Author's Note: Thanks to my first reviewers and watchers! You made my day. (And I apologize if the next chapters may come a little late—Unfortunately, I have to put work first, and FanFiction second…)

Young Severus leaned over his terribly worn textbook. Slaving over his homework and studying; exams would be in three weeks time. A familiar laugh sounded behind his ears. Lily was just around the corner laughing. Severus tilted his head; James Potter was carrying Lily's books. They were walking toward him, stopping just short of his table. "I—thanks James."

"Why don't you study with me?" James inquired cheekily, winking. Severus, against his better judgment and will, let out a snort.

"Didn't ask you, did I, Snivellus?" James snapped. Severus combed a hand through his hair and continued scratching notes onto a rumpled piece of parchment.

"Um. Sev. You wouldn't mind terribly if I studied with James tonight, would you?"

Severus shrugged, agitation and a searing hate for Potter boiling within him.

"I'll catch you tomorrow night, Sev. I promise." Lily squeezed Severus' arm and walked away with James. Severus kept his eyes glued to the pages of the book; he saw nothing. He had been waiting to spend some time with her. It had been ages since they had spoken as friends; she spent all her time with James…

James slammed Severus' head onto his book. "Forgot Lily's books. Have fun studying all alone, Snivellus."

Severus could taste blood again.

SS

On the moist Forbidden Forest ground, Snape kneeled in front of the Dark Lord. His stomach was turning; his hand was clammy. What had he just done with his wand? Control thoughts; concentrate… "Snape," wheezed the voice of Voldemort, "You will come with me."

A circle of masked men, women, adolescents, and barely-human figures surrounded him. A slight rustling of robes was the only thing giving away the anxiety the masked ones felt. Wands were getting stroked in their respective robe encasements; eyes darted around the woods. Snape bowed, "Of course my Lord."

HG

"Neville! Neville!" Hermione ran up behind the boy; he was covered in dust, a smear of blood on his cheek.

"Hermione!" Without hesitation he grabbed her wrist, they ran in unison towards the Room of Requirement.

"Where's—Harry?—And—Ron?"

"I'm leading you there—They're okay--"

A wave of almost unimaginable relief flooded Hermione. Okay. They are okay.

"We're under—attack—Hermione--"

"Yes, I know that Neville!"

A rumble deep inside the castle sounded again. A piece of rubble dropped from the ceiling, narrowly missing Hermione. Around them there was rubble; select Death Eaters and students lay on the ground. Stunned? Dead?

"Stupefy!" Hermione screamed, hitting a masked man hard in the chest.

"Thanks Hermione--" Neville did not sound scared, though the events folding out around them were obviously tragic. Neville rapped on the stone wall in front of them three times. A door appeared, and they soon fell into a room filled with red heads. "Hermione!" The Weasleys called in unison. Hermione leapt at Harry and Ron, tugging at their necks.

"You both are here—I'm so sorry--"

"Why are you sorry, 'Mione? We were so worried about you--"

"I'm glad you both are safe," Hermione said, avoiding that she had been in Snape's room. "Harry—why are you crying?" Hermione inquired, a crease deeply growing between her eyebrows.

"I--" Harry began quietly; Hermione released him from her grip. "Hermione…Dumbledore is dead."

"What--" Hermione's voice skipped three octaves.

"Snape did it--" Ron chipped in.

"No—he couldn't have--" she shook her head. They were to be enemies, but still…

Harry stayed quiet, looking at Hermione. He nodded; he kept a tight grip on Ron's arm, warning him to keep his big fat mouth shut.

"There has to be a reason--" Hermione paced around them, "He-he's double-sided. He must have had to--"

"He's a what?" Harry sounded.

"He's working for both sides. I know that, Harry. Really, how could you not have known? Didn't Dumbledore tell you?"

"No…" Harry sat down on cushion near him. Ginny turned up behind him and grabbed his hand. "Dad says they're ready to go--" Ginny said quietly; her eyes were red. Harry stood, wand in hand.

