A/N: Thank you so much for all the feedback: almost all of you wanted me to continue so here's a nice long chapter to give you something to read before I write the next one (most of you wanted me to update whenever I write something, so that's what I'll do) – let me know what you think :)

Fifiotoole: Of course she must – read on to see :)

Guest: Yep, it can end there so don't read on if you liked it as it was.

Guest: All right, thank you very much for the feedback, it will be as you say :)

Snape opened his eyes and immediately had to close them again at the onslaught of colour that assaulted his vision. He waited a moment, then tried again, more slowly this time to give his pupils time to adjust. That was when he realised that what he was looking at was, in fact, a brightly painted ceiling: he saw the faces of Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, Miss Weasley and Miss Granger gazing down at him, the artwork so realistic that for a moment he thought they were alive. He frowned, confused. Was this what heaven looked like? Not that he had ever given it much thought, but surely whoever was responsible for decorations around here ought to have more taste than that?

He tried to sit up in order to inspect his surroundings more thoroughly, but winced with pain as he did so. That was strange, too. Didn't everyone always say that after death nothing would hurt anymore?

And yet, he could not possibly be alive. He distinctly remembered the Dark Lord ordering the snake to attack him, he remembered giving his memories to Potter. He also had a vague recollection of Miss Lovegood's embrace, but he could not be sure. After that, there was only darkness.

Becoming more curious by the minute, he ignored the pain this time and, with difficulty, pulled himself up to rest on his elbows, then glanced around.

He was lying in the bed of what was obviously somebody's bedroom, with walls painted a cheerful yellow, a pale blue carpet and a spiral staircase leading down. The furniture was sparse: there was a wardrobe, a desk and a chair, a bedside table and an easel holding a half-finished painting. Staring at it in disbelief, he had to blink a few times to make sure that what he was seeing was true ... for the figure taking up all of the canvas was himself, lying in the very bed he was in now, his eyes closed, his expression relaxed. It was a rather strange sensation seeing himself like that, as whenever he happened to look in a mirror (which was not often), his features were usually lined with worry or anger.

Slowly, it was starting to dawn on him whose bedroom he was most likely occupying, and his suspicion was only confirmed when he saw a large photo on the bedside table, featuring a younger version of Miss Lovegood being hugged by a woman whom he recognised to be her mother, Pandora.

His brain was working furiously. After all he had seen, there was only one conclusion to be made: that he was not dead, after all. But how was that possible? And how on earth did he end up in Miss Lovegood's bedroom, of all places?

As if somebody had sensed his thoughts, at that moment he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and soon enough Miss Lovegood's head popped into view. Her face broke into an enormous smile at the sight of him, and she rushed over to his bedside and grabbed his hand in both of hers, giving it a tight squeeze.

"I'm so glad you're awake, Professor!" she exclaimed. "I knew you'd come round eventually, of course, but it's been two days now so I admit I was starting to get a little worried."

"I have-" he broke off, flinching, both at the pain and at the sound of his voice which came out as nothing more than a rasp. Reflexively, he touched his throat where the snake had sunk its fangs into it, and found it wrapped in a thick white bandage. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, "I have been here for two days? Has the battle ended, then? Is the Dark Lord gone?"

"Yes, Professor! Harry defeated him, as I knew he would!" Then her face fell. "Many have died in the battle, though. It was a sad sight. You looked half-dead too when I found you. Are you all right, by the way? Does it hurt when you speak? I could bring you-"

But Snape waved her off. He needed information, to get a complete picture of what he had missed. Only then could he decide what to do next.

"It is nothing I cannot deal with. What I want to know is why you were at Hogwarts in the first place? It was utter foolishness to go there at such a time. If I had known, I would have sent you back immediately."

"I know you didn't want me to participate in the battle, but when Neville sent me a message that Harry was at Hogwarts, I simply had to come. I thought his arrival meant that we would finally drive the Carrows out of the school. Somehow, though, it eventually turned into something much bigger."

