NINE. Hopeful

"You wouldn't wake up," were Potter's first words to him once the door closed behind them.

Severus wasn't sure what to say to that. Lily's spectre was gone, and her voice was silent.

"I was so angry with you, and then you wouldn't wake up," Potter repeated. "Thought you might be dead, thought you might be – I dunno, cursed."

"I am certain that Mister Malfoy informed you that I was in a healing sleep. Much as you may despise him, his information on such matters is trustworthy."

Potter stared. "Can't hate Malfoy, but I don't trust him. Not anything he says."

"Can't is an interesting choice of words."

"Well, he backed down, didn't he? Even if it was at the last moment."

Severus sat down – rather quickly, he was afraid. "You saw."

"Everything," Potter replied.

They remained like that awhile, Severus seated and Harry standing, each staring at the other. Potter's eye twitched, as though he found the situation just as uncomfortable as Severus did.

"Besides that, he's gone – funny – from it," Potter said, unfolding his arms finally, just so he could gesticulate rather dramatically on the word funny.

"He's told you about that, has he?"

"About this other world, where he's on the side of the Light, Dumbledore's alive, and we all get along. Doesn't take a Mediwitch to see where that's come from," Potter said with a side of pragmatic practicality that Severus hadn't expected, despite the way Potter's voice faltered on the Headmaster's name. Potter scratched at his nose, pondering a moment. "Things started to go different after he got his Mark, according to him." He stared at Severus another, bare moment. "Can hardly blame him for wanting to think so…" He paused, cursed. "Why am I telling you all of this?"

"Perhaps for the same reason I am here," Severus offered. "You have no one else."

"I've got Ron and Hermione," Harry returned.

"Can you tell them these things?"

"No."

"Then in this, at least, you have no one."

Potter shrugged. "Hate it when you're reasonable."

"Hate me when I'm reasonable, unreasonable, and everyplace in between, Potter."

"Hate the sight of you, actually. But I wanted it to come to wands. Wanted you to shout at me, call me a stupid little freak so I could curse you."

Severus blinked in the face of this honesty. "I am sorry I could not oblige you, Mister Potter," he said with a trace of his old sarcasm. "But unfortunately, I have never called you a freak, stupid or otherwise."

Potter turned a vibrant shade of red. "No, that was… someone else. You're a lot alike, I'm hardly to blame if I mix it up, who's slung which insult."

Severus's brows raised. He'd thought he was the only adult in Potter's life who dared call him out on the frequent abuses of his fame, but perhaps he'd been wrong.

"Hermione's right, we need you," Potter blurted suddenly, "and Ron's being mature about it all, and we're working with Draco-bloody-Malfoy, and I can't be the one who's too much of a child to… I have to be the leader," he said firmly, and it was clear Severus wasn't the one he was trying to convince. "So tell me the truth. He told you to, didn't he? He wanted me to hate you, he wanted everyone to think you were still… but you have to tell me through Legilimency, you have to let me see." Potter's eyes were green as Avada, intense as Lily, and Severus could not turn away.

Severus saw a fresh flare of pain go off like a firework behind Potter's eyes, a pain that matched his own, and that decided it. "Yes. Yes, you can see," he said hoarsely. You can see whatever you want, he thought, and the thought horrified and terrified him, because how had he gotten here? How in Merlin's name had he gone from standing in front of this boy as his Potions Professor to sitting before him in supplication in the house of his enemy?

"I can't – I'm bollocks at Legilimency," Potter said, with a bitter twist to his lip that read, you would know. "You'll have to help."

Sure. Certainly. Why not? It made sense that Potter could not even take what he needed, that Severus would have to offer it up, willingly. That he was required not only to stomach Potter's trampling through his mind but draw him in, past his own barriers and towards the heart of him.

Potter sat across from him, straddling the wooden bench so that he could better face Severus.

"What if you're wrong?" Severus said with a swallow. "What if I'm here to sabotage you? I could take advantage of your mind. There are attacks – I could destroy you."

Something in Harry's features changed then, shifted under his skin. "Not right now," he said carefully, "or you wouldn't've told me."

Severus accepted this Gryffindor circular logic. "Empty your mind of all thoughts, then," he began.

"That doesn't work, hold on," Potter said, and suddenly there was a second presence that had joined Severus's.

"How -?"

"I got this far on my own," Potter replied, sounding faraway, eyes half-closed.

Severus felt a faint, unwilling respect tinge his thoughts for a moment, then furiously tried to hide the regard, then cursed himself for trying to hide it. He was trying to let Potter in, for Merlin's sake!

