DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is, regrettably, not mine. Severus Snape belongs to Harry, and by that same token, belongs to JKR, who is a wonderful author but should really enjoy a few more slash fanfics. Good inspiration, those are.

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Severus Snape was not especially squeamish in matters concerning death. Even in his youth, he was a great reader of the macabre. He was a devout fan of poets such as Grant Banebrook and Edgar Allen Poe, the former of whom liked to compose haunting tunes to his odes to love and death and the potions which enabled each and the latter of whom Severus was sure was the one crowning glory of Muggle-kind.

"Oh, Poe," he used to sigh in the privacy of the Room of Requirement, which he had discovered his third year at Hogwarts and which had shaped itself into a comfortable library of depressing texts, "if only you hadn't died so young (and more than a century ago), oh the things we could have said to each other." He meant, of course, that they could have compared notes. Their morbidly dark souls, Severus felt, shared a love that was, at best, unrequited and, he amended a few years later, bitterly watching a funeral procession near Godric's Hollow, at worst, denied by separation of death.

He had, naturally, considered "offing himself" quite a few times, in his childhood and then a few more times in his early adulthood. Mostly he changed his mind before he could carry out his plan of action, sometimes because of what he labeled as cowardice (and what Dumbledore called a valiant will to keep on chugging) and sometimes because Lily had smiled at him or done something nice for him immediately after he alighted on the decision to kill himself. Another time, he had just finished The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet (oh, Shakespeare! The things we could have said to each other if only you didn't write those dreadful comedies!) and had been convinced that an infusion of asphodel and wormwood () would be the solution to all of his problems. Lily would think him dead and then, in a tragic display of devotion, she would admit that she had always loved him and would proceed to kill herself to join him in death. He would then wake up at exactly the right time and stop her and they would sob their way to a happy ending.

That plan had been thwarted. Severus was very adamant about never revealing how.

A worse potion mishap occurred two years later, when something went terribly wrong with one experiment and Severus tried to quell his disappointment by making another, near fail-proof attempt on his life. Details are withheld for his own benefit, but it should be suffice to say that he had added too much of something and too little of the other, and instead of his blood boiling him to death from within, he suffered a terrible affliction of greasy hair for the rest of his life.

At least, the rest of his life as he understood it.

As far as Severus Snape was concerned. He was dead, just like a multitude of his Death Eater friends, just like a good quantity of his Order of the Phoenix affiliates, just like Albus Dumbledore, and James Potter, and Lily (Evans) Potter (just as well, he thought, that she married Potter—Lily Snape didn't really have much of a ring to it, and all his father's fault). He was dead, just like Harry Potter would need to be in able to ensure that the Dark Lord would stay dead if and when someone killed him. Perhaps that someone would be Harry who would, against James' own inclinations, use his brains (or, more likely, that Muggle-born girl's) and find some spell that would kill You-Know-Who the same instance that he himself was killed.

Severus, while comfortable on the whole with the fact that dying was what happened to people who had the nerve to live, found that he had a few qualms about the Potter boy dying. After all, hadn't he dedicated most of his adult life to protecting that stupid offspring of the woman he loved and the man he loathed (and little Potter had such a way of getting himself into great deals of trouble)? And hadn't he, Severus Snape, the Half-Blood Prince, been taken for a villain at every turn! After all the sacrifices, all the lies and the spying and the killing people he didn't want to kill (except Dumbledore—that dodgy old man had tricked him), and being confronted with Lily's eyes in James' face every bleeding day that Potter attended Hogwarts, after all that buggerall, what was he known for? For being Voldemort's right-hand man.

Severus felt rather cheated at that. He dearly hoped that Potter, that bumbling oaf of a boy, wouldn't spill those precious memories and, in essence, lose all proof of Severus' innocence. But, knowing how Lily's son managed to botch things up at the worst of times, Severus figured that he would be put down in history books as the "wickedest wizard that ever did live—next to Voldemort". He wondered what they would say about his childhood, and whether they would attribute his terrible deeds to his abusive father or his unresponsive mother.

"At the end of the day," he murmured to himself, "one must wonder: Was it worth it?" He looked around at the cloudy whiteness that surrounded him on every side. He discovered that he was naked and that his hair was, for the first time in many years, not greasy and rather clean. Severus felt let down. He had been hoping that death would be a more exciting affair, or at least an affair in which he would be allowed some clothes. As this thought passed through his mind, a set of clothes appeared in front of him. It was his mother's old blouse and a pair of hideous shorts. Severus scowled at them. They dissolved rather sheepishly and a set of black robes presented themselves in their place. Severus put these on and wandered around the white nothingness.

"Where is everyone?" he said aloud. Where were all the others who had died? Surely every soul wasn't given its own dimension of blankness. Surely he would be able to see other dead people now. Surely he would be able to see Lily. He really wanted to, even though they hadn't been on speaking terms when they last saw each other. There were many things that he wanted to say to her. It occurred to him that he had never even told Lily that he loved her, although how telling her was going to make anything better was beyond him.