Knowing his friend, Snape did not believe for a moment that she would have stayed behind even if she had been aware that she was heading straight into battle, but he let it slide. Instead he asked, though he was not sure he really wanted to hear the answer, "You mentioned casualties. Who was among them?"

Miss Lovegood's expression turned serious again.

"Tonks and Lupin. It makes me sad because I heard they had a newborn son. Fred Weasley. Colin Creevey, he was in my year. Annabelle Wilson. I know she hadn't been very nice to me but it's still cruel what had happened to her. Bellatrix Lestrange. And about fifty others from both sides; I didn't know most of them by name."

Snape nodded, sighing. Every life lost was a waste, especially those of students who should never have taken part in the battle at all, but if the Dark Lord had really been defeated... Wait a minute. Now that he came to think of it, Miss Lovegood never mentioned Potter's name, so could that possibly mean...

"And Potter?" he asked, just to make sure. "He survived?"

"He did! We all thought he was dead when Hagrid came out of the Forest carrying his body in his arms, but then suddenly he wasn't. It was a miracle, really. And then he killed Voldemort, just like that."

"Don't say his name," Snape scolded her, out of habit.

"Why not? He's dead now, his name isn't taboo anymore. Anyone can say it. I'm glad I can, anyway; He Who Must Not Be Named was a bit of a mouthful."

Snape, however, was no longer listening. He was thinking of Lily and how happy she would be that Potter had, by some strange twist of fate, actually stayed alive, despite being destined to die. It made him happy too, for her sake. There must have been something in the air that night, for he had survived as well, though everything had indicated otherwise. How had Miss Lovegood managed it, though? She might not be able to explain Potter's miraculous escape from death, but he was certain she could at least shed light on his own.

"Tell me, Miss Lovegood, how did you find me?" he asked. "Did Potter mention where I was?"

His friend shook her head. "Not exactly. I watched you out of the castle window, talking to Mr. Malfoy and then walking towards the Whomping Willow. A while later, Harry, Ron and Hermione headed the same way. I don't know why, but I had a feeling something was wrong. So I followed them. I hid behind a crate just as they crowded around you. Hermione conjured a flask and Harry filled it with something silvery coming out of your eyes, mouth and ears. And then ... they just left. They ran past me without noticing me, so I went to you and Apparated us both here. Dad always keeps some Moon Frog secretion handy, so we dabbed it on your wounds and bandaged them. Then it was just a matter of time before you came to."

She finished, leaving Snape with more questions than he had had to begin with. Not to become overwhelmed, he decided to address them in order, one at a time.

"I did not know you could Apparate, Miss Lovegood," he said. "I was under the impression you had not been able to finish your training due to your imprisonment before Christmas."

"Well, it's true I haven't officially passed the test, but I practised a lot on my own after Dobby had helped us all escape. I thought it might come in useful someday."

Snape frowned. "Dobby? You mean the house-elf? Forgive me, but I was told that it was Potter and his friends who had freed you."

"That's not right, though. Harry was locked in the cellar too. We only escaped because Dobby Apparated us out. Maybe the Malfoys were too ashamed to admit that they had been outwitted by an elf?"

"That is indeed very likely," agreed Snape. "However, to return to your account, would you kindly repeat what it is you said you had used to heal my wounds? A secretion of some sort, I think?"

"Moon Frog secretion," supplied Miss Lovegood eagerly. "And, of course, a Blood-Replenishing Potion. When I found you, it was clear you had lost a lot of blood."

"The latter makes sense, naturally, but I must admit I have never heard of the existence of Moon Frogs. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Of course!" beamed Miss Lovegood. "As the name suggests, they are frogs native to the Moon. Most people think they're only imaginary; Hermione, for one, looked at me quite strangely when I mentioned them once, and it's true that for a long time Dad and I could not be entirely sure they existed, either, but then one day a whole colony of them moved into the pond in our backyard. After a little experimentation we found that their secretion was perfect when you wanted to staunch bleeding. We've both been using it for cuts for years now, and it's always worked very well. True, we've never had to deal with wounds quite as serious as yours, but we were confident the secretion would be strong enough even for those."