Potter was consciously trying to find a way in, too – clumsily, but with rather more intent than Severus would have expected of a beginner. Though it made sense that Potter, with his dash-in, impetuous personality, would be better at attack than defense.

Severus shook himself free of his thoughts. He had to focus, he had to lower his Occlumency shields.

The way he'd only done for Dumbledore.

Potter reeled. What…?

The first layers were peeled away, Severus realized triumphantly. That was – good, he told himself, despite the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead and the roiling in his guts. It'd be fine, he just had to show Potter –

James Potter laughing in the sun, cruel, head thrown back –

- the inside of his mind for a moment. Just long enough to show him that what had happened to Dumbledore –

Behind his desk, quill moving across the parchment that would make Severus Snape a Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – "Did you have any more questions, Severus?" –

- wasn't truly foul play, and then he could shove him unceremoniously out again. It was fine, it was fine, it was…

…it was giving him a nervous collapse, and Potter could tell. The presence in his mind had gone from reciprocally panicky to patronizingly soothing. Severus snarled at it and it retreated.

Which was not the bloody point! For Merlin's sake, he wasn't a child.

"You're not a child, Severus." His father's voice, in a rare moment of sober honesty. "You can take care of yourself a sight better than me an' yer mum ever could…"

Oh, Merlin. No, he didn't want Potter to see that memory. But Potter didn't have to. Severus just had to lower the Occlumency barriers until Potter could feel Severus's emotions and they could talk like in any other conversation, and Potter would see the images and feel what Severus felt and he'd know how he felt when he killed Dumbledore –

The second set of walls toppled with a mental crash, and Potter was past them. Somewhere far, far away, someone was gasping in shock. Severus hoped it wasn't him.

Potter's presence had acquired a sense of – color was the closest Severus could come to describing it. There was a shining red presence in his mind, and it had lost some of its essential – Potterness. Severus felt himself relax a hair, felt approval shine from the red presence, which drew slightly closer.

The third set of walls fell.

How many of these have you got? whispered the red presence, registering awe and shock and a tinge of worry.

Lots, Severus replied, and they drew further in, further into Severus's deepest sense of self. A red-headed woman Severus thought he ought to know appeared, took the boy's hand – he was a boy again, now – and led him forward.

Severus thought I should be anxious, I should be terrified, but he could no longer recall why.

This was a great relief.

The boy looked up at the redheaded woman and opened his mouth to speak, but then she was gone. Tell me about Dumbledore, he said.

Severus could no more offer or withhold his memories than he could offer or withhold someone else's – the thoughts that raced here now belonged as much to the boy as to him. There was Dumbledore, flying off the Astronomy Tower, eyes bright in a haggard face, and agony filled Severus's deepest self.

Fucking hell, Severus! the boy shouted, and Severus felt the ghostly press of fingers into his arms.

Despair crashed 'round the mental landscape like an undertow, and the boy began to cry.

Severus was immediately sorry. He could not recall why he'd wanted to show the boy such terrible things, so he thought of something better.

A beautiful, red-haired child lay on her back by the water, wearing a crown of daisies. "Do you suppose there'll be lots of witches like me at Hogwarts?" she inquired, hopefully.

Severus shook his head. "Lots like you? No way!"

She frowned. "Why not?"

"You're more powerful than most of them," Severus said in his most grown-up voice. "You'll be head o' the class, for sure."

The redhead opened bright green eyes to stare at him. "Honest? You're not teasing me, are you, Sev?"

Severus knelt next to her in the grass. "Oh, no," he whispered. "You're special, Lily."

The redhead grinned, and sat up to buss Severus on the cheek. "You too, Sev." Her smile flashed again. "I'll give you the top marks in Potions and Arithmancy if I get to keep Charms and Transfigurations."

"But I promised you that you'd be head o' the class," Sev repeated, pretending to be crestfallen.

"Not every class, silly," Lily said. "But I've already got some Charms though, watch…" Lily squeezed her eyes shut tightly and intoned, "Wingardium Leviosa," with a bit too much emphasis on the syllables to Severus's young ear, but her daisy chain hovered like a halo nonetheless.

And Severus thought, wandless magic at ten, impossible unless undirected according to every book I've ever read, and she's got Charms for sure! and most nonsensically and fervently, yes, the halo suits her. None of this was voiceable, so he clapped, passionately.

The tiny redhead flushed. " 'S a parlour trick," she intoned.

"No, no, Wingardium Leviosa is good," Severus assured her. "You'll be fine. Better 'n fine."

Lily grinned, bright as day. "Fine as a frog's hair, split three ways," and they shook on it, their special handshake that only they of all people in the world knew.

