Author's note: Thank you, harryforeva, Alexandria Wood and Darkness Illusion aka Ally. You've made it to the end!

Epilogue: Deep Silent Complete

The age will say "This poet lies"
Heaven never touched earthly face
The age will say "This night was ours"
Blessed with the Deep,
The Silent, the Complete

—Nightwish: Deep Silent Complete

Sariss snuggled into Severus, a blessed drowsiness had settled on her. He had kept his promise. He had indeed made her need some rest again. And now she lay in his arms, draped over him the way she always had, even during the previous week when it had been most unfair to torture him like that. But the little evil voice wouldn't keep quiet. It had enjoyed persuading the more sensible part of her to tease him a bit—and appearing quite innocent too.

With his fingertips, Severus began to draw lazy circles and patterns on her shoulder.

"Your hands are cold," Sariss mumbled, not really expecting him to hear her, since he sometimes did the same thing in his sleep and not conscious of what he was doing.

"I never thought I'd hear that from you," he chuckled. So he wasn't asleep after all. It was strange, this not being able to sense him with her mind. "You'll have to warm them then." His coldish fingertips travelled down her spine and disappeared under the blankets.

She sighed contently. Actually, she couldn't keep herself from doing that as he made those familiar sensations rush through her system again. She shifted her weight a bit as she'd done the entire previous week, delighting in the fact that he took a sharp breath and growled, "Wench. All the time you did that on purpose. And I always thought you were asleep."

"Who said I wasn't?" she mumbled against his smooth chest, bestowing a set of little kisses on his skin before resting her head on it again. "Well, your hands are certainly not cold any longer…"

"How could they be when you're a human fireplace now?" His voice was a low growl in her ear. The constant rise and fall of his chest, accompanied by the sound of his heartbeat, made her feel so very cosy.

In a certain respect, Sariss revelled in her weakness much more than she'd ever had in her strength. Before she had returned to Hogwarts, there had been no one who had ever thought she needed protection. She had simply not been the type of girl any common man or wizard felt instinctively protective of. With her preternatural—or, as Sariss herself had called it: unnatural—strength and the gifts of her mind, everyone had thought they needed protection from her. And as strange as it was, even with all her strength and powers Sariss hadn't felt safe. Powerful, yes. Mighty, yes. Dangerous, oh yes. Capable of managing on her own, maybe. But safe, not really; not as long as Voldemort had been lurking somewhere in a shadowy corner.

Only now she felt safe and protected and more than anything else: loved. Yes. Loved and happy beyond comparison. She thanked whatever powers there were that everything had come to a happy conclusion. The whirlwind in her mind was no more; she was warm. She had woken from a nightmare that had lasted for almost eighteen years. She'd had her revenge, but strangely, it didn't mean anything to her anymore. She'd left everything that concerned the Dark Lord behind. All her demons were gone for good.

"Have you fallen asleep again?" Severus asked softly, gently playing with her hair. It made Sariss smile. Severus sometimes seemed to find roundabout everything about her fascinating. Mostly it were the little things he paid attention to. When she had still been too ill to leave the bed on her own, he had been so attentive, drawing the curtains shut when the sun shone in too brightly, easing the hairbrush out of her hand and finishing brushing her hair when he found she looked tired—in fact it was simply that her muscles hadn't been too keen on obeying yet; her arms had seemed so heavy, they'd felt to her as if weighing a ton.

He'd been lavishing every kind of care and attention on her. He still did. He'd listened to her every word, not even complaining when, during his answers, Sariss fell asleep with her head on his shoulder out of sheer sleepiness and contentment.

"You know, I think I'll stay for another year or two…" she said, hoisting herself up on her knees that were on either side of him now. He, too, drew himself up and lifted her hair to push it back over her shoulders, his fingertips slithering over the bare skin of her breasts and arms as he did so.

"Not longer?" he asked.

"Depends."