Snape was lost for words. As far as he knew, the only other person who had ever been bitten by Nagini and survived was Arthur Weasley, and it took even the Healers at St. Mungo's several weeks to find a way to stop the bleeding. Apparently, Nagini's venom had a way of preventing blood clotting, causing the victims to simply bleed to death. And yet, here he was, very much alive after the application of a dubious secretion from animals that, considering Miss Lovegood's tendency to believe in anything that caught her fancy, most likely did not even exist. A miracle indeed.

"So if we were to take off the bandages, there would be no bleeding?" he asked finally, his voice etched with disbelief.

"When I changed them this morning, it seemed the wounds had sealed. You can have a look yourself, though, if you like."

Snape nodded, then, very carefully, proceeded to unwrap the bandage covering his throat, prepared to reverse his actions immediately should Miss Lovegood be mistaken. He looked downwards as he did so, and for the first time noticed what he was wearing: somebody had exchanged his black robes for a flowered nightshirt. He sincerely hoped it had been Mr. Lovegood, for the very idea of his daughter undressing him made him flush with embarrassment. Quickly, he pushed the image out of his mind and continued to concentrate on taking off the rest of the bandage.

To his amazement, he found Miss Lovegood to have been right. The bleeding had, indeed, stopped, leaving behind only a crust of dried blood. He gingerly felt it with his fingers: it was painful to the touch but nothing more. Unbelievable. Perhaps he had done Miss Lovegood an injustice, taking all her claims about the existence of fantastic creatures with a grain of salt. Once he had fully recovered, he would definitely ask her to show him the frogs. For all he knew, they could have other beneficial uses, ones his friend and her father might not have discovered. He could not wait to start experimenting. For now, however, he returned his attention back to his wounds.

"Incredible as it seems, it is as you said," he remarked. "I would even suggest removing the bandages altogether, to let the skin breathe."

"Yes, I think it should be OK to do that now," agreed Miss Lovegood. "Dad and I were curious, though, how you got those wounds in the first place? Judging by the two puncture marks, was it Voldemort's snake?"

Hearing the Dark Lord's name, Snape could not help but tense again. It would take a bit of practice to get used to it.

"Indeed."

"But why? Did Voldemort discover your true loyalty?"

"No. He merely sought to unleash the full power of Dumbledore's wand, which he had taken from his grave, but was unable to do so as he was not its rightful owner. He believed that, since I had eliminated the Headmaster, the only way was to dispose of me for the ownership to pass to him."

"So he ordered his snake to kill you," finished Miss Lovegood. "It very nearly did, too. When I found you, for a moment it looked as though I might have come too late; your face was so white and there was blood everywhere, but I never lost hope. I'm really glad you're all right, Professor."

Snape felt the time was right to do something he had been itching to do ever since their first meeting in the Room of Requirement, when he had truly started to see her as a friend and not just a student.

"Considering my history, I do not think I will be welcome at Hogwarts anytime soon, which means I am no longer your professor, Miss Lovegood," he said. "You may use my given name now, if you wish. You earned that privilege long ago, but it was both dangerous and inappropriate while the two of us were still at school."

Her eyes widened with surprise at his words, and she instantly lit up like a Christmas tree.

"You'll really let me call you Severus?" she asked incredulously. "I've always hoped I'd get to, one day. You have such a pretty name." She tested it on her tongue. "Severus. Severus. Severus."

Snape could not help but smile; he had never heard anyone get such a kick from saying his name before. Miss Lovegood repeated it to herself several more times before fixing her attention on him again.

"So, does that mean you will call me Luna?" she asked. "I'd like that."

Snape nodded. "Of course. I suspect it might take some time to get used to, but I shall do my best. Now, however, I wish to thank you. I owe you my life and for that I am forever in your debt. If it had not been for you and that miraculous secretion of yours, I would not have ... I would be..."