The boy was shocked, discomfited, and Severus didn't understand. This was one of his brightest, fondest memories, he loved Lily, treasured every memory of her, but this was one of his favourites.

Tell me about Dumbledore, the boy repeated, and, well, fine.

Dumbledore tumbled off the Astronomy Tower in slow motion, Severus's wand hand extended, a terrified Draco Malfoy pressed behind him. Despair shot through Severus, despair too sharp to speak around; he felt as though he should die too, right along with the old man, and for a blinding moment he thought, I could, I could just leap after him, no one would – but just as quickly as that solace presented itself, it crumpled. He thought, Draco, and Potter, and the War, and withdrew, dragging Draco along behind him; but somehow Draco got lost in the shuffle, either ran ahead or behind, and then he was facing an irate Potter across the fields, and no Unforgivables for you, for Merlin's sake, Potter, don't you know what they are? Perhaps he didn't, no decent education in Defense, none of them had.

Except this year: he'd made sure of it. He'd protested at first, because how stupid did Dumbledore think the staff and students were? If the Headmaster (tumbling, tumbling down) had appointed him to the Defense position, it meant he knew that Severus would be leaving.

Apparently, Dumbledore thought the staff and students were relatively dim.

Apparently, he was right, Snape decided as he faced off against Potter. His thoughts ran together like thinner on canvas, then bled from words to impressions. Images flashed across his consciousness: a ring, Draco's panicked face, Albus's withered hand. Through it all was a numb, aching despair. Over, it was all over, there was no one in the world for him, now. And the old man had asked him, the old man had ordered him –

The boy flew backwards like a cork popping out of a bottle, became an ephemeral red presence, then Potter, Harry… Harry Potter had been inside of his mind.

Severus's eyes snapped open to find that Potter was gaping at him, gasping for air, and shaking like a leaf. Severus didn't know what to say to the boy. Yes, I knew your mother. She's currently haunting me. Or perhaps: I'm sorry he's dead, too. Or even: for Merlin's sake, Potter, pull it together, it's –

It was then Potter started to cry. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands, pulling his knees up to his chest and sobbed as though his heart would break.

Severus reached an abortive hand forward, then let it fall. "I –" he said, then stopped. You what? he thought. You're sorry? He's dead, and you can be as sorry as you like, but it's not going to bring him back for Potter.

Potter eventually wound down without Severus's help, then peered up from his knees with red-rimmed, wary eyes. "Sorry," he said.

"It's – you frightened me," Severus said, stung into honesty.

Potter laughed, and the laugh sounded like Severus's: bitter and exhausted and strained to the point of breaking. "No, I'm not sorry for being upset. I think – I think that was good," he said, slowly releasing his deathgrip on his knees and allowing them to move forward away from his chest a few inches: not relaxing, but unclenching. "I'm sorry I thought you – you didn't. For calling you a coward. You're not a coward. For the Unforgivables also. I thought –" He shook his head. "I don't remember what I thought."

Merlin, you've tramautised the boy, Severus thought to himself. "It isn't as bad as it seems. I am in perfect control of myself," he said.

Harry looked up, eyes bright and still wet. "That's what's so scary," he whispered, and Severus couldn't help it: he laughed.

Potter blinked, and a faint smile graced his features for a bare moment before flickering away. "The redheaded girl. Lily…"

Severus shrugged.

"She was your best friend. Before they took her away," Potter said, and his voice sounded so ugly that for a moment, Severus stared. Then, he realized: he was hearing his own emotions, unfiltered save through Potter's rasping voice.

It was terrifying.

"Sorry," Potter repeated, drawing a hand over his eyes. "Sorry. It's – hard. I need some time."

"I have had this time," Severus heard himself say, "and I know I am capable of finishing the work I started. Believe me when I say I have myself under control."

Potter stared, and for a moment his green-eyed incredulousness was such a twin to Lily's that Severus's breath caught in his throat.

"I am fine, Potter."

Potter shuddered. "Don't call me that. Not now I know whatever happens when you do."

Severus was brought up short. Harry, he thought, but didn't say: something in it was far too personal. Like what they had just done meant more than being sure of him, being sure he was on the right side.

Potter nodded, as though reading his thoughts. Maybe he still was. Severus certainly felt as though the boy could still see right through him. "All right," the boy agreed. "Evans, then."

"Evans," Severus repeated, gobsmacked.

"It is my name, isn't it? Evans-Potter. I'm all right with just the 'Evans' if you are."

