Beginnings

Rose Weasley had never been kissed. And now she never would be.

She stood in a graveyard spattered with white headstones and brilliantly colored flowers. Every which way she looked she saw names she recognized. The graveyard was full of children, full of her classmates, full of death. It was suffocating, terrifying, unfair. She tried not to look at the name on the grave in front of her as she bent down and placed a single rose on the freshly turned earth, but it was of little use. She already knew the name and had memorized what the headstone read. When she bent, the image exploded into her mind with unneeded ferocity. She ignored it.

The grave did not belong only to one person. Below him, Rose knew, her countless others were buried. The nameless, faceless children who had no parents or loved ones to give them headstones and proper farewells. They’d been thrown into quickly buried graves in the hope that, once they were under ground, the disease would stop spreading. Many like them had filled the graveyard before the named and protected began to die.

Unconsciously, as she straightened up, she looked at the headstone. Her eyes automatically read the inscription:

Scorpius Ignatius Malfoy
Beloved Son
May He Rest in Eternal Peace.

To the right, another headstone, with another familiar name:

Hugo Theodore Weasley
Forever Missed, Forever Loved
Son, Brother, Friend

A tear slipped down Rose’s cheek as she tried, and failed, to push down the lump that had suddenly grown in her throat.

**

She didn’t go home immediately. She knew what would be waiting there – her mother and father were still grieving, and Rose didn’t want to start crying again. It would happen if she went home. Hugo had been with them a week ago, a month ago, and a year ago. How could he not be waiting for her at home, ready to tease her until she screamed? Everything was happening so quickly.

As she left the graveyard, she pulled out her wand and cast the Bubble Head Charm on herself. If her mother found out that she’d let the spell fade, even for one second, Rose would be dead. Of course, it was possible that she’d be dead before her mother even got to her, but it was a risk Rose was willing to take. She wanted to taste fresh air when she could.

She walked down a road that looked slightly familiar, keeping her eyes on her feet, wishing she could raise her hands to her ears to block out all sounds. She walked faster as she approached the children, almost running. Poor, beggar children were scattered around the street, begging for help, screaming, crying. A little girl caught up with Rose. She was sickly pale and so skinny that Rose felt nauseous just looking at her. The girl tried to grab Rose’s sleeve, but Rose jumped out of the way with a little moan.

‘Please, I’m sorry, I can’t help you!’ she cried out, trying to convince the little girl. It was no use. The girl collapsed at Rose’s feet, sobbing for her mother. Her screams made Rose’s eyes begin to stream again and she turned and ran as fast as she could.

She needed to get away. She needed to get away.

And then, she realized why the street looked so familiar. She turned left at the end of it, and then took the second right and then found herself at Grimmauld Place. She slowed to a walk now, clutching a stitch in her side. This street was quiet. The disease that was spreading across Britain and the rest of the Wizarding World didn't affect Muggles and though they saw the effects of the disease in millions of street children, all young witches and wizards, they could not understand what caused the disease and why it was only affecting a minority of the world's children.

Rose couldn’t remember when it had begun, but she knew that it had not been long. When she’d graduated from Hogwarts last summer, everything had been fine. Now, in November, nothing was. It had started silently, with stealth that was shocking. Overnight, thirteen children had died in their beds – not their hospital beds at St. Mungo’s, but their beds at home. And just like that, everything was thrown into turmoil. Everywhere, children began coming down with the disease. What it was, was unknown and the Healers had tried every cure they could think of – every potion, charm, spell – and yet nothing worked. As the disease spread, it became more and more powerful. Fewer people just slipped away in their sleep. Children suffered – from their incoherent words, the Healers deduced that the pain was merciless and as far as they knew, perhaps, it was simply the pain that killed them. And with the disease spread fear. Rose had never felt fear like it before. It stopped her sleeping – what if she never woke up? It stopped her eating – what if the food was contaminated? It stopped her wanting to hug her surviving friends and her cousins – what if they had it already and had no idea? The fear was just as bad as the disease. Sometimes, deep in the night when she no longer had the energy to cry, she prayed that the sickness would simply take her while she slept so that she’d no longer have to be afraid.

Rose stopped in front Number 12, Grimmauld Place and walked up the steps cautiously. The house no longer had any of the protective charms and spells that her parents and Uncle Harry had told her about around it and was clearly visible to all. It was also clearly derelict, and Rose wondered how dangerous it would be to enter.

No more dangerous that living in a city facing a deadly epidemic, she decided and, using her wand to unlock the door, walked in.

The air was thick and dusty and had Rose not been using the Bubble Head charm, she would have choked. She lit her wand and held it over her head so that she could see better – the gray light entering the window was hardly sufficient. Perhaps if it had been a sunny day, but today, as most of the recent days, was cloudy and gloomy.

Everything was a mess. Rose found herself wondering if the last people to enter the house had been her parents and Uncle Harry – it sure looked like it. There was a layer of dust caking the floor, the wooden boards of which creaked ominously as she strode over them. Pieces of paper also littered some areas of the floor, along with a few old picture frames and what looked like a broken porcelain pot.

Without really knowing why, Rose stepped into the first room she came across. It was the library, and it looked worse than the hallways she had just been haunting. The curtains looked diseased, one of the wooden bookshelves seemed to have rotted and its occupants lay scattered pathetically on the floor.

Suddenly, a desk near the door rocked loudly on its legs, scaring the living daylights out of Rose. She let out a shriek and stumbled away from the desk, but lost her footing. Her ankle twisted underneath her and she landed hard on one of the books scattered on the floor.

She tried not to cry out as pain spread up her leg from her ankle. She decided to take her anger out on the book she had landed on, which was now poking her hard in the back. She yanked it out from underneath her and threw it across the floor.

It was in worse condition than it looked – a sheet of paper flew out from it and fluttered down onto Rose’s chest. She lifted it up, along with her wand, and her eyes fell on the words written on it:

Personal Property of Severus Snape.

**

Severus Snape

Rose stood up, rubbing her aching ankle and glanced at the piece of paper in her hand. It was yellowing and felt fragile to the touch. It was obviously old. She examined the oh-so-familiar spiky handwriting on it – the ink had long since turned brown and it spelled out the words she had just read out moments ago. Rose wondered what kind of book Severus Snape could have left in 12 Grimmauld Place. Her heart jumped with eagerness.

She stood up cautiously and put a bit of weight on her ankle, to see how it reacted. It was still slightly sore but didn’t seem sprained or broken. Rose stood on it completely for a moment, just to make sure and then hurried over to the book she’d thrown across the room. She picked it up almost reverently. It was bound in red leather and had no title on the front cover. Rose could smell the mustiness of it as she opened the top cover and slipped the fallen page back into it. She flipped through the first few pages idly, noticing that it was some sort of textbook. Notes in the same spiky writing on the front page were scribbled all down the margins of the book. Rose tried to decipher one set of notes, her forehead wrinkled in concentration, but it was almost impossible to understand Severus Snape’s writing. No wonder he’d left the book here, Rose thought. No one would ever be able to make any sense out of what he’d written in it.

Rose flopped down on a sturdy-looking stack of books and fanned out the pages of the book, sighing as she did so. She had done it twice, not really looking for anything but rather hypnotized by the way the inks all melded together to form a patch of black and brown on white, when she spotted a flash of red. She immediately stopped the rapid-fire flipping and turned back a few pages. There, in the margins, were a set on notes written in deep red ink. Rose brought the book closer to her face, eyebrows together. These notes were much easier to read, written so neatly that Rose had to wonder if it was still Snape doing the writing. Here and there words had been scratched out repeatedly, as if the writer had been frustrated with himself for making such silly assumptions and writing them down in the first place. Rose didn’t understand everything it said – there were a lot of Latin terms – it seemed Snape liked writing down his ingredients’ names in their true form.

It was a potion-making method. Rose flipped back one more page and found another set of notes in read. They outlined the use of the potion – to cure some sort of rare illness, Rose deciphered. Words jumped out at her from the pages: Pain; Hallucinations; Incoherency; Death.

Rose’s heart seemed to freeze up in her chest.

She flipped forward one page with such ferocity that the paper almost tore. Her eyes raced along the handwritten lines. There were ingredients, methods of preparation – but it was incomplete. Ingredients had been crossed out only to be replaced by question marks. The preparation method cut itself off abruptly. Rose flipped forward a few more pages, hoping for more, but in vain. There was nothing else.

Rose slumped back against the bookshelf behind her and slammed the book shut. A flurry of dust engulfed her, but had no effect: she still had a bubble of clean air around her head.

This was a cure for what had killed Hugo. What had killed Scorpius. What was killing so many children in the Wizarding World. If only she had all the instructions – she could have gotten help and made the potion and then everyone would get better! Severus Snape had been a Potion’s Master. Her parents and Uncle Harry had told her all about Snape’s time as Professor and she’d read so much about him that it was second nature to recall it by now, as if she’d been there herself. Snape had made potions for Remus Lupin, Teddy Lupin’s father, potions that had helped his lycanthropy, Rose remembered. He could have cured this disease.

She felt like taking the book that was in her hands and ripping it in two. She wanted to scream. She wanted to bang her feet on the wooden floorboards and throw a tantrum. Why, why, why hadn’t Severus Snape completed the directions?

Rose Weasley knew more about Severus Snape than anyone could guess. She hadn’t just heard about him from her parents, she hadn’t just seen his name in a few potions books – she’d read up on every written detail of his life. She’d gone through the Revised Edition of Hogwarts a History, in which Snape’s role in the school was outlined in detail. She’d poured over books written specifically about him, by biographers who had leapt for the rights to his story sometime after the Battle of Hogwarts. Rose had often wondered how Snape would have felt about his personal life history being thrown to the public, but the fact was, no one was interested in Severus’s life. She was apparently the only one who’d ever borrowed those specific books from the library.

Rose didn’t care. She found Severus Snape terribly intriguing. She had ever since she’d heard that he’d been a double-agent. She knew who his parents were, where they’d been married, when Severus had been born, how he’d spent his school years, when he’d left home, when he’d become a Death Eater. She knew what his Patronus was (though it made little sense to her – a doe? How did that fit?), what he ordered most from the House Elves at Hogwarts, which wine he liked, how he dressed. She knew how he’d taught, what he’d taught, who’d made him Headmaster, how he’d left just before the battle. She knew how he’d died.

She rested her head against the bookshelf as the answer to her earlier question came to her: because he had died.

No, because he’d been killed mercilessly. Because in the last few months of his life, everything had come tumbling down. Why would he have been bothered about a cure for a rare disease that no one had?

He was dead.

The only way to get the cure would be to go back and save his life.

And that… was impossible.

**

Rose walked home slowly the tattered old book of Snape’s tucked safely under her shirt. She knew the name Severus Snape not only from stories told by her parents from his portrait in the Headmaster’s Office. Rose had made more trips to the Headmaster’s Office than the average student but in all that time, Severus Snape’s portrait had never uttered a word to her. He had only stared down at her from the wall, with a very peculiar expression on his face, making her more uncomfortable than the Headmaster was ever able to. She’d even asked him questions and when he had made a point of not answering, she’d made a point of asking even more.

Rose also knew, however, that Severus Snape had spoken to her cousins James, Albus and Lily. All three combined had made fewer trips to the Headmaster than she had, but each had been spoken to once or twice by Severus. Rose had always found this terribly nerving – that he would speak willingly to them – but nothing he’d ever said to them had been very interesting.

She was still a long way from home when she became tired and decided to Apparate the rest of the way. She jumped behind a tree in case any Muggles were watching and, holding her wand in her right hand, she turned quickly on the spot.

The suffocating feeling was something Rose had always hated, but now it was ten times worse. It reminded her of death and it reminded her of Hugo, and when she appeared in front of her house, gasping for breath, the only thing she was thinking was:

Please God, let me live, let me live, let me live!

When she opened her eyes again and saw her home, the fear abated. It was like coming out of a nightmare. One that she would visit over and over again.

She climbed up the steps to the house and walked in through the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible. If her parents were asleep, the last thing she wanted to do was wake them. But as she passed the first room from the front hallway, she found it empty, the bed made and the curtains flung open to coax in some light. She moved on, towards the kitchen, and heard her father’s muffled voice. As she grew closer, his words became clearer.

‘It’ll be okay, Hermione,’ he was saying repeatedly. ‘It’ll be okay, really, we’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.’ Rose peered around the doorway, hidden in the shadows.

They were sitting at the dining table in the kitchen. Hermione had her head in her arms, on the polished chestnut table. From the way her shoulders were shaking, Rose knew that her mother was crying again. Ron was sitting on a chair next to her, a hand on her shoulders, rubbing her back now and then, trying to comfort his wife. Rose could see his determination not to collapse breaking. His other hand supported his head, fingers in his red hair, the strands of which stood slightly on end. Rose could see his hand shaking slightly.

Sometimes, when she was more angry than afraid, she found herself hating Hugo for doing this to her parents. For doing this to their parents. She hated him for dying.

**

There was nowhere to run and that was why it was so petrifying. Witches and wizards had heard about the disease, realized it was an epidemic, and started packing. They’d taken their most prized possessions and their children and left the country – only to find that this disease had spread farther and faster than they could imagine. Just because Muggles were not harmed by the disease did not mean they could not contract it, and Healers suspected that Muggles and wizards alike had aided the spread of the disease.

The only thing to do was stay put, try to avoid the disease and then, if it got to you, die.

Every second of every single day was filled with the probability of death. The ticking of a clock was now torture. Rose couldn’t make herself wear a watch anymore. She had stopped counting the days. If she pretended that time was at a standstill, then maybe it would be.

She walked upstairs to her bedroom, and flopped down on the bed for a moment. Outside it was getting dark, and she hadn’t lit the lamps in the room. On the ceiling above her a multitude of stars began to glitter as the room grew darker. Her father had put them up when she had been a little girl and Rose had never bothered to have them taken down. Uncle Fred and Uncle George had invented them and they were always doing something new: falling, exploding, dying.

She watched one star in the corner particularly. It had, for three days, been slowly dying, turning into a red giant and then suddenly going supernova one night while she had been in the middle of a nightmare – the light had been so bright that it had jerked her out of her dream… and then she’d heard screaming…

The stars on her ceiling were in accelerated-life mode. Rose was waiting to see what would happen to her the star in the corner now. She was particularly curious to see what would happen if a black hole formed on her ceiling, but apparently it wasn’t to be. The core of the star was the only thing that remained and it had decided to become a neutron star. Not enough mass, Rose thought vaguely as she turned over onto her stomach. A corner of the book that was still under her shirt poked at her stomach and Rose realized she’d forgotten all about it. She sat up and pulled it out, just as she heard footsteps on the staircase outside.

She was glancing at the replaced first page, with Severus Snape’s name on it, when her father entered the room.

‘We didn’t hear you come in,’ said Ron to his daughter. Rose wondered where he’d left her mother.

‘No, I didn’t want to disturb you.'

Ron sat down next to Rose on the bed and gave her a small smile. ‘You could never disturb us, sweetheart.’

Rose smiled back at her dad but her heart wasn’t really in it.

‘Dad?’ she said after a pause. ‘How did Severus Snape die, exactly?’

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Severus Snape?’ He watched her for a moment and Rose could tell he was wondering why she was asking. Rose had never mentioned her odd obsession with the man (it made even her feel weird) and Snape had never really been a topic of conversation at their house – whenever her parents and Uncle Harry had tried to tell her this stuff before she had listened quietly, but the fact of the matter was, she’d heard all these stories. Millions of times. Her parents had told her when she’d been a child yearning for bedtimes stories, and then she’d heard everything in more detail at school, where many children seemed amazed that she was the daughter of Harry Potter’s two best friends. Rose didn’t see what difference it made – her parents had been the best friends and everything that had happened to them had happened a long time ago. They didn’t often want to talk about it and so, really, others had no right to gossip. Rose had been through every single book in the school library that even mentioned Severus’s name. She had never really required a question-answer session with her parents.

Now she wanted to hear the tale once again. Hear it from someone who’d witnessed it. Not one of those researcher quacks who couldn’t help mentioning the fact that Snape had been a Death Eater every other sentence – as if it mattered. Look at what he’d done for England! All those years of being a spy…

At that moment, Ron’s eyes fell on the book Rose was holding.

‘What’s that?’ he asked, and he held out his hands. Rose handed him the book willingly.

Ron flipped through the pages slowly, after a brief pause on the first page. Rose saw his eyes trace Severus Snape’s name, but he didn’t react. When he had paged through the entire book, stopping momentarily at the red notes, but not reading them, he handed it back to his daughter.

‘You went to Grimmauld Place?’ he asked, and there was an uncharacteristic frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

‘Well – yes,’ replied Rose, wondering how he had known. ‘I didn’t mean to – I just found myself on a familiar street and followed it. I didn’t think about not going in.’

‘What if—’ began Ron, but seemed to think better of it. ‘You’re mother seems to have rubbed off in me these past few years,’ he went on, looking slightly amused. ‘Just be careful, Rose. Don’t go anywhere dangerous. Trust your instincts.’

Rose nodded slowly, and then asked, ‘How’d you know?’

‘I guessed. Where else would you find a book of Snape’s? You don’t know where his house is and anyway, it isn’t anywhere near here. The only other place where Snape had ever stored his things was Grimmauld Place.’

‘Will you tell me how he died, again?’

Ron seemed loath to recall the events of that night. Perhaps all the death it contained made him think about the here and now – about Hugo. Nevertheless, he humored his daughter – fatherhood had taught him a lot and it was only after the birth of his daughter that he’d learned a little patience. He went over everything that had happened that night, from when he, Harry and Hermione had run to the Shrieking Shack under the Invisibility Cloak, to Snape’s death.

After awhile Ron lapsed into silence. Rose had heard everything she needed to hear but she stayed put next to her father. Father and daughter sat in the dark, quieter than the night that enveloped them, thinking about everything. About the past, the present… about the future. But most of all they thought of Hugo Weasley and wondered where he was right now and what he was doing and if he was, finally, at peace.

**

A Cure

Instead of walking this time, Rose Apparated directly. She hated it, but she also hated the fear and maybe facing it would make it go away. It was worse the second time around though, and as her breath caught in her throat she heard, for the first time out of her nightmares, Hugo’s muffled sobs and screams. They bombarded her from blackness that surrounded her and if she could have moved, she would have struck out at the invisible horror that clawed at her heart.

She appeared in front of her Uncle Harry’s house, and it took all her self-control to keep from crying. Her heart was beating violently against her ribcage and she felt clammy, but she walked up the front steps anyway and knocked on the door.

Albus opened the door.

‘Hi,’ he said when he saw her. He took one good look at her face and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ muttered Rose, and she pushed past him, removing the Bubble Head Charm as she did. A few months back she would have hugged him – that was a thing of the past. The disease not only spread through the air but by contact with an infected party as well.

‘I wanted to talk to you and James and Lily, Al. Where’s everyone?’ She smelled something good in the air. ‘Is Aunt Ginny cooking today?’

Albus followed her through the hallway. ‘No, Dad’s cooking. Mum’s up in bed. She wasn’t feeling well. Lily’s up in her room. I’ll call her, if you like. You can go to James’s room. I don’t know how much talking we’ll all do though.’ He stepped around her and ran up the stairs. He was on the final step when he said, over his shoulder, ‘Don’t forget the charm when you go in.’

‘I won’t,’ replied Rose. As if she could ever forget it.

She walked up the steps slowly. The kitchen was only a few feet away from the staircase and she could here Uncle Harry pattering about inside. On the fourth step she caught a glimpse of him. His looked weary. It reminded Rose of her own father – when Hugo had been sick that was how he’d looked too. As she watched, he used his wand to send some dirty pots into the sink, where they began to wash themselves up. He turned towards the doorway and caught her watching him.

‘Hello Rose,’ he called, with a small smile.

Rose blushed, knowing she looked odd, hanging over the banister to get a better view. ‘Hi, Uncle Harry,’ she said, trying to cover up her embarrassment, before hurrying up the rest of the stairs.

James's room was the first from the staircase. Rose could hear Albus talking to Lily from her room farther down the hall as she pulled out her wand and re-did the Bubble Head Charm. She wondered if she should knock first or walk right in. Knocking might wake him… then she realized that as she was here to talk, she’d have to wake him eventually.

She knocked quietly from instinct but it seemed that James was already awake. She heard his voice and decided that he’d allowed entry. She opened the door an inch and squeezed through.

James’s room was dark. He hadn’t switched on any lights after the sun had set.

‘Should I turn a light on?’ she asked softly, wondering why she was whispering.

For a while, she only heard ragged breathing, but then James replied. ‘I… If it’s okay…’ His voice trailed off into nothingness.

Rose understood. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t need light. Really.’ It was true. She’d been in James’s room millions of times and unless he’d redecorated recently, she could maneuver herself with ease. She walked carefully across the carpet so that she wouldn’t trip over anything and then took a seat on the very edge of James’s bed, trying not to disturb him.

