Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Author's note: Alright, folks, this is the last chapter. There will be a short epilogue after this, and hopefully I will have it posted in the next few days. It will be the final Harry/Snape confrontation, and should hopefully offer enough closure for the story. I do want to warn you all however, that this is not a happy ending. It isn't really a sad one, either… it just doesn't fix all the problems in the wizarding world, or in our characters lives. But, of course, fixing all the problems was never my intention. I just wanted to bring the characters to a point where the problems could be fixed in the future – with a whole bunch of hard work, good intentions, and perseverance – and I hope I have managed to do that for you all.
Summary: "I built my entire life around you," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you're gone. And now it is time to start building my life around me."
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Phoenix Rising
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.
They'd gathered in the Burrow, yet again. It had always felt like a second home to Harry, but lately he suspected he had been spending far more time in the cramped quarters of his best friend's house than in his own flat.
Not that he was complaining.
He wasn't sure what they had gathered for. It seemed like just another meal, perhaps, and he gratefully accepted the bowl of steaming soup from Mrs. Weasley with a smile. Ever since the end of the war, since Fred's death, she'd enjoyed having her children – and Harry and Hermione – around as much as possible. And he also suspected she had orchestrated this particular dinner both in part to offer a distraction for the still grieving Percy and to give her an opportunity to keep an eye on Ron and assess his recovery.
Ron, stuffing a slice of bread into his mouth, was oblivious to his mother's scrutiny.
Hermione, however, was not oblivious to it, and she caught Harry's eyes and barely managed to suppress a bemused grin.
Harry turned his attention to Mrs. Weasley, who was having the usual argument with Bill.
"Just a little bit shorter, Bill. Not even that much."
"No, Mum."
"But your hair is getting quite long again."
But the older witch was obviously itching to pull out her wand and trim the ends of the flaming red hair and Bill, sensing imminent danger, moved closer to Fleur and slid an arm around her shoulders.
"I theenk it is lovely," Fleur declared, twirling his hair around her fingers.
Ginny made a face and pretended to gag.
The argument was interrupted by the sudden rush of green flames in the fireplace, and then Mr. Weasley stepped into the kitchen, wiping the soot off of his robes and wearing an unnaturally grave expression.
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley moved quickly to his side, a look of concern on her face. "You're late. Is everything alright at work?"
"Madam Borealis and a few other high ranking members of the Wizengamot are meeting with Snape tomorrow afternoon," he said with a grimace, shrugging off his travelling cloak. Mrs. Weasley took it from his hands and moved to hang on a hook in the hallway outside the kitchen, and Mr. Weasley joined the others at the table.
"Why?" Harry asked curiously, leaning forward. Around him, the conversation fell silent.
"I'm not sure," Mr. Weasley answered, frowning. "She didn't explain her motives to me… or apparently to anyone else. But rumor has it she is trying to avoid a trial."
"Is that a wise move? Politically, I mean?" Bill asked thoughtfully. "The public may feel as though they were purposefully kept out of the process."
"They are being purposefully kept out of the process," Mr. Weasley answered. "Which is a brilliant move… if she can manage it. But I don't know. If she doesn't get this exactly right, the repercussions…" He trailed off as Mrs. Weasley bustled back into the kitchen and set a bowl of soup in front of him.
"I don't understand," Hermione said, a confused look in her eyes. "What is the point of this? What is her plan?"
"If the accusations against Snape go to a full trial, it could have a disastrous effect on wizarding Britain," Mr. Weasley said wearily. "With everything we've just been through… the last thing we want is another controversial issue tearing us apart. It will undo any chance we have at rebuilding. And without Diggory or Minerva… we just can't afford that."
"The slimy git is hardly controversial," George protested, looking from his father to the others at the table.
"No," Ginny agreed, "but Harry's defense of him is."
"I wasn't even defending him in that article," Harry grumbled, shaking his head. Although he now no longer believed that Snape deserved to lose his soul to the Dementors, he still didn't know exactly how he felt about the potions Master. And defending Snape had never been his intention, not when he was being interviewed by Rita Skeeter. She had done all that on her own.
Percy mixed his spoon around in circles in his soup and then said quietly, "Whatever your intentions were, you did end up defending him. And I think Madam Borealis is right in her concerns about bringing Snape to trial."
"But they can't just… not give him a trial," Ron argued, shaking his head vehemently as he looked from his older brother back to his father. "They can't just make a decision without… without justice."
