OK, so this is the last bit. A rewrite of the last chapter, and a bit more added on. I'm a sucker for redemption. Well, for a happy ending. And yes, I'm aware that I'm taking liberties with the timeline, and that I'm more of a Weasley fan than one woman should be. *shrug* Thanks for your comments. They mean a lot.

The start of the History of Magic lesson found Severus Snape standing at the rear of the classroom, in the alcove reserved for caned boys unable to be seated. The students filed in, and Severus wondered, not for the first time, why he wasn't able to just die from embarrassment. His Slytherin housemates refrained from teasing on general principle, because of the presence of the Gryffindors, although he knew a few, who resented his good marks, were secretly gloating.

There was nothing secret about the gloating of the Gryffindors.

"Ahhh, Sevvie. Hurts, does it?"

"Shouldn't have hexed Potter, snake!"

"Did he mark you nicely? Let's see, Snivellus."

That was Black, of course, walking up to him—Black by name and black by nature. Dark Arts, his foot—this boy was Darker than he'd ever be—"Let's have a look. Don't be so bashful, now." The boy's wand flicked at the hem of Severus' robes, and only Severus' grab prevented them from being lifted.

"Stop it!" Lily's voice rang out. "Sirius, stop it! James, stop him!"

"What for?" James Potter's voice was unpleasant. "Still fancy him, do you?"

"How dare you!" And with that, Lily slapped him.

Severus sniggered. That was the one thing that could have improved his day…

But Potter, in a fury, rounded on him. "Levicorpus!"

He tried to dodge it, but his reaction time was so depressed he couldn't even evade, let alone counter. In a flash, he was hanging upside-down in the position he detested. His robes hung down about his ears, but they weren't thick enough to muffle the roar of laughter that went up from the students as Potter flicked down his trousers with practiced ease and the roomful of students caught sight of his bleeding, flayed legs.

"What the bloody hell's going on here? Liberacorpus!"

Severus found himself in a heap on the floor. As he tried to clear the blood rushing in his ears, he was vaguely aware of raised voices, joined by more voices, crescendoing into a full-out row.

"He's a Slytherin!"

"He's a human being, young Potter!"

"Oh, Molly, thank goodness. I've been trying to…"

"Why don't you blood-traitor Gryffindors stop sticking your noses where they aren't wanted? Nobody asked you to shove your oar in…"

"Oi, watch who you're calling a blood-traitor! We're related!"

"Knew you Gryffindors would stick together!"

"Since when do you care about Slytherins?"

"Since you lot started acting like animals! For heaven's sake, what's got into you?"

"Our House can take care of itself!"

"Right, because you lot were being sweetness and light, weren't you?"

Shouting filled the room as Gryffindor and Slytherin voices rose, the row quickly degenerating into which House was better. Relieved, but mainly resentful and not a little curious, he scrabbled to his feet, trying to rise with what he hoped was a little dignity left. Only his trembling legs gave way—he hoped the muscle wasn't damaged—and he collapsed back onto the floor again. At least this newest humiliation was going unnoticed in the uproar…

A hand appeared under his arm, and he looked up gratefully, expecting to find Nott or Avery. He was already leaning on the support before he realized it was the redheaded idiot from earlier. So it had been him coming to his defense? Well, Severus Snape didn't need any Gryffindor crocodile tears, thank you very much. He shook his arm free roughly. "Gerroff."

In retrospect, this was probably a bad move, since the ensuing dizziness landed him back on the floor again. Another hand appeared under his left arm, accompanied by a new voice."Now, now, that's not very nice, is it? We're just trying to help."

His head twisted wildly to the other side. It was the girlfriend with the big knockers, what was her name? Prewett. Half her family was in the Order – pureblood, but a Muggle-lover if there ever was one. He endeavoured to look superior. "Don't talk to me like a kid."

"Yeah," said the Gryffindor, rolling his eyes, "because you're so grown up."

"What are you doing in here, anyway?" He frowned. "This isn't your year."