"Are you ready?" He asked his best of friends.

Hermione nodded. "Of course mate," Ron responded. They stood. Harry looked brave; he looked like a man. Hermione leaned over and kissed his forehead. "You can do this, Harry. You're as ready as you can be."

Stepping out into the hall, the school looked worse than it had when Hermione and Neville ran to the Room of Requirement. There were holes in the wall and ceiling, windows broken; screams sounded all around them.

"The Shrieking Shack," Harry hissed behind her ear, "is where he is. I'm going."

"Harry—you're not going alone--"

"Look after Rom--"

"I'll drag him along!"

"'Mione--" Harry held her and arms length. He nodded his head toward the passage they would take to get to the Shack. "Shall I meet you there?" Hermione, anxious as could be, couldn't help but smile in spite of the current events. He was sure acting like his belated godfather.

SS

Snape stood in a dark, dusty, creaking room. Masked, robed, he blended in to the room of shadows. It was him, Voldemort, and Nagini. He cast a sideways glance at the snake. It was coiled; it glistened despite the deep shadows of the room. Next to Nagini resided Voldemort. Sitting in a grand chair, he looked sinisterly regal and all together indestructible. This far along there was no more thinking of right or wrong. What was done had to be done; sacrifice was merely a cost of life. In no way, shape, or form did Snape want to process what he did. It happened; it was calculated. Emotion should not be taken into account. He had been prepared.

"Snape," calmly hissed the Dark Lord's sub-human voice, "come here." Snape turned on his heel and strode across the room without a sound.

"Take off your mask." Snape did so.

"Look at me." Snape did so. It was as if Voldemort himself glowed a cool turquoise light. It cascaded around him; it was not a pretty sight. The eyes of the Dark Lord were beady and red: arrogant, evil, ruthlessly unforgiving.

"The old fool, what do you feel for him?"

Unflinchingly Snape replied, "I am glad, Master, to be rid of the old fool." Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"What of the boy? The girl, the redhead?"

"Insufferable children, my Lord. Had I the chance, I would have killed--"

"You had the chance, countless times!" Voldemort said, his face keeping composure, but his voice ringing out with agitation.

"Surely, my Lord, you realize that the old fool stood in my way. One wrong move and my position would have been given up."

"Severus," Voldemort whispered, "you have always been a good servant. You have proven your loyalty after I doubted you. You have many skills; a master of all of them--"

"Thank you, my Lord--" Snape bowed.

"You are," the Dark Lord said more quietly than the creaking of the house, "hiding something."

Snape blinked. Before he could act, before he could think, a blinding lime green light filled the room.

"No!"

Nagini was airborne, aimed at him. He was too close to shield himself. He braced himself for the sting of the fangs, the painful death by the venom. Instead, he felt a pinch on his neck, and something crashed into his chest, forcing him to the ground. A heavy weight was upon him; he could not see. He could hear voices of two young men. Something was shaking around him, next to him; he couldn't tell. Ears ringing, head throbbing; he shielded his eyes. Next to him, half on top of him, Hermione Granger was going into convulsions. Nagini's head lay on the opposite side of him. Two large holes punctured Hermione's sweater at her shoulder; her blood was going everywhere.

Snape felt lightheaded. Damned Gryffindors. He had to get up, he had to stop her bleeding. He could not tell if she were conscious or not; her eyes were open, glazed over and going yellow. Sweating, shaking, she was dying. Why did she sacrifice herself? Commotion spiraled around the room. Every inch of it was doused in a green haze. Snape tried to rise, tried to pull Hermione away from the fight. Muttering a countercurse to slow bleeding, he tried to aid her wound. Though it would not help very much. He still felt lightheaded; he clutched his neck. So he had been bitten by that damned snake after all. Though it felt like just a flesh wound, he looked down at his hand to find it covered in blood. His or Hermione's, he did not know. He forced himself up, thinking about pain would do no good.

A curse hit his back, slamming him to the ground. Disturbing the dust around him, he lay next to Hermione, unconscious.