She could see his outline by the light of the moon that streamed through the window just over his bed. His back was to her, his face towards the light. Rose wanted to touch him, to hold his hand, to comfort him somehow, but she was scared to get that close. She didn’t want to catch the disease, no matter what. She didn’t want to die. Just being in this room was bad enough and if Uncle Harry or Aunt Ginny or her own parents found out they’d probably have something to say about it. Something about how she should never put herself at any extra risk, even for a cousin.

Feeling a spurt of rebelliousness at the thought of being scolded, Rose reached out and put a hand on James’s arm. His blanket was covering him, which probably decreased the risk, but Rose’s instincts still made her want to snatch her hand back as soon as she’d touched her cousin. She fought with her fear and kept her hand where it was.

James didn’t speak and Rose decided that he’d fallen asleep.

For some reason she spoke anyway. She knew it was stupid and reckless and that if what she was planning didn’t work then she’d be getting James’s hopes up. But she wanted so much to tell him something that would make him try to fight it. People just gave up now, when they were diagnosed. Fighting was useless, wasn’t it, when there was no doubt of death?

‘I found a cure,’ Rose said softly.

‘What?’

It wasn’t James who’d spoken; it was Albus. He and Lily had entered the room noiselessly, bubbles in place around their heads. She could see their faces in the dim light now that her eyes had adjusted. Albus looked shocked. Lily, however, looked like she could throttle Rose.

‘Why are you telling him that?’ she exclaimed in a whispered screech. ‘What are you going to get out of it? Are you trying to fill his head with lies?’

‘I wasn’t—’

‘Did you tell that to Hugo too? Did you get his hopes up? And now you’re here—’

‘SHUT UP!’

It was James. He’d sat up and was now facing Lily. Rose couldn’t see his face clearly but she guessed he was glaring at his sister. His breathing was loud and more labored than usual.

‘We’re not going to do this to each other, do you understand me?’ he said, facing Lily but speaking to all three of them. ‘We’re not going to do this.’ He slumped back on his pillow suddenly and Albus, Lily and Rose all jerked forward to help him, but he pushed them away by raising his hands. He faced Rose and now, the moonlight from the window splayed over his face.

Rose swallowed hard. He was pale and thin and his face was contorted with pain. It wasn’t as bad as it would get, but Rose could tell it was still hard to bear. She wished she could do something for him, she wished she could have done something for Hugo; she wished this had never happened.

‘So why’d you come Rose?’ asked James. Albus and Lily faced their cousin too.

It took Rose a moment to find her voice. ‘I— well, I found a cure. I did.’ She lifted up Snape’s book. ‘In here – it belonged to Severus Snape, and there’re instructions written in there for a potion to cure a rare illness, and all the symptoms match what’s happening to everyone now. But it’s incomplete. And the only way I can complete it is to find Severus Snape and ask him to finish it.’

‘Snape’s dead,’ said Albus. ‘You know that.’

Rose fidgeted on the bed, well aware that what she was about to suggest would be met with looks that said “well, you’re nuts�. She barreled on anyway. ‘I know. I want to go back in time. I want to find Snape before he dies and make sure that he doesn’t – doesn’t die, that is.’ Just the thought sent a shiver up her spine.

As she’d expected, James, Albus and Lily were all struck silent. Rose could see Albus’s eyebrows scraping his hairline.

It was Lily who spoke first. ‘You want to make an antidote?’

Rose smiled. She and Lily had always been able to guess what the other was thinking. Neither of them had a sister and the closest thing they’d ever get was each other. Her outburst earlier had shocked Rose because nothing of that sort had ever happened before. It was the stress, she told herself. Her brother was dying – what could she expect? Rose hadn’t been terribly friendly when Hugo had been…

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘An antidote for Nagini’s poison. I need your help – I’m no good at potion making.’

Albus snorted. ‘Rose, Lily and I are worse than you at it . Slughorn didn’t know what to make of us.’

The three of them turned simultaneously towards James. He had always been excellent with Potions. Slughorn hadn’t known what to make of him either. James looked at them, propped up in his bed, with a sardonic smile on his face. ‘I’d love to help you Rosie, but there’s a slight problem. I’m dying. It’ll only get worse as the days go on.’

‘You don’t have to do anything,’ Rose pleaded. ‘Just give me instructions. I’ll sit in here with you, everyday. I won’t leave till it’s done. You won’t have to move a muscle – just help me prepare an antidote. Please. I want to make people better. I want to make you better.’

‘How do you know he’ll help, if you end up saving him?’ asked James, frowning at her. ‘I don’t think he’d agree.’

‘I know him better than you,’ blurted out Rose.

Lily raised an eyebrow. ‘Rose, you’ve read about the man. You don’t know him.’

‘But I think I’ll be able to get him to agree. Please. I just need help. I have to do this,’ Rose pleaded, gazing at each of her cousins in turn.

There was silence for a long time after that, but everyone knew it had been decided. Their silence was agreement enough. Rose prayed that it would not all be in vain.

**

It took what felt like forever to make the antidote. Rose had found a list of instructions for it while going through Snape’s book again the day after she and her cousins had decided what to do. Rose suspected that Severus had always feared an attack from Nagini, or that he’d managed to convince Voldemort somehow that they might someday need to save someone who Nagini had bitten – Rose’s Uncle Harry was proof of this. Nagini had bitten him when he and Rose’s mother had gone to Godric’s Hollow and had Nagini managed to drag Harry away, Rose was positive Voldemort wouldn’t have wanted him dead on return – he’d have wanted to kill Harry himself.

Whatever the case, it seemed that Snape had managed to get a hold of some of Nagini’s venom and make an antidote. James remarked, after looking over the instructions, that the antidote was somewhat common; he’d read about it before in one of his books and the fact was, it had to be common – Harry had gotten bitten and Hermione had managed to heal him. Had Nagini’s poison been special, Rose’s mother would never have had any chance of saving Harry.

To check James’s theory, and ensure that the antidote would work, Rose managed to corner her mother and weasel her healing methods out of her. She admitted that she’d used a potion that, at that time, hadn’t been terribly common. The same snake that had bitten Uncle Harry two years before the Godric’s Hollow incident had attacked Rose’s grandfather and the Healers had managed to concoct an antidote. Hermione had gotten hold of some of it and taken it along when she, Harry and Ron had left home to find the Horcruxes.

Hermione asked why Rose wanted to know and when she explained (not untruthfully) that she’d seen an antidote for the snake’s poison in Snape’s notes, Hermione said she wouldn’t have been surprised if Severus Snape himself had sent the potion and instructions on how to make it to the Healers of St. Mungo’s, when Grandpa Weasley had been injured.

There was much, she said, they didn’t know about the man. Rose heartily agreed.

**

The potion was finished a fortnight later. It would have been done much earlier but Rose had been unable to get some of the ingredients immediately. Apparently, the Apothecary owner in Diagon Alley didn’t sell Newt’s Root to eighteen-year-old girls, even if they were related to Harry Potter. It had taken a lot of cajoling and a note from Harry Potter himself to get all the ingredients, but as Albus pointed out while they’d been adding Harry’s signature to the note, it would all be worth it in the end. No one would care about a bit of forgery if they cured the wizarding world of this epidemic.

Alongside the antidote, Rose had been brewing another potion: the Polyjuice Potion. She needed a Time-Turner and there was really only one way to get it.

‘I swear, I’m never doing that again,’ said Albus, storming into James’s room, where James and Rose were busy admiring Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. He thrust a Time-Turner into Rose’s hand as Lily burst into the room, her face red as a tomato.

‘Do you know Dad almost caught me?’ she screeched, wide-eyed, at the others. She leaned against the door, gasping, as the remaining effects of the Polyjuice Potion wore off. Rose watched, fascinated, as her father morphed back into her cousin. Her hair was long again, her eyes brown.

Albus’s transformation back into himself has less spectacular – he looked so much like Harry as it was.

The two siblings flopped down on the carpet, still feeling the adrenaline rushing through their veins.

‘No one suspected though, did they?’ asked Rose.

Albus shook his head and when he’d caught his breath properly replied, ‘Nah. We told them the Auror Office needed a Time-Turner for a special mission. The Unspeakable we met never even blinked. Lucky Dad’s head of office, otherwise we’d have needed some sort of Letter of Approval.’

Lily caught her second wind and said, ‘I never want to be a boy again. Especially not a boy who happens to be my Uncle. You have no idea how it feels when—’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Rose cried out, covering her ears quickly, as Albus and James snickered. ‘That’s my dad you’re talking about! I don’t want to hear anything gross, I’ll never be able to look at him the same way again!’

‘Well, I never will be either,’ said Lily, shuddering.

‘Lucky we’ve had the Invisibility Cloak all this time,’ remarked Albus.

Rose nodded. She needed the Cloak to ensure no one saw her and if she had asked Uncle Harry, there would have been too many unanswerable questions. James had nicked the Cloak off his father in his third year, and Harry had never really taken it back.

Everything was set.

Rose took a deep breath, looking around at her cousins. ‘Thanks for helping me out here.’

James rolled his eyes. ‘Did you ever think we wouldn’t help? We’re in this together.’

Rose was about to reply when James’s breath caught in his throat. With shocking suddenness, his entire body began to convulse and shake. Rose had seen this with Hugo but it didn’t stop her from jumping to her feet. Her heart was somewhere in the region of her throat.

Albus and Lily sprang to their feet.

‘Should I get Dad?’ Albus demanded.

It was over before Rose had time to register Al’s words.

James collapsed onto his mattress, no longer rigid. He face was twisted with pain and tears had leaked unasked out of his eyes. Rose could see the effort it took not to scream out.

‘Get the cure, Rose,’ cried James through clenched teeth. ‘Get the cure because I can’t keep this up. I just can’t.’

**

The Crashes of Battle

The crashes and booms of battle welcomed Rose to the past.

She arrived near the great Whomping Willow, just out of reach of its flailing branches. The night was unusually dark but she could see the signs of war: jets of light flew around in the darkness, occasionally illuminating the caster; in the distance the Black Lake was in an uproar, waves thrashing about like the ocean during a storm; the Forbidden Forest was swaying as one, magnanimous and terrifying.

Rose clutched at the Invisibility Cloak in fear, her teeth chattering of their own accord. She turned slightly and saw a boy being hit by a green light. He fell, not gracefully, not elegantly, but like a person who’d lost all control of their body. Rose opened her mouth to scream, but no sound left her. She had never seen someone die like that, instantly, fighting one second, dead the next.

Just then, she spotted someone she recognized. For a moment, she thought it was Albus – they looked so much alike – but then it hit her. It was her Uncle Harry. He’d just arrived at the Whomping Willow, only a foot away from her. He was looking at the trunk of the large tree, and just before Rose turned to follow his gaze, she spotted her own parents. They ran up to Harry, panting and out of breath and Rose heard her father say something about Crookshanks but Rose was too dazed to follow their short conversation properly. She was seeing her parents and her uncle when they’d been her age. They couldn’t have been older than she was, and it was quite possible that they were all slightly younger.

Around them, the battle swept on. Ron lifted his wand and used a tree branch to stop the Willow’s branches. Harry seemed to hesitate, as Rose watched from under her own Invisibility Cloak, but Ron quickly pushed him forward and Harry took the hint and slipped into passage beneath the tree.

Rose waited until all three of them had entered before walking forward herself. She peered down into the earthy passage and wondered if she’d fit with the Cloak on. If her parents saw her there would be no telling what could happen. Rose didn’t think either Ron or Hermione would recognize her for who she was, but what explanation would she have for following the trio into the Shrieking Shack?

It was a claustrophobic journey. The tunnel was so cramped the Rose had to crawl through it – her parents and Harry were doing the same ahead. It was difficult to keep quiet – Rose had to control the urge to start hyperventilating. She hated cramped spaces and this place was dark and earthy too. Rose couldn’t light her wand so she followed the very dim light coming from upfront where Harry had illuminated his wand.

It seemed to take forever for the tunnel to start sloping upwards. Rose could hear her mother telling Harry to put the Cloak on, just before Harry put his wand out. Rose hesitated, and then realized that the entrance to the tunnel seemed to be blocked by something. She watched, straining her eyes, as Harry crept right up to the edge of the exit and peered through a small crack between the tunnel wall and the obstacle, from which a sliver of light was entering. Rose realized she wouldn’t be able to see anything. She needed to get closer!

Rose wondered if she’d be able to Apparate from this tunnel to the front of the Shrieking Shack, in Hogsmeade. She couldn’t do it here, so close to her parents but Apparation was her only choice. She’d try it from further away and hope that everyone ignored the noise it’d make, hoped they’d think it was an explosion from the battle above. She managed to squeeze around herself and turn back. For a few minutes she speed-crawled the opposite way through the tunnel, until it flattened out. There she pulled out her wand and sucked in as much air as she could before doing her best to turn on the spot.

It worked. When she opened her eyes, she was standing at the front door of the large, intimidating building. It was boarded up but Rose took out her wand and managed to quietly burn through the pieces of wood that blocked the door. She pushed through the door, ran through the front hall and scrambled up the stairs, praying she was heading in the right direction.

She found the door. It was half-open and Rose, pulling the Cloak tighter around herself, crept closer. She saw a wooden crate in the corner; her parents and Harry were behind that. She saw Severus Snape standing near the box, a dark-haired, dark-eyed, tall man who, at that very moment, looked anything but daunting. Her heart twisted with combined amazement, shock and excitement as she set eyes on the living man for the first time in her life. Then she saw Lord Voldemort.

Rose had not been born with the fear of Voldemort’s name, but she was sure as hell afraid of the man himself. His red eyes were focused on Snape, his snake-like face expressionless. His long, white, unearthly fingers curled around a wand. Behind him was a strange looking sphere floating in mid-air. In it a snake coiled and uncoiled – Nagini. Fear swathed Rose, her heart was beating so hard she felt sure it would burst forth from her chest.

‘The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus,’ Voldemort was saying, his voice smooth and terrible, ‘because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine.’

‘My Lord!’ Snape said, lifting his wand, and Rose sensed his fear.

‘It cannot be any other way,’ replied Voldemort silkily. ‘I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand and I master Potter at last.’

Rose was so shocked to hear Voldemort utter her Uncle’s name, despite the fact that she’d heard all the stories, despite the fact that she knew Voldemort had been after Harry, that she almost missed what happened next. The realization that the threat had been so real, that it was more than a story to tell the children, was so astounding that it took Rose a second to grasp what was happening.

Voldemort had flicked his wand, the snake behind him, sphere and all, swept forward, and surrounded Severus, enclosed his head and shoulders. Voldemort hissed something softly and suddenly, the snake struck. Rose stumbled away from the door as Severus screamed, clutching her wand in one hand; her other hand was clamped over her own mouth to keep from screaming out. She collapsed against the wall just outside the door, as Severus fell to the floor inside.

In the Invisibility Cloak, pressed against the wall, Rose clapped her other hand over her mouth as well and squeezed her eyes closed.

She heard Voldemort cold voice from inside. ‘I regret it,’ he murmured. Rose heard movement from inside, another muffled thump and suddenly Voldemort was sweeping past her. Tears streamed from Rose’s eyes and she screamed in her mind, prayed that he wouldn’t hear her thoughts or see her somehow or hear her breathing. She kept her eyes clamped shut until she heard a sound from inside.

‘Take… it… Take… it…’ someone was rasping in a terrible voice.

Rose opened her eyes and crawled, on shaking limbs, back to the door. Harry was leaning over Snape; something was pouring from Severus’s mouth, his ears, his eyes – something silver, not red. Rose watched Hermione appear from the tunnel, conjure a flask, and thrust it into Harry’s hand. Using his wand, Harry pushed the silvery substance into the flask.

As soon as the flask was full, Snape whispered something else, which, even in the silence, Rose could not hear. Harry looked right at Snape and then, without warning, Severus’s hand slipped from where it had been grasping Harry’s robes, and thudded to the floor.

Harry remained kneeled next to Snape for a long moment and didn’t move until a voice suddenly exploded into the Shack and caused him to spring to his feet. Rose’s heart jumped into her throat – but Voldemort hadn’t returned to the Shrieking Shack. His voice was reverberating from somewhere outside, filtering through the walls and the floor.

Rose didn’t hear his words. Her eyes were glued to Snape’s body. She wanted Harry and her parents to leave and leave quickly. He couldn’t die, not yet. But she couldn’t see his chest moving at all.

Ron and Hermione said something to Harry and the three of them left though the tunnel soon after. Rose waited a total of five seconds before getting shakily to her feet and rushing into the room.

Please, please, don’t let him be dead.

She tumbled to the floor next to him, threw off the Cloak and pulled a vial of the antidote she had James had made out of her pocket. She pressed two fingers to Snape’s wrist as James had instructed her, and felt a faint pulsing there – he was alive, but barely. It took a moment to get the cork off the vial with her trembling fingers but she did eventually. She put her hand under Snape’s head, getting blood all over herself in the process, and lifted him up, before pouring the antidote into his throat. She kept a few drops in the vial and rubbed these directly onto the wound on Severus’s neck. And then she pulled out a flask of Blood-Replenishing Potion and poured this into Severus’s mouth too, rubbing at his throat to get him to swallow. Her teeth chattered as she worked.

He didn’t wake immediately but Rose hadn’t expected him to. Now she needed to get him away.

She, Albus, Lily, and James had discussed all sorts of places they could take him – Grimmauld Place, the Burrow, Snape’s own house – all were almost certainly empty at this time. But all were also wizarding areas and Rose didn’t know if they were being watched or not. In the end, she and her cousins had decided that the safest place to go would be somewhere surrounded by mostly Muggle people. Luckily enough, Rose knew a perfect place. And she knew without a doubt that the place would be empty and without any protection against witches and wizards entering unannounced. And she was pretty sure that with Harry Potter at Hogwarts, and the house’s usual occupants long gone, the place wouldn’t be under surveillance.

Putting a hand on Snape’s wrist, Rose did her best to cover herself and him with the Invisibility Cloak (just in case), stowed her two now-empty vials in her pocket again and, wand in her right hand, spun slightly on the spot.

With a crack that no one heard, Rose Weasley and Severus Snape vanished from the Shrieking Shack… and with another crack that three Muggles heard, arrived in front of Number Four, Privet Drive. The three Muggles all ran to peek through the curtains hanging on their windows, but when they didn’t see anything unusual, decided the sound had been made by a car backfiring and returned to their beds.

Down on the street and under her Invisibility Cloak, Rose had forgotten she was a witch and was trying to drag Snape into the house without hurting him more than she had to. When it occurred to her to use magic, she rolled her eyes at herself and flicked her wand at Severus’s body. He rose into the air and the Invisibility Cloak fell off his feet, but there was nothing Rose could do about that but hurry. She used Alohamora on the front door and guided Severus inside. She closed the door after her, locked it with magic and used a few spells that her father had taught her to avoid detection.

She set Snape down on the couch in the living room and slumped onto the loveseat across from him.

Severus was now breathing visibly but showed no signs of waking and Rose, for the first time since she’d arrived in the past, found herself surrounded by peace and quiet. Flashes of the events of the past two hours appeared before her eyes. Voldemort’s face tormented her more than once. She couldn’t stop seeing the snake lunge out at Severus. She looked at his still form across the table that separated their two couches and realized the Voldemort had taken his life – or tried to take his life – without a second thought, for a wand. For a wand that would kill Harry Potter. Rose was suddenly struck with fear for her uncle, even though she knew he survived. Would keeping Severus Snape alive have any consequences on the events of the night?

The flashes of Voldemort, Snape and Nagini were suddenly merged with flashes of Hugo’s final days, of Scorpius’s funeral. Rose had watched them lower the body into the earth. It had been a quiet funeral, with only his parents and grandparents at his side. Rose hadn’t asked to be present – she’d watched everything from behind a tree, but had seen Draco Malfoy glance at her more than once. She was sure he’d seen her but he hadn’t told her to leave. No one had.

Sometimes she wished someone had told her to leave. She’d seen her best friend’s lifeless face and the sight would never leave her. And because they had almost been more than best friends the pain would never leave her either. Why had God killed him? And Hugo? And why was God killing James? Why?

How could she fix this? She watched Snape’s chest rise and fall. Would he ever wake up? Would he even help her? What would she say to him? How would she get him to help her? Why would he help her? What if James died while she was here, waiting? What if there was a time limit? What if the cure only worked at a specific time?

What if the cure didn’t work at all?

Rose wasn’t a crier, but the past few months had done a lot to convert her into one. The thought that this might all be for nothing brought a flood of tears and with a shuddering breath, before she could even control it, she was crying. Crying as she hadn’t cried in ages. She was crying for Scorpius, Hugo, James, and every other child who’d died in such pain and lost a life that could have been so full. She cried for her parents and for her aunt and uncle and she cried for the people at Hogwarts who were fighting for their lives and she cried for that boy she’d seen die. She cried in anger and belated fear and grief. She cried for Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin and Fred Weasley and Sirius Black and all the relatives and friends she was never able to meet, who had died already in this time or would die soon. She cried for Albus Dumbledore who’d worked so hard, only to lose his life in the end, never to see the fruits of his labor. Most of all, Rose realized, she cried for the man lying still across from her who had been killed mercilessly and disrespectfully, who had been left to die, bleeding on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack, with absolutely no one he cared for by his side, with no one to thank him for what he’d sacrificed. It was all so real – nothing like what she’d read.