"On what? Salary? Career? One of Trelawney's prophecies?" he murmured into her ear, while his hands travelled around her waist. Those weren't questions; those were statements—and he was trying to sound casual to conceal the question that lay behind them. But she knew what he wanted to hear.

She smiled for a second at the last statement, then pushed him back far enough to be able to look into his face, ran her fingertips down his jaw line, put her arms around his neck, and said simply, "You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I mean what are you going to do now that you can leave Hogwarts again without pretending to be what you are not, without having to fear for your life?"

"Hmm… I could pay a visit to Snape castle…"

"Snape castle?"

"Yes, I own a castle. I haven't been there for years—."

"Will you take me there?" She smiled and raised her eyebrows at him suggestively.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Do you want to come? You could help me drive the dust bunnies out, spoil their party and all that."

Sariss laughed. "And then?"

"And then what?" he teased.

"We have a whole summer to ourselves."

"I'm sure we can think of something to occupy ourselves with—."

"Me too."

He continued, chuckling, "Not only what my answer just implied, although at second thought… Anyway, you've got to show me how you always manage to beat me at playing chess."

"It's not much of a problem to beat you there, Sev."

"At least give me the illusion to be a match for you."

"But if I let you in on my secret strategies it wouldn't be fun anymore. Besides, you seem to lose your concentration on the game fairly easily… Not that I'd have to resort to such means."

"I tend to disagree—Wait a minute. Did you just call me 'Sev'?"

"I might have… Got a problem with that… Sev?"

"Not at all. No one ever called me that. What gave you the idea?"

"It came quite naturally. If you hadn't caught on, I think I wouldn't have noticed. I might have called you that before…"

"Hmm."

"What, hmm?"

"I'm thinking about a nickname for you. Your name's really not suitable for something like that, you know. It can't be shortened. Sariss. Sar, no, that sounds like a demon name. Sary? What do you think?"

"Have mercy on me," she grumbled and buried her face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

He laughed. "Perhaps your middle name, then."

"Please no."

"Why not? What was your middle name again? I can't seem to remember although I must have heard it once or twice…"

"Electra, after my mother. Hardly suitable for a nickname, I'm afraid."

"Hmm. How about Ellie?"

Sariss drew back, horrified. "That sounds as though I were a two-hundred-year old granny." She winced and shook herself for emphasis. "Now stop messing around with my name. I'm Sariss and I'm yours, that ought to be enough."

"I couldn't ask for anything more."

"By the way, what's your middle name?"

"I refuse to answer."

"I can't be that bad."

"Believe me, it can."

"Please, Sev," she purred, biting back the giggles that threatened to escape her as she continued, her little hands straying over him, "as long as it's not Bartleby or Rufus, you can tell me."

"My parents were not that cruel."

"Oh, come on. Or I'm going to consult the records in the library at once. I'll find it, even if I have to read every single book in 'The Boring Corner' as we always called the really dusty shelf in the back. That would of course mean I'd have to leave immediately…" she trailed off suggestively, planting a few kisses along his collarbone.

"It's Sinclair," he mumbled reluctantly. "And it's unfair to resort to such means when you want information. But it's also… very… nice…"

"Severus Sinclair Snape…" she tried, each word punctuated with a kiss. "What was all the fuss about? It sounds nice; suits you. Your family apparently had a penchant for names beginning with an S, didn't they?"

"And as it happens to be your name begins with an S, too."

"Oh, dear. You're not proposing to me, are you?" she asked teasingly, a small hint of amusement in her voice. "I'm not ready for something as big as that."

"Not yet," he answered in the same tone of voice. "That is something that must be planned thoroughly, like a game of chess—at least one that's not against you. Besides, I'll have to determine if I can cope with someone as annoying as you for more than a few hours per week. You'll have to stop being such a workaholic."

"Well, I can try." She chuckled, as did he. Then, after a little kiss, they lapsed into silence, sitting there with their arms around each other. A good silence it was, born out of contentment and happiness. They didn't need to speak as they had all the time in the world to talk about important things or trivialities just because they wanted to hear each other's voice; no fears, no doubts overshadowed their lives anymore.

