Making sure the boy who lives, actually does...

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Chapter 26: Betrayal of the Serpent...
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No.

Snape had heard the words spoken by the mature looking Hermione as she looked up to the Future Snape, the tears starting at the corner of her eyes. He himself was still hidden behind the pillar in the foyer, feeling as if stones were dropping to the bottom of his stomach, weighing his body down. He felt faint.

"And what of us?" Future Snape asked lightly, his glossy eyes betraying his stoic face and stance as he looked down to her, obviously hoping, praying that she'd answer how he longed her to. He was still, rigid even.

"There will never be an us, Severus." Hermione said slowly, her eyes trailing down his tall body. She herself seemed torn in her rese, se, as if she didn't even believe it herself. She sounded lost, broken and confused. "I made my choice...ten years ago."

"You settled." Future Snape retorted numbly, looking to her in piteous shock.

"I had help." Hermione responded despondently, her lips thinning in displeasure as she gave him meaningful look. Soon her eyes were squeezed shut, and she turned from him, not able to take any more. "I have to go."

'I've buggered it up.' Snape thought to himself miserably, shaking his head as he looto tto the two stony figures now looking to one another in the confines of the foyer. He was utterly gob smacked at what was happening. All because of one little choice.

"Go then." Future Snape spat venomously, his glassy eyes mirroring her image within them. He said nothing more, and instead crossed his arms in front of his chest, not meeting her gaze. "Go back to your Weasley."

Future Hermione stood there a moment, just looking to him. They were still, unmoving. Snape looked to the figures, wanting nothing more than for his future self to stop being such a prat. He longed to take the tears from the girl, he longed to shake his older self.

"I'm sorry Severus." Hermione finally said, her chin trembling as she looked to him. "But, you're the one who let me go first."

Snape said nothing, his eyes still fixed off somewhere in the distance. He was still, anyone passing would think him an exquisitely carved statue. Hermione said nothing, but wit war warning, she'd wrapped her arms around him, her tears wet on his cheeks, and pressed her lips to his own.

A farewell kiss, he could tell.

"I don't need your kisses." Future Snape ground out furiously, pushing the girl from him as she looked back to him with raindrop tears slipping down her face with his harsh words. He was so strange, so volatile.

"I don't need anything from you."

Future Hermione was silent a moment, looking to him with a faint shake of her head. It was clear she couldn't say any more to him. He was no longer looking to her, and so she turned, whispering over her shoulder.

"Goodbye Severus."

'Not goodnight.' Snape noticed desperately, looking to his future self with angered confusion.

Snape watched as his future self gave Hermione one lingering look, even as she turned from him and headed after Ron down the hall. Her footsteps dimmed and soon she was so far, he could no longer see nor hear her.

* * *

"You know Hermione," Ron said lazily as they stood, still waiting for the ever-late Harry. He absently ran a hand through his thick hair, looking everywhere but her eyes. "There's a good play happening in Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Is there?" Hermione said absently, looking to the trophy case, her mind filled with memories. Her hand trailed up to the glass as she lightly placed her fingertips upon it, a million images of Snape running through her mind. When would this pain end?

She hadn't stopped thinking about Snape. She couldn't. Every sight, ever smell, every minute was somehow him. She could be eating breakfast and someone from the lab would pass her, trailing behind them that familiar musky, herbal scent that she'd internally labeled as him.

Or she'd see a cauldron in one of her spell books and get goosebumps. Everything reminded her of him. She longed for so so much it felt as if it were killing her.

And now she stood there alone with Ron -sweet Ron who had tried so hard to cheer her up time and time again- looking into the trophy case, recalling her trip into the past and holding back burning tears. She caught sight of her own reflection in the glass, and a few feet behind her, were two flinty gray eyes. She held in a shudder.

"Look who it is," came the haughty voice from the image in the glass, a familiar smirk playing about the thin lips. "If it isn't Granger and her boyfr-...oh my no...You prefer men old enough to be your father, don't you Mudblood?"

Hermione turned slowly and looked up into the cold eyes of Draco Malfoy, his smirk carved into his chalky face. His face was contorted horribly vicious, a pose he undoubtedly practiced in front of the mirror in case of occurences such as these. Just like his father.

"Oh oh," Draco cooed as he came upon them with Crabbe and Goyle in quick pursuit. "Why Mudblood, this is certainly a change. Where is your boyfriend Snapey? Oh my...that's right...he didn't want you."

"Go away Malfoy." Hermione responded weakly, her lips trembling at his words. "I'm just not in the mood."

