A/N: Er, lotsa Harry/Ginny in this chapter. What can I say? I 'luff em. I currently feel like a murderer, so a lot of this chapter was written under the influence of Pink Floyd, which makes me feel happy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing (including Pink Floyd)… though especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

Chapter 8 – Never Say Goodbye

Harry could not have possibly felt worse. Miranda, dead? It didn't seem possible, not when she had been so full of life and hope and energy. But there she was, soaking wet like the rest of them, not breathing and not, well, living. And then there was Snape, weeping into his hands next to his wife. Christine whimpered and hugged Harry, her arms around his neck. He could feel her tears as they dripped onto his arm and he hugged her, knowing exactly how it felt to lose a family member, a parent. But Harry had never lost a spouse, and the sadness was tearing him apart.

Snape stood and straightened up, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his trench coat so that Harry could not see his tears.

"Potter," he said slowly, trying to keep his voice from shaking, not turning around. "Take M-Miranda and Christine both to the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. Tell them there – tell them what happened. Tell Albus."

"Yes sir," replied Harry quietly, wiping a tear from the tip of his nose.

"I have… matters… to attend to."

"Yes sir."

Snape stared down at Miranda for a moment longer, his breathing not quite patterned, before turning on his heel and disapparating with a crack. Harry sat Christine down on her feet and quickly walked over to Miranda's body, his wet feet making an odd squelching noise on the cold ground. With a grunt, he picked her up in his arms, a frown darkening his features. A strange pain went through his scar as he picked up the dead woman, but he shook it off. More important things needed to be addressed at this moment. He turned to Christine. She stood back where he had left her, sadness overwhelming her face and tears freely falling down it. She couldn't quite grasp what was happening now, but she knew enough not to ask when Mummy was coming home this time.

"Christine," Harry said gently, feeling a tear slide down the side of his face and into his mouth. He tasted the saltiness and bitterly thought of the Death Eaters and their dead bodies laying in the room closest to him. "Grab hold of my leg."

Christine nodded and hurried forward, dripping water over the ground as she did so. She wrapped her arms around his left leg and held on tightly, not liking apparition any more than Harry. With one last glance at Miranda's pale face, he looked ahead and apparated.

Harry, Christine and Miranda appeared outside Grimmauld Place and, since Harry's arms were full, he told Christine to ring the doorbell, not caring in the slightest that Sirius' mum was going to begin screaming. Christine did as she was told and then stepped away from the door and grabbed hold of Harry's leg again. Harry could see that she was afraid of this place, and he couldn't blame her. He shuddered involuntarily.

The door opened a crack and Mrs. Weasley peered out. When she saw it was Harry she gasped and threw open the door.

"Harry dear! We've been worried sick and –" her eyes fell on the limp figure in Harry's arms and her eyes widened. "Miranda. Is she…?"

Mrs. Weasley looked slowly back up at Harry, who nodded. Mrs. Weasley gasped and quickly ushered Harry into the building, noticing Christine for the first time and clasping a hand to her mouth to keep from crying. Harry could hear Mrs. Black screaming profanities and insults, but did not look to see. He found that he did not care; a numbness only death could bring was seeping into Harry's brain, fogging everything else.

"In here, Harry," she said in a squeaky whisper, leading Harry into the sitting room.

Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared at the top of the stairs, presumably having just finished with the portrait. Tonks, whose hair was long, pink and curly today, looked exactly the same as Harry had remembered with the exception that she was about nine months pregnant. Harry didn't spare them a glance, however, as he walked briskly on. Tonks and Shacklebolt stared.

Harry followed Mrs. Weasley into the sitting room and placed Miranda down on the couch as gently as he could, wishing that his bottom lip would stop trembling. Christine followed, tears liberally sliding down her face. Harry suddenly felt weakened.

"I need something to drink," he muttered and walked away and into the kitchen, leaving Christine and Mrs Weasley behind.

