Author's Notes: Dashed off in an hour, un-betaed, so I must own up to any mistakes as my own.
I had previously sworn never EVER to do a song fic, or any fic inspired by a song. Hah, is what I now have to say to that - I couldn't resist on this, the lyrics were too perfect.
I own neither the songs or the characters, and make no profit from this story.
There is angst and character death in this fic. Consider yourself warned.
Remember, please read and review
Missing
But I won't be home again.
He stood in the trees, an indistinct black outline in the flickering shadows created by the flames of Hagrid's hut, and watched Potter run back to the castle.
He took in the whole scene, straining his eyes and his mind to remember every last detail, so burn the imprint of his home onto his mind, or the back of his eyelids. His home, his haven, his rock – and he would never return.
The realisation brought a physical pain to his chest, and a lump to his throat.
Knowing Draco would be waiting for him, and he had a report to make, he blinked the tears from his eyes, and turned to go.
You won't cry for my absence, I know.
It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and he hadn't been able to help himself.
He stood where he had on the last occasion, hidden by the burnt shell of the hut, and watched the children run, walk, slouch down towards the village. These weekends had always been his peace time – he'd always loaded years one and two down with so much homework that they'd be unavoidably detained, and he'd be free to prowl the grounds and castle, free to breath.
They were laughing, he noticed, as they passed his hiding place. Even the Slytherins, those he had spent most of his adult life nurturing, protecting, encouraging, guiding, were laughing. Had he been such an unpopular teacher, even among his own house?
He wanted to shriek and rage. He wanted to burst from behind the hedge that hid him and tell them about how he'd sacrificed his life and his home, his father and his chance for a decent future, to ensure that they had reason to laugh.
Then the impulse faded, and he slumped back against the ruins, smearing dirt on his coat, breathing heavily and trying not to cry.
Across the way, he saw the trio, watching the children as well, and looking like he felt. Like they dearly wished they could go back and relive what now seemed a utopian time before . Before Voldemort, before Lily, before Potter and Weasley and Granger and Malfoy. Before the oath, and Dumbledore's damnable last, unescapable request.
But he couldn't.
This time no amount of blinking would chase the tears from his eyes, and he left for home with wet cheeks.
Even though I'm the sacrifice
It was the night before the final battle, and he was back again. Of course they didn't know it was the night before the final battle, and wouldn't believe him if he told them, but it would happen here, tomorrow, and nothing he said would delay the Dark Lord.
He gazed at the great stained-glass windows of the hall, rendered warm and alive by the lights inside. They'd be having dinner right about now. The third Friday in December, that would be toad in the hole, with onion gravy and mashed potatoes. His stomach rumbled, and he smothered an amused laugh at what their reaction would be if he turned up now for a plateful. He'd probably end up blasted right out of those windows.
He sank to his knees as his laughter faded and the bone-numbing terror that had been infecting him slowly over the past week returned. Fervently, he wished, willing his thoughts to whatever spirit watched over the school, to whatever small amount of Dumbledore's shade was still present, that the children would be safe on the morrow, that the Light would win, and Hogwarts would go on.
He could make peace with what was to happen, if Hogwarts was to go on.
He rose, with a steely determination now on his face, and turned to disparate. There were no tears this time.
You won't try for me, not now.
The battle was in full swing, and he was doing his best to disguise the fact that the only curses he kept throwing were not the fatal kind. He rounded the hut, his feet picking their way easily over the familiar ground, when he heard a huge cracking noise from above him.
The reminder of the hut's roof began to fall right on top of him.
Ahead of him, dressed all in white, Ronald Weasley turned, wand raised as if prepared to stop the debris in its flight.
Then he saw who lay under it.
He turned away as the blackened timber slammed down onto Severus.
Though I'd die to know you love me,
I'm all alone.
Severus hissed against the pain, and crawled out from under the remains. His left arm was broken – a compound fracture in fact, the bone was sticking out from under the skin. But he still had his wand arm, which was good. He pulled himself to his feet, only to turn and face a circle of white robes that ringed him, and all of them had their wands pointed at him.
In a moment of ridiculousness, he wanted to shout at the lot of them for choosing outfits that, while appropriate, made them nothing more than moving targets – painted bulls-eyes would even have been preferable.
He knew then that it was over, and they would loose. They were going to kill him before he could play his part, and then the remaining Death Eaters would slaughter them.
Then, from the smoke behind them, Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort came into sight. Malfoy grinned, and raised his wand towards Granger, who was closest to me on my left. He saw Malfoy's mouth open and start to say the killing curse, and without thinking Severus leapt in front of her.
The green light hit him full in the chest.
Isn't something missing?
He hit the ground in a semi-conscious state, pain racking his torso – apparently the strengthening solution taken earlier meant death would take a little longer than normal.
Malfoy, Voldemort, the entire light side for that matter, including Granger who was kneeling beside him, were gaping at him. He took advantage of their distraction to put the last of his strength into a killing curse that caught Malfoy in the middle of his forehead. He fell without a sound.
"Severus…" said Voldemort, his voice a mixture of confusion and rage. Severus never got his chance to tell the Dark Lord what a pillock he was, unfortunately, because it was at that moment Potter decided to rejoin the land of the living, and killed the man who had been the bane of Severus's existence for the last 20 years.
He heard someone sobbing, and to his surprise Granger took him in her arms, and started cradling him. Her voice echoed around the sudden stillness, painful in its sorrow.
He tried to smile at her as his world went black, but his last thoughts were the happiest he'd had in thirty years.
Someone had missed him.
Isn't someone missing me?
Missing, Evanescence:
Please, please forgive me,
But I won't be home again.
Maybe someday you'll look up,
And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one:
"Isn't something missing?"
You won't cry for my absence, I know -
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant...?
Am I so insignificant...?
Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?
Chorus:
Even though I'm the sacrifice,
You won't try for me, not now.
Though I'd die to know you love me,
I'm all alone.
Isn't someone missing me?
Please, please forgive me,
But I won't be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
I breathe deep and cry out,
"Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?"
Chorus
And if I bleed, I'll bleed,
Knowing you don't care.
And if I sleep just to dream of you
I'll wake without you there,
Isn't something missing?
Isn't something...
Chorus