"It sure was nice to see him again," Dumbledore said after Harry had left the room. "I'm glad you have decided to give him a chance."

Severus paused writing for a moment. "I meant what I said earlier. He's more competent than the useless, spying vultures the ministry keeps trying to send over." And I owe him for all his help, he thought to himself.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Severus tried to return to his work while the old coots surrounding him started avidly discussing the chosen one's visit. He took a deep breath in an effort to keep himself calm. Yelling at paintings was not useful no matter how irritating they were, it was like trying to argue with a drunkard – utterly pointless. He just needed to focus and ignore all the racket.

It continued this way for half an hour until Severus finally lost his patience and snapped at everybody to quiet down. After some grumbling and shuffling around the noise came down to its usual volume, but Severus still found himself too distracted to work. He sighed and rubbed at his temples before getting up and heading out for the day. It was a shame to waste his time, but there was no use of him trying to force productivity when so much was on his mind.

The thoughts he had pushed aside in the office came swirling back as he made his way down to his rooms.

His last conversation with Voldemort, and the subsequent interaction with Nagini, had led Severus to believe that he was a dead man. This was the fate he had come to accept long before that fateful day – it was the cleanest way to end his miserable life.

But he didn't die.

He woke up confused to a pain riddled body in a sterile, unknown environment. His questions fell on the deaf ears of healers who only ever came in to pour drought after drought down his throat. Whatever it was they were giving him often put him right back into a dreamless slumber.

Soon enough, though, his condition improved enough to no longer need sedation. And as much as he relished in finally having a clear mind, he suddenly wished for the blissful unawareness of sleep.

As far as anybody knew, he had been one of the Death Eaters in Voldemort's inner circle, a ruthless killer who destroyed countless lives. He would, no doubt, be dragged through a joke of a trial only to be condemned to death or left to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life.

He was not a religious man by any stretch of imagination, but he found himself praying to whatever higher power that would listen. He prayed to be spared of the living nightmare of going slowly insane. He prayed for the quick release of death.

But fate was never kind to him.

As soon as he was fit enough not to die on the stand, he was transferred to a prison to await his trial. Thankfully, having been important and hated enough, he did not have to wait long for the circus to begin. But in between the public humiliation and flying accusations, much of his time was still spent in isolation.

He was in constant reflection, mulling over every single one of his mistakes. He thought of how he could have done everything differently, and how thinking about that was a useless waste of his time. But then again, time was all he had now.

Unless they decided to take him out of his misery.

But, once again, Severus was baffled by the turn of events.

He was suddenly released into the custody of an old colleague and was to remain in her care for the rest of the trial. When she had come to collect him, Severus had almost refused to go, thinking that he had finally started to lose his mind.

Minerva had stood in the open doorway of the cell and had asked, "What have you got to lose?"

Nothing, he had thought. Nothing and everything.

In the end, he had decided to come along, even if it was not real at least now he had company.

He slowly swam back into consciousness and realized that he was not alone. Taking a quick look to assess his surrounding he realized that he was in his old bed in the Hogwarts dungeons. Severus frowned, that certainly had not helped him decipher whether whatever his mind had been conjuring was real or just a figment of his decaying imagination.

The other presence in the room turned out to be an auror who was sitting in one of the chairs close to the door. The wizard had been engrossed in a book but looked up when Severus started trying to sit up in the bed. Severus stopped his movement and stared back at the young man. Neither one said anything as they maintained their eye contact, but finally Severus cleared his throat and asked if it was possible to summon Minerva.

The wizard complied and soon enough Minerva was walking through the door with three cups of tea trailing close after her. She sent one of the cups over to the auror, dismissing him to the living room in the process, before taking a seat in the vacated spot.

"How are you feeling?" she inquired, taking a sip of her tea.

Severus grumbled out a reply, snatching the third cup of tea that had gently floated over to his bedside. He was tired. He was tired and frustrated and confused. His strength had yet to fully return to him and his body ached constantly. When he was awake, he was impatiently waiting for any news of his trial, while his nights were plagued by nightmares that were slowly trying to integrate themselves into his reality.

But Severus had no desire to discuss the stability of his mental health with a pair of overeager ears so close by, so he decided to stick to a safer subject. "Why am I here?" he asked.

"It was part of the plea deal," Minerva explained. "I'm not sure if you knew, but Harry has intervened on your behalf and arranged for you to spend the rest of the trial under house arrest in your quarters."

Severus froze mid sip. "No, I was not aware of that."

Minerva nodded in understanding before continuing. "He demanded your acquittal on the account of you being a spy for the order."

"And how is he planning to prove that?"

She hesitated before answering. "With the memories you gave him during the Final Battle."

A stab of anger rushed through his body, but he held himself back. "I suppose I don't have a say in whether they are used or not."

Minerva shook her head. "They have already been viewed by the Minister of Magic, tomorrow they will be shown during court."

It took all his willpower not to voice his dissatisfaction at this turn of events. Trust Potter to want to keep being the savior even after the war.

"It's for your own benefit, Severus," Minerva added when she noticed his frown growing deeper.

"The minds of most of the counsel and judges have already been made up, if they want to throw me in Azkaban, they will do it with or without those memories. All he has managed to do is expose me to people who have no business knowing the details of my life."

