There are two facts at the centere of this story, and concurrently my existence. The first is that I loved, and will always love Severus Snape, the second is much less significant, but I suppose I’ll mention it. I am dead.

I do not know where others go when they die, and I can’t recall how dying feels, nor do I want to. It was so quick anyway, and while time sometimes stops in those important moments - the first kiss or smile - it does not stop at the end. Instead, it speeds up like an impatient child wanting to finish their chores.

After I died, everything was black. There was no standing above or below my body, no surrounding. Just a black, slightly blurred, apathetic void leaving me; thrust into a state somewhere between a dream and a nightmare.

And then there was a small light; a pinprick like a star. I made an effort not to move because at the time knew I was dying but was not yet sure if I was dead, and for all my sacrifice there was still a part of me that did not want to embrace oblivion. However, it soon became apparent to me, as the ground began to roll beneath me like fabric or waves, sliding me to the light, that I did not have a choice. I was expecting it to grow only in size, but instead, colors and distinct shapes began to emerge; familiar ones.

There was no voice that told me that I was watching the best moment of my life, no little direction or tag. I simply knew it, just like I know now that I shall be born again, unknowing of all I have experienced. Except for what I saw then, slightly blurred but accurate in every detail; accurate in ways I could not even perceive at the time.

---

“I will never understand your fixation with potions, Severus.� It was a playful argument; one that had been rehearsed again and again. Although we had an odd friendship, it was a sensible one. I was the only person who could stand his rain of insults, and he was the only one who could bear my lack of tact and my obsession with the world of ideas.

Ironically enough, we had slowly eroded these facades of each other into something more concentrated, through our- so far- platonic relationship. Although as soon as we left each other’s presences we immediately reverted to our old selves; more out of habit of being hated rather than anything else. Now, he was bent over a large cauldron, back arched like an inverted sphinx.

“Shh,� he chided, tilting his head to the bubbles. “It’s singing.� Wonder was etched deep onto his face with all the crudeness of an innocence I did not know he could afford to possess.

At the time I was sprawled on a nearby potions table, elbows propping up my chin as I watched him, his face caught in the tight embrace of torchlight , while delicate smoke came off of of him in waves, like an unspoken sigh. “I don’t hear--�

“Sarah!� His sharp voice contrasted so well with the smooth air.

And then I heard it. It wasn’t the sound he wanted me to hear, I’m sure. I would never fully be able to appreciate the art of potion-making. I did not have a big heart; there was space for only Ancient Ruins… and Severus. I was willing to accept sessions like this because they were a part of him. And they were beautiful. Only because they highlighted him, made him glow more than I would ever be able to.

“You do hear it, don’t you?� Rapture painted his lips into something rarer than rainbows without rain; his smile. “It’s light like silk, and thick. I understand if you can’t here it because it’s so soft.� ‘Soft’ was said with all the tenderness of a caress.

Every word he spoke was true, but not about the potion. About his heartbeat. We were both poets, each studying different subjects and coming up with the same adjectives.

I slid forward, until my lips were even with his eyebrow, and then gently, as if persuading a wild animal, outstretched a fingertip. I had not done this before, but I knew how it was supposed to be done. Trembling like a long note cradled by a soprano, I stroked the side of his face.

He drew back, flinching and then turned around to look at me; the wonder faded but was not dead, confusion replacing the missing bits of fascination. “Sarah…�

I thought I had ruined it. There were no second chances for people like me. People who had a good family, were moderately pretty and had nothing to garner sympathy or praise; merely a sharp tongue and too thin eyes. I prepared to revert back to what I knew would be inevitable: loneliness. I was destined to be alone because the only ones I could love also shared my fate.

Severus surprised me. I thought he would be harsh, I knew in fact. Every single second that I had experienced with him had taught me to this effect. No matter the subject manner, he would show no mercy. For a time I liked that about him. It made me feel less guilty every time I was rude or cruel, which I often was. But then, I shied away, mumbling apologies, more to myself than him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.� I only admitted to ignorance when I really did know. I knew exactly the nature of what I had broken.

And then he looked up and stretched out a single finger, long and stained with years of chemicals that I did not know the names of. His eyes, once easily lost in the harsh lines of his face popped, and suddenly his fingers were guiding my chin to his lips.

Then, quietly, like a seldom seen dawn or the outstretching of a bud into a flower, it bloomed. I could feel the steady rhythm of his pulse more than the fabric of his lips, which were surprisingly textured, in a pleasant, wet way.

When we emerged, I looked at him, blinked once and began to speak in the steadiest voice I could manage, knowing that what I was saying was hopelessly sentimental. We both claimed to loath sentimentality. “I-I heard it,� I stammered.

He knew there was a punch line, and so waited, cocking his head like he always did when studying an equation. I was thrilled to be his unsolvable enigma for a second. There was nothing more beautiful than the way he translated me to an idea, a thought, and back again.

“What did you hear?� He was as amused and as breathless as I, even though the kiss hadn’t lasted longer than a tuning of a orchestra.

“Your heartbeat.�

---

I did not think it was possible to cry when you did not have a body, but I felt as if there was something that resembled tears, as I watched that scene. I do not know how many times it replayed. But I did not mind, each time I noticed a nuance that I had missed. Each time became more painfully beautiful, and then slowly it dimmed. I would be content to die remembering that, I thought.

But death was not through, and I was not surprised when a couple of seconds later, or perhaps an eternity later, the world, or lack there of, flickered back into existence. I recognized the tightness of the air in my chest immediately. I tried to prepare myself for what I sensed was coming, but could not. This memory was much fresher, and yet while twice as painful, almost equally as beautiful.