"Well, actually, they can," Hermione countered softly, resting her hand on top of Ron's with a faint, bittersweet smile. She slanted a quick look at Harry, and said, "They've done that before. Sirius never got a trial. Crouch…" She stopped abruptly at the darkness that flickered in Harry's eyes, and looked away.
The Boy Who Lived sighed and waited until Hermione was looking at him again. Then he gave her a quick smile, his best attempt at convincing her that his anger at the mention of Sirius was not in any way directed at her. But it still made his gut twist and his temper rise when he thought of his godfather's wrongful imprisonment for all those years.
"How will the public take it?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at her husband.
"Hard to know. If she screws it up… well, then it will be the end of Borealis' career. They might not like it, might not like being kept out of the process. It all depends on how she handles it, on what the end result is, and I can't even begin to comprehend what she's going to aim for on that."
"And if she handles it well?" Harry asked curiously.
Mr. Weasley hesitated, then said, "Then she avoids controversy and gets rid of a significant problem all in one move. She's politically savvy enough to pull it off, but I'm still not thrilled about it."
The conversation trailed off at that point, and eventually turned to other subjects. George regaled them all with amusing stories of his newest inventions, and Bill and Charlie both had their own tales from work to recount. The evening passed pleasantly enough, but though Harry did his best to smile and nod at all the appropriate places in the conversation, he still could not quite rid himself of his troubling thoughts about Snape.
Mrs. Weasley sent him a shrewd look every now and then, and both Bill and Ron glanced at him every now and then, searching the lines of his face for something. He smiled at all of them, trying to appear both happy and oblivious to their not-so-subtle concerns.
He might have fooled all of them, but as usual, he was not able to fool Hermione.
So he was not surprised when, after dinner, she rose to her feet, gave him a pointed look, and said, "Harry, why don't we go for a walk?"
Harry gave Ron a quick, pleading look, but the redhead just mouthed Sorry, mate, and shrugged, apparently deciding it was safer to side with Hermione. Ginny had slid away from the table at that point and was talking with Bill about something, and so Harry was left to follow Hermione out into the cool night.
They walked around the garden, Harry staring at the twisted, gnarled trees, the overgrown grass, the gnomes sneaking around the large hedge that surrounded the places… looking anywhere and everywhere that wasn't Hermione's eyes.
Finally, Hermione placed a hand on his arm and stopped him, forced him to look at her. He turned, and she asked, "What do you want to happen?"
Harry grimaced and pulled his arm out of her grasp. "I want for this war to have not happened. I want Voldemort to have never existed. I want… I want to not have to be faced with this sort of question."
Hermione rolled her eyes and said sharply, "What do you want to have happen than might actually be able to happen? Fantasies and dreams aside, Harry, what do you want?"
"Hannigan, Runcorn, and Yaxley are in prison, and aren't getting out any time soon," Harry muttered. "The Malfoys are out… and I guess that's good. I don't really know." He chewed his lip, silence falling between them for a moment, then he said, "I want Snape to be evil."
"Is he?" Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. "Not completely. He's not… he's not good, either. But he's not…" Frustration and helplessness filled him, and he clenched his hands into fists. Searching for the right words, he said finally, in a fumbling, stumbling voice, "I want this to be easier. More straightforward."
"Life is not straightforward."
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I figured that one out."
They started walking again, moving side-by-side through the grass. Harry looked back at the Burrow, at each lighted window sparkling cheerfully in the darkness of the night. He inhaled slowly, then swallowed and looked over at Hermione.
He was not surprised to find her scrutinizing him.
"I get so… angry," he said finally. "When I think of this, of him… Snape, I mean… I get so… furious. It's like something is in my blood, in my heart, in my mind… I want to hurt him. I want to make him pay. Make him suffer. I know he's not all evil, but I still… I hate him."
"I know," Hermione replied softly, sympathetically.
"I don't like this. I don't like feeling like this. We've been through so much, Hermione, and I just… I just want to let go."
"Can you?" she pressed.
Harry wrapped his arms around himself for a moment, thinking. Finally, he said, "I hope so. If Snape was just… if I never had to think about him again. If he was gone. Then I could… I just wish he was gone."
"You mean dead?" Hermione whispered.
Harry shook his head emphatically. "No. He doesn't deserve that. I mean that I… I wish he was out of my thoughts."