"You are being irrational; your memories have more sway than you think."

He scoffed. "This meddling is a waste of his time."

"If I didn't know any better, I would think that you wanted to rot in prison for the rest of your life."

"It would at least save me the trouble of the outside world," he retorted. "Even if he does succeed, all he will manage to do is cause me more grief and complications. I have no doubt of being shunned by the wizarding society, and with nothing to my name I will be forced to resort to begging to provide for myself."

"Put your fears to rest, Severus. You still have plenty of allies among the people working in this school. You do not have to worry about becoming destitute."

Allies. Severus sneered. "These supposed allies never trusted me to begin with," he counteracted.

"They trust you more than you think – there had to be a unanimous agreement for letting you come back into the castle."

"And what am I meant to do here? Should I stare at the walls until I am blind, or should I take up a hobby?"

"You can recuperate," Minerva answered in an exasperated tone. "You are still healing from your injuries. Take the time you have been given to get your strength back."

"So that I can get my bearings and stabilize my sanity before I am once again put away in prison?" Severus laughed humorlessly.

"I am certain it will not come to that," Minerva reassured him. "But even if it does, the least you could do is enjoy the comfort of your bed while you can."

Severus scoffed but did not say anything more, choosing instead to continue drinking his tea. He half-heartedly listened as Minerva recounted the events of the Final Battle, his mind was still occupied by this unexpected turn of events.

The anger and humiliation from his memories being so publicly examined still simmered under his skin, his past prejudices against Potter came back at full strength. Severus had very little left of value in his life – those memories were one of the few precious things left.

Minerva left after finishing her tea and reminding him to rest. The auror returned immediately after Minerva's departure, sitting down before opening his book again. After throwing a quick glance at Severus, he began to read.

His case had concluded the following day, and just like Minerva had predicted, he was acquitted of all charges.

He was a free man again.

The verdict had brought some semblance of relief at not having to go to Azkaban, but it had also allowed him to do something he never thought he was allowed to do – look forward to the future. It was such a foreign concept that it had left Severus feeling as if he was stuck in a room too large for his body. But even with a new horizon opening up, he still found himself struggling with what to do next.

Just as Hogwarts had served as his home during his darkest days, it continued being his home in this new era of life.

His body and mind improved with each day, growing stronger with the support of the people around him. The nightmares still plagued him from time to time, but their frequency and intensity diminished.

The transition back into the headmaster role was surprisingly uncomplicated, it happened shortly after he became well enough to walk around the castle grounds without needing a rest. Minerva had acted as the interim headmaster during the trials, but she expressed dissatisfaction with the bureaucratic side of teaching. Severus felt hesitant to return to such a high profile position, he was sure there were parents and students alike apprehensive of him residing in the castle let alone being the figurative head of it.

His reintegration did create friction, but not enough to lead to a public outcry. Minerva liked to point out to him that he wasn't the only one at Hogwarts with such close ties to Voldemort. It would be hardly beneficial to kick out half the Slytherin house.

As the years passed, the commotion of the war quieted down and life slowly stabilized. The only excitement or break from normal came from the occasional spell mishap or potion's class explosion, nothing big enough to shake the school. He supposed he should have been thankful that he only now had to find a replacement for a position that one time was considered cursed, that spot was filled for two thirds of a decade.

He was genuinely surprised to hear that Harry had shown interest in the position, he never took him to be the teaching sort. But then again, Severus wasn't much of a teaching sort either. He had not lied when he said that he believed Potter to understand Defense Against the Dark Arts, his experience as an auror had proven him to be sufficient.

Potter had aged since he had last seen him, which wasn't that unexpected considering they last saw one another during the Final Battle. Severus had, of course, seen clippings of him throughout the years in various newspapers and tabloids, but it still struck a different chord seeing him in person. He had physically looked older; his hair had started growing some greys and his face had slowly started to accumulate the beginnings of wrinkles.

Maybe it was the residual guilt and affection for Lilly, or maybe gratefulness for saving Severus from Azkaban. Whatever his reasoning was, he refused to acknowledge it to anyone, living or painting; there was no telling how quickly that bit of information would spread, especially considering there was nobody in his office that could keep their mouth shut.

Severus was still deep in thought when finally got to his rooms in the dungeon. Muttering the password to the painting, he made his way inside and went about getting ready for an uneventful evening that would be joined by solitude.

By this point he had accepted that there would be no companion to share a life with. He only ever allowed himself the rare pleasure of one night stands, never waiting for the morning to see if the other party was interested in pursuing anything more.

What did he even have to offer, especially now? He was a disgraced Death Eater with a quick temper and an irritable personality. He had been frequently referred to as ugly in his youth, it was hard to imagine that aging had improved his looks any. He was rarely emotionally available to the people he called his friend – who would want that in a partner?

He had once wanted that kind of life so badly. He had wanted it all – the companionship, a family perhaps. Someone to love and to cherish who would return the sentiment. But that was not the life for him, he had committed too many sins to deserve it.

Mentally shaking himself out of this pity party, Severus picked up a book from the side table by the couch and started to read. It was best not to revisit these thoughts, there was no use on dwelling on what could have been.