"Oh really?" Malfoy said with a sneer, moving closer to her until one hand was pressed against the trophy case above her right shoulder and he glowered at her. "I'm sure that's not what you told Snapey, is it?"

"Bugger off Malfoy." Ron echoed behind Hermione, looking to Draco with obvious hatred, he pulled Hermione back to him, and she allowed it. "Just leave her alone."

"This doesn't concern you Weasel, as usual." Draco said with an emphatic roll of his eyes, Crabbe and Goyle offered grunting laughs of raderaderie as Draco went on dramatically, drawing a nearby crowd of Slytherins.

"This concerns a certain little mudblood who-"

But the rest of the insult never came, for before he even knew what was happening, Draco Malfoy was at the receiving end of Ron's tightly balled fist.

Blood squirted from the blonde boy's nose, echoing a gruesome crunching noise along the way. He fell to the ground, howling and holding onto his nose, screaming obscenities along the way. Crabbe and Goyle merely watched in shock, their piggy eyes glancing from Ron back to Draco and then back to Ron who stared down at the writhing Draco in shock.

"You broke my bloody nose!" Draco screeched, looking at Ron through watery eyes, his free hand flailing in front of him, as if he expected the beatings to continue. "You bastard!"

Ron looked down at Malfoy who was struggling to stand and swallowed a gulp. He'd never broken anyone's nose before. Not even his brother's. Hermione watched as Ron absently rubbed his knuckles, almost in disbelief at what he'd done, and before the words could be suppressed, she let out a small grin at the oblivious Ron and whispered;

"That was brilliant."

* * *

Ten years into the future, Snape still stood behind the light pillar, looking to his Future self, completely ruined. He had no idea what to do. He didn't know if he should or could leave. He couldn't accept what had happened.

He viewed his future self; thin fingers curving into tight fists at his sides. He looked positively furious and yet somehow lost. His future self stood there in the foyer, looking after a non-existent Hermione for a full five minutes before shaking his head heavily, the silver tint catching in the faint glow of the candles.

Suddenly his dark head was jerked up, his eyes suddenly brimmed and filled with obvious intent, an idea. And before Snape knew what his future self was doing, the git was headed down to the dungeons at a mad pace.

'Damn it.' Snape cursed to himself, glancing around to see if there was anyone about. Seeing that the coast was clear, Snape emerged from his hiding spot, only to start slowly slinking into the shadows, quietly following his future self. He needed to know what he was up to.

It's not an easy thing, following an ex Deatheater, even if you are one yourself. The only real advantage you have is knowing which things to avoid, such as shallow breathing, following at too close a distance and being clumsy. Thankfully, Snape obtained none of these qualities, and so following his future self wasn't as difficult as imagined.

Future Snape had only turned back once, and that was when Snape had to muffle a cough from all the dust. Thankfully he'd been able to quell the sound quite well, and had hidden behind a wall separating the halls. And while his future self looked rather wary at the time, he still continued on quickly to his destination.

Snape absently reached into his robes as he made the trip, making sure that his vials were still there. Yes, good. One for future, one for past...not that he'd need the past anymore. He'd seen more than he ever wanted to, and he was still to see more.

Soon they were in front of the potions classroom, and without even a backwards glance to see if anyone was watching, Future Snape pushed his way into the lab, not even locking it behind him. This was good for Snape, who had been curious as to how he would follow his older self, but unsettling at the same time.

'I never leave my door unlocked.'

He stood outside the lab a moment, his dark eyes slipping over it's rough exterior. Had he seen too much? Perhaps this was never meant for his eyes. Perhaps he should just go back now. This made sense to him. This is what his rational, logical sense told him.

But he needed a moment to collect what he'd seen. He needed just a second to understand his fate, lest he never tell Hermione his true feelings for her. Ruination. Despair. He'd ruin both their lives, all for what? The approval of Albus? The need for personal pride?

He shook his head. He didn't even know himself.

Suddenly his attention was drawn back to the partially opened door. He was in there. His regret, his longing, his pain. He didn't want that. He wanted Hermione, and that life. He wanted happiness. He wanted her.

He heard the faint ceasing of clattering in the classroom then and his thoughts were broken. What could he be making at this time of night? Suddenly a scent wafted out the door, a burnt, sickly sort of smell that had his heart pounding in fear. This was the smell of a stale potion that he kept in the very back of his classroom, for research purposes only.

A death draught.

Snape, having finally processed the information fully flung open the door -past and present be damned- and rushed into the lab, his robe flowing out from behind him as he viewed his future self draining what was left of the death draught. Snape let out a small gust of disbelieving air. He'd poised himself. He'd killed himself. He was watching his own suicide.