Hermione gave him a thoughtful look, and nodded.
After what felt like nearly an eternity in the solitude of Azkaban, Snape found himself a little surprised to be called to yet another meeting. First the interrogation with the Aurors, then Potter and his annoying habit of meddling, and now this. When had he become so popular?
He kept his expression neutral as he slid into the seat at the end of the table and glanced at the three people in the room. One was a witch, and she was clearly in charge. She sat opposite him, her hands resting on the table, her eyes scrutinizing him. She was flanked on either side by two wizards, both of whom were standing with their arms folded over their chest.
All three of them wore the distinctive robes of the Wizengamot.
"Severus Snape," the witch said, her voice ringing with authority, "do you know who I am?"
He continued to stare at her, willing her name to come to the forefront of his mind. He was positive he'd seen her before, but his time in Azkaban had somehow made his mind far foggier than is used to be, and he couldn't concentrate on anything.
Finally, it came. "Madam Borealis. A… pleasant… surprise, I'm sure."
She smiled, her lips turning upwards at the ends. Her black hair was pulled back from her face, accenting her eyes which were fixed on him with a blatant curiosity that he could not avoid.
"I have a proposal for you," she said.
Snape found himself intrigued at that, despite his best effort to remain detached. Feigning disinterest, he said, "Do you? Let me guess… it involves me losing my soul."
"Not quite." She regarded him for a moment, then said, "You are a thorn in my side, Mr. Snape, and it would be far better for me if you were no longer an issue for us. You're too decisive, and unfortunately Harry Potter has only made it worse."
Snape snorted. "Would you like me to apologize?" he asked.
She ignored him. "Only a few weeks ago, you would not have been a problem. In fact, Hannigan managed to seize power because he brought you in. You weren't controversial then. But things have changed. Hannigan's fall from grace proved that, and Ms. Skeeter's article was hardly helpful. And, of course, there are so many divided opinions over the Malfoys…"
"What does this have to do with me?" Snape demanded, feeling annoyed by the conversation. She was obviously discussing his fate, and yet she apparently didn't feel any need to elaborate for him. In fact, it seemed rather as though she was speaking only to hear the sound of her own voice.
He truly detested politicians.
"You won't get a fair trial," Madam Borealis answered calmly. "We're far too prejudiced."
"I know," Snape sneered. There was a slight pause as he mulled over everything that the witch had said, then he let his gaze wander to the two wizards flanking her. Their faces were expressionless, devoid of any emotion, and they gazed back at him with blank stares.
Not everything was adding up, however. Even if Potter had spoken out in his favor, even if the revelation of Hannigan's true motives had caused doubt and unease to run rampant in the rest of wizarding Britain, he still found it difficult to believe that he would be controversial. He had been truly hated before, and that was not something that would simply change overnight.
He looked back at Madam Borealis and said sharply, "Then condemn me to Azkaban for life or have a Dementor suck out my soul. It's what will happen anyway, and I find it difficult to believe that it is not what most people would want."
"Do you really believe that?" came the incredulous answer. Madam Borealis shook her head. "For all your intelligence, Snape, you seem to be missing the obvious. How many times did Potter defy Voldemort? First as a baby, then during his first, second, fourth, and fifth years at Hogwarts? And didn't he stick to his claim that Voldemort had returned even when the entire Ministry was trying to discredit it? Didn't he willingly sacrifice his own life to save the rest of the world? Didn't he finally defeat Voldemort in the end?"
"Do you have a point?" Snape drawled in a bored voice.
"They practically worship him," Madam Borealis said. "Perhaps that will fade over time, but it hasn't yet, and his word carries more weight than you seem to realize." She paused, considering him closely, then added, "It is enough to make people think twice before condemning you."
Snape grimaced at that. He had no desire to spend the rest of his life in this miserable place, nor did he particularly wish to lose his soul. But he truly disliked the idea of having Potter to thank for his freedom.
If he ever went free.
"What do you want from me?" he asked at last.
Madam Borealis rose to her feet and began pacing. The other two wizards drew back to opposite sides of the room, but they kept their focus on Snape. Watching him, waiting for any sign that he might attack.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He had no wand, and he was half-mad from this place. How could they actually think that he was more a threat to them than they were to him?
"I would like to address this issue some other way," the authoritative witch replied. "You have committed crimes, and should be held accountable for those. But you have also done much more good… A trial is out of the question, but a plea bargain is not."
