Hi all, and welcome to the last chapter (aaah!!!) of Up From the Dust.
A minor update for any regular readers – I realized I never did officially break Lucius out of prison, and so added the following piece of a sentence to Chapter 6:
Draco Malfoy raised his hand, only to be interrupted by a loud knock at the door. It swung open before Sinistra could even say "come in," admitting the tall form of Draco's father.
"I need to speak with my son, for a moment, professor… Sinistra, isn't it?" He looked down at the witch with condescension, and she clenched her jaw to prevent herself from saying anything. He knew very well what her name was.
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," she said, wishing she didn't have to let this snotty man do just that, or even better, that he had never weaseled his way out of Azkaban in the first place. Without a word, Draco left his seat and stepped out of the classroom.
Minor detail, but I can be a nitpick.
Sorry for keeping you waiting… as many of you probably know, it's finals week. ((shrieks)) But I managed to get this up! Woot! I hope you like it…
Onward!
Up From the Dust
Chapter 11: Beginnings and Ends
As he had so many times in the past few days, Harry woke to darkness. He was both amazed and happy to find that he was surrounded not by cell walls, but by the comforting dark of a somewhat crowded hospital wing. Reaching over to the table beside his bed, Harry found his glasses and put them on. At the far end of the room, he could make out Hermione's bushy mane and Ron's flaming red hair peeping over the edges of blankets. Thank God, he thought, taking in the sight of his best friends. Thank God we made it out of there.
Triggered by the thought of "we," Harry suddenly remembered Snape. Turning over, he was shocked at the flood of relief he felt as Severus Snape's form came into focus. Two beds away, Snape lay with his back to Harry. He was shaking slightly, as if a low-level electrical current were being constantly applied to the man's body.
Even from the back, Snape looked exhausted. Harry wondered how long the two of them had been in the hospital wing.
"What do you want, Potter?" came Snape's hoarse voice. Harry jumped, startled. He hadn't known Snape was awake.
A million questions flooded through Harry's brain, each effectively blocking the other out. Finally, Harry settled for simplicity. "What happened?" he asked.
Snape rolled onto his back and turned to face Harry. He moved to cross his arms in front of him, but winced and kept them at his sides.
"We were both murdered, Potter, and Hell looks just like the hospital wing at Hogwarts." Apparently Snape's sarcasm never took a vacation. In the dark, innocuous and ultimately safe environment of the hospital wing, however, Snape's usually intimidating sarcasm was almost welcoming. Undeterred by Snape's comment, but nonetheless somewhat embarrassed about the nature of his question, Harry went on.
"How… um… how did we…?"
"Spit it out, Potter," interrupted Snape.
"How did we get out?" asked Harry. "I thought we were both going to… well… die."
"Headmaster Dumbledore took what was left of Miss Granger's potion."
"He saved me?"
Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, he saved you. And as an added bonus, he saved me, too," replied Snape.
"How did he get us out of there?"
The confidence fell from Snape's face at the question, and he frowned up at the ceiling.
"Professor?" prodded Harry. Snape continued to hesitate.
"Did he do something illegal? Or… are you not allowed to tell me?"
Now looking more than a little embarrassed, Snape did cross his arms. "I don't know, Potter, I was unconscious at the time." Snape said. He kept his gaze on the ceiling while he made his reply.
A thousand terrible images ran through Harry's mind concerning just how Snape had ended up unconscious in the same room with Voldemort.
"God, did V – I mean, did You-Know-Who –"
Snape interrupted him. "I was stabbed in the back by my supposedly twice-dead wife and nearly bled to death. What a very Muggle way to die, hmm?"
"But I thought she – I thought that you –"
"Like I said… some people in my life just refuse to die."
"Oh," said Harry. "But then—"
Snape cut him off. "Go to sleep, Potter," he said. "I'm sure Albus will interrogate the both of us in the morning."
- - - -
At its zenith, the new moon cut a hole in the field of stars. Robed in crimson, Lord Voldemort carried his lover, deathly pale and in blood-streaked white robes, into the center of the graveyard. Following the battle, he had sealed Juliette's wounds, but she had lost too much blood. Voldemort, a Dark wizard who knew only how to kill and cause pain, did not heal her. He had no need to heal her.
They had lost Potter; their intended sacrifice had escaped. The powerful wizard Voldemort had intended to drain and kill was out of his reach, unable to feed Voldemort's unborn child. There was only one substitute available.
"Bella," Voldemort growled, setting Juliette down on the altar that he had prepared.
