Epilogue

Sixteen Years Later

It was a bright March day but the wind was sharp and easily overpowered any warmth from the spring sun. The little cluster of people on the clifftop hunkered down inside their cloaks and those with long hair tried to stop it from blowing into their eyes as they tried to enjoy the sunshine after months of dark winter weather.

Harry glanced down at Pearl to check she had not unbuttoned her coat again, then over at his girlfriend, who was trying to stop Ruby from staring open-mouthed at Narcissa. He caught Hazel's eye and they exchanged an embarrassed smirk. Narcissa's intense cosmetic sorcery had had some effect - from certain angles, her face did look like that of a pretty twenty-five year old. Unfortunately, from where the Potter family was standing, the impression was rather that they were in the presence of an expensively dressed inferi.

Still in mourning for her fourth husband, the multi-millionaire broomstick magnate Thor Nimbus, Narcissa leaned heavily on her son's arm. Draco's other arm was being leaned on more suggestively by his girlfriend, Suki, whose minidress seemed more appropriate for summer on the beach than the present solemn ceremony in early spring. Harry's lips twitched as he recalled Ron seeing her for the time earlier that morning and exclaiming far too loudly:

"Bloody hell! No wonder they came by floo, she can't be old enough to apparate!" Hermione's elbow had jabbed him in the ribs and he doubled up in pain before he had chance to see the revulsion on Malfoy's face as he was dragged away by his young love, and Harry had been beyond grateful that a fight had been avoided on that day, of all days. Hogwarts' class of 1998 had all turned forty now, but it seemed some things were never going to change.

Harry's eyes continued their sweep of the little group. Emily had been hugging Snape all morning and showed no sign of letting him go yet. She was sixteen now, large and boisterous, and of all the children, was probably the closest to the softly-spoken potioner, who doted on her. Hardly anyone ever remembered that Ron wasn't her biological father and the words 'Finch-Fletchley' were never spoken in the Weasley household.

The cowardly Justin had come crawling back to Hermione three weeks before Emily's birth, prostrating himself in apology, begging to be allowed a chance at involvement in their child's life. Against her better judgement, not to mention Ron, Harry and Severus' howls of outrage, she had accepted that he had the right to meet the baby and be its Dad. He had bought hundreds of galleons' worth of toys and baby equipment, read books with Hermione about the best way to raise children to be intelligent and spent a long time listening in wonder to the baby's heartbeat. Even Ron had been forced to admit that he seemed sincere in his efforts to behave responsibly.

They were mistaken, however. Fifteen minutes after Emily's birth came the first mention of Down's Syndrome and Finch-Fletchley disappeared forever.

It took Ron two years to convince Hermione to marry him; shortly afterwards Emily had acquired her favourite playthings - first came Stephen, then Jonathan and Little Arthur at the same time. Ron's hair and beard had turned white not long after the arrival of the twins and Severus thanked Merlin every day that he was no longer a teacher and would never be faced with the task of trying to make the brood of mischievous know-it-alls sit behave in a laboratory. There were many reasons he adored Emily most of all, not least because on arriving at school she was sorted into Slytherin and soon became the finest goalkeeper the house had ever known, getting a special achievement trophy the season she refused to concede a single goal. So proud was she of the cup, she refused to keep it in the school trophy cupboard and instead carried it around everywhere she went, even to bed.

Today, she knew that Snape was very sad and had refused to leave his side since the family arrived in Cornwall first thing that morning.

"He doesn't look very sad," whispered Pearl, tugging at Harry's robes. Harry glanced down uneasily at his daughter, wondering, not for the first time, how it was that the six year-old frequently knew what he was thinking. Snape had insisted that there was no such thing as a natural Legilimens, that the rare skill had to be learned carefully over time by (here he glared scathingly at Harry,) highly skilled witches or wizards.