Snape lifted a eyebrow. "A plea bargain?" he echoed coolly.
"Yes." She turned and looked at him, pausing in her pacing, and he could tell by the look in her eyes that she had not yet worked out the details of what she was proposing. Still, she continued firmly, as though she had some idea of the right path, "A form of house arrest, perhaps?"
Snape was only barely able to conceal his disgust at that option. The idea of being trapped anywhere grated on his nerves. He'd spent far too much time feeling trapped at Hogwarts, locked into the role of a spy, forever to dwell on his past mistakes.
"I am sure you could be set up with a nice potions lab in some out of the way village. A Muggle one might be best. You could entertain whomever you wanted, though an Auror might periodically check in to make sure…"
"As much fun as you are making this sound," Snape spat, "I think I'll have to pass. I'll try my luck with a trial."
"Is that really what you want?"
He rolled his eyes. "Do you care what I want? You could simply arrange for this to happen. You are the head of the Wizengamot, you do have that authority."
"The only reason a compromise would benefit me would be if you quietly disappear," she answered. "Otherwise the public backlash will be… inconvenient."
"And it would be so annoying to allow morals and ethics and a human life to inconvenience you," Snape sneered.
She ignored him, and continued, "And how can I trust that you will disappear from public attention if you are unhappy with the outcome of the bargain?"
"This is just another way for you to decide my life for me," Snape hissed. "No matter how many ways you dress it up, you're not giving me a choice."
"A choice? Did you give James and Lily Potter a choice when you delivered the prophecy to your Lord? How many others have you deprived of their choices? How many lives did you end as a Death Eater, Snape?"
She was angry, he could tell that from the splotches of color that appeared on her otherwise pale face. Her eyes had narrowed into thin slits, and the words were short and tense, her voice filled with frustration and venom.
He smirked.
"You see? Even with Potter's declaration of my goodness, you still harbor hatred for me."
She glared at him, then raised her voice, "Auror!" The door to the room opened immediately, and an Auror entered, a wand held out in front of him. Madam Borealis was still staring at Snape as she said coldly, "Take him back to his cell."
Snape rose to his feet, but something was tugging at his conscious, some kind of self-reproach was twisting in his stomach. Hadn't he just promised himself that he wouldn't do this? That no matter how furious he was, he would not let his anger, his grief, his guilt, and his pride lead him down the wrong path?
Hadn't he just decided that he would save himself?
He didn't want this. He didn't want a trial, he didn't want Azkaban. But he didn't want house arrest either.
The Auror grabbed him by the arm and lead him towards the door, almost pulling him from the room. He knew this path would lead nowhere good, and his only chance for escaping it was still standing in the room, watching him. He had to take the chance.
He licked his lips. "Wait."
The Auror paused and looked towards Madam Borealis for permission. She nodded slowly, her gaze on Snape, and the Auror dropped the potion Master's arm and withdrew from the room once more, closing the door behind him.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Exile."
She frowned questioningly.
"Not house arrest," Snape continued. "Exile. Banishment. Whatever you want to call it." He looked at her for a moment, then spoke slowly, picking his words carefully. "You want me to fade away? That's fine, I'll do it. But not under house arrest. You can force me to leave the country, you can set up wards and spells to keep me from returning. I'll be gone. Out of sight, out of mind."
Madam Borealis considered this cautiously. "An Auror will have to check up on you occasionally."
Snape snorted, but said, "Fine." He would not mind that so much, as long as he was left alone most of the time. He wanted the solitude, wanted a chance to start over, start a new life. He didn't know where he would go, didn't know what he would do with his time, but he knew he didn't want to be here.
He'd had enough of England. There was nothing left but bad memories.
"You'll have to answer questions. More than you did when you were being interrogated. I have to know… I can't hope to dissuade the public from asking for your death without knowing more than I do now."
Snape's gut twisted with the familiar bitter feeling of trepidation. He did not want to spill his secrets to her, not now. Even with everything he had been forced to reveal, even though most of his secrets were gone… he still had some thoughts that were his alone.
And what if she asked about his childhood? They knew about his love for Lily now, but he did not want them to know about his mother and father. He could not stand the pity or whatever other emotion they might all have if they knew the truth. And what if she wanted to know more about Hogwarts? He did not want to relive those days, did not want to repeat countless stories of the amusing pranks that were played on him. Potter and Black had treated him like rubbish, but he had spent a long time convincing others that he was something to be feared. If he had to recount those tales, would people start mocking him again?