The whiteness was taking form now. He recognized it immediately as the playground where he had first met Lily (and told her she was a witch—subtlety was an art he had not yet learned at the age of eleven). The swings swayed back and forth, the creaking chains something out of bittersweet memories. And then, as though she had always been there, was Lily, seated on a swing, looking hardly a day over twenty, and she was smiling at him.

"Hello, Severus," she said.

"Lily," he breathed.

--

Harry stumbled along in the dark, his lighted wand held in front of him, his Invisibility Cloak shed for sake of better mobility. He did his best to mute the nagging voices inside his brain that were telling him that he was doing something stupid again and kept moving forward. He didn't care that the Forbidden Forest was a decidedly huge place to go looking for a ring in, or that he was utterly lost in the dark. He was going to find that Resurrection Stone and he was going to ask his questions, get some answers, and live happily ever after. He would. Harry had already decided that, whatever Snape said, he wouldn't care too much. He just wanted to know, was all. It wasn't like he would throw a fit or anything if Snape said, "Yes, you stupid Potter boy, calling me back from the dead to have a quick chat. I did it all for your mum. I don't care one whit about you and if your mother hadn't been Lily, I would've as soon let the Dark Lord curse you into oblivion."

He wouldn't. He was sure of it. Harry was capable of dealing with the truth. And the truth was—well. Harry didn't care that Snape had blatantly told Dumbledore that he hadn't done any of it for Harry. It wasn't the same as Snape telling Harry. This made perfect sense. Harry was very good at making the voices in his head shut up. Occlumency, it turned out, was a good skill to have.

Of course! He thought gaily. Snape used Occlumency to fool Dumbledore into believing that Harry was of no consequence to him. It simply wouldn't do, after all, if Snape let anyone think that he cared about the Potter boy.

Harry sighed. Who was he kidding? He looked around and found that he had stumbled across a trail of some sort. Hundreds of hoof-prints had at some point crashed between thick trees and scraggly underbrush to head towards the castle. Harry intensified the glow of his wand and saw that, much higher above than any centaur's head could reach, branches had been snapped and leaves disturbed.

"This must've been the way Hagrid and the Death Eaters went when they were taking my body to Hogwarts," Harry muttered to himself. It stood to reason, then, that by backtracking Hagrid's trail, he would eventually find the clearing where he had dropped the ring. Harry smiled grimly. Told you so, he shot at the voices in his head.

--

"Thank you, Severus," said Lily. They were now both seated on the swings, although Severus thought it a mild affront on his dignity, since they were swings made for much smaller bodies and his legs were getting cramped. "I know you've gone through a lot to protect Harry. I'm very grateful." She turned and smiled at Severus again. "I'm sure it was difficult."

Severus shrugged it off. "It was the least I could do," he mumbled. What he really wanted to say, though, was 'What happened to your eyes? Why have they… changed?' The color was the same, but the light was slightly off. To his horror and disappointment, the eyes of the woman he had all but worshipped seemed lacking. Was this what death was? Did it slowly fade these details away? He almost felt cheated.

"I've been watching, you know," said Lily. "It's something the dead can do. We can watch the progression of our loved ones." Severus rose an eyebrow. Lily scowled, and Severus was relieved that that, at least, was the same as he had remembered it. "Severus, you were my best friend. Of course I'd watch over you."

"Of course," Severus repeated. He tried to smile. "I hope you've forgiven me, after all this time. I was stupid, I shouldn't have done it."

"Oh, don't worry about that," said Lily. "Look how well it turned out! If it hadn't been for you, Harry would have never been—"

"I was talking about… you know. The name-calling," interrupted Severus. Lily colored a little. "But I shouldn't have done either. It was wrong."

"Worse things have happened to me than being called a Mudblood," she said. "I'd almost forgotten, really."

"I never did," said Severus. The irony hurt. She had forgotten why their friendship ended their fifth year?

Lily reached over and touched his arm. "I didn't mean it like that," she said. "I just meant… I forgave you a long time ago. I invited you to the wedding, you know."

"I had prior engagements that day," Severus lied easily.

"I'm sure you did," said Lily. There was a pause. "Sev, there's something I've been sent to tell you." He looked at her expectantly. "You of all people should know that the dead usually stay dead."

"Except for Voldemort," amended Severus. Lily nodded.

"Well, yes. There's that, and then there's…Well. I suppose you'd better see for yourself." She waved a hand and a swirl of white cloudiness opened into a window. Through it, Severus could see Voldemort and a throng of Death Eaters in a clearing. And then he heard a voice that gave his chest a painful squeeze. The air rippled and Harry shed his cloak.

"Stupid boy!" he burst out. "Put it back on! Get out of there! What do you think you're--?" He moved towards the window, but Lily drew him back firmly.

"Don't be silly," she said, although she had tears in her eyes. "This happened a few hours ago… not too long after you died, actually. There's nothing you can do now to change what my son did for the wizarding world."

Severus sat down again on the uncomfortable swing, watching in horror as the Potter boy did not even draw his wand in defense. From the angle the confrontation was shown, Severus had a perfect view of Harry's eyes. Again, his chest constricted and he found it hard to breathe. At once, he understood that Lily's eyes were not lacking, only that they were not Harry's.