James had been right. Why would he help her? What did he need to give to the world? Why would a man so scorned ever agree to what she needed him to do?

The tears stopped eventually, and Rose was left curled on the couch with wet cheeks and swollen eyes and the recognition that saving Severus Snape had been the easy part – convincing him to help her would be next to impossible.

**

Meeting the Potion’s Master

‘Who are you?’

The voice scared the living daylights out of Rose who had been nodding off on the loveseat, thoroughly exhausted. Her legs and arms sprang into involuntary action and Rose was on her feet, wand in hand, three seconds after the voice had entered her ears. It took another second for her to wake up fully, and when she did, her eyes fell on the man on the couch across from her. He was sitting up now, staring at her with a contemptuous look on his face. He was still pale, but at least he was alive and awake.

Rose’s heart slowed to its natural speed and she quickly stowed her wand away and sat back down, nervous.

‘Are you feeling okay?’ she asked awkwardly. His opaque stare made her want to fidget and look away, like a naughty schoolgirl. I’m eighteen, she told herself firmly. I have every right to be here. I’m not a student and he can’t punish me. Stop acting intimidated.

‘Who are you?’ Severus repeated, his black eyes like gimlets to her blue ones.

‘I – I – I—’ stuttered Rose, wondering how to explain.

‘If you fail to recall even your own name, then I am at a loss to understand how you helped me, as I suspect you have,’ said Snape flatly.

The goad launched Rose into speech. ‘I’m Rose Weasley,’ she blurted out.

Snape looked surprised in spite of himself. ‘Rose… Weasley.’

Rose could tell he thought she was lying. ‘Yes. I came here from the future and I need your help.’

‘You need my help.’

‘There’s a disease – in my time – it’s ravaging the new generation. Children are dying… I – I need a cure.’

‘A cure.’

Rose felt that he could at least stop repeating her own words. It was making her feel even more nervous that she already was. She wouldn’t say anything more until he gave her something to reply to.

‘I cannot help you.’

‘Yes, you can!’ insisted Rose. ‘I’ve seen a cure, in one of your books’— she reached into pocket (it had been helpfully enlarged by Albus) and extracted the red leather book —‘but it isn’t complete. You have to finish it!’

Severus raised an eyebrow. ‘I should have made myself clearer – I will not help you.’

Rose had expected it and yet the words still felt like a slap in the face – you silly little girl, did you really think this could work, taunted her mind. Rose searched her mind for some sort of retort. Something that would make Severus help her – that would convince him that it was the right thing to do.

But did he care what the “right thing� was? Hadn’t he been doing the “right thing� for the majority of his life? Look where it had taken him – to the brink of death, murdered by his own “master�, distrusted by those he was truly allied to, hated by the boy he was trying to save. Rose, sitting on the couch across from Severus Snape, a man she’d only seen in portrait-form, a man whose voice she was hearing for the first time, a man who she’d heard so many stories about, knew that he didn’t care what the right thing was and that he’d only mock her if she brought it up.

Perhaps “duty� would do the job. Rose had heard all about Severus Snape over the years, from Professors, from the media, from friends of the family, from her mother, from her father, from her uncle. Each spoke about him in a different tone of voice, and every story they told, was told differently – Rose had realized that Severus Snape was not an easy man to like. And nor was he an easy man to hate. Her parents and her uncle harbored a lot of regret over what had happened between Severus Snape and them over the years – regret and anger and sadness. The relationship between Harry and Snape had been particularly harsh, and Rose personally felt both parties were to blame. She was an outsider, had never met Snape, had never felt the need to hate him or like him, and so her opinions of him were as unbiased as they could be. She’d heard about the man from so many sources and put together her own image.

To Rose, the crux of the matter was this: through everything that had ever happened between Severus and Harry, Severus had never turned away from his “duty�. He’d sworn to Albus Dumbledore that he would do his job, and he did do his job. If Rose could inject duty into her cause, then perhaps Severus Snape would bend,

He’d been sitting silently all this time and Rose wondered if this was natural. He hadn’t begun questioning her, hadn’t shouted at her and hadn’t asked what had happened to Voldemort or what was happening at Hogwarts—

Hogwarts! That was it; Rose had the key – now to see if it fit the lock.

‘You’re Headmaster,’ pointed out Rose.

Snape’s dark eyes rose to meet her. ‘And your point?’ he said sharply.

‘There are Hogwarts students dying in my time – many are already dead. As Headmaster you’re bound to protect and defend the students of your school – past, present or future. It’s your duty.’

Rose waited for his response with baited breath, leaning back into the loveseat. There was nothing left to try if this didn’t work – she’d have to go back home and tell James that she didn’t have anything for him. And the thought of doing that was more that torture.

Lily was right, she never should have mentioned the cure to James at all, the only thing it had done was bring his hopes up—

‘Very well, I will help you. Just this once.’ Snape’s reply was cool and seemingly calculated but Rose had absolutely no idea what he meant by “just this once�. She wouldn’t be around to ask him any more favors once the cure was ready. ‘After which, you shall return me here, to this exact moment. If you hadn’t noticed, we are in the middle of war. I cannot waste time,’ he continued, an odd look, maybe even something like concern, passing over his face.

Rose didn’t speak – she didn’t know if she could allow him to return to this time… he was supposed to be dead, and allowing him to go on fighting as he seemed to want to do would be changing history. SHe decided she’d cross that hurdle when she got to it.

‘I’ll help,’ Rose offered, ready to do anything to get the cure. ‘Ingredients, materials, anything.’

‘If you insist,’ said Snape. ‘The first thing you shall do is take me to my house – I will require certain texts if the potion is to be completed.’

‘Fine,’ agreed Rose abruptly.

‘After which, you will provide me with a patient to work on.’

Rose felt taken aback. A patient? How would she bring him back a patient?

‘Th-That’s impossible. People aren’t just a little ill, sir, they’re a lot ill. I can’t bring them back to this time. And what if the disease spreads here?’ The “sir� had been accidental, but Rose didn’t know how to take it back. The thought was swept from her mind at Severus’s next words.

‘Then, it seems, your only option is to take me back with you.’

**

Take him back home?

The idea was simply ludicrous. It was insane. It was a death wish. Rose’s mouth was hanging open, her eyebrows were hovering somewhere over her head. She could just imagine her mother’s expression – not to mention her father’s and Uncle Harry’s and Aunt Ginny’s and… and it was her only option.

Snape was right. If she wanted a cure, if she wanted James and all the other dying kids better, then she’d just have to take the risk of getting caught. If the cure worked (and it would, it had to) then no one would ever remember or care what’d she’d done to get the potion.

‘All right,’ Rose agreed.

Severus stood up slowly and Rose watched him, wondering if he’d fall. She’d given him all the Blood Replenishing potion she’d brought – if it hadn’t been enough… but it seemed it had been sufficient. Snape looked pale but for all Rose knew, he always looked pale.

‘Where are we?’ he asked after a minute.

‘Er – Privet Drive. Uncle Harry used to live here when he was a kid.’ Not so long ago from now, that meant.

‘And you found this the most appropriate place to hide?’ asked Snape, sounding incredulous.

‘I – er – yes, well… there are no wizards around and I thought everyone would leave us alone…’ Rose trailed off under Snape’s gaze and wondered why she felt so nervous around him. She was never shy.

‘Shall we Apparate there?’ she asked, changing the subject. She needed to get a grip on herself; she was acting like someone she didn’t know, like all the soft girls she’d hated at school.

‘My house is under protection,’ Snape informed her. ‘We will Apparate into the town and from there, go to the house.’

‘Fine.’ She waited a second but Severus produced no wand. ‘I don’t know where your house is,’ Rose told him.

‘I have no wand – you will lend me yours.’

Rose felt odd giving up her wand, especially to Snape, and most especially because he’d not asked but ordered, and rudely at that, but she did so, with only the smallest amount of hesitation. However, she sensed, somehow, that Severus had registered her uncertainty. Rose felt something strange in the pit of her stomach and, as she walked around the coffee table that separated them, wished she’d just handed him the wand immediately.

Facing him, she held out her hand. Severus’s fingers curled around her wrist, Rose’s wand held in his right hand. Rose felt a strange little shiver run up her spine and hoped that Snape had enough energy to Apparate. If he didn’t, they’d both be Splinched and whole lot of good that would do.

But they reached the village Severus lived in without any complications. Rose even managed to control her overwhelming fear. It didn’t seem to be much of a village, Rose decided as she followed Snape down the road. There were only a few grungy looking houses lining the street and only one working lamppost, which flickered ominously. Rose glanced at it and realized that this was a Muggle village.

As they walked, Roses mind slipped back to the predicament of returning to her time with Snape. If it was possible, she wanted to get through the entire episode without being caught. She couldn’t possibly take him to her own home – since Hugo’s death, her parents had never left the house.

And if she took him to the Potters’ house – Rose didn’t want to think about it. They might be able to slip past Harry and Ginny, if one of them didn’t open the door and if whoever did open the door didn’t scream when they realized she’d brought Snape along. But what then? Take him up to James’s bedroom and hide there until Severus had finished experimenting? Harry and Ginny spent a lot of time with James, as Rose had found out over her many visits in the past fortnight, and keeping a cauldron of bubbling antidote hidden from them had been hard enough. A full grown man – who just happened to be their old Potion’s Master (not to mention dead) would be almost impossible to keep secret.

There was also the fact that if Rose spent too much more time holed up in her cousin’s room, either her parents or her Aunt and Uncle would get worried that she’d touch something infected (James, or one of his possessions) and get sick herself – or that she’d forget the Bubble-Head Charm altogether. Hugo’s things had been sterilized before Rose had been allowed inside after her brother’s death. There was always the danger of forgetfulness – just brushing against the wrong thing with your skin could be fatal. Rose had always worn full-sleeves and long pants, or robes (which were always covered the body completely) on her visits but she suspected that Harry or Ginny might start worrying about her (after all, her parents had already lost one child) and ask her not to come over so often.

Rose hurried forward to walk beside Snape. ‘How long do you think it will take to prepare the potion?’ she asked him, slightly out of breath.

Severus didn’t look at her. His long, purposeful strides continued to carry him down the street and Rose, smaller than usual, had to jog to keep up. ‘It is impossible to say. The instructions themselves, if I recall correctly, are incomplete. I’m not even sure of all the ingredients.’

Rose fell back again, disappointed. Some help that had been. What if Uncle Harry barreled in one day to find her and Severus crouched on the carpet, brewing a potion like the best of pals? Rose couldn’t even imagine the trouble she’d be in. As it was, there had been numerous close shaves while she and James had been making the antidote. Luckily they’d gotten out of all of them rather easily. For most of that time, the potion had needed to be left alone, and they’d hidden it under James’s bed. Aside from the odd smell that Ginny had noticed one day while dusting, (James had managed to convince her that it was all in her head), there hadn’t been anything terribly incriminating to hide.

However, having Severus Snape in the room most definitely came under the heading of “Incriminating Material� and Rose was sure she couldn’t shove him under the bed suddenly if Ginny or Harry decided to pay an unexpected visit to their eldest son.

What was she going to do?

Severus had turned onto another street, and they passed a sign that read, “Spinner’s End�. Snape’s house was the first (or last, depending on how you came at it) on the cobbled road. Rose glanced up at the sky and saw an ominous looking mill chimney protruding from somewhere behind the houses opposite Snape’s.

The house was dark on the inside (for some reason, Rose had expected it to be lit) from what she could see through the curtained windows. Severus used Rose’s wand to open the door and she followed him inside.

Snape walked around, lighting lamps, and Rose examined the house.

The first thing Rose saw was that the walls were made of books. Not literally, of course, but that was how it looked. They’d stepped into a small sitting room, and all of its walls were lined with more books than Rose could count. In the middle of the room were a frayed couch, a small table, and a scruffy-looking easy chair. The house smelled musty and Rose was reminded of the red-leather book hiding in her pocket.

Snape gestured Rose to the sofa and she sat down and watched as he examined his books, his fingers tracing the titles. The candle-lit lamp hanging above them accentuated the greasiness of his hair, his hook nose, his tall frame. Rose could see why her father said he looked like he could turn into a bat at any moment.

Thoughts of her father made her cringe and once again, she was on the topic of what to do when she returned home. Biting the insides of her cheeks and watching Severus pull down one book after another, her heart more noticeable to herself than usual; Rose decided that the one thing to do was to gather all the adults in the house. She would go to her Aunt and Uncle’s and tell them that her parents really needed company – perhaps she could convince them to stay for two or three days. She’d offer to take care of James – after all, what was there to do? Nothing. There were no special medicines or herbs the ill took – there was nothing anybody could do for the disease. The sick just ate, slept, and woke like normal people – expect for the fact that they were dying, rapidly.

She’d say that she needed her cousins’ company in this time of… hardship. They could trust her – she was an adult now, and so were Albus and Lily. They could finally be trusted not to blow up the house – or worse.

It would work, Rose decided, going over her lines like an actress preparing for a show. It had to work.

Severus set a small stack of books down onto the table.

‘Have you made your decision?’ he asked.

‘There was nothing to decide,’ she replied, standing up. ‘You have to come with me.’

She stood up, walked over to him and pulled the Time Turner out from under her shirt. Severus picked up his books and Rose stood on tiptoes and slipped the chain around Snape’s neck, feeling his breath on her face as she did so.

She straightened up, flustered, and grabbed the little golden hourglass that was dangling between them, avoiding Snape’s gaze. She turned the Time Turner for the second time in six hours, pleading with God in her heart that everything, everything, worked out.

**

Back Home

‘So, I really think Mum and Dad could use the company,’ Rose finished, giving her aunt and uncle what she hoped was a pleading look. She was sure they’d want to spend as much time with James as possible, and asking them to leave seemed almost foolish.

She and Severus Snape had arrived back in Rose’s time at exactly the right moment – about five seconds after Rose had left – but not at the right place. It had taken Rose about fifteen minutes of walking, Snape getting obviously more and more irritated with each passing second, to even figure out where she was. Luckily she’d recognized the small London neighborhood eventually and she and Snape had Apparated to the Potters’ seconds after that.

Rose had had to endure Snape’s sarcastic comments while they’d walked and so it had been with immense pleasure that she’d shoved him into a shed at the rear of the Potter’s house, taken her wand back, and entered the house through the dining room window that Albus had left open for her. The boy had a sixth sense or something – it would have looked very odd if Rose had entered through the front door and her aunt or uncle had seen her – she was still covered with Snape’s blood. A Muggle woman had seen Snape, her and the blood that they were caked in. She had run screaming for the police. Rose had expected her to ask them if they needed help – she blamed Snape for being so terrifying. The poor woman had probably thought they’d just murdered someone because of the scowl he’d been wearing.

Now, having cornered Harry and Ginny in their room, Rose waited for a reply.

Harry was giving her an odd look (she’d washed all the blood off, she told herself, there was nothing to worry about) but eventually he glanced at his wife and said, ‘It sounds like a good idea. We haven’t seen Ron and Hermione for a while.’

Rose nodded quickly. ‘They need some cheering up – and who better? You should stay for a few days, it’d get me off their back for a while… I’m sure they’d be happy about that.’

‘But James…’ began Ginny worriedly.

‘Aunt Ginny, Al, Lily and I will take care of him. I promise. We’ll feed him and make sure he stays warm and we’ll owl you if anything happens. Anything it all. I swear.’

‘It’s a good idea,’ repeated Harry, apparently warming to the idea. ‘We need to get out of the house. We can trust the kids, I’m sure.’

Ginny looked from Harry to Rose to Harry, still looking uncertain. ‘Okay, then,’ she said eventually. ‘For a few days. And you’ll owl if anything happens?’

‘Immediately,’ Rose swore, trying not to grin.

Apparently, Harry and Ginny needed a vacation terribly; though they wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even themselves. They packed at lightning speed, taking enough clothes to last for two or three days, and were ready to go in ten minutes. Ginny grilled Albus and Lily at the front door, making sure they knew what to do with James and that they had to eat three meals a day or she’d kill them and that if anything, absolutely anything, went wrong they were to summon her or their father. She gave them both hugs and smiled at Rose while Harry hugged Lily and Albus as well, having returned from James room. Then Harry picked up the bags and the two of them walked down the front steps. They Apparated away just as the sun pushed its way to the top of the sky.

**

‘What was that all about?’ demanded Albus as soon as his parents had left. ‘Why’d they have to leave? Did you get the cure? Rose!’

Rose was already hurrying through the living room, into the dining room. She pushed open the window and climbed out of it, stumbling slightly as she landed. Albus and Lily were right behind her clamoring to be told what had happened. Rose slammed open the shed door and found Snape sitting on an overturned wooden crate, going through one of his books. Rose suddenly wanted to laugh and the urge became overwhelming when Snape looked up and saw Albus and Lily gaping at him. Rose looked from her cousins to Severus and had to bite her cheeks to hold in the unexpected laugh.

The fact that getting her aunt and uncle out of the house had been so easy had boosted Rose’s confidence. This was going to work.

‘Rose, what did you do?’ screeched Albus, his glasses slipping down his nose in shock.

‘I had to bring him back Al,’ replied Rose. ‘He needs a patient to work on.’

‘Do you know what this could do? He’s supposed to be de—’

‘Considering, Mr. Potter, that am standing right in front of you, I would appreciate it if you ceased referring to me in the third-person.’

Severus’s bored interruption shut Albus up for about five seconds.

‘How’d you know my name?’ Al asked, stunned.

‘I except that to be obvious,’ replied Severus languidly. He didn’t seem to find it uncomfortable that he was surrounded by three people he hardly knew, two of whom were staring at him as if he was a ghost. ‘If you’ve looked in a mirror recently, you’d have noticed you look exactly like your father.’

‘You sound exactly like your portrait,’ Lily said in awe.

This seemed to confuse Snape. ‘My portrait?’

‘Never mind that,’ announced Rose. They could talk all they wanted later but right now she needed a cure.

‘We have your patient,’ she informed Snape. ‘He’s upstairs.’

‘Then I suggest you lead the way, and we get this over with,’ answered Severus.

Rose had already started walking before Snape had replied but on hearing his words she stopped short. Severus bumped into her from behind, his books poking her in the back before she turned around.

‘�Get this over with�? Where do you have to go?’ she asked him.

‘I, Miss Weasley, have my own life to take care of.’

‘Your own life? I saved your “own� life! The least you could do is act like this is worth your time.’

‘You saved my life for your own purposes, Miss Weasley,’ said Snape and Rose saw something bitter in his black eyes. ‘I have no reason to be grateful to you. Rather the opposite.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Rose angrily. ‘Did you want to die?’

‘Is there anything left that the world can give me?’ retorted Snape icily. ‘You, Miss Weasley, should know that. I assume you’ve researched me thoroughly. I assume your parents weren’t so arrogant as to ignore the fact of my existence in their past. And yet you require gratefulness.’

His tone was mocking now and fury rose in the pit of Rose’s stomach.

‘It is you who should be grateful to me, like so many other people I have aided in the course of my life, and yet, I get little gratitude. So why, Miss Weasley, do you think that a man such as myself would not be, after the fact, glad to die?’ His voice could have frozen the Black Lake over, his eyes hard and unfeeling.

Behind him, Albus and Lily were exchanging glances. Rose glared at Snape but found no words came to her in reply to his comments.

On her own, she would have had no problem saying it. However, because Snape had brought it up, because he had noticed the lack of it, Rose’s pride got in the way of the words. She had to fight to push the urge to just walk away down into the valleys of her heart. She struggled with herself for a moment before choking out, ‘Thank you, then.’

Snape’s eyebrows rose about a millimeter, almost imperceptibly. Rose turned away before he could say anything else and walked over to the dining room window and clambered in. She didn’t care if Severus would have a hard time getting through that – let him struggle.

He didn’t struggle, which annoyed Rose even more. She stopped in mid-step again, causing Snape to knock into her once more and said, over her shoulder, ‘And it’s Rose, not “Miss Weasley�!’

After which she stomped over to the stairs, feeling extremely childish.

**

She led the way to James’s room and had a hand on the doorknob when Lily shrieked out, ‘ROSE!’ causing Rose to jump a foot into the air and spin around. Her sudden stop would have caused Snape to crash into her yet again if Rose hadn’t reached out and put a hand on his chest to stop him.

‘What?’ she asked Lily, peering around Severus, highly irritated by now.

‘Bubble-Head?’ she replied, pointing at her own head. The charm was already in place around her and Albus. Rose had almost forgotten. And what she forgot could get her killed. A little fresh air in a graveyard was all right, but to go into a sick person’s room without protection? Even Rose wasn’t ready for that.

Realizing her hand was still on Snape, she removed it as if she’d been electrocuted and proceeded to pull out her wand to perform the charm. As she did so, she said to Snape, ‘You don’t need one – it only affects children.’