"It was naughty of you to throw a jar of creepy-crawlies at my Daddy!" Pearl had interjected, huffing at Snape. Harry and Snape had stared at each other for a long moment, aware that neither had mentioned the painful story of the fifth-year Occlumency lessons in front of anyone else.

"How did you know about that, sweetheart?" Harry had asked carefully. Pearl hadn't responded, but seemed very wary of Snape after that.

Pearl and Ruby were without doubt the greatest thing to have happened to Harry in the whole of his eventful life. He had been horrified to learn, years before, that after his own experience with the Durselys and despite the world knowing how Voldemort's boyhood had contributed to his later actions, there was still no official policy for taking care of magical orphans. Muggle-born magical children who lost their parents struggled in muggle institutions, where no one could explain their powers and they were often hated or feared by overworked staff. If magical schools managed to track them down at the age of eleven, many either failed to understand and suspected a cruel joke, or others were unable to convince their carers to take them to buy school equipment or to secret rendezvous such as the apparently non-existent platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross station.

With help from Hazel and their friends, Harry founded an international organisation to seek out magical children in the care of the state or of unsympathetic relatives and offer them support. Now celebrating its tenth birthday, the network was thriving and had helped hundreds of youngsters across the world by putting them in touch with magical children they would later meet at school as quill-pals; offering advice on how to manage outbursts of raw magic in public and even organising American-style summer camps where they could meet other people in their situation and realise that they were not 'freaks'.

It was while on a visit to an orphanage in a remote town in China that he met the two tiny girls. The place had been in a dreadful state and he had left in feeling very distressed, vowing to return as soon as he could come up with a way of improving things. After a week he had still been unable to shake off the image of the two babies he had met, one slightly older and already quite obviously a witch, the other, the one with the enormous, captivating brown eyes a little muggle, clinging to each other for warmth and comfort in that awful, cold place.

"Harry?" Hazel had blinked in the kitchen light. "It's four in the morning. Are you all right?"

"Sorry," he sighed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You've been a mess ever since you got back from China. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Harry had pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, wondering what would happen if he voiced aloud the fledgling idea which had been keeping him awake.

"We gave up on having a family," he began. Hazel bit her lower lip and nodded.

"Please don't say you want us to go through all that trying and failing again because I don't think I can bear any more miscarriages, any more vain hope…" His arms were around her in a second, soothing and reassuring.

"No, no, of course not. I can't go through that again and I couldn't let you do it either," he swallowed. "It's just…just that I've met two children who would love to have a home as desperately as we would love our home to have children."

Pearl and Ruby had cast their spell over Hazel just as they had captivated Harry and within weeks they were installed at the house in Godric's Hollow. Pure joy shone out of the new parents as the timid pair blossomed in their care and all their friends rejoiced to see the four of them so content.

Harry squeezed Pearl's hand and allowed himself a quick smile when she squeezed back harder before turning solemn once again. Hermione had begun reading aloud a poignant passage from a book now and he listened for a moment. It was one of Remus' favourite authors and quite a nice excerpt, actually, but his mind wasn't in a mood to absorb it. Surrounded by so many of his nearest and dearest made him overemotional and rather restless. He turned to look at the people standing behind him.

Ginny gave a little wave and he nodded back. Her Irish wolfhound, Scruff, was antsy too, trying to hide underneath her cloak and shooting worried glances at the werewolves standing a few feet away.

With the help of extensive research by Snape, Hardtbrind and most of the rest of the Institute of Master Potioners, Team Wolf had developed Wolfsafe, the new non-toxic alternative to Wolfsbane. Werewolves the world over had rejoiced at no longer having to experience the agonising 'natural' transformation since the discovery that the long term use of Wolfsbane seriously damaged their health and might eventually kill them. The general press-fuelled panic every full moon ('Lock up your children or they will be eaten!!!!!') had abated and the narrow-minded folk who had shrieked for the incarceration or destruction of so-called dangerous beasts slowly relaxed. Everyone involved in the discovery had received an Order of Merlin (First Class) and had gone up an IMP standard, making Snape one of very few wizards in history to achieve a Double Gold.