When they emerged from the kitchens, Severus blinked away dazzling afterimages at the change in light, surprised to find Granger, Weasley, and Draco still clustered around the dining room table when surely aeons had passed down below. Draco's head jerked up immediately, worry evident on his features, but Hermione's face was radiant.

"We've got it!" she exclaimed, gesturing with her wand in such a wild manner that Severus slid an instinctive half-step back.

Evans's features blossomed into a broad smile. "That's brilliant, Hermione," he said sincerely – and with more than a tinge of relief.

"Well, go on, Hermione; try it!" Weasley encouraged.

But Granger demurred. "I think…" She snuck a glance at Draco from under her lashes that Severus could not quite interpret. "I think we ought to all cast it. At once." Strangely, her gaze flitted up to Severus's own, and he could hear the muted echo of would he even – before the girl wisely censored her thoughts and lowered her eyes. "We're all – we've all worked for this. So hard. So the honor isn't just mine, and – I want to share it." She flushed prettily, and Lily's arm slid sweetly against Severus's waist until she clasped him to her, resting her head on his shoulder.

Oh, Severus. Look at how earnest she is. How earnest they all are, how they want so much to do good.

So do I, Severus thought back, fiercely. So do I, more than any of them, I have more reason.

He glanced up to find that the children were all looking to him. Weasley and Granger looked hopeful but dubious, and Draco's features were entirely blank. But Potter's – Evans's face – was red.

He turned to Granger. "Have you chosen an object as the spell's focus?"

The tension bled out of Draco, who huffed a half-laugh, ducked his head and made no further comment, or indeed intrusion. His posture slid fluidly against the edge of the dining room table and he crossed his arms over his chest, looking disinterestedly at the kitchen door.

"We thought we'd use the locket itself," she replied. "Ron's idea."

The redhead shrugged. "Fewer things to look after, yeah? And that way, any trace of the bastard'll be gone once we destroy the last one. I don't much fancy the idea of anything hanging about with a Horcrux trace, even after the actual Horcruxes are all destroyed."

Evans smiled tiredly, probably still reeling from having to view the dark recesses of Severus's mind. "That's a good plan. Shall I get it?" He was already moving to the locket's hiding place in the living room.

When he drew it out and into his hand, the children withdrew as one, repulsed. Even Draco paled and swallowed. "Maybe making a Horcrux into a Horcrux detector wasn't such a brilliant plan," he offered.

"No, it's a good idea," Hermione insisted.

"What do you think, Professor?"

None of the other children gawped at Harry's quiet, politely phrased question, but it was a near thing. Weasley cleared his throat and Granger blinked, as though that would make Evans's solemn expression dissolve to something else entirely.

"I think," Severus said, slowly, "that it is too dangerous to let lie, meaning we must take it with us. And in that case, it at least ought to pay for its keep."

"That's done, then," Potter said, nodding resolutely, as though they'd all come to some sort of joint decision instead of the others deferring to him, and he in his turn deferring to Severus. He held the locket aloft, where it seemed to absorb rather than reflect weak afternoon sunlight that shifted in through the dusky windows.

"Like this," Hermione said, demonstrating a complex, two-handed wand movement: thumb and forefinger drawing from the tip of her wand, then casting in a tight jerk towards the amulet.

Severus drew his wand, watched Draco do the same. The blond's expression shifted from blankness to a wary readiness. Weasley withdrew his own, and Severus was reminded fiercely and uncomfortably of the original Order of the Phoenix – Sirius and Remus and Potter indeed, only Ron looked more like his uncles the twins, and what if he were repeating all the same horrible, foolish mistakes?

And so? Lily inquired, swinging round, now, to face him. Sev. The right thing isn't always the best thing. Not for you or for anyone.

"One… two… three," Granger counted off, and Severus threw his magic forth, like dice spinning away from him, no telling where they'd land, watching the children do the same. Their combined spells seeped into the cracks around the bits of the Dark Lord's soul until the amulet glowed molten, flashed for an instant of eye-searing whiteness.

Then, nothing.

No one breathed. No one dared. Severus saw Hermione take a little hitched, hurt breath out of the corner of his eye, as though the failure had twisted a sharp bit of metal into her lungs.

Then, the amulet began to swing: dizzying spirals, faster and faster… it was all Potter could do to hold on. Weasley and Granger surged forward and pressed their hands to his, keeping the locket from flying off to Merlin-knew-where, but they were already too late.

Just as abruptly as the amulet had strained towards a destination, it swung back to center, as gravity dictated.

Or – Severus leaned forward, peered, just to be sure – not quite. The amulet continued to swing, even as Harry held his hand perfectly still – and strained westward, arcing higher in that direction than on its backswing, east.