‘Yes, I seem to recall that,’ replied Snape, looking down at her. He seemed, though Rose really didn’t think it was possible, slightly amused. ‘Though surely you no longer come under the heading of “child�?’

Rose flushed and muttered, ‘Young people then. Everyone under twenty-five.’ She grabbed the doorknob and twisted it.

The room wasn’t dark. Even the curtains swathing the windows could not block out the light of the high noon sun. A golden light filtered though the soft velvet. Rose could see James’s silhouette by it. He was, as always, lying in bed. Of course, as Rose had only technically left here about half an hour ago, she didn’t know what else she could have expected. Harry and Ginny had recently been up to see him so Rose guessed that he was still awake and used her wand to light the candle lamp.

As soon as she did, James’s eyes flew open.

‘Rose, you’re back—’ he began but his words froze in his throat as Snape stepped into the room behind Rose and set his books down on the desk. He gaped at the tall, greasy-haired, hook-nosed, bat-like man with his mouth hanging wide open. He had paled even more from the shock but Rose still felt like he looked worse than when she’d left him thirty minutes ago. His blue eyes seemed to protrude more from his thin face, the bags under them well defined against the sallow appearance of his skin. There were small wrinkles around his eyes, possibly from the constant pain he was in. He’d lasted almost a month, Rose realized. A week longer than Hugo. Two weeks longer than Scorpius. Perhaps her finding a possible cure had given him enough hope to fight? Rose didn’t get her hopes up about that – the disease ravaged the body steadily for as long as it liked, spreading pain from limb to limb, and then one day, when it felt in the mood, it ended everything. The last day was always sudden and always the worst. She and her parents had thought Hugo had been getting better when he’d just… died. No one ever got better. If there was no cure, it wouldn’t matter how long James lasted or if he tried to fight it – he’d die eventually. Sooner rather than later.

‘What did you do?’ James’s half-shout brought Rose out of her thoughts.

‘I—’ started Rose, but Severus got there before she did.

‘She brought me back from the past because I required a patient to work on. It is the only way to ensure the potion works properly. I assume you, Mr. Potter, are the patient?’ Snape looked at Rose for confirmation and she nodded. Severus turned back to James, whose mouth had snapped shut again. His jaw was now clenched and Rose assumed that he was hurting somewhere.

‘Then you have little to complain about,’ Snape continued. ‘My presence in this time may well return your health to you.

Rose stepped forward, ready to be of assistance, but Snape held up a hand to stop her.

‘I’m sure you’re eager to begin but I was recently in a battle, not to mention injured. I require rest and food before we commence.’

‘We have food,’ piped up Lily from the doorway, voice slightly muffled by the bubble around her head.

‘And you can have my bed,’ offered Albus. He was sitting on the desk, legs swinging lazily, and staring at the titles of the books Snape had set there. Rose could see the eagerness to grab them and being reading in his eyes.

‘How about food first?’ Rose suggested. ‘I’ll bring it here.’

Severus nodded and then sat down on the desk chair that Albus kicked out from under the desk. Rose walked over to the door and was about to leave when she remembered something. ‘Al,’ she said over her shoulder before opening the door. Albus hopped off the desk after a moment of hesitation and followed her out.

Rose turned to him and whispered, ‘Don’t tell him your middle name.’

Albus grinned at her. ‘What, you think I’m insane? I don’t fancy telling him my first name either.’

Lily’s voice floated out from the partially closed door. ‘In the Headmaster’s office,’ she was saying. Snape must have given her an odd look because a moment later, she clarified, ‘Your portrait. There’s one in the Headmaster’s office. At Hogwarts.’ Lily had apparently decided to continue the conversation where they’d left off in the backyard. Rose rolled her eyes. Lily was never short for words.

‘My name’s Lily,’ Rose heard her continue. This time, Severus’s voice reached her and Albus in the hallway.

‘Lily,’ he said and it was not a question. ‘Lily… Potter?’ His tone was odd and Rose wondered what was going through his mind.

Lily must have nodded because Rose didn’t hear her again. She turned her eyes back to Albus. ‘Well, you’ll have to tell him your name eventually. But just avoid the “Severus� at all costs. Who knows how he’ll react?’

‘Probably like I did,’ Albus joked.

Rose laughed quietly. ‘What, throw a tantrum and shout that all the kids will make fun of him?’

‘Okay, maybe not.’

‘I’d better go get the food. Should I bring anything for James?’

Albus shrugged. ‘He couldn’t keep lunch down, so I don’t really know. Maybe a glass of juice.’

Rose nodded and then headed for the stairs, leaving Albus to go and confront his namesake.

Severus Snape’s arrival might have meant risking destroying both the future and the past, not to mention being caught by her parents, but, Rose decided as she jumped down the last two steps, it was all worth it. Already everyone’s spirits had been raised. There had been a light in Albus’s eyes that Rose hadn’t seen there in a long, long time.

There was a lot of food in the fridge and it took Rose a moment to decide what to take upstairs. She pulled out a small, round, uncut honeydew melon and sent it to the shelf with her wand where a knife quickly cut it in half and a melon baller began to carve it. She decided on sandwiches and quickly prepared them as the melon balls dropped themselves into a pretty bowl. Rose moved the bowl, the sandwiches and two glasses to a tray. She filled one glass with orange juice, James’s favorite, and the other with some wine she’d managed to dig out from a cupboard. She hoped Harry and Ginny didn’t notice. She and James didn’t like wine and Lily and Albus were more into Firewhiskey. A missing bottle would look odd if either her aunt or uncle remembered it and went searching one day.

She flicked her wand at the tray and it obediently rose into the air and began leading the way upstairs. She had just reached the door to James room when a voice called out from behind her.

‘Hi Rose – afternoon snack?’

It was Harry.

Rose spun around so fast she almost lost her footing. Her heart suddenly felt like it would explode and an icy cold feeling swept over her. Harry was standing at the bottom of the stairs and it seemed he had just entered the house. Behind her the tray she’d been floating bumped energetically against the door. The voices inside had all quieted slightly and before anyone could come and open the door, Rose shouted out, ‘Uncle Harry!’ with a weak laugh. Suddenly, there was silence on the other side of the door.

‘What are you doing here? You scared me,’ she squeaked. He was walking up the stairs now.

‘Sorry. I forgot something,’ replied Harry. ‘Don’t mind me, go on in.’ He gestured at her tray which was now ramming the door with unnecessary force, jostling the tall glasses. The wine and juice sloshed around precariously, on the verge of spilling from their glasses and soaking the ham sandwiches.

‘O-Oh, yeah,’ said Rose shakily and reached around the tray to turn the doorknob as Harry walked past her. As soon as he’d entered his room, Rose shot into James’s. Albus and Lily were pale and wide-eyed standing just behind the door that Rose slammed shut and backed up against it. The tray floated genially over to the desk and plopped down on it.

Even James was sitting up in his bed. ‘What are we going to do?’ he hissed.

Rose tried to calm her over-excited heart, but it was difficult. She took a deep breath and tried to think.

‘Dad’s going to kill us!’ moaned Lily.

‘There’s no way we won’t get caught,’ added Albus grimly.

Rose rubbed her face frantically and said, ‘Look, it’s really not that bad – we need a cure, right?’

‘Oh, sure we need a cure but we don’t need a dead man in our room,’ replied James. ‘How’re you going to explain this to dad?’

‘We need a cure!’ repeated Rose. ‘It shouldn’t matter to what lengths we’re going!’

‘Okay, fine, fine, forget Sev – er – Sna—’ Albus seemed to be having trouble coming up with something reasonable to call Severus. ‘Erm – Professor Snape, for a moment. How’re you going to explain brewing an antidote and Polyjuice Potion, impersonating Dad and Uncle Ron, technically stealing a Time Turner—’

‘As if he’ll know all about that just by looking into the room!’ retorted Rose. ‘And don’t act like I’m the only one who’ll have to expl—’

‘If I know your father,’ interrupted Severus, the only one who hadn’t spoken until now, ‘then there will be little need for explanations – he was always capable of forming his own.’

Rose, Lily, Albus and James all looked at Severus, each of them trying to deduce if the statement had been an insult or not – his expression had been rather deadpan. Their thought train was brought to a screeching halt when someone rattled the doorknob. Rose had still been leaning against the door and she jumped away from it as if it had speared her in the back.

‘Oh, shit,’ she heard James moan from the bed.

Harry poked his head in the room. ‘James,’ he said, eyes finding his son on the bed, ‘your mother sent me with an extremely, terribly important message, to quote her words. She wants you to get some sleep if you don’t feel like eating. But in my opinion, which is most definitely not to be expressed in front of your mother, you can do what you like. If you want to stay up and talk, be my guest. Just try to sleep tonight, okay?’

And with that, Harry shut the door.

Relief flooded through Rose so quickly that for a moment, she felt rather hysterical. She squeaked a small giggle and then collapsed onto the bed behind her, pretty much crushing James’s legs in the process. Lily and Albus’s mouths were hanging wide open and it didn’t look like they’d close anytime this millennium. Severus looked mildly surprised.

James was about to shout out a protest (Rose really was heavy) and had his hands on Rose’s back to push her off the bed when the door opened again. James’s words caught in his throat and Rose’s grin froze on her face.

This time Harry walked all the way into the room and his eyes fell directly on Severus Snape, who now stood up. The two men stared at each other and Rose thought she saw Harry close his eyes and open them again, as if he thought the man in front of him was a figment of his imagination. For one ludicrous moment, Rose considered telling her uncle that he was dreaming and shepherding him to the front door downstairs.

Harry turned to Rose before she could even cement her plan.

‘What did you do?’ he asked and his voice was so deathly quiet that Rose had to read his lips. For the first time in her life she felt truly terrified of her uncle. His green eyes were blazing at her from behind his glasses and his jaw was tightly clenched.

‘I-I—’ she stuttered, but Harry didn’t give her time to formulate any lies. Or any truths.

‘Do you have any idea what this could do to – to everything? To the world?’ exclaimed Harry.

‘I was—’

‘What would possess you to – I mean – where did you get a Time – where – how – what—?’ Harry was so furious, so astonished, that he seemed quite unable to string enough words together to form a full sentence.

Albus opened his mouth. ‘We needed—’

‘What were you thinking?’ Harry blurted out finally, apparently having regained sufficient control of his mind and tongue.

‘I’m sorry!’ shouted Rose, struggling off the bed and James’s legs. She had no idea what else to say.

‘You’re sorry? Rose, sorry isn’t enough – you’ve brought a dead man back to life! The Ministry will have noticed any changes in the course of history and Severus Snape being alive is a bloody big change! What if they – they arrest you—’

‘I don’t care!’ cried Rose. ‘I found a cure! For the disease – I couldn’t just not do anything! I can’t let James die too!’

‘And you decided to bring him here! All of us have seen him – we know he’s alive…’ Harry pushed his fingers behind his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes frantically.

‘Your niece found a cure for the disease that is killing your son,’ spoke Snape. He was still standing and Rose got the feeling that he didn’t want Harry to be in the position of power. Rose had no time to figure out how he’d made the family connection. ‘Though I know this must be terribly difficult for you, I suggest you not allow arrogance to hinder us here.’

Well, that was a good start, thought Rose.

Harry stared at Snape. ‘You haven’t changed,’ he remarked.

‘My suggestion is to do what is best for your son,’ replied Snape, not to be goaded, gesturing towards James, who was looking from his father to his possible savior with a mixture of confusion and apprehension.

‘It’s not that simple!’ said Harry firmly and Rose had a feeling he, like Albus, didn’t really know what to call Snape and was thus avoiding saying his name altogether.

‘Isn’t it? Your son is literally on his deathbed, there is a possibility that I will be able to concoct a cure – what is so complex about this matter?’

‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ replied Harry, rather coldly.

‘Of course you don’t. Because I never had children, is that correct?’ Snape’s eyes were growing harder and colder by the moment.

‘I can’t – it isn’t – it won’t matter if there is a cure or not if your existence threatens the balance of time! I’ve heard what happens when history is changed. People who’re alive and well suddenly die, disease spreads like wildfire—’

‘The latter is already a problem and you are still alive, Potter. Obviously, you have nothing to worry about,’ Snape sneered.

‘My son may be cured but what’s the risk to my niece,’ shouted Harry, pointing at Rose. ‘She brought you back—’

‘At my insistence! If anyone is to be arrested it would be me, which I’m sure would please you to no end, Mr. Potter, so I don’t not see why you continue to hinder us!’

‘Your insistence?’ Harry seemed dumbstruck.

‘It wasn’t his fault!’ said Rose suddenly, afraid of what her uncle would do to Snape. ‘I was trying to convince him, I m-made him help me—’

‘Rose, he’s an adult, not to mention Severus Snape, I’m sure he wouldn’t allow anyone to make him do anything,’ said Harry.

‘The urge to speak in third person about someone standing not two feet away seems hereditary in your family,’ muttered Snape, but it seemed only the children heard him.

‘And what will your mother say?’ added Harry.

‘Mum won’t say anything! Do you even understand what we’ve been through? How can you – I have a chance to make James better! Do you want him to die? Is that it? You want him to be like Hugo, dead, buried, away, out of your life, one less person to worry about—’

But Rose had gone much too far in her efforts to diffuse the tension of the situation and Harry’s anger was palpable. ‘That is enough Rose. You have absolutely no right to assume what I want and do not want—’

At this point, Snape butted in again. ‘Obviously Potter, you do not remember your own… pursuits. No less than the pot calling the kettle Black.’ There was particular emphasis on the final word and Rose looked from Snape to Harry as her uncle’s mouth snapped rapidly shut.

‘It is completely different,’ he said eventually, voice obviously controlled.

‘Hypocrisy was always your strong suit,’ said Snape languorously.

‘I have to have – their best – interests at heart – this is different, Snape!’

‘Of course it is – you, Potter, were always above the rules; I’m shocked that you don’t consider your children above them as well. You should’ve expected it, your father was just like you, doing whatever pleased him – did you expect your children not to be?’ Snape’s tone was harsh.

‘My father wasn’t – he didn’t – I’m not your student anymore to torture, Snape!’

‘No? You haven’t changed a great deal. Ever arrogant and immature.’

Snape’s voice was smooth as honey, unlike Harry’s. Rose couldn’t tell if it was intimidation or something else that was causing him to stutter so. He was silent for a split second after Snape spoke and Rose could almost hear the gears churning in his head.

‘And what about my mother, Snape? Ever see her in me?’ Harry barked suddenly.

There was a long silence. Rose shifted slightly to look at the ex-Potions Master. He looked paler, if possible, than usual. ‘Never,’ spat out Snape suddenly. ‘You – you—’ He seemed, for a moment, quite incapable of words. Rose had absolutely no idea what either he or her uncle was talking about. What about Harry’s mother? Severus’s chest was heaving.

‘You have no right to speak of it,’ he hissed, fists clenched at sides. His wand arm was twitching.

‘She was my mother, Snape, married to my father, how do I have no right? I am her son.’ Harry’s eyes were suddenly cold and his cheeks were red with rage. Rose had never seen this side of him before.

Whatever he’d meant, it had been obviously cruel. For a moment, it looked as if Severus had lost all ability to speak. There was a wild look in his eyes.

‘You will never be her son!’ shouted Snape. ‘You and that swine of a father of yours never deserved her! Never!’ He looked completely deranged for a moment and Rose backed away from him just as Harry spoke again.

But Rose, flushed after her recent outburst, involuntarily tuned out Harry’s next words. James, Albus and Lily, Rose could see, were becoming slowly angry at having their father attacked. She had to do something. There was one person she knew who would understand what she’d done, who’d explain it to everybody, who’d put things right.

Her mother.

Turning to the window above James’s bed, which was opened slightly, Rose lifted her wand. A jet of sliver light burst from the tip in the form of a furry ferret and shot out of the window. Mum, come quick, thought Rose as it left. The Patronus would deliver her message.

**

Love

Hermione arrived almost immediately, looking frantic. For a moment Rose felt bad at having caused her mother unnecessary concern – then Hermione’s expression changed. Her eyes fell on Snape who had returned to his seat after Harry had walked across the room and sat down on the edge of James’s bed.

‘What the bloody hell has been happening here?’ she screeched after having closed her mouth and dragged her gaze away from Snape, who was still radiating cold fury. As quickly as Hermione might have been rubbing off on Ron it seemed Ron had rubbed off on Hermione much faster. Then, glancing at Snape out of the corner of her eyes, Hermione cleared her throat and said, ‘I mean – what… happened?’

‘Rose went to the past and brought Professor Snape back,’ Harry supplied. ‘Apparently she found an incomplete cure and the only way to finish it off was to be here.’ Severus’s Black comment seemed to have hit home belatedly. He looked grim but seemed much calmer, much more like himself.

Hermione looked grimmer. She rounded on her daughter immediately. ‘What?’

Albus, Lily and James and rushed in to take some of the blame but halfway into their remonstrations James was overcome by a sudden attack of pain. He fell back suddenly and his head hit the headboard hard. Rose, Lily, Albus and Hermione all leapt forward, but Harry, already on the bed, got there first. He gently pulled James away from the headboard and lay him back down on the pillow. Rose spotted blood on the woodwork where James’s head had hit and felt an icy chill in her abdomen. James was still conscious but his jaw was clenched fiercely and it was taking all of his energy not to scream out. Rose watched him without realizing that he maybe didn’t want to be looked at in such a vulnerable state. Soft moans escaped him despite his strongest efforts. Harry’s fingers stroked his son’s hair softly.

Severus had watched this was newfound interest. ‘What does it do?’ he asked.

Hermione jumped as if she’d been shot and Rose had the vague feeling that her mother hadn’t really been convinced that it was actually Severus Snape who sat in her nephew’s room.

‘It ravages the body,’ she replied, quickly regaining her composure and looking directly at Severus. ‘As far as the Healers know it eats away at internal organs, starting with the most unimportant. In the beginning the pain is enough to kill – in the end it is the destruction of the heart and the lungs and the brain that does the job. Those organs are last to be consumed, at the very end. The sick go insane in the moments before their deaths.’ Rose saw her mother’s eyes glaze over and she knew she was thinking of Hugo and his screams. Screams that would no longer be controlled. The screams and then the silence.

Harry was watching Hermione, his hand still on his son who had fallen into a sudden, fitful sleep.

She sensed his gaze and turned to him. ‘Harry,’ she began, but he held up a hand and turned to Snape.

‘I’m—’ he struggled with himself for a long moment before continuing, ‘I’m sorry. Please, help us.’ He looked back at James. ‘Please.’

His eyes moved to Rose and she saw the apology brimming in them – she gave him a small smile. He did not need to utter the words for her.

‘That is what I plan to do,’ replied Severus sharply. ‘But as I told your children earlier – first I require rest and food.’

‘And you shall have it,’ responded Hermione. ‘Harry, I think we should go back. We need to make plans in case the Ministry arrives. The children were handling themselves very well before we arrived, I think.’

Harry nodded deftly and got up from the bed, following Hermione to the door. She held it open for him and he walked out. Hermione paused just before leaving and said, ‘I don’t want any of you to get your hopes up. We need a miracle now – and miracles are rare.’

She closed the door with a snap behind her leaving four young people and a very weary man enveloped in silence.

**

Albus had already left with Severus for his bedroom when Rose noticed the tray of food that she’d set on the desk. Lily was busy making the honeydew balls vanish. Rose, deep in thought about what Harry and Snape had shouted to each other and of how she’d heard Snape’s voice go odd when Lily had told him her name earlier. Lily had been Harry’s mother’s name too. Registering that she was watching her cousin scarf down the food she’d prepared, Rose pulled out of her thoughts for a moment.

‘Lily!’ she said. ‘Those were for Severus!’

Lily paused her chewing, swallowed, and grinned at Rose. ‘Severus, is he? You know Rose, I rather fancy you actually like that man. And by like, I mean, like.’

Rose blushed furiously. ‘I do not!’

Lily laughed. ‘Yeah, right. Tell it to the Wizengamot. I’m not a dunderhead – the way you look at him, the way you don’t stand close to him, the way you’ve always tried to get his portrait to talk to you when you’re in the Headmaster’s office… well, this has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?’

‘Shut up,’ said Rose, folding her arms and turned away from Lily to stare at the Weird Sisters’ poster hanging on the opposite wall. ‘Nothing has been a long time coming!’

Lily hopped of the desk and brushed her hands off on her rear. ‘Well, I’ll just go talk to Severus about my little theory – maybe he knows why his portrait won’t speak to you!’ She headed for the door but Rose tackled her.

‘Lils, don’t you dare!’ she screeched, pinning her cousin against the door. Behind her James murmured something in his sleep.

Lily seemed momentarily conquered by laughter. She slid to the carpet, clutching her stomach, when Rose released her hold. Rose watched her a moment, as she laughed hysterically but quietly, then rolled her eyes and turned away. She sat down on the now-vacant desk chair and sighed.

Lily wiped her streaming eyes and smiled at Rose, ‘I didn’t mean it Rosie. Maybe it’ll happen.’