One morning, without any warning or prior courting, Team Wolf members Luna and Asif had suddenly married then went straight back to work as their latest project had been at a critical stage. They had spent their wedding night in the lab and poor Asif had been bitten by one of the volunteer subjects. He tested positive for lycanthropy a few days later, but neither he nor his long-term werebitch bride seemed at all perturbed.

Team member Roger had been headhunted by prestigious medical research facility Pretoria Potions Inc. and lost touch with his old friends after moving to South Africa, while Tony had disappeared during a field trip to Sumatra. Three years later his knapsack and wand had been found by hikers and he was declared legally dead, probably eaten by creature or creatures unknown.

The remaining pair stood with their arms around each other now, Luna sniffing softly while her husband blew his nose like a trumpet.

Discreetly standing furthest from the little group was Hans Hardtbrind. He was obviously trying to strike a respectful pose with his hands clasped in front of him, but still could not resist puffing his chest out, just in case anyone had failed to notice the enormous chain of office of the Director of the Institute glittering around his neck. No one could remember the late Professor Hayashi bothering to wear the huge heavy seal embossed with the IMP's coat of arms and motto; her successor, however, wore it every single day and according to student rumour even kept it on in the bath.

Hostilities between the pompous Hardtbrind and the grumpy Snape had ceased, to the relief of all save the student Healers, who liked to watch the two potions heavyweights squabble and place bets on the outcome of their professional disagreements. The reason for the ceasefire was sadly not a dignified one. Each thought that he had scored the ultimate win over the other and so the game was at an end. As soon as Hardtbrind was appointed director of the Institute he danced around his rooms shouting "Ja! Ja! I'm the best, not old big-nose!" and no longer deigned to quarrel with someone so obviously beneath his new rank. Snape, meanwhile, treasured the secret that in fact, he had first been offered the directorship but had quietly turned it down in order to spend more time with Remus. Hardtbrind was unaware that he had been the board's second choice. In Snape's book, this made him officially superior to that oafish halfwit so there was no point arguing over the details.

Harry turned back to Snape, who, as Pearl had observed, didn't look very sad. She lacked her father's years of experience at reading the uncommunicative man's blank expressions, though, and Harry thought he could catch a glimpse of utter devastation in the way his thin lips were pressed together to prevent any grief escaping through them. Hermione had stopped speaking now and closed the book so Severus carefully removed the lid of the little urn and took a step towards the edge of the cliff. This proximity to danger worried Emily, who let go of his hand for the first time that day and protectively took a firmer hold of his arm instead.

He didn't speak as he slowly took a handful of ash. Harry's eyes suddenly prickled, though he could have sworn all his grieving had been done weeks earlier. Also feeling the sorrow of the moment, Jonathan Weasley gave a miserable wail and buried his face in Ron's belly, followed a second later by Little Arthur.

Snape flung the ashes upwards and the blustery sea wind whipped them away, around the cove, above the rocks, over the sea and everywhere. He stared after them for a long time.

One by one, the guests went up to him and took their leave with a kiss, hug or handshake, slowly trailing up the path to the house. After an understanding glance at Harry, Hazel took Ruby, Pearl and Emily down to the rock pool to look for jellyfish, leaving him and Snape alone with the crying of the gulls and an empty urn.

"Didn't think I had any tears left," sniffed Harry, removing his glasses to wipe them with a sad smile. "Just shows how much I know."

"Are you all right?" asked Snape, in his whisper.

"Pardon?" asked Harry. Snape repeated himself, remembering that Remus had been the only one who always understood every word of the damaged voice without having to concentrate too hard. His hands tightened around the urn.

"I should be asking you that," replied Harry. "I said my goodbyes to him in person weeks ago, when we knew the end was coming. I wheeled him outside to look at the snowdrops in the garden and we said everything we needed to. It was quite nice, actually."