"Bringing Binns some scrolls." It was the boy's turn to frown. "Just as well we did drop in—shouldn't leave you to the tender mercies of your classmates." Looking around him with distaste, he held out a hand and hoisted Severus to his feet, tightening his grip when he winced at the motion. "Don't see 'em running to help you." He looked down at the blood starting to run down the dark-robed legs again. "No wonder you couldn't sit down, poor chap."

"Do you need a healing charm?"

Severus fixed the silly girl with a glare. "Aside from the fact that I was performing healing charms when you were still in nappies," he said stiffly, "healing charms don't work on caning injuries before 24 hours."

"Now, now, students, settle down." Binns floated in, imparting an atmosphere of tedium by his mere entrance. As the students settled down and went to their desks, Arthur and Molly turned to give the professor the scrolls and go. The boy, though, turned back to Severus.

"You going to be all right?"

"Get out."

The funny thing was that the Gryffindor seemed to be humouring him. He might not be much of a threatening figure now, he supposed, but still… "Touchy, touchy," Arthur said, amusedly, and went.

But his girlfriend stayed, and took Lily aside. She whispered to her, and then turned to some of the Gryffindor girls. They nodded, grudgingly it seemed. He wondered whether they were devising some new torment to use on him, but it seemed unlikely, for reasons he wasn't quite sure of himself. Still, they were Gryffindors, weren't they? Stood to reason they'd be ganging up on him...

But the redheaded boy looked back at him, and there was nothing but sympathy in his gaze.

The warm feeling of being in bed dissipated as he blinked his way to consciousness. But reality came rushing back—he must have fainted in the middle of the History class. Before he tried to get up, he checked himself as was his wont, and, surprise of surprises, no jinxes or hexes had been cast on him while he was unconscious.

"Huh." He fumbled in his pocket for his wand, and there it was—no-one seemed to have taken it this time. Suspicious, he felt along its length to make sure it really was his. It was. Wonders, it seemed, would never cease.

The students were gathering their things, leaving the classroom without a backward glance. Now this was really unusual; normally they'd be all over him like flies on a carcass. Seemed his prayers to be left alone had finally been answered…

…but no, he thought as he watched the Gryffindor girls chivvy the boys out of the room. Seemed Prewett had convinced them to apply a touch of the Lysistrata. His mouth twisted. He didn't need the root of all evil defending him, thank you very much!

There wasn't much he could do about it, though; the objects of his anger were long gone. Resignedly, he picked himself up and set off for the rest of his day.

It was dark as he headed back to his dormitory straight after lessons. Not much point trying to sit down at supper. He hadn't even tried at lunch, hiding out in various dark corners around the school where, luckily, no-one had spotted im, and he had been left alone. Compared to the bliss of being ignored, what was a day without food in the greater scheme of things?

"Severus!"

He spun, wand out, then groaned. Should have known. The only reason he stayed still was that it would have been undignified to bolt as his two would-be Gryffindor guardian angels caught up with him. "You were caned at eight, weren't you?" the boy bleated, and went on, not waiting for an answer. "It's five past. You should be able to use a healing charm now."

Severus fixed him with his coldest glare, wand steady. "Thank you for the information."

"Need a hand up to the Hospital Wing?" The boy's hands were raised in a non-threatening pose.

He rounded on the officious idiot. "Why don't you push off, go and consort with the rest of your Order, blood-tr…" A spell of dizziness overcame him, making him sound weaker than he liked. He could have groaned with frustration as he had to break off and clutch his pounding head. At least neither of them made to touch him; he'd have cursed them for sure.

"Because we're worried about you." The motherly tone coming from a Gryffindor cow irritated him. His own mother hadn't used that tone with him, what made her think he'd accept it from an immature chit, and a Muggle-lover at that?

Without a word, he turned and stalked off. Made to stalk off anyway, because he swayed, and that damnable, helpful voice called, "Hospital wing's that way." He pointed helpfully in the direction opposite to the one Severus was taking.

Severus stiffened and faltered in his step.