The moment he stepped foot into the depressingly dark kitchen there was a shriek and he suddenly found himself engulfed in red and being knocked onto the floor.

"Ginny!" he gasped, staring up at the woman on top of him.

Ginny, grinning and crying at the same time, climbed off of Harry. They leapt to their feet at the same time and he embraced her in his arms. Every miserable thought was swept away for the first time as he held her close and inhaled her scent, feeling her tears fall from her eyes and onto his neck. She pulled away and he kissed her, not caring that she was crying and shaking because he was, too. The ecstasy that he felt at that moment with Ginny back in his arms was so overwhelming he was sure he was radiating it; his heart had never felt so light.

"Marry me, Ginny," he murmured into her ear, embracing her again and running his fingers through her silky tresses.

"Of course, Harry," she replied, her eyes still shedding tears.

She pulled away from him again and kissed him softly, her smile fading.

"Dumbledore told us what had happened and then I got your letter and I was just so scared," Ginny said in a rush. She shook her head, sending teardrops onto Harry's face, and placed a hand on Harry's cheek, seeking comfort in the warmth of his skin – it was like a reassurance that he was really alive. Her expression changed to relief. "I didn't bother looking to see who was at the door, what with Order members coming in and out all the time." Her words left her mouth quickly. "But you're okay! All of you, right?"

Harry suddenly felt reality smack him in the face again. Ginny must have noticed this change in expression because she covered her mouth in horror much like her mother had. Her brown eyes were wide.

"Who…?" she asked, but Harry didn't reply. His eyes flickered toward the door and she turned around. "Not Christine?" Ginny asked in apprehension, limbs shaking.

"Miranda," Harry said in a slightly strained voice, shaking his head.

Ginny's chin trembled and she fled from the kitchen in the direction of the sitting room with Harry at her heels. He was not looking forward to this and wondered what Snape was up to, thinking that if anybody had the right to grieve, it was him.

-

Severus managed to apparate to the front door of his house without splinching himself. He undid the wards on the house and stepped inside, feeling emptier than he had ever felt before. Why, he asked himself, did good things always have to turn bad on him? Was he doomed to a miserable life? Was Christine? He pulled off his dripping trench coat and tried to magically untie his shoelaces, but didn't succeed. Apparently he was going through another emotional upheaval, one that was sapping him of his magic.

What a stupid idea, the Progenitor Veneficium. Damn you, Rowena, Severus thought bitterly, not bothering to take off his boots. You greedy, stupid wife-killer. Yes, blaming his troubles on a person who had died centuries ago was a very appealing prospect at this time.

He crossed the room, absently twisting the wedding band on his finger and feeling a plummeting sensation in the pit of his stomach as the Muggle Trish's Dark Side of the Moon album caught his eye. Face devoid of expression, he opened the glass door of the cabinet and took out the album.

"Floyd Friday," he spat, turning the package over and sliding the record out into his pale hands. "What a stupid idea."

He took out the disk and put it on the player before starting it and turning his back on the record player. The full reality of what was happening to him was starting to sink in, but he didn't want it to. He rubbed his temples in agitation, willing away the memory and the thought of Miranda. He didn't want to think about it, and there was only one way to keep from it. The idea of thinking in general didn't please him at that moment.

Slowly at first and then with acceleration, Severus found his legs carrying him over to the hutch in which any alcohol was safely locked away from Christine. He tried to open it with magic again, thinking that maybe the Progenitor Veneficium would overcome his disability, but the hutch remained locked. Finally he grew so fed up that he aimed a good kick at the wooden door with his steel-toed combat boot and broke the door in.

Panting slightly, he pulled open the broken door and took out a bottle of Firewhiskey. He smoothed a hand over the dusty bottle and cradled it gently in his hands, reading the label. After popping the cork off, he raised the bottle like a glass and made a toast.

"To your health, Miranda," he said quietly, closed his eyes, and drank.