"My Lord," came the reply. The Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange bowed to her master from behind her faceless mask. Her brother-in-law, Lucius Malfoy, stood silently beside her. Behind their masks, both Death Eaters wore smug, cruel, and triumphant smiles.
"Begin the incantations," intoned Voldemort, placing the tip of his wand against Juliette MacBride Snape's still-flat belly.
"Yes, My Lord."
Under the stars, their light blotted out by the black disk of the New Moon, Juliette MacBride Snape died her second death, her final death. As her last breath left her lips, a baby's scream cut through the night air. The sound was later said to have awakened every Muggle in the nearby town. Few returned to their beds that night.
Juliette's unholy child had her father's eyes.
- - - -
When Harry Potter woke up screaming, Severus wasn't even truly surprised.
Granger and Weasley, who had been ordered to remain in the Hospital Wing for "observation," were at their friend's side in seconds, both harshly alert in the way that people can only be after being shocked out of sleep by something horrifying. Severus, with the knife wound through his chest, was a bit slower to respond, sitting upright and getting somewhat painfully to his feet. Moments later, Poppy Pomfrey came rushing into the hospital wing, clearly fresh out of dreamland herself.
"Harry!" shouted Weasley, grabbing his nearly insensible friend by the shoulders. Potter stopped screaming, but did not return to awareness. Instead, he struggled in Weasley's arms, a look of horror on his face. Granger and Weasley had similar looks on their own.
"I don't understand," said Granger. "Last time this happened, he was talking, struggling more. Now – well, look at him!"
Potter was obviously completely unaware of his surroundings, physical or mental. It was almost as if he'd been flooded with pure emotion – in this case, abject horror.
From beside Weasley and Granger, Madam Pomfrey cast her blue aura around Potter, not surprised to see a red streak hovering over the boy's forehead. It almost seemed as if this were becoming routine. Sighing, she raised her wand to stun him into unconsciousness.
"Don't," Severus said suddenly. Poppy turned away from the struggling young man as Severus began making his way stiffly across the room, wand in hand.
"He is obviously unaware of anything going on, Poppy. Stun him and we may never find out what's happening."
"Sev – Professor Snape!" she hissed. "Get back in bed before you reopen that wound!"
Severus briefly narrowed his eyes at her, then pointed his wand at Potter. Weasley stood between Snape's wand and its target.
"Move, Weasley," said Snape matter-of-factly.
"No way!" cried the teenager, still holding tightly to his friend's shoulders.
"Professor Snape…" warned Poppy.
Severus turned to Poppy, speaking slowly, as if to a small, stupid child. "We need to know what it is he's seeing, Madam Pomfrey, in case it's something important."
The last time Severus had deemed something 'important,' he had run out of the hospital wing like a madman, without a plan or a care for his own safety, and made a hasty deal with a man who'd then betrayed him. He'd considered a quick assessment of the situation following Potter's stabbing 'important', and had ended up imprisoned and tortured.
Poppy had a point.
He would never, ever admit it.
"You're not leaving," she said, stepping between Ron and Severus and becoming yet another obstacle. Behind her, Potter continued to stare, horror-stricken, into the eyes of his frightened best friend. Granger held one of his hands as Weasley kept a firm grip on his shoulders.
"What are you going to do, Madam, curse me?" Severus asked icily. Unfortunately for him, the iciness of his tone was dampened by his hoarse voice and the shaking left hand he held against his chest.
"You're hurt, and I'm faster than you, Professor," Poppy continued, putting her hands on her hips.
Severus rolled his eyes impatiently. "Whatever, Poppy! Get out of the way!"
"Promise you won't leave,"
"Poppy-"
"Promise!"
"All right, I promise! Now move!" Severus's shout was terminated with a series of painful coughs.
Reluctantly, Madam Pomfrey stepped out of the way. "Come on, Mr. Weasley," she said, beckoning him away from the bed.
"But-"
"Come on Ron," said Granger gently. "I think… I think Professor Snape knows what he's doing."
With as much reluctance as Madam Pomfrey, Weasley released Potter. Potter immediately began to thrash around again.
"Legilimens," said Severus hoarsely. Potter froze as Severus's spell hit him.
At its worst, Legilimency was like searching for a single flower in a pitch-black field, or trying to pick out a single voice from a crowd of thousands; at its best, it was like diving into a fuzzy Pensieve. Severus expected that he would have to force his way into Potter's mind- he was not prepared for the sheer intensity of emotion Potter was experiencing. It was like being stabbed again: right between the eyes. Fractured images, emotions, and thoughts pierced through Severus's mind like daggers.