And yet… he wanted out. Out of this mess. He was no longer content to remain in Azkaban, no longer content to be miserable, to let his life pass by. He wanted to save himself.
"Alright," he spat. "I'll tell you what you need to know. I'll answer your questions." He looked away from her, hoping he could at least put the spin he wanted on the story. He couldn't rewrite the past, but if he was the one telling the tale, he could at least make sure it was told the way he wanted.
"You'll really do this?" Madam Borealis asked quietly. "You'll go, and not come back?"
Snape nodded wordlessly. He had no reason to come back, not anymore. The war was over. It was time to move on.
"Then I suppose this can be arranged."
In the end, it was almost anticlimactic. The Malfoys were slapped with a large fine, enough to significantly diminish their wealth, though it still left them with more than most. Kingsley, too, was fined. He was also removed from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, much to Harry's dismay. But public opinion was slowly moving to favor Kingsley, thanks in part to Harry's interview with Rita Skeeter, and it would probably not be long until he returned to the Ministry.
Abbott's reaction was no different than Harry had expected – outrage and fury – and that concerned him. Abbott concerned him, but there was little they could do to stop the wizard. He had broken no laws, and he still had enough support to prevent him from being sacked without an uproar. Harry didn't like it, but Abbott stayed on at the Ministry, still an important and influential official in the governing body.
Aurora Borealis was named interim Minister of Magic while the Ministry attempted to reorganize itself. It would be a long, uphill battle, Harry knew, but for the first time since he could remember, he at least trusted that the person filling the position of Minister was a fundamentally fair and decent human being.
It was a start.
Ginny sat down next to him and grabbed the Daily Prophet out of his hands. "Come on, Harry," she chided gently, "you need to have some fun. You've spent too much time reading this."
"There is still a lot of grumbling about the decision regarding Snape," Harry protested, trying to snatch the newspaper away from his girlfriend. She held it out of his reach, and he debated using his wand to summon it.
"Madam Borealis will take care of it," Ginny answered. "She's done a good job of it so far. The grumbling has died down a lot."
"I know, but I can't help thinking about it. It's going to be a while before it's over. Snape… they'll remember him forever."
"No, they won't," Percy said from where he was standing on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall. He wasn't looking at Harry as he continued, "People forget. It takes a while, but… eventually, he'll just be a name in a history book." He moved his gaze slowly to his sister, then shifted to look at Harry. "They'll find someone else to hate. Some other problem to occupy their minds. Trust me… it might not seem like it now, but eventually they will forget."
Ginny nodded as she folded the newspaper and set it on the table. "And anyway, Harry, you're not responsible for fixing all problems everywhere. Come on, lets go outside. It's a nice day, and you need a break."
"But…"
"She's right, you know," a new voice said, and Harry looked up to see Hermione enter the room, Ron trailing behind her.
"You know, mate, if even Hermione's telling you that you need to a take a break, you must desperately need it," Ron quipped. Hermione slapped him lightly on the arm, and he made a face at her.
"I just am having a hard time letting go of all this," Harry said, gesturing to the paper.
"But you need to," Hermione protested. "You're the one who said you wanted a chance to not have this all hanging over you. To not have to think about the war and Snape and… everything."
Harry ran a hand through his hair and nodded glumly. He knew Hermione was right, he had told her all of that. But now that he had gotten his wish, he found that he couldn't let go as easily as he had hoped. His worries and frustrations were still there, as was his anger. Moving on wasn't all that easy.
Ginny rested a hand gently on his arm and said, "Sometimes, you can't deal with something until you take a moment to step back and see it in a different light. Let this go for now. You have plenty of time to deal with it later."
She was right, of course, and Hermione was nodding emphatically as well. Even Ron looked convinced by the argument, and Harry found himself giving in to their persuasion.
So he rose to his feet and followed his girlfriend and his two best friends from the room.
The small brick house sat at the top of a hill, overlooking a tidy, picturesque Muggle village. It was just far enough away from the outskirts of the town to be secluded, and yet still close enough that the inhabitants of the house could easily walk into the village… if they wanted. The yard was messy, grass growing in all the wrong directions and trees sprawling along the hill until they blended into the forest on the other side of the fence that enclosed the house.