Yes, Severus thought grimly as he lowered the dusty bottle, this night will be a long one.

-

Miranda's body had been moved to a better location, Harry felt, for his own sanity. He didn't think he could bring himself to look at her again; it was too much like losing a mother. She'd been like a mother to him these last months, caring for him and tutoring him. Like a mother. Like a mentor. Like a friend.

His green eyes roamed the room and landed on Ron and Hermione, who had come over as soon as Ginny had told him that Harry was back. They had demanded to know the entire story from start to finish and he was just finishing. Thus far, nobody in the room had asked a single question. For this, Harry was grateful.

"…and then he said he had matters to attend to and he left," Harry said in a dull voice, accepting a steaming mug of hot chocolate from Lupin. "I just did what he told me to do. And that's it."

Harry let his head fall down slightly and his gaze fell on the weapon still holstered around his waist. He unbuckled the stiletto and took it off, aware that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt and Mrs. Weasley were all watching him. He unsheathed the stiletto and looked at the shining blade, glad the he hadn't needed to use it, especially not in front of Christine, who he thought was far too young to have seen death. At this particular time she was in Lupin's room, asleep under the influence of a dreamless sleep potion.

"So that's it," Ron said in a slightly awed voice, despite his apparent sadness. "It's over. V-Voldemort's gone?"

Harry looked up in amazement; Ron had never before used Voldemort's name. Ron seemed surprised with himself as well, and Hermione squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture. Harry, who had momentarily forgotten that Ron had asked him a question, nodded as he snapped back to reality.

"Yeah, he's gone," Harry said monotonously. "Only we've still got the Death Eaters to worry about. I don't know if Miranda –" he faltered slightly as he said her name, remembering that she was gone "– killed any. When we spoke through the mental link she said something about 'regaining her dignity' or something like that. I can only imagine she had to do something drastic to get into Headquarters and get past all those Death Eaters alive. The only ones I saw die were Wormtail," Lupin's eye twitched slightly and he gripped Tonks' shoulder tighter, "The three Malfoys and Lestrange."

"And Voldemort," Hermione added quietly, and Harry nodded.

"And Voldemort."

Harry glanced to his left where Ginny was seated, staring at him with concern. He tried to force a smile but he seemed sort of strained. He sheathed the stiletto and placed it beside his untouched hot chocolate.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," he said suddenly, standing up.

Ginny made to stand as well, but Hermione caught her eye and jerked her head. The redhead opened her mouth to protest, but instead crossed her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes in a huff. Harry, without waiting for approval, started for the stairs. Seven pairs of eyes followed him to the bottom of the stairs and, as his hand touched the banister, a thought struck him. He cursed and turned around.

"All my stuff is still at – at the house," he said in a low voice. "I'm going to get it."

Lupin rose from his seat on the couch suddenly.

"I'll come with you," he said hoarsely, speaking for the first time in a while.

Harry shook his head, the sinking feeling coming again to his heart.

"No," he said, "I can take care of it. I'll come back if I need help."

Lupin opened his mouth to protest, but Tonks took this opportunity to pull him back down onto the couch. Harry felt a surge of gratitude to the pregnant Auror – she understood how he was feeling somehow, though he wasn't sure how, and he was not in the mood to talk to anybody at the moment. He would just go back to the house, get his belongings, and come right back. Then he would go to his room and try to sleep, maybe after taking a leaf out of Christine's book and having a swig of dreamless sleep potion. With this new thought to comfort him, Harry left the house and apparated away.

Harry walked into the house that he had inhabited for the last months and saw something rather shocking. It was Snape, sitting in an armchair. Only, this was a side of Snape Harry had never known existed, never mind seen. In one hand Snape was holding a large bottle of firewhiskey. The floor was littered with empty bottles; it seemed as if Snape was trying to drink his way through the entire house. In the other hand was a bottle of Butterbeer. He was staring off into nowhere, his expression distant and tired. Harry cautiously took a step forward, hearing the faint sounds of Pink Floyd playing on the record player in the background.