"I remember," said Snape, turning to face Harry so that he stood a chance of lip-reading. They stood in silence for a little while.

"So, will you be all right?" Harry studied him closely. "Well, foolish question, when you've just lost the love of your life. What I mean is, you've been caring for him for months. What will you do now? Go back to work at the IMP? We always need help with Orphan Outreach if you want to keep yourself busy for a while."

"Thank you. I already have a plan I made a long time ago," croaked Snape. Harry waited expectantly, until he realised that the older wizard was not intending to share the details.

"Good," he smiled sincerely. "We'll be inviting you over very often though, so I hope that's part of your plan." Snape quirked the corner of his mouth a tiny fraction and said nothing.

He waited on the clifftop for a long while after Harry left, drinking in the beauty of the place where he had loved to walk with Remus, remembering how good it had been to have someone to love absolutely, someone who knew all his darkest most sordid secrets and accepted him all the same. It was beyond cruel that the warmth of Remus, his glowing smile, his laugh and his knack of knowing when to adore his partner and when he wanted to be alone were all gone now - a handful of dust which simply blew away.

Remus' health had never fully recovered since the Wolfsbane scandal had forced his already subtly damaged body to undergo true transformations for twenty one months until the new, safe potion had been developed and tested. Years of imbibing the toxins in Wolfsbane had worn away at him, so that even when he began taking Wolfsafe, he had aged painfully. This story was true for many other werewolves so he tried not to complain and simply to be glad that the problem had been spotted in time to allow him sixteen more years of life, even if for many of those he was physically weakened and a virtual invalid for the last two.

He and Severus had spent lots of time alone towards the end, enjoying each other's company, but Remus had also loved to be surrounded by their younger friends, especially the children. The Weasley boys running amok around his sickbed had always made him roar with laughter, their wicked humour and plots probably reminding him of long-gone times when his younger self would frolic with James Potter and Sirius Black.

When Snape was certain that no visitors would still be lingering in his house, he strode back along the cliff path. It had been six years since his bad knee had been replaced with a marvellous new synthetic one, yet it still felt amazing to be able to storm and stalk and swoop around again. He had cheerfully tossed aside the cane as soon as he recovered from the magi-surgery, but sadly it had only remained in retirement for a few years. Remus had started using it once the strengthening potions stopped helping his fading muscles, occasionally at first, then gradually he came to rely on it permanently as his lover once had.

Severus peered through the sitting room window of the Gatehouse. When he was satisfied that no well-wishers were still lurking about, he summoned a trowel and set about burying the urn that had contained Remus' ashes in the werewolf's favourite flowerbed. After a moment's reflection, Snape decided the best spot would be near to that wretched red dahlia he was so fond of - the one he had rescued from Grimmauld Place, replanted at his Derbyshire home then finally brought here once they had decided it would be better for him to be at Snape's home. The sea air, the healer had said, would do him good. Coupled with the help of Josty the house elf and Snape's temper being the sweeter for being near his precious library, Remus' move to Cornwall had made perfect sense.

Brushing the soil from his hands, he straightened up effortlessly and sent the trowel back to its spot in the shed. Once inside the house, he asked Josty for a cup of tea and moved through to the sitting-room, where he noticed that the old kneazle who had moved herself in years ago without consulting him and showed no inclination to leave or die, had smugly taken over Remus' favourite chair.

"Off with you!" hissed Snape. The kneazle ignored him, as usual, so he left her alone. "I suppose he doesn't need it any more," he whispered with resignation. The kneazle purred smugly.

While Josty poured the tea, Snape unfolded a list which had been in his pocket for a few days. Most items on it had been ticked off so that only a few points remained, one of which read "burn this list".

"Thank you, Josty," he said. "Thank you for everything. You have been invaluable to me."