‘What’ll happen?’ said Rose. ‘I don’t even know what I want to happen. He’s, at this moment, about twenty years older than me.’

Lily smiled gently, ‘Yes, but that hasn’t stopped you hoping.’

‘I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone.’

‘That hasn’t stopped you hoping,’ repeated Lily.

And it hadn’t, though Rose felt that it should have. A long, long time ago. And yet, it hadn’t.

**

Albus returned to the room a while later and announced that he did not know if Severus wanted food or not, on questioning by Rose and Lily. He had just shown the ex-Professor the bedroom, provided sheets and blankets, asked if he required nightclothes (he didn’t, and, said Albus, he didn’t really possess any that would fit the man) and then left.

Rose decided she’d go downstairs and make something fresh and take that to him. If he was still awake, fine, if not… fine. He could eat when he woke up.

With a fresh tray of sandwiches and a glass of wine in her hands, Rose made her way from the kitchen to Albus’s bedroom. She knocked on the door and when no one answered, had a little mental battle with herself outside the bedroom door. Should she just go in? What if he wasn’t decent? The thought was both exciting and terrifying and Rose was attacked by a fit of laughter at her own silliness. She was acting rather like a foolish schoolgirl.

She knocked again and walked into the room. It was dark. She could see a silhouette on the bed and suddenly felt terribly shy. She hurried over to the nightstand, set the tray down and then left the room quickly, her cheeks burning and her heart thumping, for no reason whatsoever.

**

She fell asleep on the desk chair in James’s bedroom. Albus and Lily had left to play a revised version of Quidditch, tweaked to allow a one-on-one game. Rose had dozed off in the middle of thoughts about Hogwarts Battle, Lord Voldemort, the cure, James and, because he just wouldn’t leave her alone, Severus Snape. Her dreams were the most unpleasant she had ever had. Hugo’s screams wound in and out of flashes of a bleeding Snape on the grimy wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack, James’s ashen face begging Rose to save him, Lord Voldemort’s menacing voice reverberating through the walls and a boy falling to his knees, dead, as a green light swept through him.

She awoke to soft cries and the bubbling of a potion with tears on her cheeks. Luckily, her face was on the desk resting towards the wall and not the room. She wouldn’t have recognized the sounds of crying, they were so muffled, had she not heard them once before. She raised a hand to her face and wiped away the tears as inconspicuously as possible before turning to face the room. Her neck ached, as did her back. Her arms seemed loath to come out of the position she’d had them in for – Rose glanced at the open window – the past fifteen hours, if she wasn’t mistaken. She’d slept yesterday evening, night and early morning away.

James’s face was to the wall and window but Rose spotted his shoulders shaking and felt pity flood through her. The pain was intense, Rose knew from Hugo, and it was impossible to keep the sobs down. They came of their own accord, even if you didn’t want to cry. Rose wondered if James was praying that he would die then and there – Hugo had told her in one of his more coherent moments that it was what he wished whenever he couldn’t ignore the hurting.

Severus Snape was also in the room. Rose managed a half-strangled good morning, (praying that she hadn’t been crying out loud in her sleep), which he acknowledged with a nod. He told her that her cousins had given him preliminary ingredients and a cauldron and dragged another desk into the bedroom. Rose immediately felt ashamed that she hadn’t been up, but Snape’s words hadn’t been accusatory. Only matter-of-fact. She watched him cutting up some sort of root and adding it to his potion, which he proceeded to stir with the utmost care. His brow was wrinkled in concentration. The red leather book was on the desk next to the cauldron and Rose wondered shortly how he’d gotten it. It had been in her pocket last she’d checked.

She glanced at James again and felt that perhaps they should respect his dignity and leave – but then again, Snape needed a patient and one who was close at hand. And if Snape stayed, she had every right to as well. Her heart ached for her cousin though. Trying to muffle the cries was probably making the pain worse.

She asked Severus if he’d had breakfast. He informed her that he’d eaten half of the food she’d left him yesterday, last night and the other half this morning. He was not hungry.

She felt silent after that, contented to watch him make his potion.

He was not, by any standards, even the gentlest, handsome. Nor was he even good-looking. The hair was much too greasy, the nose much too hooked, the mouth ever frowning, the lines on his face harsh, his demeanor unfriendly. Yet Rose had always found him attractive. Even his portrait radiated… power, perhaps, was the word. Confidence and pride oozed from the way he held himself. Rose had spent more time watching his portrait in the Headmaster’s office than anyone was probably aware of. She had gone to Hogwarts having heard at length what this man had gone through. She had been expecting someone who looked rather more heroic and yet, when she set eyes on his portrait, she had not been very disappointed. His dark gaze, his thin lips, his very expression had intrigued her. It had started as an obsession. She had to know everything about Severus Snape. And the more she’d learned and analyzed, the more interested she became. The obsession had, without her noticing, evolved into something much worse.

Rose wondered why she had fallen in love with a portrait. A man written about in a book – almost a storybook character. Did it matter if he’d lived at one time? It had been absurd then, at school, when she’d know he was dead.

And now? Now that the very man that portrait portrayed was standing not three feet away from her?

Would it be prudent to push her feelings away? He was, right now, at least twenty-years her elder. And technically, in real time, she was fifty years younger than him. It was ridiculous. But true.

It hurt to think that she was doomed to be rejected. It was what made her keep her mouth closed, though in her chest, her heart burned with the need to tell him. He had only just come to know her, yet she had known him almost all her life. And she had loved him for seven years.

The word “love� brought Scorpius Malfoy to her thoughts. The charming Slytherin boy who’d entered Hogwarts the same year she had, who she had found irksome (in the beginning) to say the least. He’d been in her every class, paired with her for every project, potion, spell-practice. He had been a terrible student, not stupid, not unintelligent, but terribly lazy and uncaring. He would rather have spent all of his time holed up in his dormitory inventing new spells and finding out ways to use them on her. They’d been friends and not friends. She couldn’t explain the relationship. She had helped him with studies and with rule breaking. They had traipsed through the Forbidden Forest, been sent to detention together, been made (astonishingly) Prefects. He’d gone on to make Head Boy, but she had not been bestowed the honor. The Head Girl had been one of the Hufflepuff girls, (and a cousin) Molly Weasley. Scorpius however managed to keep himself glued to her by handing out detentions for the most petty crimes and residing over them himself, insisting to the Professors that he could handle her “type� best. Thrown together at every turn, she had grown to know him and love him. Yet that love was different from this love. Was it because Scorpius had been just a boy and Severus Snape was most certainly a man?

Or was it because Scorpius had died and left her? Because he had been getting better and then he’d died? Because on the last day, she’d gone and visited him, they had laughed together, and everything had seemed better and after that, after that one day, she couldn’t find it in herself to forgive him for what he’d done. She needed him. She needed him so badly it hurt her. They had never got to make anything out of their love.

She’d stowed that pain away in a part of her heart that was secret to all – including herself, and forced herself not to think about it. Every day after his death she’d told herself that it was over, so many times that the mantra found itself into her dreams and one morning, she woke up and found herself believing it. Therefore,, she’d gone to his grave to say goodbye. And after, she’d found the red leather book. It was like Fate had spoken.

After a while, Snape’s voice broke in to her thoughts. He wanted some more ingredients and handed her a written list. Their fingers brushed as he passed her the paper. She scanned the items on it casually, feeling her cheeks grow warm and told him that she’d go to Diagon Alley immediately.

Rose didn’t think she could stand it if Fate decided to throw a twist into the bubbling plot. She didn’t think she could stand it if she did not tell Severus of her feelings soon. She didn’t think she could stand it if he left.

**

Saving James

Two days later, Rose had gotten nowhere with Severus. She had only managed to have a few short conversations with him. He’d been keen on finding out how she’d prepared the antidote on her own and she had had to confess that it had really been James. He was the Potions genius – she’d only done the stirring and adding and pouring. James had adjusted Severus’s own instructions and added dittany to help scarring as an added benefit. It had take Rose a moment to realize that Severus looked impressed – she hadn’t thought it possible. He’d also wanted to know how she’d managed to get a Time Turner and she’d relayed the tale of impersonation to him while he’d added spider’s legs to his potion.

And two days later, the potion was finally complete. It took much less time than Rose had expected but Severus warned her that he could not be sure it would work. They needed to test it. They gave James the potion a day later, when he’d finally risen from a particularly deep sleep. Hugo had slept for unusually long too, Rose recalled.

Rose, Lily and Albus stood aside, watching as Snape handed the cup to James, who gulped it down. He shuddered and wrinkled his nose at the taste.

‘Disgusting,’ he muttered, flopping back down onto the bed. The bags under his eyes were even more prominent than usual. The pain in his eyes didn’t seem unusual anymore. Rose could hardly remember how he’d looked when he’d been healthy.

‘As long as it works,’ said Albus from over Rose’s shoulder.

Snape didn’t say anything. Simply watched his patient.

That night, when Severus had retired to his room and Lily and Albus had decided to go to Diagon Alley to pick up some Firewhiskey, Rose visited James with a cup of juice. She needed to know if the potion had worked or was working. If it hadn’t done either, then Severus would have to start again.

A candle on James’s bedside table was lit, its flame swaying in the breeze that entered through the slightly opened window. A sliver of white moonlight fell onto James’s still figure in the bed from the crack in the curtains.

‘Are you awake?’ asked Rose softly, walking up to the bed.

James shifted slightly on the mattress to face her. ‘Yeah.’

‘Did it work?’ she asked excitedly, handing him the glass of juice. He took it and set it down next to the candle without a sip.

‘Yeah, it did,’ he replied, not looking at her. He turned to his right again and gazed out of the window.

The excitement Rose felt at his words was overwhelming and she would have run right out of the room and shouted for the whole world to hear that the cure worked if she hadn’t noticed James’s expression.

Her heart dropped through her stomach. ‘It didn’t work?’

‘No, no, no, it did,’ insisted James, still not looking at her. The candle flame was put out by a particularly exuberant gust of wind that ruffled James’s hair as it swept past and slapped Rose’s cheeks good naturedly. ‘It definitely did. I feel better than I have in days.’

‘But not better than ever?’ asked Rose, sitting down on his bed. His words had been chosen carefully, Rose could tell. And she didn’t like the red signal her brain was flashing at her.

When James didn’t reply Rose felt panic well up in her throat. ‘What’s wrong James?’ she exclaimed, put a hand on his shoulder and shaking gently.

He moved his face an inch and moonlight fell across it. The tears in his eyes suddenly glittered. Rose’s heart pounded in her chest and she leaned over James until their faces were mere inches away. The fact that the disease could spread by contact – James may have been better, but anything he’d touched (like his blanket) could still be dangerous – didn’t matter anymore. ‘What happened?’ she asked forcefully. ‘Tell me, please James. Does it hurt more? Should I get Se – Snape?’

She moved to get up off the bed but James pulled her down again to her previous position. ‘Snape can’t do anything more and he’s already done enough. His cure works.’

‘I don’t understand.’

James met Rose’s glance. She was so close to his face that she only saw his eyes, the deep blue of them, the tears glittering at the edges. ‘I’m dying Rosie,’ he muttered and she sensed the willpower it took to say the words.

‘What?’ breathed Rose. She moved back ever so slightly, feeling and looking flabbergasted. ‘But it worked! It worked! You said it worked!’

‘It worked… too late.’

‘How do you know? Maybe that’s just how you feel now, I mean – tomorrow—’

James’s gaze was pitying now. ‘There isn’t going to be a tomorrow.’

‘What? No!’ cried Rose, and she jumped off of the bed, away from her cousin. ‘What?’ Tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘I’m going to get Severus, he’ll think of—’

‘Rosie!’ said James, turning over to face her, face full of emotion. ‘Don’t you get it? It is over! I know – I can feel it. The potion made the pain go away but I can feel my heart! It isn’t regular, it isn’t normal, something is wrong. It’s too late. The potion eradicated whatever was causing the disease but it couldn’t repair major damage. The pain is gone, it fixed almost everything. But my heart… it didn’t get there. Probably it couldn’t. I don’t know. Maybe it was just meant to happen, maybe the disease didn’t even get to my heart, and maybe something else happened—’

‘NO!’ screeched Rose, almost hysterical. ‘I won’t let this happen! Severus can fix it, I’ll get him to!’

James shook his head and reached out to her. He took her hand and pulled her to the bed again, though she tried to protest. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she took a seat on the bed again, James’s hand still clutching hers. ‘Snape can’t do anything. Any potion will take days to make and I only have hours. And there isn’t an existing potion,’ he added, reading the expression on her face. ‘I know, I’ve looked through everything.’

‘This isn’t – fair!’ Rose exclaimed, wrenching her hand out of James grasp. She wanted to grab something and strangle it with all her might, she wanted to kick and scream until her limbs ached and her throat was raw. This couldn’t happen, not now, not again.

‘You think that I think it is?’ said James incredulously; sitting up in bed slightly, back against his pillow, looking at Rose. ‘I want to live Rose! I thought I would get better, I thought everything was going to be okay. I’m nineteen. I haven’t had a chance to be alive yet and now? Every single thing I’ve ever hoped and wanted to do? Snatched away. I won’t grow up, I won’t ever have a job or get to earn money, I won’t marry my girlfriend after five years of dating, I won’t have any children, I’ll never be anyone! I’m James Potter, nineteen years and three months – forever. How is that fair?’ He was crying freely now, along with Rose.

Rose hiccupped slightly and tried to control her sobs; she wanted to comfort James.

‘You won’t feel anything; you’ll just slip away while you sleep—’

‘Would you be able to sleep?’

‘At least you’ll be here then,’ tried Rose. ‘At least you won’t…’

‘Lose my mind?’ James’s voice wavered slightly. ‘No – I’ll be here. No one will know how it feels, none of you, I’ll just be here tonight and not tomorrow morning. You’ll just know I’ve died. I’ll know though.’

Rose grabbed James’s hand fiercely. ‘I’ll be here anyway. I’m not leaving.’

James managed a small smile at that and squeezed her hand back.

‘D’you,’ he paused a moment, fresh tears dripping from his chin. ‘D’you think you could – I want Mum and Dad. Please.’

Rose swallowed hard. How would she tell Ginny and Harry? How would she tell them? ‘Of course, I’ll go owl them, shall I?’

There was no need. The words were hardly out of her mouth when a frantic looking Harry and Ginny walked in. James tried for a moment to hold back the tears, but their sudden appearance only weakened his resolve and his was crying as his mother’s arms wrapped around him. Tears spread down Ginny’s pretty cheeks.

Rose stepped away as Harry moved forward. She’d never, ever seen her uncle cry, but he was crying now. Her heart ached for them and she hated herself passionately in that moment. What had she done?

She backed out of the door quietly and shut it, to find Severus Snape standing outside in the hall.

‘I owled them,’ he said curtly, answering her unasked question. ‘I heard your shouts.’

‘Thank you,’ Rose managed to choke out. Her throat hurt terribly as she tried to control the flood of tears that threatened to spill over her eyelids. A few salty drops escaped and trickled down her cheeks and nose. Rose looked away from Snape and tried to block out the sorrowful sounds coming from the room.

She wished he would pull her to him, or take her hand.

Something. Anything.

He didn’t.

**

Hurting

She stood in her own bedroom, back at home, staring at one of her pale lilac walls. She felt the thread of the carpet under her feet poking up between her toes. It was rough on her smooth skin, and tickled lightly, but she didn’t move. Her hands were at her sides, just resting, as she gazed into the wall, as if looking for a secret switch that would lead her to a better world.

Outside, rain spattered mercilessly on the house, making it sounds like a herd of Thestrals was stampeding down the roof. Large raindrops slithered down the windowpane, to join the river streaming through the drains. A flash of lightning illuminated the dark house for a brief moment, before dying away, only to be followed by cracking thunder. Rose dragged her gaze away from the wall lethargically and turned her head to the right, to glance out of window. Somewhere out there, her parents, her aunt, uncle, and her cousins were distributing Severus Snape’s potion to the masses. Snape himself was still at the Potters’. But Rose hadn’t been able to make herself stay there. It felt like the house itself was turning on her, blaming her for everything, for raising the hopes of her family. James had always been dying, but before she’d mentioned the cure, the death had been expected. It would have happened; they all knew it, no matter how much they prayed at night. James would have gotten suddenly worse one day, his parents would have made a last ditch attempt to save him or stabilize him, but they’d have known, deep in their hearts and minds that it was over. And it wouldn’t have hurt so much. Because they would have been expecting it.

When Hugo had gotten sick, Rose had known he would die eventually. She hadn’t been stupid or silly, thinking that a cure would suddenly materialize because her brother had finally come down with the disease. She knew her parents had resigned themselves to Hugo’s fate too – that even Hugo had known it. They had simply waited, and when Hugo had finally passed, after so much pain and suffering, a part of Rose had actually been happy. A very small part had been glad that the waiting, the suspense, was finally over, that Hugo was finally free of pain and that she and her parents were finally free of worry. The other, larger part of her, had hated everything and everyone for a long time: hated her parents for letting this happen to Hugo, hated the Healers for not having a cure, hated herself for being mean to Hugo, for ever yelling at him. She hated the fact that she wished he would simply die and get it over with so that they could get on with their lives. And she’d cried, of course. It would have been insane not to cry. Ron and Hermione had cried. But they would have gotten over it eventually, because they’d known all along – from that first dizzy spell, Hugo had been as good as dead. Hating people was useless and grieving was tiring. They’d done so much of it even when Hugo had been alive.

This was a hundred times worse. No one had expected this – because the cure was supposed to work. As soon as she’d mentioned finding the cure, an impossible hope had bloomed somewhere inside her heart, the hearts of Albus and Lily and James and, eventually, inside the hearts of her parents and Harry and Ginny. Things were supposed to have gotten better. Not worse.

And as Rose turned back to the lilac wall, staring hard at it once again, blinking more than usual, the one thought that she had been trying her hardest not to think rose to the surface of her consciousness.

James was dead.

Tears came strong and fast as soon as those three words appeared in her mind. Sobs wrenched themselves from her throat, hurting her chest and she instinctively bent forward, wilting like a flower. This was never supposed to happen! She’d found the cure for James – after losing Hugo and Scorpius, she hadn’t wanted to lose someone else she loved so much and was so close to. It wasn’t fair! Why hadn’t the potion worked? Was it her fault? Had she been too slow? Was there something she could have done faster, to get to James earlier? Could she have arrived back here, in the present, a few minutes earlier? Would that have saved James?

If the potion not working wasn’t Rose’s fault, she knew what was. The pain. The gut-wrenching, mind-boggling pain that she’d caused Harry, Ginny, Albus and Lily… and her parents too. If she had never gone to Grimmauld Place, if she’d returned straight home from the graveyard, none of this would have happened. James would have died anyway, but at least it would have been easier to bear. Not like this…

She cried and cried, and found herself lying on her carpet, face down, rough threads poking at her wet face. She hadn’t cried like this when Scorpius had died, or Hugo, but now she was. She was crying for all three of them. Crying because she hadn’t been able to save them. Crying because she had allowed James’s hopes to fly, only to be brought crashing down. She had killed him before he had even died.

Rose wanted to scream, long, hard, and loud, and because no one was in the house, she did. She screamed tearlessly until her throat was raw, pushed herself up from the carpet and kicked at the stupid lilac wall, only hurting herself, but reveling in the pain. She turned to the right, walked over to the rain-spattered window, raised her fist and hurled herself at the glass with all the strength she possessed. It shattered immediately, sending glass flying everywhere: over her arms, her body, and her face. She didn’t stop. She immediately punched the wall next to the window with even more force. Her arm bounded back from the momentum. She stood there then, breathing heavily, her hate-intensified energy slowly ebbing away. Blood trickled eagerly down her punching fist, her knuckles raw and sliced, and her hand shaking with acute pain. Something hot ran down Rose’s cheeks, mingling with salty tears and icy rain. A piece of glass had opened up her forehead, but Rose didn’t care. There was blood all over her, from wherever the glass had struck. She stood a moment near the window, letting the harsh rain splash down on her face as tears continued to leak from her eyes, stinging small cuts on her cheeks and nose and chin.

The sobs were quieter now as she stepped away from the window and turned to her bed, prepared to fall down onto it. Suddenly, she was extremely dizzy. Her sobs were immediately cutoff as the room spun around her and went white for a long moment. The sounds of rain and thunder vanished. Rose felt suddenly cold and sweaty all at the same time. Without warning or reason, a sharp pain went racing up Rose’s side. The room came back. She was lying on the carpet again, near her bed. As she struggled to push herself up (it was agony to put any weight on her injured hand) she realized, vaguely, that she was lucky – two centimeters to the right and she would have cracked her head on the bed’s wooden tailboard.

She pulled herself onto the bed, tears returning silently, and curled there, feeling rain on her back from the nearby cracked window. She pulled her legs even closer to her, cradled her injured hand under her chin, and closed her eyes. The dizzy feeling was back, and her stomach was suddenly aching.