"Not going there, are you?" said the same chipper tone he was growing to loathe. "Fair enough. Lots of us don't like to be there any more than we need to. Need some help with the healing charms then?"

Severus looked at him coldly. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the boy was being sincere, that it wasn't a trick…"I don't need Gryffindors helping me to reach my own back, thank you very much."

Arthur looked put out. Good. "Well, if that's the way you feel about it…"

The busty girl gasped. "You can't reach to heal properly, can you?"

"There are potions for that." His voice, he hoped, was sufficiently glacial.

"Look, Molls, if we're embarrassing him…"

"I am not embarrassed," Severus snapped, wondering briefly why he wasn't hexing them where they stood.

"We don't embarrass you?"

"I could never be embarrassed by a Gryffindor," Severus sneered in his most cutting tone.

"Righty-ho," the Gryffindor said cheerfully, "then I'm sure you won't mind if Molly here leaves us alone for a bit and I check that you're all right."

His mouth dropped open at the elegantly sprung trap. A trap that he, a Slytherin, had fallen into. He almost felt like letting this boy heal him.

Almost.

In an instant, he had his wand out. "Not embarrassed doesn't mean I want to show myself to the likes of you."

The redhead had his own wand out now, gripping it loosely, but well. His silly girlfriend, holding her wand so incompetently he dismissed her as a threat, said, "Oh, come on. Arthur's really good at healing charms…"

"Really?" His eyes raked her up and down. "What's he heal? Your hymen?"

She gasped and folded her arms, wand forgotten. "How dare you!"

The Gryffindor glared at him and turned away. Right, Severus relaxed, problem solved. You could always count on the stupidity of Gryffin…

"Petrificus Partialus!"

The girl, the girl! He ground his teeth. Her wand had come up too fast for the eye to follow, faster than he'd ever have thought for such a fat cow. In spite of himself, he had to respect the way she'd made him underestimate her. He'd never thought of her as a threat…

"See you in a bit, Arthur." And instead of staying to gloat, she walked off. Probably off to get some of her Gryffindor friends to poke fun at the helpless half-blood.

He gritted his teeth. There was no humiliation that he couldn't take, at least not until he left Hogwarts. He'd get through it; he always did. "What are you going to do to me?"

Arthur was already fussing with his robes. "Heal you."

"What?"

"Give you a chance to complain how bad Gryffindors are at healing later," he said in that cheerful, tolerant tone. The tone slipped a notch, though, as he saw Severus' legs. "Flamin' hell…"

"Thought you'd be pleased we got our just desserts."

"Don't give me that," Arthur said, subdued. "Look, mate, you don't have to, but tell me. Who really did this to you?"

In exasperation, he blurted, "Dumbledore!" in a tone that brooked no argument, and instantly regretted it. What had possessed him to say that? He should have said "that's for me to know and you to find out," or anything, not give away his secrets like that!

"Dumbledore? Oh come…" Before Severus could rejoice in his skepticism, the voice trailed off. "He did, didn't he?"

Severus fell silent. If the boy was stupid enough to repeat his questions…

"It really is true, isn't it?" Arthur whispered, and there was shock in his eyes. "I never believed it before…"

"What?"

"That he's got it in for Slytherins."

"Oh no, really?" Severus sneered, waspishly. "I'd never noticed. Perhaps the way he canes you lot like a feather duster might be a clue."

The way the gentle eyes looked at him, filled with nothing but compassion, unnerved him, unsettled him. "Yeah."

"Look, you'll never understand. You don't know what it's like. You're never going to change things. It doesn't work that way." Severus glared. "So why don't you naff off before someone comes along and makes my life even more of a living hell than it al…"

He clamped his jaw shut, muscles spasming from the violence of it. The other boy's mouth opened, but instead of the expected taunts, what came out was a matter-of-fact statement, "Oh, don't worry about anyone coming by here," as though the part about life being hell hadn't come out at all. He'd heard it, though; Severus could see it in his eyes, and the sympathy there made him shiver, why he knew not. Before he could be transported to another place, another time, the only other pair of eyes that had looked at him like that, Arthur continued. "Molly sealed off the corridor at both ends."