Foremost was Voldemort. Tall. Pale. Scary as hell.
Then Malfoy. And Lestrange. Lestrange?
No questioning! nearly knocked Severus off of his feet. Lestrange again. Then Voldemort.
And Juliette. Not dead yet?
She always was the most loyal. That was clear.
Powerdarknessmadness and then – Juliette again.
One life for another. Whose life? Her life.
PAIN silenced Severus's floundering thoughts, leaving him in a wash of death and life and death
and PAIN – Potter's? Hers? His own?
PAIN again silenced him. He was losing his hold. He'd been seen-
Then exultationpowerfear-
The fear belonged to Severus. I can't get out.
Death life pain flashed again
Paindeathlaughter
Fear now – Severus's. Potter's.
pain- he couldn't tell whose
fear death
Voldemort SAW him - sending PAIN again
her father's eyes – a child!
A reaching hand and trapped in death and pain
Now life and the reaching claw and dread but that belonged to Severus and
Death was coming for him
But blackness came first.
- - - -
Severus dropped to his knees, his wand falling from limp fingers, the world crashing back around him as if someone had grabbed him by the hair and yanked him from a dark pool into which he'd begun to sink. He was disoriented. He remained on the floor as the walls took their time settling into a fixed position.
Potter lay in his bed where Poppy had stunned him, looking far better for it. Beside him, Ron Weasley had an arm around Hermione Granger; both looked appalled, and not at Potter.
Severus blinked and ran a shaking hand over his face. Poppy went to him and hooked an arm under one of his and across his back; his shirt was wet with blood, and getting cold.
"I told you you'd hurt yourself again," she said. Severus got the distinct impression that Poppy was trying to distract him.
Poppy helped him to sit on the bed next to Potter's; he muttered something too low for her to understand.
"What was that, Severus?" she asked.
"I am getting quite tired-" he coughed "-of humiliating myself in front of you, Poppy," he said. He coughed again and pain radiated through his chest. "Ow," he croaked. He must have landed quite hard.
Poppy smiled briefly at his remark and turned to the two still-conscious Gryffindors.
"I think you two will be fine," she said to Granger and Weasley. "Perhaps you should go back to Gryffindor Tower."
"But –" argued Weasley.
"Actually, Ron, I think she has a point," said Granger. She at least had the decency to allow Severus some semblance of privacy while Poppy tended to him.
"All right," grumbled Weasley as his friend steered him out of the hospital wing. The two left, leaving Poppy alone with her charges.
- - - -
As it turned out, Professor Snape had been right about the next morning's "interrogation." Not long after Harry and Professor Snape had finished eating breakfast in silence, Dumbledore had begun the questioning.
Harry was actually feeling all right, except for a slight headache. Sitting stiffly in the bed next to Harry, arms crossed in front of him, hands balled into fists, and fully clothed except for shoes, was Professor Snape, looking sour as usual.
If one were to come across Snape, it would take some stretch of the imagination to picture the abuse the man had gone through in the last few days. Of course, Harry knew he was far from healed; however, Snape was anything if not resilient. He had to hand it to Snape – the professor gave no sign of having been tortured, cursed, and stabbed in the back the night before.
Also present was Madam Pomfrey; she and Headmaster Dumbledore sat in chairs set between the two beds.
Harry and Snape had spent an extremely uncomfortable half hour describing their imprisonment to Dumbledore. Snape's answers had been growing increasingly terse and were bordering on outright nasty. Although Harry was glad to be filled in on all the details he had missed, the tension radiating from Snape was palpable. It was almost a relief when Dumbledore steered the conversation away from torture and toward Harry's little post-rescue "episode."
"Apparently Voldemort still managed to perform his ritual last night, despite your rescue," the old man said slowly.
"How astute," muttered Snape. "I thought screaming hallucinations were becoming a regular event in Potter's life."
Dumbledore shot Snape a mildly reproachful look, then turned to Harry. However, a bit of color returned to Snape's white knuckles as the topic was steered away from things that made Snape scream and onto things that made Potter scream instead.
"Do you remember anything specific from last night, Harry? Anything at all?" asked Dumbledore.
Harry reddened, then spoke. "It was all just… just a big jumble, sir. I-" he took a breath. "I saw V- um… You-know-who, and two Death Eaters and a woman in white. Someone died, but I don't know who… it was like all of my thoughts turned off and there were just emotions left."