Harry gasped, then grinned, triumphant. He looked up to share his joy with them, just in time to accept an armful of Hermione. "Oomph!" Evans said, or something like it, as she knocked the air out of him.

Weasley wrapped his arms around both of them, and they were a jumping, squealing mass of Gryffindor.

Severus turned to blink in surprise at Draco.

"Gryffindors," he said, deadpan. "So dramatic. Shall we shake hands?"

Severus swallowed. He wanted to laugh, but he didn't think it would stay laughter for long. "I am pleased enough, in my own way," he allowed.

"Oh, I'm sure," Draco replied in such a way that it was impossible to tell whether he meant to be sarcastic or genuine. He was looking over at the three celebrating members of their merry little band with another one of those uncharacteristic bouts of nothingness. He took Severus's hand in his own, and shook it. For the first time, true emotion showed on his face. "I'm glad you're here," he said in a funny, strangled little voice.

"Can I?" Hermione inquired at Draco's arm. Her hand hovered a few inches over his shoulder. "Can –"

Draco's face lost its color; across the room, Weasley's head snapped up as though he'd been jerked by an Immobulus charm. "Excuse me," Draco said, stiffly. "I seem to recall I left the list of Horcrux clues on the first floor." He jerked his head at Snape and withdrew to the foyer.

A moment later, Severus could hear the boy's tread as he flew up the stairs.

Hermione's hand and expression fell. "Guess he still doesn't want to be touched by –"

"Hermione," Weasley snapped.

The Granger girl paused. "No, Ron, I know."

"Should we go after him?" Harry wanted to know.

Hermione's features twisted. "Harry… we don't know him."

They dithered for another split second before Ronald Weasley growled inarticulately and stormed up after Draco.

Good. You were next in line, you realize, Lily said, and Severus resigned himself to dealing with hormonal teenagers on top of the War.

Harry must've caught the tail end of his confusion, because he began to say: "…Ron and Malfoy both –" before Severus interrupted him.

"No," he said.

"No?"

"No," Severus repeated. "I don't care to know what ruffled Draco Malfoy's feathers, especially not since I cannot anticipate nor can I soothe the feelings of a boy who is not entirely well-balanced in the first place."

Hermione jerked up. "I'm just going to go up and… I was only asking," she tacked on, and disappeared, presumably the way of Draco Malfoy.

Severus looked up to find that Harry was still holding the swinging Horcrux. The boy laughed as he pocketed it, and Severus thought, yes: please. Let him laugh as he holds a fragment of darkness in his palm, strange and like poetry. Let him slide through the War on the same luck that brought him through flying Fords and murderous trolls, and Sibyll predicting his doom every second Tuesday.

It was the closest he'd been to prayer in years.

"Things are changing," the boy said, patting his pocket. "I used to feel like Frodo with the Ring. I felt…" He shrugged. "Like it was me, just me, and then sometimes Ron and Hermione, too: just the three of us. I'm glad it's not just me anymore, or even just us."

"Merlin help us, if the world rests on the shoulders of three teenaged Gryffindors."

Evans's green eyes flashed. "Don't. That's how it was."

"But not really, Potter." Severus closed his eyes tightly, opened them again. "Evans. Not really. You understand that, now? That's only the way it seemed."

Harry smiled, then, chuckled, and shook his head. "Sorry," he said, when Severus stared, patiently awaiting explanation. "It's just – you and Malfoy. I have to wonder who else is on my side."

Severus thought that might be the most hopeful thing he'd heard emerge from Harry Evans-Potter's mouth.

A/N: ...aaaand here's the other half! I wanted to make this one chapter, really I did; for one thing, I believe it marks the end of Severus Snape's point of view, for now. However, it really was too cumbersome. For someone who's trying to improve her writing (and - I assume we all are?) these mid-length chapters are the way to go. You get the feedback you need to continue to write thoughtfully. If I kept both of these together... too. Much. Happens. Allatonce.

To the person who wrote in: but what about the position of Headmaster at Hogwarts? I salute you. I'd love to say that it was all part of my master plan, but instead I'll say: NOW it is all part of my master plan. Thank you for the canon heads-up. (Nine times out of ten, that is the heads-up I need. For all I love this universe, I suck at canon.)

In fact, I was discussing what Horcrux they should go after first, and... darn it, this is a funny conversation, but I think I'll have to tell you about it after you actually see that bit of writing!

For those of you who've returned, thanks so much for waiting! (Patiently, impatiently, whatever.) I'm going to apologize in advance, because right now ff-dot-net is not allowing me to reply to reviews. It says 'that review does not exist' every time I try. So! :(

Until next time,

-K