Severus stared at him, alarmed, but Arthur continued. "It's all right," he said airily. "She used a modified Confundus/Obliviate to make everyone remember something they'd forgotten, and double back." He smiled in pride at his girlfriend's prowess, the way Severus had once been proud of Lily at Potions. "Bright, isn't she?"

Pretty bloody lightning fast on the draw too; make a good dueler, Severus admitted grudgingly, but he kept it back. He wasn't so far gone that he'd admit something like that in front of a Gryffindor.

What was disconcerting was that the other boy seemed to read his approval, and smiled as though Severus had just voiced the unspoken compliment. "Brill. Righto, then, let's get you fixed up…" he raised his wand.

And Severus was… lifted.

His body, his mind, seemed to ripple and liquefy, borne on the wave of a healing spell so strong it blanked out all thought. He was a will o' the wisp in the wind, a scent on a summer morning, a breath of air stirred by a butterfly-wing. It was springtime, it was sunlight, the bitterness of life was gone and there was only sweetness, so poignant and stinging it forced tears from his eyes. There was smiling, there was laughter, there was an emotion so strong it twisted and tore at his insides with the sweetness of it—there were her eyes, her eyes that had left him, only in this honeyed, blossom-scented spiral it didn't seem to matter. All that mattered was that he had once seen them, known them, cared for another, once been a lover, been another person, healing, nurturing, caring… a person he could be once more…

Someone was giving him of himself, and it was hard to understand. Like a blood transfusion, only this was life and—and hope.

"Finite Incantatem. Bloody hell!"

He'd closed his eyes, he noted. Now he opened them to find himself being held. He was cradled in the long arms of the other boy, who was kneeling awkwardly on the floor, blithering worriedly. "You all right, mate? Eh? What just happened?"

"Is everything all right? Do you need anything?" Molly's voice came from the end of the corridor. "Are you decent?"

"Never been, me girl," Arthur shot back, and Severus barked a laugh. Later, he would learn that it was an old joke, but it was new to him. "Hold on, though." In his muzzy daze, Severus felt hands gently pull his robes down until he was decently covered. "Right, everyone's modesty's safe, such as it is. Come on."

The girl approached, and let out a squeal. "Arthur! What have you been doing to him?!"

"Nothing, I swear!" He held up his hands. "He just collapsed when I used the healing spell, I, I didn't—" He looked at Severus in a panic. "Severus, tell her I didn't hurt you, she'll give me hell!"

Severus looked from one to the other, the redheaded girl's eyes blazing, angry with her boyfriend because she thought he had hurt him, a Slytherin, and the other Gryffindor redhead asking him for help, as a fellow-male—for protection from her wrathful ire on Snape's behalf.

He opened his mouth, the supportive arms lifting him slightly, patting him on the shoulder.

And laughed.

"What are you laughing at, Snivellus?"

The familiar sick feeling thudded back into the pit of his stomach as he heard the hated voices. If he'd thought, for one moment, that things could be better… He scrabbled in Arthur's arms and fumbled for his wand, even as Molly looked around, bleating about letting the wards down. Only to be expected, really. Good things never happened to him.

Now Black was joining the fray. "Careful, Arthur. Best get away from him. You don't know what he's done. He could hex you at any moment."

"I can decide for myself who to be careful of, thanks very much anyway, young Black," said Arthur, and Severus blinked at the steel in the easygoing boy's tone.

"Yes, why don't you lot leave him alone for a change?" Molly exclaimed hotly. "Can't you see he's hurt?"

"Calm down, Prewett," said Pettigrew. "Just got a bit of what he deserved, didn't he?"

"Shut up!" the girl shouted.

"Sod it, did you even look at him? Nobody deserves that!" She was joined by Arthur's strong voice, and it was joined by the wiry arms tightening protectively around him.

