Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the associated universe, or anything you recognize. None if it is mine. It all belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to play with the possibilities. Any lines borrowed from canon will be written in bold. This disclaimer applies to all chapters.

Author's Note 1: First of all, I need to thank duskywolfdaemon for helping beta the first few chapters of this story. IELB would not be half as amazing without her. If you yearn for another riveting, well written, delicious SS/HG fic, please go read her story The Prisoner and the Occlumens.

Author's Note 2: IELB has been quite a labour of love, being hand written, typed up, edited, beta-d, listening to endless recordings of Alan Rickman reading Goran Simić, mulling over Marcel Proust's ideas of life and death, and reading the books again for the first time since DH was published. When I started this story it was something else entirely, and as I wrote, I realized that it wasn't right. But now it is! Hopefully you come to love this story as much as I have. **This story is M rated for a reason, I advise against reading if you are under 18**

Now enough from me, and let the story begin:

PROLOGUE - THE PROPHECY

"Albus," Severus greeted, opening the door of the house at Spinner's End to let the old man in. His eyes darted over the street, looking for any tell-tale signs that Dumbledore had drawn the attention of Muggles. All seemed clear, and he closed the door, turning to face the other man. "Tell me, what is so important that you must interrupt my vacation." His lips curled over the last word like a curse. His sarcasm was not lost on Albus, who merely smiled.

"Some information has come to light, dear boy. And I do believe it concerns you. A prophecy – "

"I am not concerned with any prophecy, Albus. Leave those fickle bits of misfortune to other men." Severus crossed the room to a low table, pouring himself a scotch. Muggle liquor was always better.

Albus poked at the spine of a book on one of the shelves, pushing it back into place, glancing at the younger man has he did so.

"I ask that you hear me out, Severus. This prophecy concerns Tom and his return. The Seer himself told me the words."

"Well?" Severus intoned with a sigh. "What were the words, then?"

Albus faced Severus fully and waited until the other man's gaze met his, his voice was low and stern. "Darkness can only be stopped when the lady of the light and the man who walks in shadows are bound forever."

Severus scoffed, swallowed some firewhiskey and set the glass down with a loud sound.

"It's just more vague nonsense, Albus."

"I don't think it is. I believe you are the man who walks in the shadows, my boy. Think of your life: never truly light, never truly dark."

"Then who, pray tell, is this lady of the light? Mine died long ago Albus, we both know this." Severus balanced himself on the arm of a chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Albus pursed his lips at Severus and poked at the spine of another book.

"I think we will know who she is soon enough. Soul mates are rare, Severus, and rarer yet to be prophesised." Severus made a sound of protest, but Albus ignored it, continuing, "You are a young man and it is fully possible to love more than one person in a lifetime, especially given how long we live"

"I do not, nor will I ever, have a soul mate, Albus," Severus snarled, reaching for his glass again. "Take your prophecies somewhere else!"

Albus shrugged and wiped off his spectacles on the edge of his robes.

"If I am wrong about you then so be it. But if I am right, the first time you see her, you will know."

Albus raised his hands in defeat when Severus leapt to his feet, and left without being asked, looking once over his shoulder at the dark man, who scowled at him from across the room.

Albus brushed through the small entryway and shut the worn front door behind him. He left the perimeter of Severus' wards before allowing himself a moment to consider, standing away from the one working street lamp. Albus was certain the prophecy was about Severus, no one had walked the tightrope of light and dark so efficiently before. But two things disturbed him; first, the lady of light. Who could she possibly be? What woman in the entirety of the universe would be enough to haul Severus out of the past long enough for him to realize the love he had for Lily belonged to a child and not a man?

And of course, the darkness. Voldemort's return was inevitable in Albus' eyes, but he had hoped Harry Potter would have more time. Already moves were being made towards the Philosopher's Stone; the air trembled with anticipation. The prophecy had seemed to confirm Albus' fears. The old man stood on the grey, rundown street in Cokeworth, his gaze turned towards the stars. In just a short month, The Boy Who Lived would finally come to Hogwarts. At least Harry would have time to learn a few things before he faced Tom, hopefully he would be strong enough. And hopefully Severus would give in to the prophecy.

Severus had done the math after Albus left his home that night, so he was prepared to see Harry Potter's face among the gaggle of first years when the sorting ceremony started. Albus had requested a meeting after the feast, but Severus already knew his assignment: protect the boy. It was an obvious one; no one would protect what was left of Lily better than he, even if it also meant protecting whatever was left of James.

He eyed Potter with distaste as the boy wobbled his way up to the stool and sat for far too long. When the hat screeched Gryffindor, Severus almost scoffed, his eyes trailing the boy to the long table of red and gold, where a large group of Weasleys were greeting him gleefully. No, not just Weasleys: there was someone else.

Severus narrowed his eyes at the bushy head of hair, which seemed wildly familiar though he knew he had never seen such ill contained hair in all his life. He was aware Potter was staring back at him, whispering to a Weasley. Several heads turned to look at him at once and he felt like he had been slammed against a wall, his lungs unable to take in oxygen and something constricted his throat and pulled at his heart. The girl's face went from inquisitive, to shocked, to confused, though her eyes never left him. He felt a kinship towards her he couldn't explain if he tried; a pull to protect her. It seemed eons later when she turned her head away from him and he could breathe again.

Fuck. Albus was right.

…

Harry was asking about a professor, and Hermione looked up at the high table when Percy spoke his name. She knew other words followed, but she couldn't hear them. She couldn't breathe. The world she had been so recently introduced to melted away, and there was only the professor, staring back at her. She hadn't noticed him before, hadn't looked at his face, but as she stared, she was certain she knew him. It was like a long-ago memory and a glance into the future all at once.

Eventually, Ron got her attention again and she looked away, the dining hall and its occupants coming back into focus.