their breaths.

"No, my Lord," he said, bowing low. So apparently the boy hadn't come yet.

"Shame. You seemed so convinced," the Dark Lord said, his voice high and clear.

"I was wrong. I beg your forgiveness," Snape said in a humble voice.

The Dark Lord smiled slyly as if he found something particularly amusing, but did not respond. Instead, he beckoned him closer.

"Do not worry. I am certain he will come any moment now. My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally face the boy!"

Strangely, the Dark Lord sounded excited, as if he was about to open his biggest birthday present. Snape approached him cautiously, his eyes fixed on the snake. There was still no chance of getting to it; it was in its enchanted sanctuary.

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely —?"

"— Oh, but there is a question, Severus. Tell me, what do you think, why did both the wands I have used fail when I directed them at Harry Potter?"

Snape did not expect that question.

"I — I do not know the answer to that, my Lord."

"You do not know? My wand of yew did everything I asked of it, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me of the twin cores and advised me to take another's wand. I took it from Lucius, but his wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

Snape was not looking at the Dark Lord. His dark eyes were fixed upon the coiling serpent in its protective sphere, and he was pondering how and when he should react, paying little attention to what his Master was telling him.

"I sought a third wand, the wand from the legends. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master, Severus. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

And now Snape looked at his Master, forcing every muscle on his face to remain still.

"My Lord—" he whispered, dreading a muscle in his cheek might twitch as terror crept up his spine. He had a very nasty feeling in his stomach; he knew where this was going. Years of practice did not fail him even now as he looked straight into Dark Lord's eyes. He didn't need the Death Eater mask – his own face was the real mask.

"All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have been wondering," said the Dark Lord, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner... and I think I have found the answer."

Snape did not speak. He listened to his Master as if he was in an odd trance.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

Snape did not speak, and he could not move. The realization hit him, but strangely, he accepted it peacefully as soon as it crossed his mind.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner." The Dark Lord approached, leaned forward and almost whispered into his ear as if sharing a dirty little secret, "You killed Albus Dumbledore, Severus. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

The words that confirmed his fate sounded strange like they were coming from far away, but Severus understood them perfectly. Every eye on the clearing was now fixed upon them, and nobody dared even to breathe too loudly.

"I intended to kill you when I sent Lucius for you. But Lord Voldemort is merciful, Severus, and I do not forget loyalty. You have been loyal and useful to me, thus I granted you one more hour of life. It is a shame you did not manage to bring me Harry Potter. I intended to honour you by bringing me the very reason why I must kill you. You should feel honoured still, Severus. There is no greater honour than sacrificing yourself for your Master. I regret it, my faithful servant, but there cannot be any other way," said the Dark Lord, his high clear voice holding not a hint of remorse. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

Severus did not protest, did not lift his wand. He knew it was the only way. The Dark Lord would cast the Killing Curse at the boy only when he was sure he had full possession of the Elder Wand. It had to be done. The boy had to die, and Severus had to lay down his own life first to enable that. It was only fair, and he even welcomed it. Someone else would have to kill the snake and finish the Dark Lord in his stead.

And then the Dark Lord swung at the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Severus. For a split second, he thought wildly that perhaps he had been reprieved, that it was just one of the Dark Lord's sick games, his punishment for not showing up with Potter: But then the Dark Lord's face grimaced into a gruesome grin of enjoyment and expectation, and his intention became clear. Tiny gasps and scared gulps were heard among the crowd of gathered Death Eaters when they realized what their Master was about to do. The snake's cage was rolling through the air towards him.

Severus sank to his knees.

Oh, please, not the snake...

He could not watch it. He closed his eyes, squeezed his eyelids wildly, expecting to feel Nagini's cold scales and sharp fangs upon his skin any time now. His hair stood on end and a cold shiver engulfed him. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest. Yes, he still had a heart, he realized suddenly, and it wanted to live, wanted to jump up and beat with every last breath his lungs could get, wanted to ache, wanted to remember her with every drop of blood he possessed. He started shaking slightly, and he realized his forehead was covered in tiny droplets of cold sweat. Treacherous body! But he didn't want to beg for mercy. No, he refused to beg for mercy. He deserved it, after all, and he would take it without complaints. He thought of Lily's smile, her photo folded inside his robes, close to his heart, and he felt relieved.

He still had the hope that he would see her again.

Any second now...

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