"Sir?"

Snape did nothing. Harry, abandoning all pretenses, strode forward and stopped in front of Snape, thanking whatever higher power that Christine was not around to witness this. He called Snape again and only when he waved a hand energetically in front of Snape's face did he get an answer.

"'Ello, Otter."

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. Snape turned his head and faced Harry with a pleasant expression and Harry saw that Snape's glazed eyes had dark circles around them and that he was beyond pale.

"Care for a drink, Pothead?" Snape said, offering a bottle.

"Er – no thanks," Harry said slowly, trying not to cough as he got a whiff of Snape's stale alcohol breath.

"More fer me then," Snape slurred, and raised the firewhiskey bottle to his lips.

Harry reached out and snatched it away from the drunken man, saying, "On the other hand, Sir, I think I will have one."

He quickly vanished the bottle and tried to coax Snape into doing something other than drinking.

"Don't you think you should be – er, getting to bed?" asked Harry uneasily.

Snape laughed.

"I don't need to sleep, Potterhead," Snape said thickly. "Don't wanna sleep no more. Nope. Don't need to, ya see? 'Cos I'ma join the Death Eaters."

This didn't make sense to Harry in the slightest and he was left unsure of what to do next. Snape didn't seem to care, though, for he began talking to Harry as if they were best friends.

"Good days," Snape said, facing forward. "Torturin' and stuff. Relaying prophecies. We all went out one night and had a few. Then we got these tattoos, see?" He pulled back the sleeve of his left arm and showed Harry the Dark Mark, which had faded slightly now that the person who put it there was dead. "There was this one girl. Lilac Evans, or something like that. Yeah. She was something all right. Fine piece of work. You shoulda seen her, 'Arry, she was a beauty."

Harry felt slightly sick now.

"Yep, then I killed her… or something like that," Snape continued as if it were a fond memory. He hiccupped, spilling his Butterbeer down his front. He didn't seem to notice. He turned to Harry again. "I always liked you, Pot'ead. Always a joker. We was always the best of friends, huh?"

"Er," Harry began, a pained expression on his face. What was he supposed to do? "Yeah. Best friends, Sir."

"Why're you callin me 'sir'? What is that bullshit?" slurred Snape. "Call me Sev. I like that. Miranda called me that and I always said, 'yeah, I like that'. And she did, you know. Always did… and I… well…"

He went to drink from his Butterbeer bottle but Harry snatched that away. He thought that perhaps Snape would give up if he had nothing left to drink and would have gladly taken a screaming match instead of this. Snape, unperturbed by the vanishing of his liquor, merely grabbed a new bottle of firewhiskey from between the cushions of the armchair in which he sat. He popped the cork off and drank from that before Harry could do anything. He hiccupped again and when Harry made a wild attempt to grab the bottle out of his hand he pulled it away. Harry swatted at the air and fell over the chair. Snape took no notice of this.

"Vinegar and salt chips," Snape slurred. "You have got to try those. Miranda used to love 'em. All salty and such. Kind of like the Lark Dord. Voldie. Now he's a funny guy – we used to have the best times, Potty, the best. Can't wait to go and see 'im again. I got this really funny joke, wanna hear it?"
"Er –" Harry began awkwardly, but Snape had plowed on.

"There's this hag and she goes to this woman," Snape began, but suddenly stopped and looked at Harry. "Don't trust women, Pothead, they'll break you up into a thousand mini pieces and stomp all over ya. Bam!" Snape threw his arms up in the air, spilling firewhiskey all over himself. "I had a woman once, and a fine one. She was the best, lemme tell you. Good at eatin' an' talking and – and livin'. She lied to me," he continued, staring off into space. "She said she'd always be there to help me, but she lied. She's dead. I killed her."

Harry wasn't sure to say, nor was he sure that saying anything would be helpful. He had the distinct impression that Snape would not remember this in the morning.