Almost imperceptibly, Snape nodded.
Harry sighed. "It – It was what they were going to do to me… wasn't it?"
Neither Dumbledore not Pomfrey really wanted to answer that question, both being too tactful.
Snape wouldn't have recognized tact if it came up and bit him on his large nose. "Yes," he said bluntly. "It was exactly what they were going to do to you, to strengthen the Dark Lord's child."
"But I wasn't there."
"How observant of you."
"Severus…" warned Dumbledore.
Snape heaved an impatient sigh, then continued, turning his attention away from Harry and addressing Dumbledore.
"The Death Eaters helping in the ritual were Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy – and the ritual went almost exactly as planned."
"Almost?" asked Harry.
At this, Snape gave his first smile of the day, and it was a decidedly nasty smile.
"The original sacrifice having escaped, there was only one other person powerful enough to substitute."
Snape's ghastly smile remained in place; Harry got the distinct impression that he was dragging his answer out on purpose.
"Your wife," said Dumbledore flatly. There was no trace of a question in his voice.
"My wife," replied Snape. He didn't seem the least bit unhappy to be a widower again.
"Oh dear," muttered Madam Pomfrey. "So the child – his child – survived?"
"Yes she did, Poppy," replied Snape flatly. Nobody seemed to have anything to say in reply. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but shut it without making a sound. What was he supposed to say? In the face of what Snape had just bluntly stated, all of their problems seemed to shrink to practically nothing in comparison. Torture? Hallucinations? Back-stabbing?
They just didn't seem as awful when faced with the fact that Voldemort had succeeded.
Silence stretched through the room as each of its inhabitants considered Snape's rather bad news. Harry studied the bedspread. Poppy intently examined her fingernails. Snape started to crack his knuckles.
At last, Dumbledore stood up.
"Come now," he said, conjuring up a smile. "The child is still young. No matter what her power, she still must be trained, and that will take time."
Snape snorted. "The next time I'm locked in a room with a sleeping Basilisk, I'll have to remember you, Albus, and tell myself that there's still time before the beast wakes up and instantly kills me."
"Oh, Severus, you are such a pessimist," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling once more. "Aren't you the least bit happy that you're still alive?" He raised his eyebrows at his Potions professor.
Snape tried to glare at Dumbledore, but soon gave up. "Of course, Albus," he said in a softer voice. "Thank you. You saved both of our lives."
"That's the spirit!" replied Dumbledore, standing and setting his chair out of the way. "I think we've interrogated these two long enough, don't you, Madam Pomfrey?"
Pomfrey looked up at the old man, then stood and moved her own chair.
"Yes, I agree," she said. "I really ought to send a note to Mr. Whitby about those warts."
"Well then, I'll be leaving you two to recuperate," said the headmaster to Harry and Snape. He walked to the door, but turned at the threshold.
"All is not lost," he said. "We must not lose hope during times such as these."
As he walked out, Madam Pomfrey swooped down on Snape, who was just swinging his long legs over the edge of his bed.
"Ah, but all will be lost for you, Severus, if you try to get out of that bed!" she said sternly. The waved her wand threateningly until Snape was back in his previous position.
"I'm sure Mr. Potter will keep an eye on you," she said. "I trust that when I get back, you'll still be here."
With that, Pomfrey left the hospital wing, leaving Harry alone with Snape for the first time since they had been imprisoned. Harry had only just begun to feel uncomfortable, though, when Snape swung his legs back over the edge of his bed and stood up.
"Overprotective old hen," he muttered, picking up his wand from the bedside table and stashing it in his robes. He spent several moments fruitlessly searching for a pair of shoes before looking over at Harry.
"You're not going to tell on me, now are you, Potter?" he asked. It took Harry a moment to realize that there was actually a slight smile in Snape's expression.
"Um, no sir," he replied. He hesitated, then asked, "How about you give Gryffindor some points for it?"
Snape stared at Harry for a moment, then, to Harry's surprise, gave a short laugh. He stooped in front of Harry's bed in order to look him in the eye.
"How very opportunistic, Potter. Almost a Slytherin thing to do. Five points from Gryffindor – for attempting to bribe a professor."
Harry's jaw dropped open, and for a moment he couldn't take his eyes off of Snape's face. It was only after a moment that he saw that Snape had extended his hand in front of him. It trembled slightly with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse.