---

“Severus?� The door slammed and he entered. “Severus?�

I entered the room with all the grandeur of a corpse. My visage fitted the attitude. My robes were tattered and there were hints of blood at the edges of the tears. A while ago he would have run to me, healed me, tended to me. Now, he merely looked me up and down and only contemplated helping me into the chair. I stumbled to him. “Severus.� I groped, searching for something in him he had long ago lost
.
He relented and stood up from his position, gently, though coldly helping me into the kitchen chair. “What have you gone and done this time?� It was worse for me, this quiet tone he took rather than the screaming.

“The cabinet, Severus, your potion,� I begged.

I wondered if he could see my eyes twitching with the echoes of pain. He hesitated and I could bear it no longer. I was beyond begging, beyond anything else. “Severus, bloody hell! Get the salve!�

His eyes, merciless as I had assumed from the beginning bore into mine. “You knew not to go out tonight. I told you there was going to be an attack.�

“You know I had to.�

“All I know is that if you continue, you are going to kill yourself.� His lips contorted into a grimace, trying to hide something like actual pain. I don’t know if he had ever truly wept until then. I don’t know if I had either.

“I’m going to be dead in a moment if you don’t get that salve,� I rasped, amazed at my ability to form any sort of coherent sentence.

Finally he moved towards the cabinet, and with the grace of fury, plucked the single vial at the back from the bouquet of bottled potions; all strong, most for healing, the rest poison. He did not recognize that I knew they were poison as he had never told me, but I knew the look of one who had seen things that were worse than death, and did not want to experience all of the small healing potions he had stored; one for every night. He uncorked the bottle with practiced ease and held it to my lips, tipping it slightly, looking into my eyes. I had once thought his eyes looked like the shadows of lonely stars. Now they looked like two tunnels, infinitely deep and narrow.

When I had sipped all of the bottle’s contents and begun to feel a familiar numbness, I settled into the chair. “Severus, how was you’re day?� I was determined to maintain some echo of the semi-domestic atmosphere we had cultivated so long ago.

Slowly he moved to put the empty bottle on the counter, ready to refill it if the need demanded. He was silent and then he broke it. He was through with pretenses. Some part of me was relieved, but it was very small, and very tired.

“Sarah, you cannot go on like this, fighting on a side that you cannot win.�

“I refuse to give in to a man who plays on prejudice.�

“Why? Because all are created equally?� he quipped bitterly. “One look at James Potter and we know that’s a lie.�

“James is a good man.� I knew this would make him jealous but I didn’t care. James is good where I am not, and I can’t help but give in to admiration. Fighting it would be as futile as fighting my love for Severus.

“So you fight for James then, you’re secret lover?� I was hit more with despondency than anything else. There was no jealousy, no hatred, no anything. Mere acceptance at the course this was destined to take.

“I fight for truth, I always have. And it is true that Muggle-borns are as good as the rest of us.�

“It doesn’t matter what the hell you believe if you’re dead, Sarah.� His anger was real and tender.

“If everyone followed that rule we’d all be dead.�

“Sarah, I cannot stay with a mad-woman.�

No. I knew this was going to occur, but still. No. “Severus, please, I’ll stay home. I won’t battle against you, I’ll—�

“And here I thought you said you valued truth, Sarah. Your lies will only last for a time, and then what? You come home so bruised you can’t walk? Or perhaps you don’t come home at all? I will not live with someone so foolish.�

“Please, Severus, not now, tomorrow. Leave tomorrow when I am rested.� My breathing erupted into gasps as my heart fluttered, while tiny pieces of tears scraped down my cheeks.

“Sarah--�

“Just stay tonight, please. If you love me you’ll stay. Fool or no fool.�

“Sarah, will it make it easier if I say I do not love you?� He was tender now because he knew he could leave. I was screaming softly, gasping, crying, pleading.

“Difficulty? This isn’t a test for one of your students, Severus.� I would not go quietly back into the abyss of loneliness that I had emerged from so tentatively during my sixth year, in that tiny Potions room.

“This isn’t a test at all, Sarah. Are you willing to give up your ideals for me?�

I would not become petulant, but tear stains are not the foundations of elegance. Desperation was a last resort, but a resort none the less. “Severus, please, I just want the best of all possible worlds. I just want truth, but I can…�

“You claim to fight for truth but then lie about it?�

I was silent.

“Then I will leave quickly.�

And he did.

---

And the memory was over. And we were over. And I was over. And the repetition of this saved me from completely giving in to the blackness that was consuming me; surrounding me. For a second, I was afraid that that moment would be the last one I would see, but then slowly, with that same tentativeness of my first caress, the screen sprung back to life.

But it was not playing, it was paused, two images side-by-side. The first was of him; young, brewing a potion and listening to my heart-beat. The second was him, standing, empty bottle in hand, eyes as blank as shadow and back as stiff as bone, ready to leave. Then slowly, with all the beauty and cruelty in the world, the two images began to move together, superimposing themselves onto one another. Until they were as one and I saw Severus as he really was. Loving me, but afraid. We were always so afraid of losing each other, and now that we have truly been separated; lost to each other totally with the finality only death can bring, I can fully appreciate what we had. It makes it seem, as I float in blackness in the womb of creation, as if he is next to me. As if I never really lost him to begin with.

Now I am reborn, my newborn fists pumping and my new lungs screaming out in joy and agony.