"Yep, that's right. Didn't get there quick enough and then she was hexed, ya see, right in the middle. Here." Snape gestured to his abdomen. "And then she died and she said 'Sev, ol buddy, I'm goin to a better place now. No more lyin an' no more badness.

Hell, I'ma join her, I think. Right after this firewhiskey. It's good stuff, lemme tell you…"

Harry, who became very much alarmed when Snape said "I'ma join her", quickly did the first thing that came to mind. He stupefied his ex-Professor. The firewhiskey bottle fell to the floor and spilled its contents everywhere. Harry stood there, not quite sure what to do next, so he put a sleeping charm and a sheet (because he couldn't bear to look at him) on Snape and went to get Lupin for help.

-

Severus awoke the next morning feeling as if he'd been run over by a tractor. With a moan he sat up, rubbing the side of his head and looking about the room. Where was he, anyway? A glance at the moth-eaten curtains and dismal atmosphere explained to him that he was somewhere at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. He hiccupped.

What had happened last night? He couldn't remember. And then it struck him. Miranda had been killed and he had gone and gotten royally wasted.

Ugh, he thought miserably as he heaved himself out of bed. His brain felt like it had been spun around in circles. If I never see another bottle of Firewhiskey again, I'll have seen one too soon.

The door to the bedroom opened and Harry entered, carrying a tray of food.

"Mrs. Weasley sent me to give you breakfast, Sir," Harry said awkwardly, trying his best not to look suspicious.

Severus wasn't fooled. He narrowed his eyes as Harry bustled about, placing the tray on the bedside table and scooping up random objects from the floor.

"Potter, what happened last night? How did I get here?" Snape asked in a dangerous voice.

Harry dropped the lamp he had picked up off the floor in a convulsive way. He straightened up and set his green eyes on his ex-Professor, not really wanting to discuss the drunken escapade they had encountered.

"Nothing, Sir," Harry said in an unconvincing tone. "Shouldn't you –"

"Don't lie to me, Potter," Severus snapped. "What did I say?"

Harry backed towards the door, uncomfortable beyond measure.

"Er, the funeral's today, Sir. Your robes are on – on the hanger," Harry said in a rush, groping about behind him for the door handle. "Oh, I think I hear Ginny calling me. See you around, Sir."

Harry opened the door and left before Severus could say a word. He sighed and fell back on the bed, thinking that he had never seen Harry depart so quickly.

"Funeral, here I come."

-

Said funeral was to be a small one, with only a handful of people invited, including the Weasleys, the Lupins, and any Order member who had known Miranda personally. They were to gather at the Burrow, where they would pay their last respects and then she would be buried in a small graveyard just south of London.

Everybody but Christine, Harry and Ginny had apparated to the Burrow. Christine would be taken by Ginny, as Harry was suffering from post-Avada Kedavra magical exhaustion. Ginny came up from behind him as he stood at the mirror and wrapped an arm around his waist. He sighed and smiled weakly as Ginny rested her chin on his shoulder.

"We should go, Ginny," he said, making a half-hearted attempt to flatten his hair with the palm of his hand.

"I know," Ginny replied, kissing his neck.

Harry shuddered but otherwise showed no sign of notice.

"I don't want to say goodbye," he said quietly, not looking at the redhead beside him; he felt almost ashamed for saying it, like he was showing weakness.

"Never say goodbye, Harry," said Ginny reassuringly. "It's not goodbye, after all. Not really. I mean, we all die someday, don't we?"

Harry shrugged, not exactly feeling comforted from her words. He suddenly felt a strange twinge in his scar and touched his fingertips to it. Ginny noticed and furrowed her brows.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked nervously.

"Yeah, just a twinge," replied Harry, leaning closer to better inspect his confused-looking reflection. His eyes widened in surprise. "Hey, my scar!"

"What's wrong with it?"

Ginny pulled him around forcefully and stood on tiptoe to better scrutinize her fiancé's forehead.

