12/4/07 A/N: Oops! Thank you to auberus for catching the fact that I apparently mis-attributed the poem I used. Sorry. Fixing the attribution is the only change I've made at this point.

A/N: I love getting reviews. They make me happy. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed.

A/N: Normally, I try not to further explain my ideas in the authors note since I feel like if I didn't get it across in the fic itself then the universe of the fic is defined by the idea that did come across and nothing in an author's note is going to fix that. None the less, I'm going to at least state what my intentions were for the previous chapter: that an abusive childhood is more or less necessary to be able to see the future, but it can also postpone the development of power in other areas; and that to be powerful one must be ruthless to both oneself and to others, but that being ruthless is not necessarily the same as being abusive.

[PG-13; [Harry Potter - Highlander; Learning to live in peace time is even more difficult than in war time since there's only the good guys left to fight. Methos shows up at Hogwarts, Hermione apprentices to Dumbledore, and Sybil Trelawney sees Death.

Disclaimer: I own very little, and nothing that is contained herein.

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Life & Loyalty
by MarbleGlove

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The Messiness of Life
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Everyone had scattered.

Cassandra had left as suddenly as she had arrived and Severus tried not to think too much about her. She had been dangerous and disruptive but also hurting. He could sympathize. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

After Cassandra had left, Sybil had gone up to her tower and spelled her ladder away. She had been up there for a week without seeing anyone but her own personal House Elf who brought her food. Her fireplace was blocked off and honestly, Severus was glad of it. He rarely gave in to guilt but he had felt it nibbling around the edges of his mind. He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone, but he knew that in this one case, he had to check on Sybil to see if she needed someone. But she had been completely closed off.

Adam had been gone the day after everything had happened. He had just not been there anymore. His clothes and toiletries had still been in his room, but not his journal. Severus could remember when Adam had left him after the first fall of Voldemort. He had just walked out of his own house, away from his entire estate, taking nothing with him. Adam was gone and it was a further day before Severus found the note that had been scribbled on his office blotter, "S-- I need some time away. I'll be around. --A". And that was it. Would he be gone for the decade and a half that he had after that first disappearance? Would he return after less than a single year as he had after the final battle?

Albus was spending long days working on the paperwork necessary for running a large boarding school. Severus wondered whether this sudden intense bout of responsible bureaucrat on the part of the headmaster was to give the rest of them some space or to get some space for himself. Albus had even assigned his apprentice a research project that would keep her in the library for the better part of two weeks.

And his apprentice had seemed glad enough to not speak with anyone, to get her own thoughts clear. Hermione . . . Miss Granger . . . Hermione had lost herself in the stacks.

And Severus had kept himself occupied in his room rereading the few novels he had in his rooms.

Reading fiction carried something of a stigma having to do with the muggle taint. Wizards very rarely wrote fiction and when they tried it, it tended to be very bad. Knowledge of what was and was not possible or probable got in the way of writing a believable but false account of anything.

Of course, pureblood bibliophiles read any muggle literature they wanted and, if questioned, simply announced with supreme assurance that of course the author was a wizard. Thus it was that Machiavelli, Shakespeare, Plato, Socrates, Agatha Christie, Nietzche, Sun Tzu, etc. were all wizards according to wizarding society. Lucius Malfoy had even gone so far as to put up protective wards around Agatha Christie's house so that even when she was alive he could read her books with impunity and have some evidence behind his claim that "of course she is a witch."

One of the most common eccentricities of wizarding novelists was that they tended to "live in muggle society for the amusement" or for the inspiration, or to avoid the Ministry or whatever other reason people came up with. Every so often it was even true.

Snape still smiled at the memory of Lucius returning from Georgette Heyer's house. Narcissa Malfoy had nagged her husband for months to put up wards around Georgette Heyer's house and Lucius had been rather embarrassed when, after finally agreeing to do so, he apparated in only to discover that Heyer really was a witch who was eschewing wizarding society and she already had some very nasty wards up to deal with any random wizards who might try to apparate in.

But unlike the Malfoys, Severus generally didn't care for fiction. He thought the plots were all contrived and the people artificial and the descriptions either went on for too long or left too much out. It never struck him as realistic.

It still didn't, but now he found it comforting.

There was a clear beginning, middle, and end in these books. The characters were introduced, they had their adventures, and then everything was worked out. And he, as the reader, got to see it all laid out before him.

It was in real life that nothing seemed to tie neatly off. He had been present at a great confrontation between sworn enemies, Adam, who was both Death and the Beloved Traitor, and Cassandra, who was the greatest seer ever known, and it had been a volley of words and nothing more.

He hadn't wanted a fight, certainly, but it was unnerving to know that the beginning of their conflict was three thousand years before his birth, and the end could come at any time, but it was more likely to come three thousand years after his death than it was to be tomorrow.

He and his old mentor lived on different time scales, and he was less than a chapter in Adam's life. This was not a new realization, but it was always a shock when he was forced to think of it.

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"She has a stupid school girl crush. I'm too old for her and too nasty. She should find someone just as young and naive as she is."

Adam seemed amused by his vehemence. "Are we talking about the same girl? The one you once described to me as "a sneaky, ruthless, pain in my arse, but bloody impressive at times.'?"

Severus snorted his general disgust at his mentor's gall at throwing his own words back in his face. He couldn't deny the quote but wasn't willing to admit it either. "She's still too young. She has a long full life ahead of her."