It wasn't much, but it was enough for one person to call home.
"This is… too much," Snape said, shaking his head. "I can't take it."
Narcissa rolled her pretty eyes and answered, "Why not? What have I ever truly given you, Severus? Besides friendship that came with strings attached?" She was sitting on the stone steps in front of the house, her elegant robes and regal posture jarring against the plain backdrop of the wooden door. "Lucius and I had enough money to buy it, even after the fines."
Snape folded his arms over his chest and shrugged. "You gave me a home for the years I was hiding from the Ministry. You kept my secret. I cannot…"
"You protected my son," Narcissa answered.
Snape knew that, for her, that was all that would ever matter. He had been surprised the first time he realized just how much Narcissa cared for Draco. It was back when he thought of her as cold and ambitious, wanting only to further her station in life. But it was obvious just how much Draco meant to her, and just how far she would go to keep him safe.
He had the suspicion that she, too, had been surprised by the depth of her love for her son.
Snape felt a dull flush rising along his neck, and quickly looked away. He did not want her to see the gratitude he knew would show in his eyes. It was a weakness he was still not comfortable displaying, not even to Narcissa, who was one of his only friends left. But he was thankful, because he had neither the means nor the time to find a place for himself, and she had provided for him.
"It is secluded," he said finally. "I do like the privacy."
"I'd suggest a Secret Keeper, if you truly want to be safe from nosy neighbors," Narcissa answered, giving the Muggle village a disdainful look. "I doubt the people who live there are known for their discretion."
"A Secret Keeper is not allowed," Snape answered with a disgusted snort. "The Aurors have to be able to locate me if necessary." He hadn't been thrilled about that part of the deal, but he knew Madam Borealis would never agree to it otherwise. So he had reluctantly acquiesced.
"Andromeda will be disappointed," Narcissa drawled. Snape glanced at her quickly, but she wasn't looking at him. It appeared that she was not speaking to him either. Her words were low, muttered under her breath, and she continued, "My own sister. I can't believe I didn't realize it before."
Snape pressed his hands together for a moment, staring at his fingers, before saying, "There were reasons I did not tell you."
"Aren't there always?" Narcissa answered with a touch of ironic bitterness to her voice. But she did not seem particularly upset with him, and Snape was not about to apologize for not telling her. So they let the matter drop, and a comfortable silence fell between them.
The sun was sinking over a distant horizon, filling the sky with orange and red. The forest stood out in start contrast, casting long shadows over the grass.
Narcissa had not mentioned Lily. Snape wondered if she ever would. She had never known his true reasons for turning back to the side of Light, never known what had driven him away from the Dark Lord. She had asked a few times, and he had refused to tell her, and strangely, now that she did know the truth, she didn't seem all that interested in it.
Maybe it was for the best. Lily was gone, and clinging to the past would not bring her back. He had resolved in Azkaban to start a new life, one without her. Narcissa and her husband and son were now the true friends in his life. And this, standing in the cool night air speaking casually with Narcissa as the sun slowly sank… this was his future.
"We'll come visit," Narcissa said, rising to her feet gracefully. "I know Draco would like to see you."
"I would… like the company… when you have a chance," Snape agreed, and was surprised to find that he meant it.
Narcissa nodded. "I must go now, before Lucius worries that I've been killed by rogue Aurors." She said it with a bit of laughter in her voice, but the serious look in her eyes was enough to tell Snape that Lucius had been truly worried about this sort of thing happening.
He supposed he couldn't really blame the blonde aristocrat for his fears. They had all just been sent to Azkaban.
"Goodbye, Narcissa."
"Goodbye, Severus," Narcissa said, and then she was gone.
Long after Narcissa had left, after the sun had disappeared completely and the night had grown cold, Severus stood in the yard, staring up at the sky. Remembering.
He reached into the pockets of his robe and withdrew a small, insignificant looking stone. No one had even batted an eye when he took it with him on his way from Azkaban. Not a single Auror had known what it was, and he doubted any of them would have believed him had he told them.
"I built my entire life around you," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you're gone. And now it is time to start building my life around me."
He dropped the stone to the ground at his feet and pointed his wand at it. Summoning all his strength, he sent a silent spell towards the last object that tied him to the past, his last link to Lily…
And with a blinding flash of light, it shattered into countless pieces.
"Goodbye, Lily," he said, then turned and walked into the small brick house, letting the door swing shut behind him.