And, she realized, as she drifted off to a troubled sleep, the pain from her hand and forehead and stomach dulling as she slipped into delirium, there was something else that would not have happened had she only returned home from the graveyard and not detoured to Grimmauld Place.

She would not have met Severus Snape. Severus Snape who could never love, even a silly, foolish girl like her. A girl who only made things worse. With those thoughts she slipped off into deep, dark blackness.

**

When she woke up, everything was fuzzy and nothing made sense. She could hear jumbled up phrases, strings of sentences, loud voices, none of which she could recognize. Someone was touching her hand, the one she’d used to punch her window, and just the sensation of skin on skin was anguish. She cried out and tried to pull her hand away, but she had no energy. Her limbs were like lead. It felt like someone had stacked a pound of bricks on her head.

A hand was on her cheek, soft and reassuring, and she felt something cold pat a spot on her forehead, just above her right eye. Rose blinked frantically, trying to bring things into focus, but her surroundings remained shadowed and blurry. Figures were walking around, sliding into and out of her line of sight. Rose tried to say something, but her words piled up in her throat and all she managed was a choked cough. Someone murmured something and Rose felt her head being lifted up and something peppery and burning was poured slowly down her throat. She tried to protest, but it was no use.

Then she was slipping away again, eyes fluttering shut without her realizing it.

When she awoke again, her head was less full of fuzz, but her right hand was aching horribly, as if someone had pushed a million pins into it. She could hear voices around her she realized, though the sentences were still broken and unfathomable to her, and she couldn’t seem to get her eyes open to see anything.

‘… walking home and we saw that the window was broken…’ someone with a deep voice was saying.

‘… glass and blood everywhere…’ This voice was softer, gentler, and shaking.

‘…fever. That’s how it started…’

‘At least there’s a cure…’

‘…handed all of the bloody vials out… didn’t even think to keep one for ourselves…’

‘Professor Snape will… another one… no time…’

Rose struggled to concentrate but she couldn’t even discern one voice from another after a while and more and more words were just slipping right over her head. She wanted to know what was happening, what everyone was talking about. She struggled to sit up, but the voices didn’t like that at all and they all began talking at once and gave Rose a headache. She let herself be pushed back down, just to shut them up. She was really tired, all of a sudden. Her hand gave a particularly unpleasant throb.

Just before everything went black, she felt a wet cloth on her forehead and someone close to tears said:

‘I won’t be able to stand it if she…’

‘She won’t, Hermione,’ answered a firm voice. ‘She won’t. We have a cure, because of her.’ She’d heard it all, Rose realized dimly. As she let go, she finally found a name to go with the voice: Uncle Harry.

Her sleep wasn’t dreamless this time.

**

Once upon a time, there was a young lady. She was an ordinary person, nothing special to look at, but still attractive. She had a brain, and though it was not very big, it was not very small either. Her parents were proud of it, at least.

This young lady lived near a huge, dark castle. It was unfriendly, with vines and thorns eating at its black walls, its windows boarded tightly, and somewhat terrifying. But it was also intriguing. The castle had been home to many important people, and though people hadn’t always known it, it was a very special castle indeed. The young lady saw the castle almost every day, as she went out to hunt or forage but it seemed so far away and unreal at such a distance. A large river separated the lady’s house and the dark castle, a river that was impossible to cross, with dangerous rapids and rushing waves.

Even when the young lady didn’t see the castle, she heard about it at home, from her family. They had once lived very close to the castle and had been afraid of it then, but slowly things had changed and they had come to realize what the castle truly was: a sturdy, secret protector. They still couldn’t help not liking the castle, but with those emotions came respect for its power. But the castle no longer held important people or protected her family. It was alone, empty, and abandoned now.

Then one day, someone built a bridge over the treacherous river that separated the young lady’s house and the great castle. The young lady didn’t wait a day – she immediately crossed the river and was on the opposite bank in no time. She wanted to see the castle more than she could say. She knew there was something magical inside it and that if she only tried hard enough, she would be able to bring the magic out. But before she could reach the castle, she heard voices calling her. The voices were of her family, carried along the wind to her. Someone was ill at home and the only cure lay just outside the black castle – a beautiful rose. They wanted the young lady to bring the rose back to them, as fast as she could.

The young lady was torn. Part of her wanted to go straight into the castle and find what she so badly needed – and the other part of her couldn’t stand to see one of her kin ill. So she made a quick decision. She would take the rose, give it to her family, and then hurry back to the castle. She ran to the castle wall, and found one beautiful red rose and then hurried back the way she’d come. There, at the bridge, stood three people she knew.

Their names, she remembered, were Hugo, Scorpius and James. They called to her frantically, saying that she should come with them. Rose shook her head. She didn’t want to come with them, she wanted to go back to the castle. The three frowned at her and pleaded. She was already halfway there, they said. It would take longer to get back to the castle – but one step over the bridge and she’d be with them… and she’d be happy. Rose wavered. Scorpius was looking at her, his gray eyes begging silently. James smiled at her, not an ounce of blame in his demeanor. Hugo laughed at her, eyes dancing, ready to tease her. She could feel them tugging at her – but she couldn’t go. She glanced at the rose in her hand and then threw it at them. As it flew over the bridge, it split into three. ‘To remember me by!’ she called over to them. They caught the roses and then nodded, resignedly. But as they turned, they smiled, almost as if to assure her that everything would be all right. Rose looked down at her hand and found she still held a single rose. ‘To remember us by,’ came three voices, carried by the wind. But when she looked up, they were gone. And the castle was tugging at her heart.

The young lady turned and ran back to the castle, but when she reached it, she found it would not open for her. Please, she begged. I can help you and fix everything and you can be powerful again! Like you were before. I can love you! But the castle still would not yield.

And then, out of the mist that surrounded her black castle, a smiling man emerged, with great blue eyes and a long white beard. He radiated calm and peace and gave her a small, sad smile. ‘Some things will never be. Yet that does not mean that your story has ended,’ he said in a soothing voice. And then he was gone. And so was the castle. And Rose was alone.

**

Rose opened her eyes. She was still in her room, surrounded by lilac walls. A strange pitter-patter noise encircled her and it took a moment for Rose to realize that it was still raining. She turned over warily, wondering if her room was flooded, the carpet soaked, because of the window she’d punched out. But when her eyes fell on the shattered window – it wasn’t shattered anymore. It was whole and normal looking, rain streaking down it along wet tendrils that other drops had left behind. It was as if she’d never even touched it.

But she had!

Hadn’t she? Or was she going insane too?

Rose struggled into a sitting position, and her blanket fell off her as she moved. She looked down at it, bemusedly. She hadn’t gotten under her blanket. And then she saw her right hand. It was thickly bandaged, fingers, thumb, wrist all hidden behind white tape. It itched slightly, but Rose couldn’t get at the spot and she had to let it go on itching uncomfortably. Her forehead! Rose fingered the area above her right eye and felt a snaky scar there, upraised and revolting. There were tiny scars on her arms too, and, she suspected, her neck and face as well. So it had happened. She flumped back down onto her pillows. Then snatches of a dream and a broken conversation returned to her and she sat bolt upright once more.

At that moment, Albus entered the room. He looked shocked to find her awake and immediately rushed over and wrapped her in a strangling hug.

‘Al,’ said Rose, choking and patting him awkwardly on the back with her bandaged hand. ‘Al – really. I’m suffocating here – AL!’

Albus broke away at her strangled cry, looking sheepish. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, as Rose rubbed her neck, giving him an odd look. ‘We thought – we didn’t know what to think – I mean—’

Obviously, Rose decided, she was missing something here. ‘What happened? Am I—’ Something cold fell into her stomach. ‘Am I sick?’

‘You were,’ said Albus, sitting down on her bed, still looking slightly ecstatic behind his glasses. ‘You’re okay now, I think. Does anything hurt? I mean, it always starts like this – really bad, and then suddenly you feel okay, but achy and then—’

‘Well, my hand itches,’ interrupted Rose, holding the bandaged one up. ‘But that’s all. I feel completely normal.’

Albus seemed to sag with relief and then grimaced at her hand. ‘Yeah, you pretty much broke every bone you have in that hand. What are you, mental?’

Rose stared from Albus to her hand, in slightly shock. She remembered something then – someone had poured Skele-Grow down her throat earlier. That vile burning potion. ‘Oh, yeah,’ she replied, putting her hand down on her lap again. ‘I punched the window… and then the wall.’

‘That would explain it,’ said Albus dryly. ‘Why?’

Rose thought about that for a moment. ‘Why did you push your desk out the window last night?’ she ventured finally. When Rose had told Albus that the cure had worked, but not for James, Albus had gone to his room and locked himself there (Lily had gone straight to her eldest brother). Later on, Rose had heard an almighty crash and had leaned out of Lily’s bedroom (where she’d been hiding) to see Al’s desk lying on the grass, splintered. The French windows in Albus’s room and been open and swinging.

She hoped Albus wouldn’t start shouting at her now for what she’d done to James. She didn’t think she could take it.

All Albus said was, ‘Oh.’ He lay back on the bed, lengthwise but the wrong way, and stared at the stars on the ceiling. ‘It wasn’t last night, though,’ he added. ‘It two nights ago.’

Rose gaped at him. ‘Was I out of it that long? Didn’t the cure work?’

‘You’re alive aren’t you? Snape had to make more. We gave the rest away – we didn’t think…’ he trailed off, unable to continue his sentence.

‘I went into James’s room without the Bubblehead Charm,’ sighed Rose, finally recalling her mistake. But acknowledging that she’d been an idiot wasn’t as hard as saying James’s name. How could he be dead? It didn’t seem possible.

‘The funeral is in a few hours,’ said Albus finally, sitting up again. His voice wavered slightly.

Rose managed a nod, but couldn’t bring herself to reply.

‘You know?’ began Albus. He pulled off his glasses and began to wipe them on his shirt, like he did whenever he was uncomfortable. ‘After James there were no more – no one else has—’

Rose watched Albus struggle with the word for a moment, and then whispered, ‘Died?’

Al nodded gratefully, slipping his glasses back on. ‘The cure has worked. We were so lucky… because no one was as far gone as James yet. The ones who were worse had already passed but no one else had reached the brink. As far as I know, they’re all cured. Because of you.’

‘Not me – James,’ Rose muttered. ‘If he hadn’t been willing to test it…’

‘But you found it Rose, and you went back for Professor Snape, and you convinced everyone that this was right. James helped – but it was all you, really.’ He paused and then continued, ‘Don’t blame yourself about James, okay?’

Rose looked up into Al’s emerald eyes.

‘I made it worse for you, for all of you,’ she said softly.

Albus shook his head and took her hand. ‘You made it better. James is gone, but we have to accept that – you have to accept it. But no one else has to die now. Not you, Lily, or me. There’s no more fear. Not like before, where parents would watch one of their children die and then turn to the other, almost like they were preparing…’ Albus sighed. ‘You made it better. Don’t you dare blame yourself – you did all the right things. It’s okay.’

Rose didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything.

‘Snape wants to go back,’ Albus added, after a second.

‘What?’ exclaimed Rose, looking up quickly.

Albus gave her an almost knowing sad half-smile. ‘If you want to make the funeral, you’re going to have to leave soon. Or you’ll be cutting it close.’

‘Why does he want to go back?’

‘Why do you think, Rosie? This isn’t his time – there isn’t anyone here for him.’

‘There is no one there for him, in his time either,’ Rose said fiercely. ‘He should just stay. At least we know about him – what he did! They never knew!’

Albus shook his head. ‘That doesn’t matter. Would you like to go back there and live, even if you had no one here? This is like a foreign country for him, Rose, worse even. He wants to go back.’

‘How do you know?’ retorted Rose, feeling hot all over. ‘Did he tell you?’

‘Yes,’ said Albus flatly, apparently expecting this line of attack. ‘While you were sick. He’s here, you know. He came to give you the potion. He told me to tell you that he would like to leave, if you were awake, just before I came up.’

‘How can he want to go?’ pleaded Rose, almost as if she wanted Albus to say it was okay to want to Severus to stay here. Her mind raced, thinking for problems that would stop Severus’s return. ‘He was supposed to die there and he didn’t! Uncle Harry, Mum, and Dad saw him die when they were kids – they won’t believe it if he’s suddenly up and walking around! People retrieved the body—’

‘There won’t be a body if you get there in time,’ Albus pointed out, ‘because you’ll have taken it away. And maybe Snape won’t stay in England. He’ll think of something. I really don’t think he’s stupid – do you?’

Rose’s face fell.

Albus reached out and touched her shoulder. ‘Look. I know what you feel—’

Rose looked up in shock and incredulity and Albus laughed at her expression. ‘I may be a boy, but I’m not completely dense, all right? Anyway, Lily told me. The point is I know how you feel. And after Scorpius—’

‘This isn’t like Scorpius, Al!’ Rose insisted. ‘This is something else – I’ve loved him for ages! It started out as intrigue, but now – even before I had a chance to meet him – it was something else! He was dead – I didn’t know I’d have the chance to meet him. This must have happened for a reason, Al! I can’t let him go. I just can’t.’

Albus’s shoulders drooped and his face was melancholy. ‘I know, Rose. I know. But some things will never be. And that’s the way it is. You have to accept it.’

**

Hogwarts, Again

Silence enveloped the large, rectangular dining table that lay in the Potters’ parlor. Around its gleaming wooden surface, on immaculate matching chairs with tie-on green cushions, sat eight highly subdued people. There was no merry chatter – only the clinking of knives and forks on china, the pattering of raindrops on the roof and windows, and the occasional rumbles of thunder from the storm building outside. Candle flames from the wax sticks that lit the room flickered and swayed in a non-existent breeze. Every now and then a bright flash of lightning would illuminate the room with its unearthly blue glow, throwing faces into sudden relief.

Rose could think of nothing to say. She pushed her peas around her plate, spearing one with a fork. The absence of James and Hugo was even more noticeable around the table. James would have been able to break the ice with a silly joke and his contagious laughter. Hugo would have said something interesting and polite and warm all at the same time and made everyone like each other, in his own quiet way. Compared to them, Rose felt like a useless dolt.

Albus had dragged her downstairs as soon as she’d changed into something suitable (someone had put her pajamas on her) and Rose had been immediately attacked by her parents. They’d been sitting with her ever since she’d gotten sick, they told her through tears and laughs, and it was just like her to wake up the moment they agreed to leave for five seconds to get some tea. Never doing what they wanted her to, when they wanted her to. After her parents, it had been Lily, who, once she’d gotten a hold of Rose, seemed keen on never letting go again. If Hermione hadn’t announced that they were about to have lunch, Rose was almost certain Lily would still have her arms around her. Harry and Ginny had given her hugs and smiles and told her they were so glad that she was okay. Everyone one told her that Severus had been making large batches of the potion for the other young withes and wizards who required them around the world. Harry and Ron had convinced someone in the Ministry to provide enough owls to send vials of the potion to those in extreme need, and brewing instructions for those who had only just contracted the disease. When Severus had found out she was ill, he’d doubled his concocting speed. At this news, Lily had given Rose a sly look. Rose had done her best not to meet her cousin’s gaze, but it had been hard work. She didn’t know if she should feel flattered or embarrassed – or if she should feel nothing at all. There was no reason to assume that if it had been Lily who’d gotten sick instead of Rose, Severus would not have doubled his speed.

A pea rolled over the edge of Rose’s plate and down onto the carpet that the dining table was resting on. Harry cleared his throat and Albus fidgeted with his glasses. Aside from Rose and Severus, everyone at the table had bloodshot eyes. Harry and Ginny were particularly subdued. The smiles they’d given her when she’d come downstairs had been melancholy too. A small part of Rose wondered if, perhaps, they were wondering somewhere deep inside why she had lived and James had died. Even the remonstration from her heart, saying that they were her family and could never think such things, didn’t do much to push the idea away. It bubbled and boiled away in her mind and she felt the blame in their gazes. Whether it was real or in her head, she didn’t know.

Hermione was shooting Harry and Ginny worried glances every now and then, joined at intervals by Lily. Albus couldn’t seem to get his glasses clean and Ron couldn’t seem to stop looking up at her every few minutes and smiling, as if making sure she was really still there – alive and well. Rose felt a strong burst of love for her father.

Severus’s presence probably wasn’t helping the atmosphere. Had any of them, Harry, Ron, Hermione or Ginny, ever thought they’d be sharing a table with Professor Snape? The man they had hated so much, for such a long time? Rose knew her parents and aunt and uncle had great respect for Severus, but maybe it was easier to respect a memory rather than the man himself. Existence brought back true feelings, and pushing away years of hate had to be difficult. Making small talk with Snape would have seemed very odd.

The meal was a lengthy ordeal, and no matter how Rose willed the time to pass, it didn’t do so quickly or easily. It seemed a day later that Hermione finally stood up and began stacking the not-so empty plates one on top of the other. It was like they’d all been waiting for a queue. Harry, Ron and Ginny all stood up. Lily and Albus pushed their chairs out. Rose was about to slip out of her spot when Albus threw her a hard look. She sat back down as they dishes were cleared. Snape didn’t bother getting up. His plate was the only clean one. Quickly, the dishes and the people all vanished – the dishes with loud clinks and clanks, the people with awkward “ho�s and “hum�s.

Rose found herself at the dining table alone, with Severus for company. She had a strong feeling that this had all been arranged – possibly Severus had told Albus that he wanted to go home and Albus had told everyone else that Severus and Rose needed to work things out. If this was something to do with the “you have to accept it� he’d given her earlier and if he was hoping they’d sort things out now, she would kill him. Slowly and painfully.

But it was Severus who spoke first.

‘I take it Mr. Potter has informed you that I need to return to my own time?’ he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Rose nodded and reached into her robes to pull out the Time Turner. ‘He told me. I can take you back right now.’ Except I don’t want to take you back, she thought. She had to say something – she had to stop him! If she didn’t, if she simply let him go, she’d never forgive herself. She would regret her decision for the rest of her life. But how would she ask him to stay without making him, in return, ask why she should want him to stay? She had no proper answer to the question. “Because I love you� would probably scare him off.

‘But…’ she said, as she unwound the Time Turner’s long chain from around her neck – she had doubled it to stop it hanging near her navel. Severus was looking right at her, expressionless as always. Rose swallowed hard and then looked straight into his dark eyes. ‘You don’t have to leave.’

One eyebrow rose slightly and that was it. Nothing more. ‘Don’t I? Where do you propose I go, if I do not leave?’ he asked, almost mockingly.

Rose barreled on, telling herself that she would be thankful for this later on. ‘You don’t have to go anywhere – you can get a home here and – and stay. It’s dangerous to go back – people know you’re supposed to be dead, how will you—’

‘People know I’m supposed to be dead in this time too, Miss Weasley. Going or staying – it amounts to the same thing.’

‘It doesn’t!’ said Rose, heating up now. ‘And it’s Rose! At least here people know what you’ve done!’

‘And what may that be?’ asked Snape quietly, lip curling.

What was his problem? Why was he such a bloody mystery? He hardly said anything yet still managed to rile Rose in a matter of seconds. ‘About you being a spy,’ Rose said firmly, trying not to clench her teeth. ‘How you were Dumbledore’s man, how you protected Uncle Harry and helped on the Horcrux hunt. How you gave Uncle Harry Dumbledore’s final message, even as you were dying!’ Images illustrating the latter point appeared in Roses mind, and she felt a burst of amazement – she had actually been there, had seen it all play out.

Snape looked coldly furious. ‘And which person felt they had the right to announce my personal memories to the rest of the world?’ He didn’t wait for a reply. ‘Of course – who else? Your dear uncle, who probably didn’t think for a second that perhaps I wouldn’t want my life history spread to the masses! Did he enjoy laying out every detail of my existence from beginning to end? Did it please him?’

Rose shook her head, slowly and incredulously. ‘What is wrong with you? Why don’t you want people to know?’ And then something dawned on her and a flash of conversation returned to her: the fight Harry and Snape had been having earlier. She looked at him curiously. ‘Or is it, what don’t you want people to know…’

She remembered watching the silver memories slip from Severus’s eyes, his mouth, his ears, back in the Shrieking Shack. There had been so much of the ethereal liquid – it couldn’t have contained only one memory. One memory could fit into a strand no thicker than a piece of hair. What else had Harry seen? Ever single book Rose had ever read had only mentioned the one memory – a reply of one of many conversations in which Dumbledore told Snape that Harry was the final Horcurx. Nothing more, nothing less.

Severus’s words just now, however, and the argument earlier painted another picture however. There was something else. Rose gazed at the man who sat across from her. He wasn’t looking at her anymore – in fact, he seemed to be lost in thought. Rose couldn’t help herself – she needed to know. ‘What else was in those memories?’ she ventured.

Severus didn’t reply to her question. His lips grew thinner. ‘They never change,’ he snarled under his breath.

‘Was it something about Uncle Harry’s mum, Lily?’ asked Rose, with bated breath.