Sariss rested her head on his shoulder and once again began bestowing kisses on his throat and neck. They never missed their effect on him. She wanted him.

"I love you, Sev," she whispered when she had reached his ear.

"I could get used to hearing you say that. Say it again," he said, rolling over so she was lying beneath him, his face only inches from hers, looking deep into her eyes.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," she repeated, punctuating each statement with a little kiss.

He smiled. "Very convincing."

"I hope so… Your turn."

He grew very serious all of a sudden. There was no longer a smile lingering on his face, not even in his eyes. "You're all I never even dared to dream of. You're my life, my love, my universe."

The way he said it… He wasn't exaggerating in the slightest. He meant what he'd just said. A real declaration of love.

"And I love you."

"Not as much as I love you," she managed to whisper in reply before he drowned her in a kiss, easily lifting her up as he put his arms around her, making the outer world disappear as waves of passion engulfed her.

It was different now that she couldn't feel his emotions anymore. Now she had become more conscious of her own emotions; they were no longer overlapped by his. It was frightening and made her shiver. She was frightened of her own emotions. But she liked it. She was thrilled by it. It had very much surprised her when, earlier that night, they had made love for the first time after her recovery, after she had been reborn as she liked to call what had happened to her.

But somehow, it was still the same, too. As strange as this was. His touch was the same. His breath on her skin was the same. The touch of his lips was the same…

It would be dawn before they'd fall asleep. They'd be making love and talking and just be together in silence, in each other's arms, until they'd drift off into sweet dreams.

No more nightmares, Sariss vowed. Never again.

It was over.

Something new had begun.

~*~*~

And farther up in Hogwarts castle, up in Gryffindor Tower, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, wasn't asleep either. He sat on the windowsill as he had dozens of times in the past and watched the stars twinkle merrily down at him—or so it seemed.

What a year it had been. It had been so schizophrenic. On the one hand, there had been Voldemort and all the evil that came with him; on the other hand, there had been life at Hogwarts, peaceful and quiet most of the time.

Death and destruction.

Friendship and love.

So many things had happened, good and evil, funny and sad. But now, the storm was over.

The other boys slept peacefully, Neville mumbling something in his sleep, Ron snoring softly as he always did. Harry could be sleeping, too. He wasn't awake because of any inability to fall asleep. His scar hadn't so much as itched for more than a week.

The nights hadn't seemed so dark anymore since the Dark Lord had been vanquished. And this time, he wouldn't come back again. Harry had seen him die. Not just disappear, but die as in dropping dead to the ground. And the prophecy also said so. He chuckled softly so as not to wake up the other boys in the dormitory who were sleeping soundly.

Parvati wouldn't replace Trelawney teaching Divination at Hogwarts someday, would she? Unlike most of Trelawney's prophecies—which thankfully had proved right only twice, and in matters that hadn't included Harry's gruesome death—this one had come true. The wizarding world slept peacefully tonight, yet keeping a wary eye open.

Constant vigilance…

Harry Potter smiled. Tomorrow—no, it was tomorrow already, he corrected himself—today, he'd leave Hogwarts to stay at Sirius' for the summer, visit the Weasleys at The Burrow—and perhaps he'd invite Ginny to stay with him at Sirius' for a while, too…

No, not perhaps… He definitely would.

As he finally climbed into his four-poster (for the last time) and went to sleep, he whispered, "Good-bye Hogwarts, I'll miss you."

~*~*~

"If you read this line, remember not the hand that wrote it
Remember only the verse, songmaker's cry the one without tears
For I've given this its strength and it has become my only strength.
Comforting home, mother's lap, chance for immortality
Where being wanted became a thrill I never knew
The sweet piano writing down my life…"

—Nightwish: Dead Boy's Poem

The End

Author's note: A thousand hugs go to everyone who found a few nice words to say about this story. I so hate to be flamed…

Sariss@slytherinhouse.co.uk thanks you for bearing her weirdness and reading this far. ;-)