"Avada Kedavra."

It took Severus a moment to realize that the high, strangled cry came from himself, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle it.

"Why are you showing me this?" he whispered harshly to Lily once he had recovered. Lily only gave his arm another squeeze as tears rolled down her face. He turned back to the window and saw Voldemort collapse shortly after Harry. Awful minutes went by, and then the Dark Lord revived himself and Narcissa announced that Harry Potter was dead.

If possible, Severus paled a few shades more.

He watched the whole terrible procession to Hogwarts, and heard the screams, saw the acts of defiance, and the whole time he heard himself muttering "it can't be, it can't be" over and over to himself like a mantra. And then, like a miracle, he saw Harry slip out of Hagrid's arms, fully animated, and conceal himself under the Invisibility Cloak. He blinked. As pandemonium took over Hogwarts, Severus turned to Lily.

"How is this possible?" he asked.

Lily smiled and wiped her eyes. "I'm not sure, myself. Dumbledore tried explaining it to us, but you know me. I'm more of a Charms girl." Her expression suddenly grew serious. "Severus, when Harry died, he was given a choice to either proceed onto the afterlife or to return to the world of the living to duel Lord Voldemort. I think it's clear which path he chose." Something seemed to trouble her. "By some rare turn of fortune, or possibly as a reward granted to you by the powers that be for your selflessness… you are being offered the same choice."

Severus Snape was, for the first time in a long while, struck dumb.

"Excuse me?" he finally managed.

"You can choose between staying dead and returning to life." Lily frowned. "Really, Sev, I thought you'd be smart enough to understand that."

"But why?" said Severus, completely bewildered. "Why do I get a choice? What about you? You can't tell me that giving your life to protect a child isn't a selfless act deserving of a second chance at life."

"I told you," said Lily. "It's a rare chance. And don't belittle your efforts, Sev. You've done as much for Harry as I ever have. And you suffered for it as well." A thoughtful look crossed her face. "If you want the magical reason for it though, Dumbledore said that Harry's blood somehow mixed with yours, like that's any kind of explanation." When Severus didn't say anything, she looked down. "You know, you almost make it seem like a hard decision."

Severus didn't reply to that, either. He didn't have to.

He seemed to be thinking it through. When he first arrived here, at this strange crossroads, he had assumed that there would be no going back which mattered very little because he didn't want to. But there was, and he did. This surprised Severus. He had thought his duties finished, his promises fulfilled.

"I thought I'd failed you, at first," he admitted.

"You didn't," Lily assured him hurriedly. "You never have. You couldn't."

"This happened hours ago, you say?" he asked. Lily nodded. The window was showing Harry and Voldemort pacing a circle as they faced each other. "Tell me, does Harry survive?"

"He wins," said Lily softly, proudly.

Severus nodded, and stood up with a little difficulty because the swing was so low.

"I suppose I had better get going, then." Severus helped Lily up. She looked up at him, the question in her eyes. Lily's eyes. It surprised him that they were not the last things he had seen when he was last alive. "I'm going back, Lily," he told her. "It seems I have some things to take care of, my reputation not the least of them."

"Dumbledore said your body will be weak," said Lily. "You must be careful and find a healer as soon as possible." Severus nodded. Whiteness collected around them again. The playground faded, and with it the sound of creaking swings.

"Lily," said Severus, sounding a little forced. He had to say it. He had to say it now. "I… You know, I've always been awfully fond…" His awkward boyish confession was cut off by a brief hug. Lily let him go and shook her head a little sadly.

"I took so much from you, Sev. I hope you can get it all back, I really do." She gave his hand a tight squeeze, then dissolved into the mist.

The last thing Severus heard before he returned fully to his own drained, weakened, aching body was Harry's voice declaring with utmost certainty,

"Severus Snape wasn't yours."

"Good boy, Potter," he wheezed, fighting to sit up. His clothes were caked in dried blood. He felt the snake bite on his neck. It hurt like hell. Despite the pain, he smiled at the gloomy shack around him. "Good boy."

--

The Resurrection Stone was in Harry's hands. The shades of his father, Sirius, and Lupin stood before him, looking at one another uncertainly.

"Where is he?" demanded Harry, his voice nearly hysterical. "Where is Severus Snape?"

--

In the first book, Professor Snape asks Harry what an infusion of wormwood and asphodel will give him. When Harry doesn't know the answer, Snape reveals that it produces the Draught of Living Death, which is awfully similar to the stuff that the apothecary gives Romeo and Juliet in Shakespeare's great tragedy.

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AN: And so the cool things begin to happen D Thank you so much for the reviews!

I apologize for the run-on sentences and all the confusing things. I promise that the latter will make sense in further chapters.

I am currently on a Snape-worshipping binge right now, so don't mind me if I 'ship him through sixteen mattresses and one very confused bespectacled boy. I plotted most of this story out on the long road-trip to New York and back, so hopefully most of it will be organized. Let me know what you think!

Accio Review!

Okay. That was corny. I admit it.