With sudden ferocity, Snape stood, his chair screeching as it was pushed backwards. He towered over her, and Rose couldn’t help cringing. ‘I refuse to answer questions that you can find the answers to elsewhere!’ His face was paper-white, his hands flat on the table, knuckles white as ice. His eyes, by contrast, were darker than she’d ever seen them.

He seemed to have lost the ability to speak after that, which only made Rose angrier. ‘What are you afraid of? Are you afraid that people will like you? That they’ll know you’re a good man?’

‘I’m not afraid of anything!’ shouted Snape.

‘Of course you are!’ retorted Rose, standing too. She was still much shorter than him. ‘You’re afraid of everything! Of people, of staying here, of the things others might know, of your own memories! Why won’t you stay here? Would it be so bad? I saved your life, remember!’

‘And I saved yours, Miss Weasley! Or has that slipped your mind?’

It took Rose a moment to reply and when she did, her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Is that what this is about? A life-debt? Because you owed me your life? Is that why you won’t stay?’

Severus’s eyes narrowed until she could only see a slit of black through the lids. He leaned towards her suddenly and Rose thought for a moment that she’d gone too far and he wanted to strike her. But he only grabbed the Time Turner’s golden chain from where it hung around her neck and slid it over his own head as well.

‘Were anyone else sitting across from me right now, and had they dared to utter the words you have in the past five minutes, they would be dead,’ he hissed, his face close to her now. ‘I am not a pleasant man, Miss Weasley.’

Rose didn’t lean away and she didn’t cringe this time. ‘I never said you were, Professor And it’s Rose,’ she added icily. ‘Or had that slipped your mind?’

Snape’s expression was unfathomable. He grabbed the hourglass that was dangling in between them and twisted it without another word.

**

They were back, at Hogwarts, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the battle was still in full swing. In fact, Rose saw as she glanced at her wristwatch, while Snape removed the golden chain from around his neck, there was still about an hour and a half before the Snape of this time died. And lucky for them, they’d managed to appear in an area that was thick with flying spells. Rose only just managed to duck as a rampant Stun Spell appeared out of nowhere in a flash of red light.

‘Was this the best place you could find?’ shouted Rose to Severus from the grassy earth.

‘I wasn’t aiming,’ muttered Snape curtly. ‘Get up, unless you want to lose your head next time.’

‘It’ll be your fault,’ opined Rose grumpily, glaring as she stood up and dusted herself off.

This time around, Rose was prepared for the sight of battle. Across the grounds she saw a burst of green light and a falling shadow and didn’t feel the shock she had last time. However, she was more afraid now. She knew what she might see, and what might happen, and she could still remember Voldemort’s cold voice as if he were speaking in her ear at that very moment. She almost wished that she was still as innocent as she had been last time. The fear clawing at her throat was making her heart go wild. She could feel beads of sweat on her forehead. This was not where she belonged. In her time, war was a memory. Her elders spoke of it gravely, her fellow classmates and friends, almost jokingly. Rose had never used a spell with the intention of trying to save her own life, or the life of another. She knew the spells, but not the techniques – she had no clue how to fight or duel, not really, not out of a classroom where a single move could be the difference between life and death.

Another spell flew past, almost hitting Snape. He nearly didn’t step away in time, being too busy reaching into his pocket. He cursed loudly and he stepped to one side at the very instant the spell whizzed past. He still didn’t have a wand, and this time, he really needed it.

‘Have mine,’ said Rose, and she pulled out her own wand and pushed it into his hand.

He accepted it but frowned at her. ‘What if you don’t arrive near home?’

Rose grimaced at the thought. If the Time Turner decided to drop her off in Scotland, or if she didn’t aim correctly, she would have no way of Apparating back home. Apparation required a wand.

‘I’ll figure something out,’ Rose said with a shrug. ‘Don’t wor—’

A branch cracked nearby, as if someone had stepped on it. Severus silenced her by raising a hand, as he peered over her head. To Rose’s right lay the rest of Hogwarts. Sounds of shouts and cries for help mingled with screamed curses and counter-curses. Every now and then another out of control spell flew overhead, crashing into one of the many trees of the forest. Behind Rose, the forest curved, forming a small, natural cul-de-sac.

The small cracking sound had come from somewhere between the trees. Rose didn’t dare turn around. She watched Snape’s face as he scanned the trees behind her, lighting the wand in his hand with an unspoken spell. For a moment, Rose felt her feet were frozen to the ground – then she heard the rustling of robes. Without waiting a moment more, she turned around. Snape grabbed her by the upper arm and pushed her unceremoniously behind him as he raised Rose’s lit wand over his head.

‘Who’s there?’ he asked loudly.

Rose’s heart was threatening to pop out of her chest and she peered around Snape, unable to stop herself. Severus sensed the movement and his hand slipped behind his back and grabbed her forearm. He clenched his fingers in warning and Rose moved back. She was much shorter than him, and thinner, so she was quite well hidden behind him.

‘Severus?’ asked a growling voice, curiously.

‘Greyback?’ asked Severus, and if Rose hadn’t known better she would have thought she sensed fear in his voice. His nails dug into her skin.

‘What are you doing here, Severus? I thought the Dark Lord was looking for you.’ Greyback’s voice was low, almost animal-like. She couldn’t see him, but Rose imagined a man with sharp teeth and wild grey hair. Then she remembered. Fenrir Greyback was a wizard, a Death Eater – a werewolf. He’d been the one who’d bitten Teddy Lupin’s father. And Uncle Bill. The thought sent icy chills down Rose’s spine and she clutched at Snape’s robes involuntarily.

‘I have already seen the Dark Lord, Fenrir,’ said Snape smoothly. ‘I was looking for Potter, on his orders. I think the more urgent question is what you are doing here. As I remember, you were given strict orders to remain in battle.’

Fenrir let out a growling laugh. ‘I was looking for some little children to maul,’ he replied with unhidden glee. ‘They all seem to have vanished. The youngest one’s are always the most fun – and of course, the girls. I haven’t been able to catch many today.’ He paused for a moment and Rose imagined he was licking his lips or something equally revolting. ‘I doubt you’ll find Potter here, Severus. I suspect he’s up in the castle, cowering in the loo.’

Severus didn’t share his opinion. ‘I haven’t been able to find him anywhere else. The Forest would be an obvious place for him to hide.’ There was an odd sound, like someone breathing hard… or sniffing. Snape, still talking, took one slow step backwards, pushing Rose along too. ‘I would advise you to return to the castle, Greyback, before the Dark Lord—’

Fenrir Greyback was no longer listening. ‘What have you got behind you back, Snape?’ he asked coldly.

Severus’s hand was cutting off all circulation in Rose’s arm now. Fear surged up into Rose’s throat, and she almost let out a small whimper of fear. Greyback could smell her.

‘Who are you protecting, Snape?’ continued the werewolf, voice dangerously low. Severus was now stepping back more quickly. ‘Is it a student, Snape?’ There was a short pause. In a burst of light from a wild spell, Rose saw the shadow of the man shaking his head. ‘I’ve always agreed with Bella, Snape. About you – something was always wrong with you. I can smell her, you know, I can smell her as clear as day. She must be a pretty child for you to be protecting her – I know you have a thing for the lovely ones. Been playing games with her, have we?’

And then suddenly, he pounced. With lightning speed, Severus spun and pushed Rose down with himself. Fenrir sailed over their heads, leaping farther and higher than humanely possible. He landed on the other side on all fours and gave the two a pointy-toothed grin.

‘Let me have some fun, Severus, and I’ll never tell anyone,’ he snarled. ‘I won’t kill her – just bite her a bit. She might not be so pretty after that – but I suppose that’s a reasonable price to pay for your life!’

On the word “life� he leapt into the air again, but this time Severus was ready. He raised Rose’s wand and white light burst from the tip, hitting Greyback head on. The wolf-man fell to the earth with a screeching howl of pain and Severus jumped to his feet, dragging Rose along with him. He raced into the trees as Fenrir struggled to his haunches, groaning.

Snape’s hand was wrapped tightly around hers, but he was running much too fast for her to keep up. She almost tripped and fell more than once as they raced through trees and bushes and brambles. Branches slapped Rose’s cheeks, scraped her eyes, cut her skin as she raced past.

‘Why didn’t you stun him?’ she shrieked, as soon as the fear abated slightly and she regained use of her voice. ‘Why didn’t you just stun him?!’ She could hear someone racing behind them – Fenrir was on the hunt. And Rose guessed he could maneuver through the forest much better than herself or Severus – even as a man, he was more than half wolf. The blood-lust in his voice had been hard to miss.

‘I wasn’t thinking straight,’ spat out Snape grudgingly.

‘Oh, what a perfect time to stop thinking straight!’ yelled Rose. The branches were becoming thicker by the second, and a particularly large one struck out hard. Rose’s neck jerked backwards from the force of the hit and for a second, she was running blind. Blood was pouring from somewhere on her forehead into her eyes. She rubbed at them frantically, trying to blink away the warm fluid.

Without warning, something caught at her shoulder and Rose heard a snarling behind her. She cried out as Fenrir’s fingers sank into her shoulders, his nails like claws, digging past skin and meat and muscle. He tried to pull her back, but she wrenched her shoulder out of his grasp.

Severus had heard her cry, and looked back. As Rose pulled away, he released a burst of red light and Greyback was forced to stop and dodge the spell.

‘Miss Weasley,’ Snape snarled at Rose, ‘if you don’t keep up, I refuse to save you next time!’

The pain in her shoulder was blinding and the simple movement of her arm as they ran was agony. ‘It’s Rose!’ she shouted, pain fueling fury. ‘Why can’t you call me Rose?’

‘Another flower,’ Snape was saying, between heavy breaths. ‘Another flower.’ He seemed to be shaking his head. ‘Let me guess – your uncle suggested your name?’

Rose couldn’t understand how he’d known, but this didn’t seem the time to ask. This conversation was already unorthodox, bearing in mind that they were running for their lives. ‘Yes! He did! Are you going to bloody hold that against him too?’

Severus didn’t reply, but Rose almost didn’t notice. She’d realized something. The sounds of someone crashing through the forest behind her had ceased.

‘Stop,’ she tried, but the relief that flooded through her made her suddenly exhausted. Her breath came in short, tight gasps, and she could hardly get a word out anymore. ‘Stop – wait – Professor—’ She sucked in as much air as she could, almost stumbling over a jutting tree root and shouted, ‘SEVERUS!’

She hadn’t meant to say his first name, but it worked. He came to a sudden stop, and Rose’s momentum carried her right into him. She slammed into him and then toppled to the ground, completely winded. She realized that they were still holding hands, and even as she gulped down one breath after another, a shiver ran up her spine.

‘What is it?’ asked Snape exasperatedly, letting go of her hand and looking down at her, but Rose couldn’t get another word out. She clutched at the stitch in her side, and her injured shoulder, and sat there on the muddy forest floor, head on her knees, gasping to get her breath back. By contrast, Severus was hardly out of breath.

It didn’t take long for the Potion’s Master to figure out why she’d stopped him on his own. He raised his wand high, looking for any sign of Fenrir in the surrounding trees, but there didn’t seem to be any trace of him. He lowered his wand slightly, still looking wary and the glanced down at Rose.

‘Did he bite you?’ he asked suddenly, and ferociously. By now, Rose had managed enough air back into her lungs to fuel her mouth.

‘No,’ she breathed, glancing at her shoulder. It was a mess of ripped robes, shredded skin and blood. It hurt like hell. ‘It was his hand.’

Severus looked back at the trees encircling them again, before bending down to look at her shoulder. He touched the tip of his wand to the gash, and the pain vanished and the bleeding slowed slightly.

‘I told you, you should have stayed with me – us,’ Rose said quietly as he cast the same spells on the cut on her forehead. For a moment, they were so close that Rose could have kissed him.

‘You’ll require a potion to heal the wounds completely,’ replied Snape, ignoring her statement. ‘Get some as soon as you get home. Your mother will know which ones to give you.’ He straightened up.

Rose gazed at him by the light of the wand, and then at the still forest behind him. She stood slowly, on shaky legs. ‘Now what?’ she asked. ‘Shall I leave?’ All the emotions of the past fifteen minutes came rushing back and she was almost overcome by the urge to cry. Her voice wavered slightly.

‘If you wish,’ replied Snape impassively. ‘I’d suggest, however, that you remain here for a few more minutes. It might not be safe to leave. You’ll have to exit the forest to use the Time Turner properly.’ He took one last glance around before sinking onto a boulder that was half embedded in the soft forest floor.

Rose looked around properly for the first time. They were sitting in a small patch of earth that was free of trees. Bushes dotted its surface, along with weeds and flowers. The trees surrounded it in a large circle, forming a natural room in the forest. If Severus’s wand hadn’t been lit, it would have been pitch-black. The trees bent overhead, their leaves thick, blocking any moonlight that might have filtered in. Rose sat down too, on the grass. Waiting seemed better than venturing out and getting attacked.

‘Nox,’ murmured Snape after Rose had taken her seat. They were immediately bathed in black. Rose couldn’t see anything – for a moment, she felt like she’d closed her eyes.

They sat in silence for a second, but the quiet and the dark were beginning to frighten Rose. That, and the thought of all the dangerous animals that lived in the forest. Every rustle, snap and crack made her think that Fenrir had come back, or a Chimera was creeping up on them. She wanted to talk, just to drive away the fear, but she was pretty sure that Severus wouldn’t start a conversation.

‘Why does your portrait make a point of not speaking to me?’ she whispered. There was no reply for a moment. She knew the question seemed extremely random in the given circumstances.

‘I couldn’t say,’ replied Severus idly. She heard the grass rustle nearby and assumed he was moving his feet.

‘He won’t say a word to me,’ persisted Rose. ‘He’s only ever looked at me. But he talked to Al and Lily and – and James, all the time.’

‘Why do I have a portrait in the Headmaster’s office?’ asked Snape abruptly. Rose didn’t know if it was her imagination, but she felt his dark eyes on her. ‘My… resignation… was not an orthodox one.’

‘No, it didn’t appear there by itself like they usually do. Uncle Harry ordered one to be made and put up. None of the other portraits rejected it, so I’d say they don’t care about orthodoxies of your exit.’

‘Potter insisted on a portrait?’ Snape sounded rather disbelieving. Rose didn’t bother trying to convince him. She still couldn’t understand the extent of hatred between her uncle and Severus. It made no sense to her, but then again, she wasn’t either of them.

‘Why won’t he speak to me?’ she repeated.

‘Why would you want him to speak to you?’

Words jammed themselves in Rose’s throat and became so muddled up that they didn’t make it to her mouth. Rose opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. Why indeed? What innocent explanation could she give for this?

‘I don’t know.’ Oh, smart answer.

Silence again. The trees whispered around them. Rose realized that even the sounds of the battle had been completely muffled. ‘Perhaps my portrait knows something I do not,’ he replied. ‘There may be memories that were formed before it was painted that I, as of yet, do not possess.’ Something in his voice made her think that he wasn’t being entirely truthful, but she didn’t push it. Maybe she was imagining the tone. The darkness made everything seem suspicious.

‘Oh,’ she replied softly, ripping a weed that met her fingers out of the soil. What memories? Had something happened that would cause Severus Snape to look down at her with such an odd expression on his face from the winged armchair of his portrait? An expression that was altogether unfathomable and disconcerting? Had she done something to insult him? Rose felt slightly sick just going over all the possible scenarios in her mind. Her stupid little one-sided love affair with a portrait in the Headmaster’s office was unpleasant to think about. She would always feel embarrassed of it – embarrassed, perhaps, because she was so… naïve… to become infatuated and more with a man who was not only dead but had never, in anyone’s living memory (at least as far as books upon him traced), ever been in love with anyone…

What made her think that she was different? What made her think that she was special?

The arrogance of the thought was nauseating and Rose felt a sudden loathing for herself. Childish, immature, silly… everything he would and probably did hate.

‘What will you do after I leave?’ asked Rose suddenly.

‘Return to the battle,’ replied Severus immediately.

‘You can’t.’

‘Can’t I?’

‘No,’ replied Rose. ‘If you return to battle – you’re supposed to be dead. I mean, you are dead. If you go back to the fight, you’ll be changing history. You died that day.’

‘Maybe I still will.’ Snape’s voice was monotonous.

‘Don’t you want to live?’ burst out Rose incredulously. ‘Why are you so keen on going back?’

‘It is my duty,’ said Snape, his voice hard. ‘I’m sure you know all about that.’

‘You died! You don’t have to go back! You can’t change history! They’ll know it was me who helped you.’

‘Perhaps you should have thought of that before you helped me.’

‘That isn’t the point!’ cried Rose. ‘You should have stayed with us! It would be safer than coming back here!’

‘It is more complicated than a choice between safe and not safe.’

‘No, it isn’t!’ shouted Rose, and she stood up now, though she was blind in the darkness. ‘Things are only as complicated as you make them! Everything is simple underneath! I don’t know why, but there is one reason why you don’t want to stay with me, so you don’t! There is one reason why you’d rather come back here! Maybe you want to die, so here you are! Voldemort needs the Elder Wand – if he sees you alive, he won’t send a snake after you again! He’ll just hit you with Avada Kedavra, and that’s it! Everything wasted! That’s what you want though, isn’t it?!’

‘It isn’t that simple,’ snarled Severus again.

‘It is!’ insisted Rose loudly. ‘It is! Everything is! I could stop pretending that I want you to stay with me because of the danger or the possibility that you’ll change the past or the fact that the Ministry might arrest me or that I want you to feel the respect so many people have for you now! That is complicated! But it’s all just an act! The real reason I want you to stay is because I—’

‘Miss Weasley,’ said Snape warningly.

‘No, let me say it now – you know it anyway—’

‘Stop right now!’

‘Why? Why should I listen to you? Things aren’t complicated are they? Just like the fact that I—’

Suddenly, there was light. Severus had lit the wand silently and Rose’s eyes narrowed at the unexpected brightness. ‘Do you want someone to hear you, you silly girl?’ he hissed. He pointed the wand at her face.

She reached forward and snatched her wand back from him angrily. ‘I don’t care if anyone—’

‘Rose, stop or I will not be responsible for my actions!’ shouted Severus. He was standing too, now.

The use of her name might have stopped her under usual circumstances, but now it just goaded her on. ‘Why can’t you hear it!’ she cried, close to tears now. ‘Let me say it, you hateful man! I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you! Everything is that simple! I want you to stay with me because I goddamned love you! You’re cruel and heartless and you’re afraid of kindness, but I don’t care! I can’t stop my feelings! It’s that simple!’

For a moment the only sound was of Rose’s breathing. Snape was looking at her, completely pokerfaced. It was better than pity, Rose thought to herself. He walked up to her slowly, until they were almost touching. The difference in their height was even more noticeable now, and Rose almost had to crane her neck to look up at him.

He bent down slightly and whispered, ‘Things are not that simple, Rose.’

Rose’s heart pounded wildly.

And then, abruptly, his gaze travelled over her shoulder. Still looking up at him, Rose saw his pupils contract suddenly, something green reflected in their blackness. With unexpected speed, his arm came out and threw Rose to one side. She landed on her back and her head struck a pointed rock that jutted out from the ground. White exploded in front of her eyes as she heard an odd thump to her right and a snarling laugh. Her head was pounding in time to the beating of her heart. She struggled to sit up, sensing danger, and blinked hard to clear her vision. A shadow loomed over her and before Rose could even think about it, her fingers tightened around her wand, her arm shot out and she shouted, ‘Impedimenta!!’

The shadow collapsed instantaneously and Rose blinked frenetically, standing up shakily. Fenrir Greyback was on the ground, trying to fight off the charm. He growled at her monstrously, and Rose lifted her wand to attack him – just as her first spell wore off.

The werewolf was on his feet in the blink of an eye, wand slashing the air as he stood. Rose felt something lash at her chest and she fell back against a tree, and cried out, ‘No!’ She raised her wand again, but all her movements were slower than usual, thanks to her injuries. Fenrir’s hot breath was against her neck before she could even think of a spell. Rose kicked out viciously, catching Greyback in the stomach. He let out a pained sound, and fell away from her.

Rose scrambled to her feet and plunged into the trees behind her, wand clenched so tightly in her hand that she was close to snapping it.

Greyback recovered quickly from the kick and laughed out. His animal eyes scanned the trees around him. ‘Come out to play, child,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t hurt you – for too long.’ His lit wand moved with his eyes. Rose tried her best not to breathe. But she’d forgotten. Greyback would be able to smell her.

His eyes lit up as he looked right at her in the trees, not seeing her but smelling her. ‘Stupefy!’ he screamed, flicking his wand.

The red light was coming straight for her. ‘Protego!’ she shouted, just in time, before turning around and running through the trees.

Greyback wasted no time. He dodged away from the rebounding spell and jumped in after her. ‘Give up, girl! You can’t win!’ he taunted as he ran.

Rose kept her lit wand high above her head, trying to spot dangerous jutting roots or particularly thorny brambles before she ran into them. It was almost impossible to do so, she realized, as a branch came out of nowhere. She only just ducked in time. And then suddenly, she was back in the clearing. She’d gone in a complete circle.