"Josty is very glad to hear it!" The elf glowed at the praise, although her eyes were still red and her ears drooped from weeping non-stop for a week. "She is loving to help Master."

"You are a very good elf," he whispered. "I would like you to leave now and go to stay with Dobby until tomorrow."

"Master?" Josty looked scandalised. "But Master is needing his Josty very very much now! Josty won't be leaving him on his own while he is so upset!" And she began crying so miserably that Snape was forced to kneel down until he was on her level and give her an awkward hug.

"Of course I need you. I have decided that I would like to spend some time completely alone, to come to terms with Remus not being here any more. Over the past six days there have been crowds of people coming and going and I have been busy organising the cremation and the scattering ceremony, so there hasn't been time to adjust to the fact that he's gone. I would like to have some peace. Do you understand?"

The elf nodded grudgingly.

"Josty wouldn't be in the way, Master," she wheedled. "Josty would be staying in the kitchen, quieter than mouses."

"Please, Josty. This is what I want."

"All right," she snuffled. "Josty is going now."

"Thank you. You are the best elf a wizard could meet."

After she left, Snape crossed another thing off his list.

He checked that all was well in the library, then the study. Half a dozen or so sealed envelopes had been locked in a drawer of his desk for several days, with names written in his small cramped handwriting. He took these out now, checked they were all present, then put them in his pocket. Opening the large bottom drawer, he reached inside and pressed the tiny lever which opened the secret compartment. From this, he took several thick notebooks and a wooden box which had been shrunk for many years in order to make it fit. It returned to its normal size only after a highly unusual spell and a few pages of parchment spilled out.

The handwriting on them was not his and many of the words were written in the Magyar language.

Levitating the whole lot into to the grate, Snape made sure he had every last scrap of his work as well as Sophia Malfoy's and her Hungarian friend's before incinerating them and vanishing the ash so that the only trace of evidence of the existence of Incantation Activated Potions was a faint smell of burning.

The letters he placed neatly on the coffee table, so that anyone entering by the fireplace would be sure to see them immediately and perhaps get a little warning as to what they would find upstairs.

Two more items were crossed off the list.

After that, there was little left to do. Snape took a shower and dried himself, put on a fresh nightgown and cleaned his teeth. Only Josty knew that since Remus' death a week earlier, Severus had been sleeping in the spare room and had not touched a thing in their bedroom since the body had been taken away. Remus' reading glasses were still on the side table and hopefully…

Snape bent down and took a deep sniff of the pillow on Remus' side of the bed.

….yes. The scent of Remus was still there, comforting and wonderful as it had always been.

He slid between the sheets inhaling the precious smell and smiling with joy. It was all over. Those years of medical tests and wondering, then the months of struggling with the inevitable and waiting while it took so long. Having to watch while bright eyes dulled, clever fingers became clumsy, while the adorable face changed shape as the life drained away and all happening with torturous slowness. Fortunately it was finished now. There would be no more pain or potions for that brave soul, Snape thought with a relieved sigh, nor, thank Merlin, for this cowardly one.

A sudden thought of Lucius Malfoy in his cell in Azkaban came to him, pleading in code for the incantation he had forgotten and needed desperately the night before he was due to receive the dementors' Kiss. To remove the unwelcome and untimely vision from his mind he took another deep sniff of the lingering scent of Remus and his head filled with the memory of warm amber eyes and a soft chuckle. It was just what he wanted.

Nothing else had really mattered over the course of his life, he now realised. He had been the most fortunate of men to know such love. There was no question of being able to survive without it - not even the most evil of dark lords could have committed any act of depraved foulness on Severus Snape which would have been more cruel.

He took one last look at the list, assured himself that everything was done, then incinerated it. Then he removed his glasses and placed his wand on the table in the spot where Remus used to place his, closed his eyes and focussed his magical power inwards on the unseen poison which had lain dormant in his body until this moment, when he needed it.

"Mercy," he whispered, smiling.

xx