Gingerly, Harry took Snape's hand in his own and shook it. Snape's hand was warm again, not icy cold like it had been before. It was a testament to what they'd been through that Harry was truly glad that Snape was going to be all right.
Snape stepped backward, straightening. "Well, Mr. Potter, I sincerely hope never to be imprisoned with you again." he said.
Head held high, Snape swept out of the hospital wing, his sock feet making no sound as he disappeared.
- - - -
The Halloween feast that year was especially joyful occasion. As usual, it was the first large event the school had held since the first day of the term, but it was also the first celebration held in the Great Hall since the Dark Mark had been burned into the ceiling at the beginning of the month. Underneath the starry ceiling, the students of Hogwarts buzzed with conversation, happy for the moment to just be where they were, when they were.
At the faculty table, Albus Dumbledore stood and raised his hand for quiet.
"Could I have your attention, everyone" he called, bringing near silence to the Great Hall.
"I know you are all hungry and eager to continue your conversations," he began, "so I'll try to make this short. Before we begin tonight's feast, I would like to share a few words.
"This has been a tumultuous beginning to what promises to be an even more tumultuous year, both here at Hogwarts and in the rest of the wizarding world. As most of you know, earlier this month a student and faculty member were taken from us by Dark forces. Many in this room tonight presumed them dead; others, however, held out hope that we would find them again. Through their courage and resilience, and through the hard work and dedication of two of our Gryffindor prefects, this student and teacher were brought back to us. It's been two weeks since they returned, but please, won't you all welcome back Professor Snape and Harry Potter."
The hall broke into applause, the Gryffindors good-naturedly cheering their famous housemate, the Slytherins clapping for their somewhat embarrassed-looking head of house, and the rest of the hall happy to applaud both Harry and Snape.
As the applause died down, Dumbledore spoke again. "This year will be one to be recorded in history books. It has been seven years since Voldemort-" a murmur ran through the hall at the mention of the forbidden name "since Voldemort began his second rise to power. It has been two since the new war began; the war has taken its toll on all of us. Many of us have lost friends and family members – no one is impervious to the war's influence.
"But this year will see a change for the better. This year will see the Dark Lord fall, his followers scattered, his victims' deaths avenged. This year, the Light will finally triumph over the Dark. Those of you in your final year of Hogwarts have grown up with a shadow over you; it will soon be time for that shadow to depart. To those of you just starting Hogwarts, may you never have to face that darkness yourselves."
Dumbledore cleared his throat in the sudden somber silence, then smiled. "All right, I think that's enough seriousness for one night – it's time to celebrate, after all! And what better way is there to celebrate the future than to stuff ourselves like Christmas turkeys? I've been talking long enough – let's eat before the food gets cold!"
- - - -
Saturday, the first of November, brought a curious sense of déjà vu to Harry Potter. After a month of postponement, the first game of Quidditch was ready to be played. In a somewhat deserted Great Hall, Ron Weasley was sitting at the Gryffindor table, wearing red and gold robes and flanked by his best friends. At the faculty table, Professor Vector was reading out of a book that looked large enough to break the large table in half; to her left was Severus Snape, staring into his coffee cup.
"Ron," said Hermione, glancing over at her friend.
"What," replied Ron monotonously.
"You need to eat your breakfast."
"For the gods' sake Hermione, I'm not hungry!" cried Ron, throwing his hands in the air. Harry looked over at him.
"Actually Ron, she might have a point. About the calories." Hermione smirked at Ron, a perfect "I-told-you-so" look spreading over her features. Ron rolled his eyes.
"I swear, you're both like little versions of Mum, trying to feed me," he said, exasperated. "Why don't you go practice flying or something?"
"I don't like to fly," replied Hermione matter-of-factly.
"Go read a book – how about that long one you had a while back?"
"That thing? I finished that weeks ago, Ron!"
Ron pushed his plate away from himself and began to softly thump his head on the table.
"How'm I supposed to eat breakfast? Oh I just know that Quaffle's going to get past me, I just know it. We're going to lose the first game of the season!"
Thump, thump, thump, went Ron's head. He lifted it to thump it again, but found himself dragged out of his spot by his two friends.
"Come on, Ron," said Harry, smiling. "I'll go practice with you for a little while."
"And I'll watch," said Hermione with a laugh. "From the ground."
"Oh, all right," said Ron, putting his arms around his friends. Now smiling himself, Ron left the Great Hall with his two best friends and headed for the Quidditch pitch, leaving his breakfast on the table.
It was good for the three friends to be together again.