‘Crucio!’ called Greyback from behind her, gleefully.

Rose threw herself to the forest floor as fast as she could. Her wand slipped from her hand and landed on her right as the beam of lit flew past overhead. For Greyback, it was a win-win situation. Rose scrambled for her wand, but the werewolf had already pounced. He turned her over harshly, and grabbed the arm that was reaching for her wand. He twisted it brutally. Rose cried out through clenched teeth and tried to push the man off of her, but he was ready this time. He dealt her a resounding slap to the face that left her blinking away blackness for a moment.

‘Run away from me, will you?’ he whispered, bending down to her ear. ‘Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?’ A long-nailed finger scraped her jaw line. He looked greedily at her.

‘I was right, you are a pretty one.’ He laughed softly, and his breath hit Rose’s face. She clenched her eyes tightly, trying to kick and punch and bite, but his arms and legs were pinning her down. And her wand was too far away and they were so deep in the forest that no one would ever hear her screams.

Fenrir’s lips touched her neck and in a moment of greed, he moved his hands from her arms to run them over her body. ‘Too bad Severus is too dead to join us – I’d invite him to have some fun too.’

Rose lashed out immediately, with a deafening scream. Her fist swung out and she caught Greyback on the cheekbone. With a roar, he fell back slightly momentarily stunned. He was still on top of her mostly, but it was enough. Rose turned to the right and pushed forward as far as she could – and grabbed her wand.

Fenrir had recovered, and he pressed his hands to her neck immediately, with murderous pressure. Rose choked.

‘Stupid girl,’ he snarled in her ear, as he shook her by the neck. Tears squeezed themselves out of Rose’s eyes and tightened her grip on her wand. Greyback, it seemed, hadn’t realized she’d gotten it back. Rose thanked all the professors who’d insisted on non-verbal spells over the years, and thought, Stupefy!, pointing her wand right at the werewolf.

He was thrown away from her immediately, and collapsed to the earth with a dull thud, an unmoving heap.

Rose collapsed, unable to keep standing. There was deadly silence in the little forest-room. Rose felt sobs rising in her throat as she lay there, on mud and grass, head throbbing, something warm running down through her hair and onto her neck.

Please, no, she pleaded with whatever invisible force existed. Please, please, no.

She didn’t want to look, she didn’t want to open her eyes, she didn’t want to know. Lying there, she felt like she could pretend that it was a dream, forever. Leaves rustled around her as she cried, as if encouraging her to sit up. The sound made her realize that the danger had not passed – would not, until she got away. She had to sit up.

Her head protested painfully as she lifted herself up. How much blood had she lost in the past hour alone? She supposed she was lucky that the knock on her head hadn’t made black out, or killed her completely.

Opening her eyes was harder than sitting up. The first thing she saw was Fenrir Greyback, lying in a mound before her. His wand was still in his relaxed hand. Rose lifted her own wand and muttered, ‘Reducto.’ In place of the wand lay a pile of dust now, completely useless.

And then, finally, Rose turned to Severus.

She crawled over to him slowly, to the still, black-robed form lying there, and turned him over. Sobs wrenched themselves from her throat at the sight that met her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. This time, he really was dead. His eyes were still open, dark but empty. It was only now, when the black was devoid of light, that she realized it: the opaqueness of his eyes had held a plethora of emotion. She’d just been too dense to see it. There was nothing she could do to save him now. He was truly gone. Why had she taken her wand from him? If only he’d had it…

Rose put a hand over his eyes and closed them, as gently as she could. With teeth clenched tightly against the sobs that were fighting to leave her, Rose leaned over the Potion’s Master and, not caring if anyone saw (though no one would), kissed his lifeless lips softly. Salty tears slipped down her cheeks and fell into the kiss.

For a moment, she almost believed he was alive.

**

She managed to find her way out of the forest eventually. She had found the Invisibility Cloak in her enlarged pocket, which only made her angrier. Why hadn’t she pulled it out earlier? Why hadn’t she remembered it? Why had she taken away Severus’s wand? Was every death to be her fault? If only she’d used the cloak, Greyback wouldn’t have spotted them. If only she’d let Severus keep the wand, he would have been able to stop the werewolf before it was too late.

The Cloak was draped over Snape’s still form, now. He was gliding alongside her, invisible. It took all of Rose’s remaining strength to keep the spell active. She could hardly walk. As she emerged from the forest, she heard a cold voice, echoing around the grounds. She looked up and heard the words Voldemort spoke, but didn’t understand them. All she knew was that it was the same thing he’d said last time she’d been here. That meant that another Rose was in the Shrieking Shack at that moment, helping another Severus. A living one.

By the time Rose reached the shack, she was sure that the other Rose was gone.

The Shrieking Shack was the best place to put the body, Rose had decided. That way, when Uncle Harry and the others returned to retrieve the body, they would actually find one. No suspicion, no changing history, no arrest warrant from the Ministry. Things had worked out after all. Rose didn’t feel happy though. She felt sick and hurt and a part of her wished that she’d simply let Greyback kill her. She couldn’t stand the pain.

She walked up into the shack, back to the room in which she’d first seen Lord Voldemort in the flesh. And where she had first seen Severus Snape alive. It felt like she was drifting in a dream, as she lowered her wand and Snape’s body settled itself onto the grimy wooden floor. There was still blood puddle there.

Rose pulled off the cloak and tried not to look into the face. She wondered for a moment, how she’d found Severus lying on that day so that she could position him the same way, but the memory refused to come to her. She didn’t care anyway. So what if someone found the way he was lying odd. They wouldn’t be able to guess that a girl had healed him, taken him back to her time, gotten him to make a cure for a disease and then brought him back, only to allow him to die – no, they wouldn’t be able to guess that simply by looking at the body. Or by noticing the lack of snake bites.

She looked into his face by accident, and the tears began to flow again. Why? She wanted someone to answer that question, wanted to hear a reasonable explanation. She wanted to know which insane being ran this world, so that she could go and tell them off. They were doing a terrible job.

Everyone she’d wanted to save had died. What did that say about Rose? Why had James and Severus both lost their lives? Would things have been better had she not meddled? Of course not – both of them would have died anyway. But why had they died when she’d done her best to give them life? The cure should have fixed James, Severus shouldn’t have died all over again. It was ridiculous, stupid, it was not fair!

She loved him.

She could almost hear Snape saying to her, “It was infatuation.� She could almost see the sneer on his face.

But it wasn’t infatuation. Rose knew that. She didn’t see past Snape’s faults – she saw him with each and every one he possessed (more than the average human being) and she still loved him. She respected him and knew what he’d done and she saw him without bias. Severus was right, even if you ignored the fact that he’d once been a Death Eater and killed people, he was still not a pleasant man. That didn’t matter though. She didn’t know why she loved him – she just did.

What had he been about to do when Fenrir crept up on them?

Rose would never know. That was one thing she knew for sure, as she held onto a dead man’s hand, tears dripping off of her nose and cheeks and slipping into her mouth, reminding her of a kiss. That was one thing that was certain, in a world of uncertainty.

She would never know.

**

Epilogue

Schuler’s Meadow was being systematically drowned. The rain hadn’t abated – if anything, it had gotten steadily harder and was now pounding down upon grass, tree and stone. Not to mention the group of people that stood in the center of the meadow, in a large natural flowerbed, surrounding a casket.

The casket was made of the finest wood, polished rigorously. It was all black, with leather-covered handles and white silk lining. It was beautiful. Inside lay a young man, dressed in the darkest black robes. His face, by contrast, was whiter than snow. His hands were folded on his still chest.

Along with the meadow’s flowers that surrounded the coffin, there were also bouquets of flowers brought by the people in the funeral’s attendance. Rose caught sight of a floral name tribute. Red and white roses had been mixed and shaped to form the word “brother�.

It was a small funeral. Only family: Potters, Weasleys… Teddy Lupin had come, as had Hermione’s parents. Rose wondered if that was because Harry and Ginny hadn’t wanted big one, or if there just weren’t enough people left to attend – Rose had noticed a lack of James’s school friends. His girlfriend, Lydia, wasn’t present. Rose had a strong feeling that many, if not all of them, must have succumbed to the disease.

Aunt Ginny was hugging her mother. Albus and Lily were standing abreast, staring at the flowers around the casket. Rose was near Harry, who was standing with Rose’s mother and father. They were talking quietly and Hermione had a hard grip on Harry’s hand. After a few moments, Ginny joined them, eyes red and swollen. Harry hugged her tightly and Rose looked away, moving closer to her cousins. She would never stop blaming herself for this. She wanted to go up to her aunt and uncle and tell them how sorry she was – but how did you put something like that into meaningful words?

Most of all, Rose wanted to tell James she was sorry.

Lily seemed to sense her thoughts and reached out and took her hand. Rose squeezed back but stopped quickly, because it hurt.

Her wounds were all mostly healed, but still sore. She’d managed to return home about five minutes after she’d left and her mother had attacked her immediately. Everyone wanted to know what had happened, but Rose hadn’t been able to stand on her own, let alone talk. As her parents and aunt and uncle had searched for potions and spells to heal her shoulder wound and the two gashes on her head, she’d told them all what had happened. It had been almost impossible to repeat it all, but she’d given them the whole story. Well – most of it. She didn’t think her mother would like it if she blurted out that she’d told Snape she was in love with him. That was something Rose would get off her chest later, when she was alone with Al and Lily.

A man walked around the casket, to stand near its head, breaking Rose out of her thoughts.

Rose’s umbrella tugged at her hand, threatening to turn inside out as her family slowly quieted around her. Her silky black robes swayed in the icy wind, allowing cold to seep to her legs. She shivered as the man began to say a prayer. The only sounds apart from his voice were the small cries of mourners and the spattering of rain on the large tent-like umbrella that had been erected directly over the coffin to keep it dry.

Rose almost didn’t listen to the prayer. The man’s deep, soothing voice brought a lump to her throat and Rose found her eyes resting on James. She was all cried out after the past few months. Her tears for Snape had been the last strand. Her eyes stung and her throat ached, but nothing slipped from her lids.

Hush now baby don't you cry

The prayer had ended and someone had begun to sing. Rose turned to see that someone had hired a vocalist – and told her the lullaby.

Rest your wings my butterfly
Peace will come to you in time
And I will sing this lullaby

It was a song that she, Hugo, Albus, Lily and James had heard countless times. Their parents had sung it to them every night, and even sometimes during the day. They had grown up with the sweet, haunting melody. It had been the ultimate cure when they’d been ill, when they’d fallen and hurt themselves, when some other child had called them names. Rose couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard it, but hearing it now caused her chest to suddenly throb with colossal pain. Next to her, Lily burst into tears.

Know though I must leave, my child
That I would stay here by your side

The vocalist continued to sing, and Rose saw Ginny join in soundlessly. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. Rose had to bite her cheeks to stop her lips quivering. The singer went on, but more quietly now. The lullaby, terrible and beautiful, was in the background. The man who’d been saying the prayer now cleared his throat for a speech. His dark skin shone in the rain.

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked around at everyone before speaking. He was Minister for Magic and a close family friend. Rose didn’t wonder why he’d been chosen to speak.

And if you wake before I'm gone
Remember this sweet lullaby

‘There is nothing more painful than the death of a young person,’ began Kingsley. ‘I think that is something that all of us have realized over the past few months. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can replace the brightness of a child.’

And, oh, through the darkness
Don't you ever stop believing

‘James Sirius Potter was such a person. He lit up the day with his dancing blue eyes, his ever-ready laughter. Before this disease began to spread, I was proud that he was soon to join the Ministry. He would have made the place even better than it is now. However, things were not meant to be.’

With love alone
With love you'll find your way

‘We were blessed with a miracle – a cure, found simply by luck. Sometimes however, even the greatest miracles aren’t miraculous for everyone. James lost his life despite the fact that without his help, the cure would have never seen the light of day. He tested the potion, ensured that it was safe and worked, and thus – James Potter has allowed the rest of the world to be cured.’

My love

‘In this death, we find comfort, and even joy. In this way, James has actually lived on. Six thousand nine hundred and ninety nine children have died from this accursed disease, including James. Six thousand nine hundred and ninety nine suns have set around the world. But because of him, and his family, James’s death has been the final sunset.’

The world has turned the day to dark
I leave this night with heavy heart

‘Even as we mourn for a young man who was blessed with an enormous soul, filled with laughter. Even as we remember his jokes and pranks and trouble-making days at Hogwarts. Even as we recall how he matured and bloomed into a man to be proud of… even as we cry… we must always remember to feel some joy. Without James Sirius Potter, there would have been more than six thousand nine hundred and ninety nine sunsets. Many more.’

When I return to dry your eyes
I will sing this lullaby

But as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped away from the casket, as he was embraced by Ginny and Harry, as the rain pounded down upon them even more intensely… Rose couldn’t help thinking he was wrong. The disease hadn’t caused only six thousand nine hundred and ninety nine sunsets, she thought, as the image of Severus Snape lying still on the wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack came to her.

It had caused seven thousand.

She followed Lily to the open casket and when it was her turn, leaned down and kissed James’s cheek. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, as she straightened up and touched his hand. ‘I’m so very sorry.’

Yes I will sing this lullaby.

**

She walked into the Headmaster’s office, feeling uneasy. It was warm inside, a fire burning merrily in the fireplace. The office was spick and span, as always, but strangely welcoming when it was empty. It smelled of tea and biscuits, which Rose found oddly soothing. Many of the portrait residents surrounding the Headmaster’s desk were asleep. The one she wanted to see was not.

The Headmaster had found it extremely odd that she should want to go into his office willingly. In fact, he’d had a good laugh about it for ten long minutes. Rose had let him, guessing that if he was in a better mood, he’d allow her to do what she wanted. As she’d suspected, he’d found the fact that she wanted to be in there alone surprising, but he’d agreed easily enough.

Rose hoped she knew what she was doing.

He stared down at her with the same expression - of course, this man had all the memories, so she didn’t know why she’d expected him to look at her differently now. He was sitting in his chair, as always, arms on the ornate supports. His fingers hung just off the armrest, and (though she was a little far to be sure) he seemed to be clutching the chair rather tightly.

She cleared her throat a few times, wondering how to say what she wanted to say. Really, there was only one way.

She took a breath and looked Severus Snape right in the eyes. ‘I just wanted to say – thank you.’

There was silence even after that, but Rose had expected it. She didn’t think it would be like Snape to say “you’re welcome� or smile or anything of that sort. He gazed at her for a few moments, and she didn’t balk. Finally, he gave a short, quick nod, and then walked out of his portrait.

Rose stared at the empty frame in dismay. She wondered where he had another portrait – she hadn’t know a second existed. ‘He’s never going to talk to me, is he?’ she asked the room, quietly.

Someone chuckled to her right and Rose turned slightly. The portrait immediately above the Headmaster’s desk was of Albus Dumbledore. He was awake and looking down at her with twinkling blue eyes. Rose had spoken to him before – he’d seemed very eager to meet Ron and Hermione’s first child and had told her once, that he’d never thought her parents would get on with it. He’d confessed that he’d considered writing a request for them to do so in his will, but had decided against it in the end.

‘He won’t, will he?’ asked Rose, walking closer to Dumbledore.

The silver-bearded man gave her a small smile. ‘I cannot say, my dear. You are perhaps the only person who has ever seen him in a position of vulnerability – and you love him. That isn’t something easy to forgive, at least, not for Severus.’

‘He was in love with Lily Potter, wasn’t he?’ Rose had put things together eventually. She still didn’t know the whole story though. Someday she’d corner her uncle, after everyone had recovered enough. He’d tell her.

Dumbledore acknowledged the correctness of the statement with a small nod.

Rose sighed and looked back at the empty frame. While she was still turned away, Dumbledore said, ‘Some things will never be. Yet that does not mean that your story has ended.’

Rose turned back abruptly and stared at him. ‘You were in my dream that day. I’d almost forgotten.’ His blue eyes danced merrily and Rose shook her head.

‘You are a very strange man, Professor.’ He simply beamed at her, as if she’d paid him a compliment. With a small smile of her own, Rose said goodbye to the great man and left the office. She would see Severus again, someday.

And someday, he would speak to her.

She just needed to wait.

**

Two Months Later

Godric’s Hollow was shining in the bright sunlight that was spread over the town. As Rose walked along one of its many roads, a particular kissing gate in sight, she couldn’t help but smile at the brightness. In a yard a few feet away, children ran after each other, shrieking with laughter.

Godric’s Hollow had suffered greatly from the disease. It had been a small village to begin with, and only magical families resided there. As soon as one child came down with the disease, all the others quickly followed. The cure had come just in time to save two families grief. The other’s had all lost their younger generation.

As it was, the world only had so many witches and wizards. And this disease had all but wiped out the new generation. It was lucky that witches and wizards had longer lifetimes than the average human being. They may never have recovered otherwise.

Of course, people were still getting ill. Coming down with the disease. It would go on for some time – it took a lot of effort to eradicate something so powerful. Healers had found out that the virus had jumped from owls to human beings, which was why even children who were isolated often came down with the disease. Now they had the potion though and no one else had died. No one else would die.

Rose walked through the kissing gates and paused for a moment at the statues, before moving on. She found the graves she was looking for without much difficulty.

There were three graves side-by-side. Two tombstones were rather old, the third comparatively new. Rose wondered if it was strange to find all three names so familiar – despite having met only one of the people. James Potter – Lily Potter – Severus Snape.

When Rose had found out that Severus Snape had been buried next to Harry’s mother, she’d been surprised. Now, she thought it was only fitting. She wondered what he’d say if he knew. Probably ask why he was so close to James, or something equally exasperating. Rose guessed Harry’s father wouldn’t be too happy with the positioning either. Perhaps only Lily Potter would have been glad. Rose didn’t know, and guessing wasn’t good enough. Looking down at the well-maintained graves, she felt a sense of extreme loss. Three great people all snatched away from the world before their time. Did the good really die young? Or was it the unafraid, the fighters – the ones who truly knew how to live?

Rose bent and spread the flowers she’d brought onto the earth. Red roses for James and his wife, white lilies for Severus Snape.

Lily and Rose.

Severus’s words came back to her suddenly. Another flower.

Rose smiled. She expected he’d meant it in more of a good way than a bad. After all, he’d been in love with Lily.

Rose’s eyes lingered on James’s tombstone for a while longer. Two people with the same name – killed in their youth. One of the roses on James’s grave fluttered in the breeze as Rose sighed. She still missed James and Hugo and Scorpius every day. She had hoped that soon, their memory would become something different, something more and more insubstantial, like a shadow. It hadn’t yet. And neither had the memory of Severus Snape. She would never be able to forget the pain of their deaths. It would always be there, at the back of her mind, ever prepared to haunt her dreams.

The house was quieter now too. She was an only child, and unused to it. Whenever she slipped too deep into a book, or became too engrossed in a particularly juicy Daily Prophet article, she could forget that Hugo was no longer in the house. A shadow would pass close to her and she’d say something to her brother, without looking up, only to realize later that it was Albus or Lily or her parents.

Even going to the Potters’ was different. She’d never realized how much she’d depended on James – on his presence. He was the eldest, the one she turned to when she needed help with something she couldn’t talk to her parents about. Lily and Albus had always had an elder brother to help them out. James was the voice of experience. He’d done everything first, and they’d never really grown out of the habit of going to him and asking him to resolve their arguments about various things – these days, which job should you take first at the Ministry if you eventually wanted to be promoted to Hit-Wizard (or witch, as Rose liked to amend). She, Al and Lily would get into a heated discussion, only for someone to suggest they go ask James. Realizing that they couldn’t ask James anything was terrible.

Scorpius was always on Rose’s mind these days. She’d thought of him so little while Hugo and James had been ill. When everything had settled down after James’s funeral, Rose had found she couldn’t get Scorpius Malfoy off of her mind. She missed his cockiness, his ability to laugh the circumstances off. She missed the fact that he would have put one arm around her and made everything better. They’d never really gotten far with each other because of the disease… and Rose felt that, maybe, it was because of her. Another mistake she could chalk up for herself. Rose had always thought that she and Scorpius would have all the time in the world… she hadn’t wanted to stop having fun and she didn’t think Scorpius had either. Neither of them had known that he would be taken so swiftly.

And though she’d known Severus for only a short time, even his memory wouldn’t leave her. Two months later, and she still couldn’t tell herself she didn’t love him and believe it. The passion may have dimmed, but Rose had a feeling that that only made the love, the true feeling, even stronger.

There were days she wished it would go away completely and she would forget Hugo and James and Scorpius and Severus. She wished their memories would simply drift away with their souls. She wished she could just wave her wand and get used to the feeling of their absence. She wished that the emotions that welled up whenever she thought of them would simply cease to exist.

Rose looked up and spotted a dark-haired boy standing at the iron fence surrounding graveyard. He was peering through the bars at her and smiled when he caught her eye.

Of course, none of it would ever stop.

But, she thought, as she smiled and waved at the boy, and then turned back the way she had come…

That didn’t mean that she had to stop living.

After all, her story had hardly begun.

**