Having functioned almost entirely on autopilot until now, asking questions, gathering information, he had not really given his brain a chance to process the shocking revelation that, despite an attack he could not possibly survive, he was, in fact, not dead. Thanking Miss Loveg-, no, Luna, however, had set off a cascade of memories and emotions, for the most part connected with Nagini, which overwhelmed him to such a degree that he started shaking uncontrollably, while his breath came out in short gasps as if the room suddenly lacked air. Only vaguely was he aware of Luna putting her arms around him, hugging him tightly, and he held onto her as he once again relived Nagini's attack in his mind in all its gruesome details.

"It's all right, Severus, it's all right," he heard Luna say as if from a distance. "It's just the shock."

Perhaps it was her soothing voice, perhaps the feeling of her solid body so close to his own, but as his trembling slowly subsided and his breathing returned to normal, it was as though, for the first time, he had finally allowed himself to believe that it was all real and not just a dream, that Nagini's bite had indeed not been fatal, that he was really and truly alive.

Taking a few experimental deep breaths to ensure he was definitely over his fit, he disentangled himself from Luna's arms and looked the girl straight in the eye.

"Thank you," he said simply. It was all he could muster to express the enormous gratitude that suddenly flooded his entire being; when he had thanked Miss Lo- (this really would take some practice), no, Luna, a moment before, he had said it because it was the proper thing to do in such a situation, but only now, when he had fully realised the extent of what she had done for him, basically giving him a chance for a new life, did he truly feel his words.

"It's nothing," smiled Luna. "I'll bring you something to eat now, shall I? You must be famished."

Now that she said it, Snape realised that he was, indeed, rather hungry. After all, according to Luna's account, he had not eaten for two days. Then again, nor had he been to the bathroom, which was perhaps the more pressing problem of the two, and he, somewhat hesitantly, told Luna so.

"Also, may I ask what has become of my clothes?" he added as he carefully rose from the bed, feeling a little shaky on his feet but otherwise unable to find any other aftereffects of the snake's attack besides the obvious pain plaguing his throat. "As distinctive as this nightshirt is," (he glanced down at it with distaste) "black is still my colour of choice."

"They were soaked with blood so we washed them," replied Luna. "They should be dry now, though. Do you normally wear robes to bed? Personally, I prefer a night dress, but it's true that it was pleasantly unusual sleeping in my school robes when all my night dresses went missing."

Snape stared at her uncomprehendingly. "What makes you think I am in the habit of wearing robes to bed?" he asked, baffled.

"Well, where else would you go after using the bathroom?"

"Ah," said Snape, finally catching on. "Well, I thought perhaps the kitchen? Since it is obviously your bed I have been occupying, I do not wish to impose upon your hospitality longer than necessary. I shall therefore take you up on your offer of a meal, and if my condition does not change within the next hour, I shall Apparate to my house and continue my recovery there."

"All right," shrugged Luna. "But why don't you try walking down the stairs first and see how that goes?"

Confident that doing so would pose no problem for him, Snape only nodded before proceeding to make his way towards the spiral staircase; he had barely descended two steps, however, when everything around him suddenly started spinning, making his knees buckle. Had Luna not caught him in time, he would undoubtedly have taken a headlong tumble down the stairs.

"Are you quite sure you don't want to go back to bed afterwards?" she asked as she helped him stand up straight again. Snape could not help but wonder if she had somehow known what would happen. Was she perhaps an undiscovered Seer?

"We shall see," he said noncommittally, unwilling to give up so easily. Having always managed to take care of himself alone, he really did not like the notion of being a burden to someone.

However, after being overcome by dizziness at least four more times before reaching the bottom of the staircase, thus relying heavily on Luna's support, he had to concede that Apparating in this state really was not the best idea. Having finished his business in the bathroom, he therefore obediently allowed Luna to lead him back up the stairs again, after which he gratefully dropped down on the bed, where he spent a few moments catching his breath. He could only hope that neither Nagini's venom nor the Moon Frog secretion had any unknown side effects that would leave him like this for the rest of his life. He would rather be dead than forever dependent on someone to lead him by the hand like a little child.