"No-" Snape suddenly choked, a hand coming to cover his mouth as he stood there, watching his future self fall into a slump on the ground, black eyes fixed unblinkingly on the ceiling above. The figure was deathly still.

Snape watched this procession in harsh shock, and even though it was against all protocol, he rushed over to his future self, fervently shaking him with all his might. The dark head lolled grotesquely, the body heavy from its dead weight. Still Snape shook it, ignoring the tremors overtaking his own form.

"Wake up!" he hissed shakily, shaking the unblinking figure of his future self. "Wake up you idiot! You haven't completely lost her yet!"

But he was gone. Snape stared into the dark depths of his own eyes, missing their living gleam, missing their soul, missing their life. He shuddered in minor horror and moved from the limp corpse a few steps back.

"What have I done?" Snape said in an awed whisper to himself, his eyes transfixed on the body at his feet. "I-I've ruined my life and hers...I've ruined it all. I've killed us both."

These were words, Snape never could have envisioned himself saying, not even in the most dramatic of possibilities. And yet he had. He had the the outcome of each decision, although in the deepest part of him, that he'd never admit existed, he'd known the answer all along.

He needed Hermione.

It was a strange emotion. A feeling of such need for another person. He'd scarcely believed a part of him to hold such an emotion. One that had his heart pounding even more furiously, something that had him more nervous than his encounters with Voldemort, one that had him furiously desperate to hold her.

All of this was a blur behind him as he reached into his robes, picking the right vial and drinking it deeply. He was already shakily downing its contents, much like his older counterpart. There was a bit left, and he bottled it, feeling the familiar tilt to the room.

He was going home.

* * *

Ron turned his light eyes on Hermione as she spoke, smiling back just as bright, even though he knew what trouble he'd be in when a Professor came to break them up. Seeing Hermione beaming at him, as if he were some sort of hero, was worth a thousand won Quidditch matches to him.

Meanwhile, Draco looked up to Crabbe and Goyle from the dirty floor. Strands of blonde fell into his glassy eyes and his teeth ground as he spoke to his two sidekicks darkly.

"Help. Me. Up."

The two large boys nodded dumbly after a moment and went to either side of Draco, lifting him with ease until he was standing straight, his hand bloodied and at his side. Hermione backed up a bit, the fury in Draco's eyes was beyond frightening. She could feel Ron's strong hand in her own, holding it tightly and making her feel more at ease.

From this angle, she could now see the obvious damage that Ron had done to that prissy Malfoy's nose, and a part of her was amazed. Ron of all people, who knew he had it in him? She tried not to smile anymore than she already was.

"You should really go to the Infirmary." she offered quietly, trying to suppress the giggle building up in her throat. Her smile dimmed then though, as she realized, Snape could very well be the Professor that would come to break them up and she didn't want to see him, not tonight.

"You think you've won, do you Weasley?" Draco said, his voice muffled as he glared at Ron who had a supercilious look on his face. Draco's eyes almost darkened, flashing as he spoke. "We'll see."

Before anyone could register what was happening, Draco's hand had up from his side. Ron blocked his fast with his fists, but was expecting Malfoy's diversion up to his hair. With one foul tug, Draco had pulled a large chunk of red hair from Ron's head, holding it above him like some sort of bizarre trophy.

"Son of a-" Ron hissed as Malfoy pulled a chunk of his hair from his head. Before he'd even a chance to do anything in retaliation, Draco had brandished his wand and screamed out a spell that not even Hermione recognized. A flash of green light came hurtling out of his wand, zapping into Ron at an alarming rate.

Hermione screamed, trying to get Draco to stop. She ran at him from behind, pounding on his back roughly before Crabbe and Goyle grasped her, holding her down as she kicked and screamed. All Draco did was laugh as Hermione looked up helplessly to see a green, flashing Ron disappear completely.

"No one to save you now, eh Mudblood?" Draco said with a smile, coming over to a writhing Hermione, held in-between the grinning Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione was about to retort with something obscene when a voice from down the hall sounded out.

"Get away from her, Malfoy!"

Hermione's heart soared.

"Harry!"

Harry came charging down the hall, his wand brandished and a furious glare on his face. Draco blanched obviously, his eyes turning to the victorious smiling Hermione as Crabbe and Goyle released her. Malfoy turned on her, pressing his face close to hers, so close that only she could hear the words he said next.

"You're going to pay too Mudblood, right where it hurts."