"It's gone!" exclaimed Ginny, pushing his hair back away from his forehead as if to check if the scar had moved.

"Well, that explains the twinge," Harry said, shrugging once. "Come on, we can talk about this later." He turned and began walking to the doorway, Ginny's hand intertwined in his. "Christine?"

Christine appeared in the doorway, clad in a simple black dress and matching shoes. Her coffee-colored hair had been pinned back by Mrs. Weasley and she looked very pretty despite the fact that she was frowning deeply. Harry grimaced slightly but Ginny took control of the situation. She dropped to her knees and opened her arms, the corners of her mouth twitching downwards as the little girl jumped into them and embraced her.

"Come on, Christine," Ginny said gently, standing up. "Daddy's waiting for you."

With one last nod to Harry, Ginny disapparated with Christine. Harry unconsciously ran a hand through his hair, making it messier than before.

"She's so good with kids," he said in a slightly unsure voice, sighing.

He looked around the room one last time before turning on his heel.

-

The funeral procession was smooth. Harry, Severus, Ron and Remus carried the casket down the rows of chairs that had been assembled on the Burrow's back lawn and placed it on the table. Albus made a short speech and tears were shed by all except for Severus. For some reason he could not allow himself to shed tears and merely sat there, stony-faced and solemn. Nor did he reply to the condolences he received for his loss. Christine sat beside him and sniffled throughout the funeral, her eyes fixed upon the casket at the head of the table.

When the time came to pass by the open casket and say the final goodbyes, Severus found that he could not stand. He did not want to say goodbye, for that meant giving in. Harry waited for him, however, and eventually he did stand. With legs of lead, Severus walked up the lawn and joined the line that wound past Miranda in her casket.

Whether time had fast forwarded or whether he had blanked out Severus did not know, but before he knew it he was standing in front of his wife's casket, looking down upon her with a blank expression. Harry stood behind him in line, watching as Severus stared down at Miranda. The man raised a hand and touched the side of her face gently, marveling at the beautiful makeup job whoever had worked on Miranda had done; her face had its normal color as did her lips, which were full and delicately colored.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, moving his fingers through her hair and taking in her appearance. She was dressed in a simple shirt and her jeans, and her ever-faithful, original combat boots were laced up on her feet, though her sock was visible as the sole of the left boot was gone. "Almost like you're alive," he continued, and placed a hand on her face again, marveling at the warmth in her skin.

She was so warm that it was hard for Severus to believe that she was dead. So hard in fact that he was suddenly struck with an impossible thought. He narrowed his eyes and placed the tips of his index and middle fingers just below her jaw. His heart nearly stopped.

"Potter," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off Miranda.

"Yes, Sir?" replied Harry, looking nervously at the greasy-haired man before him.

"Do I look well to you?" asked Severus.

Harry eyed his ex-Professor warily, taking in his appearance before saying, "I guess, Sir."

"Not delusional or…" Severus searched for the right word. "Crazy?"

"Not any more than usual, Sir." Severus tore his eyes off Miranda and turned his gaze upon Harry, who looked genuinely confused. "What?" Harry asked.

Severus looked back down at Miranda and held his fingertips just above her mouth, which was the slightest bit ajar. He felt the slightest warm rush of air. She was breathing. He looked back at the nonplussed Harry and furrowed his eyebrows, not sure if he could believe his own words.

"She's alive."

Harry gaped. He figured that Snape was probably just in denial or he was just being delusional. And yet, Snape looked perfectly normal, besides just a little hung over. A few seconds passed and Harry realized that his jaw was slack. He closed him mouth, swallowed, and looked at Miranda. She sure looked alive enough, though her expression was completely passive, as if she was sleeping. He didn't quite know what to say, so he merely moved closer to the casket. Snape shifted sideways to allow Harry to see for himself, and he placed a hand on her neck. Sure enough, a faint pulse thumped beneath his fingertips. His mouth fell open again.