"Would you like me to change the colour of your nightshirt?" Luna inquired when he was sitting comfortably propped up against the pillow again. "You are right: black does match your complexion much better."

Snape shook his head; while he did trust Luna more than he had ever trusted anyone, there was still no reason to let her perform magic on him that he could very well perform alone.

"Thank you, but I can do that myself," he said. "Speaking of which, did you happen to find my wand in the Shrieking Shack? It is likely I dropped it after the snake's attack."

"Yes, it was lying on the floor," confirmed Luna, opening a drawer in the bedside table, taking out his wand and handing it to him. "Here it is."

Gratefully and with no small amount of relief he accepted it, immediately feeling much better, as if a part of him that he did not even know had been missing was suddenly back where it belonged. He pointed it at the hideous nightshirt.

"Colovaria."

To his satisfaction, the flowers disappeared as the garment's colour changed to plain black, but although the spell was by no means difficult, Snape was left feeling drained as if he had just cast the Killing Curse. He truly hated this state of weakness, but it seemed he would simply have to take things slowly, and hope that his condition would gradually improve.

Focusing his attention back on Luna, he found her gazing at him with a slight frown.

"That's it!" she exclaimed after a moment, clapping her hands. "I knew something about the painting was off! It was the nightshirt; the flowers just weren't right. It'll be perfect now, though."

Inadvertently, Snape found himself once again studying the portrait he had first noticed when he came round.

"Why in Merlin's name would you choose to paint me, of all things, Luna?" he asked finally, his curiosity getting the better of him. "I am certain there are much more pleasant subjects waiting to be captured on canvas."

"Pleasant – that's such a judgemental word, don't you think?" said Luna pensively. "I paint things that are unusual. And your face as you were sleeping, it was simply begging to be painted. I'd never seen you like that before, so serene and carefree; I found it rare and beautiful. It'll never be the same on canvas, of course, but I think I did a decent enough job, wouldn't you say?"

Snape was dumbstruck. If he were to describe his face, the most flattering word he could come up with would be 'ugly', so to hear anyone describing it in such superlatives as Miss L-, as Luna had just done meant that he should surely start questioning that someone's sanity.

"It certainly seems ... realistic," he said finally, then quickly changed the subject to something where he felt more comfortable, "Now, if you do not mind, you previously mentioned providing something to eat, and I must admit it is starting to sound rather tempting. Will you join me for-"

He broke off, realising he did not know what time it was; he could not see the sun out of the window, it was only clear it was day.

"An early lunch?" Luna provided readily. "That would be nice; I can bring up sandwiches for the both of us."

A moment later she was back, carrying a tray laden with tuna sandwiches, a jug of water, two glasses and two plates, one of which she handed to him. The sight made Snape's mouth water, and so for some time the only sound filling the room was that of enthusiastic chewing. It was only after his fifth sandwich and a glass of water that Snape finally broke the silence.

"Thank you, that was very much appreciated," he said, placing his empty plate back on the tray with a satisfied sigh. "I take it your father is out at the moment? I did not see him anywhere when we went downstairs, otherwise I would have asked him to join us. I wish to express my thanks to him as well."

"He's at Hogwarts interviewing Harry. Considering he had called in the Death Eaters the last time Harry came to visit, I think it's awfully nice of Harry to give Dad a priority account of his confrontation with Voldemort. Dad thinks we might have lost some of our readers when he was made to write articles openly supporting Voldemort, but he's sure Harry's story will help us get them back. I can't wait! I haven't really had a chance to speak to Harry since the battle, I only saw him for a moment before I came back here to look after you, so I'm rather curious about how he rose from the dead. Maybe he's found the Resurrection Stone? Dad said he'd been asking about the Deathly Hallows when he was here so it's surely a possibility. I hope he lets me see it; the Stone is a legend!"