"What's going on down here?"

Before Hermione could question him further, he was gone, dashing down the halls as McGonagall came swooping in from down the long stairs expanse. She missed the blonde boy's head and instead viewed as Harry stopped mid-spell, hiding his wand behind his back.

"What is going on?" McGonagall repeated, coming to the center of the small group, he eyes falling on Hermione and Harry. "Potter? Granger?"

But Hermione heard none of this. She couldn't even speak, for in her mind echoed one singular, malicious sentence: "You're going to pay too Mudblood, right where it hurts."

For some reason, all she could think of was Snape.

* * *

Snape was almost grinning as the old room spun into view, even though he wasn't a man who grinned. It was the feeling of elation overtaking him. He was worried and pensive and excited all at once, as if his emotions were battling for power.

Finally the room stopped spinning full stop, and he was standing there, a look of hope in his dark eyes. Hermione. His Hermione. Hermione Granger who was made for him wholly, past, present and future. And he would have her.

Damn Albus. Damn the school. Damn them all.

The room was dark, and even though he knew his way around the classroom blindfolded, there was something odd in the air. A sense that he himself was not completely alone in here. A sense of what he would later recall as foreboding.

He lit a candle, looking around the large expanse of the room and seeing a thin figure on his floor, sprawled out on his back. For a horrible moment, Snape thought that he hadn't made it back to the present at all, and it was his own lifeless corpse that he was staring at. But on closer inspection, he saw the figure was breathing and viewed familiar red hair.

"Weasley?" Snape said darkly, looking to the lifeless body of the redhead on the floor as he stepped nearer, a bit of panic in his voice. "What-"

Before any other words were spoken, Snape was hit from behind roughly as a spell was screamed at him. Red bolts seared through his body as he shook violently, his eyelids flickering at a mad pace. When the horrible sensations stopped, he did as well, falling to the floor in a crumpled heap.

He could feel every sense of the moment when he fell to the ground even though it was instantaneous. His cheek smashed against the cold floor roughly. He could feel a tooth loosening in the back of his mouth, and the familiar taste of blood overtook his taste buds, sickening him.

His shoulder hit the ground harshly all, ll, expelling a new, sharp flash of pain against his bones. The side of his head had hit the floor as well, though not so hard as his shoulder or cheek. Still, his vision was blurry, wavy a bit as two dark boots came into view.

Then there was a voice echoing above him, and Snape mistook it for an angel of sorts for a delirious moment. "You'll be dead soon."

It took all his energy to roll over and face the voice. So much pain shot through him, but he needed to see the face of his tormenter. He needed to know who had done this to him. He needed to know who was keeping him from Hermione forever.

"Hermione." he called out softly, so softly his attacked barely heard him. He needed to see her one last time. But it was too difficult. He couldn't move. The pain was blinding. He felt helpless. Without warning, ude ude and rough boot was nudged against his stomach, pushing him onto his back.

Steely gray eyes swam into view. A bloodied nose. A familiar smirk.

Malfoy.

The tall boy bent over Snape's limp frame, grasping his Professor's lean fingers in his own. Snape felt a light, tickling sensation in the palm of his hand and then it was gone, like some strange type of breeze.

Suddenly his horrid voice was back, strange and far away, as if Snape were standing at the breakers of an ocean, trying to yell across it. There was too much roaring and distance. He could see the boy talking, though his words didn't match up with what he was saying. Everything was starting to get black tinges to it and he was losing focus. But the voice was there. Forever there.

"I trusted you. My father trusted you. And you fed me to the wolves."

Then Draco's face was gone. Boots scuffing the floor were heard. Groaning at his side suddenly came into play. But he barely heard it all. His heart was slowing. His pulse weakening. He needed to see Her-

His dark eyes fell shut then, the world stopping as his head lolled to the side. Soon he drifted into the familiar, warm and beckoning darkness that he knew so well. His words of love and hope for Hermione, dead on his lips.
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author's notes: Ugh. I’ve got a pile of essays to do, a presentation this week, work, and on top of everything, I’m sick! Ugh! I though I had such a protective immune system! As I currently write this, I’m stopping to cough like a seal! So, if this chapter is strange, it may be due to my excess consumption of cough drops, tea and that minty rub all over me! (Some of which even got in my hair, which is horrible, though as I looked at it, all greasy and shiny and such, it reminded me of our dear Potions’ master and gave me inspiration for this chapter.) That combined with me listening to ‘The Doors’ all afternoon doesn’t help. Ever heard ‘Love Street’? My lord that’s a fab song! cheers. holden.