He looked from one to the other. He'd never had anyone defending him before like that. Yes, he had—Lily—but he'd pushed her away. The thought of Lily made him blink…

…and when he looked up, all four Gryffindors had their wands out and pointed at each other. Black and Potter against Weasley and Prewett. Gryffindor against Gryffindor. For him.

Stunned, he broke the standoff by pulling his wand from the folds of his robes, and leveling it calmly in the same direction as Molly's and Arthur's.

Incredibly, the bullies backed down, stowing their wands, retreating. "I don't know what you've done to Arthur and Molly, Snivellus, but you can bet we'll get you back for it!"

"He's done nothing to us!" yelled the girl.

"Yeah, he's a friend of ours, so just pack it in, James!" Arthur finished as his enemies rounded the corner, footsteps receding, then dying out.

He was still stunned when the girl laid a hand on his wrist, sending his body thrumming again with the same weird energy of her boyfriend's healing spell. He opened his mouth to tell her she would be a good Healer, but what came out of his mouth was a forlorn, "I killed a ladybird yesterday."

Arthur snorted. "So? I killed a cockroach just this morning."

"No," Severus said in a small voice, "I mean I killed it on purpose."

"Well, so did I. Absolutely infested, Gryffindor Tower is. If you ask me, it needs a good fumig—Ow, Molly! What was that for?"

"I'll explain later, Arthur," she said. Turning to Severus and gentling her tone, she said, "Never mind, dear. You won't do it again, will you?"

He shook his head mutely.

"I thought not." She smiled. "You're just upset and in pain from all that." Her hand gestured vaguely behind her.

Arthur stood him up. "All right now?"

"Do you need anything? Need us to walk you to the Slyth…"

"Ah, don't fuss, Molls," the Gryffindor boy said with a grin. "He doesn't need a babysitter. If he hadn't been hurt you'd've seen him take down young James and his lot with his wand-hand tied behind his back!" He winked at Severus. "Right, mate?"

Probably Nott or Avery could resist that infectious, conspiratorial wink, but Severus wasn't strong enough. Not with whatever-it-was still flowing through his veins. He didn't speak, but he did nod, and couldn't help his mouth quirking upward in a half-smile.

The beaming smile that lit up the older Gryffindor's face was like winning the lottery. "Brilliant. See you around, Severus." He gave Severus a comradely pat on the shoulder and hustled his girlfriend off, still wittering on about walking him back to the dungeons.

He was still floating on the absence of pain, his head singing, when he gave the password to enter the Slytherin common room. Endorphin high, he thought ruthlessly. Doesn't mean anything. In time, he would get himself to believe it.

"Snape!"

Avery called him over to where Malfoy was holding court, Nott, Avery and Mulciber gathered around him excitedly.

He approached warily. These boys were his friends, but trust was never a given. He schooled his features into a bland, interested expression, prepared to wait for whatever information had them all in a tizzy. But Nott was too eager to share the news to wait. "Snape, it's what we've been waiting for. The Dark Lord is going to strike against the Order after midnight tonight."

Snape nodded impassively. Weakness, in his view, was bouncing up and down like these friends of his.

"The entire Order is going to be at the Prewetts'! They're going to wait till everyone's assembled, then mount the attack. They'll even have the younger members there, a bunch of Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers, not to mention the whole blood-traitor family. We got the news from…"

Severus allowed his face to light up, and listened attentively. He did not start. He did not confirm, "Did you say the Prewetts?" He did not press for a repetition of the details of time and place and method that Nott was so freely giving him. He listened, and nodded, and smiled, and chuckled in glee occasionally.

And when he felt he could, he Confunded his housemates silently and slipped out of the Common Room.

"It is our choices, more than our abilities, that make us what we are," said Dumbledore, whose false love was fading from his heart. And he had always felt that the choices the Gryffindors made – to plague and torment – were on their own heads. But thinking today of the motherly, fat redhead with the big knockers and her tall, gangly redheaded boyfriend, he knew now, as he hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, that he had just made a few choices of his own.