"How…?" Harry said in disbelief. "She was dead – I'm sure of it. Do you think the potion –?" he turned his eyes on Snape, who had the same expression as he. "But she took it months ago, and – and it was only supposed to lock the Avada Kedavra."

Snape appeared to be in deep thought.

"Dittany," he said quietly, "is a healing ingredient, often used by Muggles as an old remedy for stomach sickness. The spell that hit her - Crudesco Corporis – was a spell to destroy a person from the inside, out." both Severus and Harry's eyes fell on Miranda's hand. It had twitched just a moment before. Severus closed his eyes, thinking of a possible explanation. "And – and sulphite. Sulphite and sodium benzoate are preservatives, made to make the potion last for a long time in a jar or a container. I didn't know it worked inside the body."

"Is something wrong?"

Harry and Severus turned their heads in unison to see Ginny watching the both of them with a worried expression. They said nothing in reply, but both turned again to Miranda. Ginny looked upon her as well, and then her eyes widened in shock as she saw Miranda take a suddenly deep breath.

"Great googamooga!" she exclaimed, backing off a step. "It can't be!"

This comment attracted the attention of all nearby people. Soon Severus found that he and Harry were no longer the only ones surrounding the casket, but everybody at the funeral was trying to get a better look, Christine included. Harry scooped her up and placed her on his shoulders, not taking his eyes off the person they had all thought to be dead.

No, he insisted stubbornly to himself. She was dead, I know she was!

Mrs. Weasley clapped a hand over her mouth and leaned back against Mr. Weasley to keep from fainting. Severus gripped the edge of the casket so tightly that he felt a slight sting and his knuckles were white. Miranda slowly opened her eyes and looked around. Her eyes landed first on Mr. and Mrs Weasley.

"I don't think this is Heaven," she said in a weak voice, just as confused as everybody else. "Unless you're all dead, and in that case, I know a few of you wouldn't be in Heaven, therefore causing me to believe that I must be in Hell."

"Unless none of us are actually dead," Ron pointed out.

"But you were dead," Harry said, still unable to believe it.

Miranda looked down and saw that she was in a casket. She shuddered.

"Well that would explain the coffin," she said with a grimace and began inspecting herself; prodding herself in the abdomen and looking at her arms as if she was having a hard time believing that she was alive. "I feel dead, I can tell you that much." She looked up from her hands and saw Severus, who still had his white-knuckled grip on the side of the casket. "You look dead, Severus."

He didn't reply right away, but continued to stare at Miranda as if he was waiting for her to drop dead again.

Finally he replied, "You don't."

Nobody said anything at first, and then Severus slowly let go of the edge of the casket and held out a hand. Miranda, her expression blank and her eyes fixed on her husband, took his hand and allowed him to help her get on her knees, which felt very stiff after having not been used for over twenty-four hours.

"You were dead," he muttered to her, expression blank and brain reeling. Though he knew he would be the happiest man alive soon, the full blast of reality hadn't yet kicked in; he had just spent a day telling himself that his wife was dead, after all.

Miranda laughed and remarked, "Ha! You think something as simple as death could keep me away from you, Severus Snape? Well guess again!"

With that, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. Euphoric beyond measure, he lifted her out of the casket and placed her on the ground. Only when something ran headlong into Miranda, knocking her to the ground, did they break apart. It was Christine.

"Mummy's home!" Christine screeched, hugging her mother tightly.

"Yes, Christine," Miranda said, grinning broadly and not bothering to fight the tears that were surfacing. "Mummy is home."

A/N: Yay, now I feel a little less morbid. Drunken Snape is so much fun to write – no need to stay on-topic.

Also, though I hate to say it due to an incorrigible independance streak, I need a beta to help with my atrocious spelling and grammar. If you're interested, send me a PM or an email or something. I'd rather have somebody be interested and ask methan go around begging, so no need to fear. Thanks!