Snape's heart leapt at her words as he let his imagination run wild: if Potter had indeed found the Stone, he could perhaps ask to borrow it so that he could speak to Lily one last time and apologise for all he had ever done wrong. If she would only listen to him, he could explain-

Exactly what he would explain he never got the chance to think through, however, for his pride chose that very moment to step in and uncompromisingly return him to reality. What had he been thinking? Asking Potter indeed! Had he not humiliated himself enough by giving him the memories? And had he not, in a way, already spoken to Lily during his close encounter with death? Despite existing only in his mind, she had seemed so real then, and also willing to accept his apology, so was it not better to leave it at that? Who knew how the Stone Lily would behave? Perhaps she would not want to speak to him at all, and he would be left feeling worse than before. No, it was definitely better to keep things as they were: he had got his forgiveness, he mind was more at ease than it had ever been, so there was no need to make a fool of himself in a matter that was already solved. Not to mention that Miss-, that Luna had probably just got carried away and there was no Stone to begin with.

Satisfied with the solution to his dilemma, he decided to address instead the second concern that had been weighing on his mind since Luna mentioned her father travelling to Hogwarts.

"Speaking of Potter, have you or your father told him, or anyone else, that I am still alive?" he inquired.

"Did you want anyone to know? Dad and I thought we'd let you decide who and when to tell. If it were me, I'd want some peace and quiet before I got better. Or-" she suddenly looked dreamy "-you could let everyone continue believing you are dead and get yourself a new identity. That could be fun."

Tempting as it sounded, Snape resolutely shook his head.

"No. I do not wish to spend my life in hiding like a coward. I will face whatever is to come as soon as I feel well, so I appreciate you leaving that decision to me. No doubt all the former Death Eaters will have to stand trial before the Wizengamot. It will therefore be their verdict that determines my fate."

"But ... what if they send you to Azkaban?"

Luna seldom looked alarmed, but at this moment the look in her eyes was close to panic. Snape felt the already familiar warmth spreading in his chest at her concern for him.

"If the trial is held fairly, I have nothing to fear," he reassured her. "I am willing to have Veritaserum used on me if need be. And Potter might agree to produce the memories I gave him when I believed I was about to die; I had no reason to lie then." (The mere idea made him sick, but if that was what it took to save him from Azkaban, so be it.) "All this will prove that the entire time I had been working on Dumbledore's orders."

He deliberately left out the possibility that, in the post-war mania to find someone to blame for all the horrors committed on innocents, he may end up as one of the scapegoats. He knew enough about history to surmise that it happened after every war. Mostly it was the goblins who were persecuted, but as this time they had remained neutral, there was no telling who would get the short end of the stick. It would be paradoxical, really, to escape death only to end up in Azkaban.

Fortunately, though, Luna seemed to accept his reassurance, as the panicked expression had left her face, only to be replaced by curiosity.

"Does that mean I guessed right about Professor Dumbledore's death?" she asked, her eyes glinting. "It felt a little unsatisfying not to really know; it was like solving a puzzle but never being told whether my solution was entirely correct."

"I can assure you your guess was correct in every respect," smiled Snape. "Your deduction skills are admirable, even for a Ravenclaw. It pained me not to be able to tell you then."

Now it was Luna's turn to smile. "You did give me a hint, though. That was rather clever of you."

Snape nodded absent-mindedly. As flattering as Luna's compliments were, it was fast becoming clear to him that there might come a time when her high opinion of him would disappear in a cloud of smoke. If the memories he had given Potter ever became public knowledge, she would discover the part he had played in Potter's parents' deaths and-

No, he would not think about that, not just yet. He would wait until the trial, and if he deemed it necessary, he would tell her himself immediately after, before she had a chance to hear it from anyone else. And then ... he would simply await her verdict, his second one of the day. Merlin have mercy on him.