- - - -
The sound of cheering could be heard all the way from the Quidditch pitch to the lake. Normally, Severus Snape would have watched the Quidditch match in hopes of seeing Gryffindor lose and rubbing it in Minerva's and Albus's faces, but today, he found he had little interest in the game.
It was a fine day for Quidditch: clear and cool, the sun bright but not warm, the grass under Severus's feet cold and green-brown. Severus enjoyed the feeling of the cold wind on his face; out here was almost as far away as he could get from the castle these days.
After years as a spy, Severus Snape had finally, thoroughly blown his cover. Through his few conversations with Draco Malfoy, who never had been expelled, Severus had discovered that every Death Eater and moderately-informed sympathizer within a thousand miles of Hogwarts wanted him dead – hardly incentive to leave the protected school grounds.
October had been hard on him; he imagined he would wake up to a head of gray hairs any day now. He had had to let go of so much – his role as a spy, his pride… and his hatred.
Try as hard as he could, Severus Snape could no longer hate Harry Potter, son of the most arrogant Gryffindor bastard ever to walk the planet. Severus would never forgive James Potter, but somehow, he had come to a grudging acceptance of his son. After hating the boy for so long, Severus found his sudden neutrality to be strange, but not as awful as he would have imagined.
Severus supposed that getting along with Harry Potter wasn't the worst thing in the world; after all, he would most likely be working with him in the Order of the Phoenix this year. No matter what Albus said, Voldemort's heir was growing older with every passing day. Once the child came into her powers, she and her father would be the most terrible force in the history of magic. It sometimes seemed almost impossible to prepare for that day.
But Albus had a way with people. No matter what the situation, he could always find a way to instill hope in the people he talked to. He had even been known to get a genuine smile out of Severus once in a while.
Severus stepped as close to the lake as he dared, leaving a good distance between himself and the cold waters. The old man was right, after all. There was still hope. After all, a great weight had been lifted from Severus's shoulders, despite the new burden of Voldemort's heir. Severus reached into his pocket, pulling out the plain wedding band that had weighed so heavily on his left hand. He looked down at it – it seemed so innocuous in his palm. It bore no signs of the pain it had caused, the humiliation, the despair.
That chapter of his life, at least, had finally come to a close. Weighing the ring in his hand one last time, Severus pulled his arm back and threw the gold band into the lake. The ring flew through the air in a high arc, sparkling in the sun for a brief moment before splashing into the water far from the shore. One of the mermaids would probably find it – good for her. The path of the ring's flight burned in Severus's eyes long after the object itself had sunk to the bottom of the lake.
Things in nature follow rules, he thought. All things that rise must fall, and just as Voldemort rose from the dust, so will he one day become a part of it again.
Turning, Severus left the lake behind and began the walk back to the castle.
- - - THE END - - -
A/N: Well… that's it for now. I hope nobody is too mad that I didn't kill off all of the baddies at once – that would have been a bit unrealistic! Anyway, my initial goal with this story was to get Severus and Harry to accept each other… the rest of the story fell into place along the way. I can't believe I started this before OotP came out… Someday I will write a sequel to this story to completely tie it up, but it won't be my next story. (Right now I'm working on a – gasp! – real original story. I'm trying to get it done for my mom's birthday in February). Anyway, I have several ideas for new Snapefics (most set in the past, except for the sequel to this one). Once I finish the draft for the new one (tentatively titled "The Breaking of Innocence" – tentatively!) I will start to post chapters, but not till then (I like to go back and put in foreshadowing, which makes WIPs hard).
THANK YOU to every single person who has read and reviewed this story. I know there are authors on who can churn out 100,000 word epics no prob, but for me writing something that's almost novel-length was horribly intimidating. I have to say, though, that having reviewers and even people who put me on Author Alert and Favorites really helped me through the process of polishing and posting this fic. Without you all, I think this may have been my last fic… instead, I'm already working on a new draft. So to le manchot du destin, duj, Sarah, TEC, Suzuki-chan, Silverthreads, nana-hedwig, SiddaBJR, Snape Girl1, whisky lullaby, ShadowedHand, Katie, kip, and mystic dragonsfire (who reviewed in 2004), Terra4, Draccerigs, Dien Alcyone, Sevrin, Tia'RaHu, Lady of Arundel, Elanndriel, and kaypee (who reviewed the original version), and to any lurkers/new readers who review this afterwards, I really appreciate your feedback and you've made putting this fic up really fun. I hope you've all liked it too.
K. Cloak