"She's dying, you know."

"What?" Severus thought he might have given himself whiplash with how quickly he looked up. He ignored the sharp pain in his neck.

"Hermione Granger is dying."

"What, how, how do you know?" Severus looked aghast.

"I know because she's mortal. She's dying. You're dying. Albus is dying and the students are dying. You might hold on for another century or you might die tomorrow."

"That's not the same." Severus blew off the explanation with an irritated wave, to hide his relief, then raised that hand to massage his aching neck.

"It is the same. You don't know how long her life is going to be, nor do you know how long your life is going to be. Age is immaterial next to the concept of mortality."

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Hermione had come to his office only one day since then. That had been . . . interesting.

She had asked him if he would like to go out to dinner with her.

He had refused. "You want something that I cannot give. I am used up. I have thrown my entire being into taking down Voldemort. I have sacrificed my life, my thoughts, my body, my soul. When I was your age, Hermione, I desired. I desired power, and knowledge and the final destruction of Voldemort. Over the years, I have given up my desires for power and knowledge and thrown myself entirely into the desire for Voldemort's fall. Now he's dead. I have burned my candle at both ends, I did not last the night."

"But oh my foes and oh my friends, you cast a glorious light."

Of course, she would hardly be the know-it-all he had taught for so many years if she couldn't respond back to a simple quote like that. Snape was annoyed, with her and with himself. "No longer. I've burned out. There's nothing for you here. Go find yourself a boy who has emotions left to give. I lived for years off of hate, and now I can barely even remember what that felt like, I no longer even have that."

"Your argument has a fallacy. Desire is not a finite material. You desired with your entire being. Well, maybe you need to rest and renew yourself, but desire does renew."

"And you know this with your vast experience?" The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

"No, I know this with my vast intelligence." If there was one thing Snape had taught her over the past year, Hermione had thought, it was to make her weaknesses into strengths and to hide as little as possible. She wasn't modest in her head, she wouldn't be modest in her words. "But you'll be ready eventually. I just hope it's soon."

"You're not promising to wait for forever?" He had been at his most sarcastic. He had tried to be gentle and it hadn't worked and it gave him a headache.

On the other hand, sarcasm didn't appear to work on her either. She had flushed but stared back at him levelly. "No. I won't stop growing, and I won't promise you forever after having a few really nice conversations. And I'm certainly not declaring an undying love for you. I'm merely offering you and myself an opportunity in which to see what happens. It's of limited time, but neither of us knows when it expires until it does. I hope you take me up on the offer while it's still good. Think about it." And she had left.

He hadn't seen her since, but he had thought about it.

Time kept going and she would keep going with it. And so would he, so would he. And neither knew where it would go and how long their paths would run parallel.

Adam had known that.

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With fiction, Severus almost always knew exactly how everything was going to turn out by the end of the first chapter. Was the book a romance or a tragedy, suspense or mystery or comedy? It was clear whether the good guys won or the guy got the girl.

It was real life that didn't have those cues. His life didn't fit into any of those nice labels and he would never know how things turned out until the day he died, and even then he'd miss his own epilogue.

It wasn't fair that the characters in books got to live such a perfect existence, facing dangers and difficulties, yes, but perfectly scripted out. All their actions were to a plan and the extraneous parts were removed.

It was only with his potions that he felt in control, and he knew that he could spend the rest of his days ensconced in the dungeons and free from the confusions inherent in real life.

But then, it was a rare mood for him to read fiction. He always had preferred wizarding nonfiction.

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When Severus was still learning basic potions from Adam, they had frequently dined together. Sometimes, if Severus hadn't needed to be anywhere else, they would stay up and converse late into the night.

"And what about History? I find it hard to believe that you're not a Master of History along with Potions and Arithmancy."

Adam snorted. "I don't like History."

"You don't?" Severus was seriously surprised here.

"Studying it, one is in constant danger of being lost in the past, and teaching it, one has to keep track of too many versions."

"Oh. Yes."

They settled into silence. Snape was thinking about what he had just learned, and vaguely wondering what Adam was thinking about. To all appearances, Adam wasn't thinking of anything much.

"Adam?"

"Yes?"

"You've told me several stories about the history of the wizarding world." Severus paused to find the correct phrasing of the question he wanted to ask. "Are there not several versions of those?"

Adam grinned. Inwardly Severus winced at this; he knew it wasn't going to be a reassuring response. "Of course. I just pick the version that comes to mind. That's why I couldn't be a serious student of history: some of those stories could be true but forgotten, and some of them might be apocryphal. I haven't bothered to find the accepted versions."

Severus sighed with exasperation, but didn't press further.

After a moment Adam spoke again, "Anyway, my life is a case of me against the world." Adam grinned, and raised his glass in a toast. "Confusion to the enemy."

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And so on, ad infinitum.

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A/N: Severus and Hermione both misquote a poem, "First Fig", by Edna St. Vincent Millay:

My candle burns at both its ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!

A/N: This is the end of Life & Loyalty. I realized as I was writing this these last few chapters, that, while I had started out writing with a clear plot arch in mind, that plot didn't coalesce as a proper plot should because the war was over. This was not a story about a great conflict, but a story about all the little, or maybe not little but certainly personal, conflicts that you are constantly faced with and that may or may not ever get resolved. Despite the odd and philosophical turn this fic took, I hope you enjoyed it.