Always - Prologue

Always

Prologue

“It’s not your time. Your place is not here, Severus. Your place is there. He needs you. She needs you.”

“There is nothing for me there. I am hated, reviled, despised. Death is my only respite.”

“Severus ... I’m sorry ... I’m so, so sorry ... please, you need to stay there. He needs you. She needs you. They all need you.”

“Lily ... made her choice ... and I ... made mine, James.”

“Severus ... your sacrifice ... won’t go unrewarded. Stay where you belong, among the living. Please, believe ....”

Neville Longbottom made his way down to the boatshed, knowing there were some healing herbs that Madame Pomfrey needed to help heal the injured after the battle of Hogwarts. He carefully made his way along the slippery footings around the dock area, stopping suddenly as he heard a noise. A soft moaning sound was coming from just within. Wand at the ready, he cautiously opened the door and in the wan light that forced its way through the clouded, muck-lined windows, he saw a figure. One he knew well. One who had terrorized him. One who he had come to hate. One he now had a choice to make regarding his fate.

He gathered up his herbs, some of the river clay and his wand. Crossing quickly to the figure, he began to use spells he’d learned in Professor Sprout’s class. Feebly, the object of his ministrations objected.

“Stop fighting me! It’s a bezoar. Open up.”

“Leave me ... to die. It’s my fate.”

“I can’t do that. It’s not in m’nature. Harry, you see ... I can’t. No matter how I feel about you, I can’t. I’ve got to try, you know. Now lie still and let me get these spells going.”

Dark eyes slipped closed, letting Neville tend to the wounds without further protest. Neville worked for quite some time, covered with clay and greenery as he stood up. “I can’t do more than that, but it should keep you alive until I get Madame Pomfrey.” Neville looked around and spotted a moldering cushion across the shed. Using his wand, he drew the cushion to him, setting it beneath his patient’s head. “There. That should be a bit more comfortable. I’ll be back soon as I can.”

The man’s eyes slitted open. “I was wrong about you. Sometimes the flowers which bloom late ... are the most brilliant.”

“Just rest. Don’t struggle to get up. I need time to get help.”

“I shan’t go off; don’t worry.”

Neville cracked a crooked smile, then raced back to Hogwarts, straight toward the triage area of the great hall. Professor McGonagall noticed Neville and quickly moved toward him. “Neville Longbottom? What has you in such a rush? What’s going on?”

“Professor McGonagall, it’s ... it’s ....”

“Come on, Longbottom, spit it out.”

Neville leaned over to McGonagall and whispered in her ear. The professor’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

“We must go there at once! Madame Pomfrey, will you please gather Professor Sprout and bring her to the boatshed immediately?”

“But what about these patients here?”

McGonagall shook her head. “None are critical. Please, hurry!”

The school’s head nurse nodded and ran to where Professor Sprout was pressing herbs for healing draughts and as Pomfrey relayed the message, the squatty round woman gathered her herb basket and rushed to the boatshed.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Madame Pomfrey. “Longbottom? Did you apply these poultices?”

“Yes ma’am. Sorry they’re not so good. I didn’t have much time or much to work with.”

“No, no, m’boy. These saved his life. Good job, good job.”

McGonagall took one look at the man. He returned the gaze, though she could see his strength was nearly gone. “I had to ... protect ... them ... all, you ... understand, don’t ... you?”

“Save your strength. I understand. You chose the only path you could, given the circumstances. You saved many lives at the peril of your own.”

Madame Pomfrey put her hand on the man’s brow. “Yes, a bit of fever. I’ve got to get him back to the hospital wing.”

“No,” said the man.

“I must, and I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll take you to the quarantine ward. None will know you’re there but the three of us.”

“Four,” said the man softly. “If not for Longbottom here ....”

“Three. Apologies, Neville, but it’s for the best. Obliviate.” Madame Pomfrey touched her wand to Neville’s forehead and the youth went blank as a chalkboard. “Less talk the better until we get you healed.”

McGonagall nodded grimly. “Not a word may be uttered about this until he is mending.”

“There’s bound to be an inquiry,” Professor Sprout managed, pressing a nasty looking herb into wounds.

“Potter knows the truth of all that happened. If we can get him to impart his knowledge of the events, then perhaps we can avoid a public inquiry.” McGonagall looked serious, but calm. “From what I gleaned, he was under oath to Dumbledore himself. But first things first. Get him back to the castle and work at getting him better.”

A weak, clammy hand reached out and grabbed McGonagall’s coat sleeve. “Minerva ... never meant ... deceive ... couldn’t risk ... dark lord ... torturing ....”

“Rest and mend. We’ll talk later. Just know you saved many people.”

“Twenty-five ... points ... to ... Gryffindor,” he uttered before slipping into unconsciousness.

“You take him to the infirmary and I’ll go post an owl to ... to ... I daresay it’s Arthur Weasley who’s the highest up at the Ministry now that’s close to the minister.”

“Yes, Minerva. You do what you need to do and I’ll take good care of him.”

McGonagall nodded, then hastened back to her office. She sat down in a heap, then penned a letter to Arthur Weasley. At the last moment, she looked at the note and tossed it into the fireplace. “No need to bother you, Arthur. You’ve lost a son and have enough on your plate. This can wait.”

In the dead of night, dark eyes fluttered open and the wounded man gazed around at his surroundings. He mouthed a soft spell, conjuring a ball of light even without his wand. “Lumos.”

He found himself in a hospital bed, poultices plastered on his wounds, a thick, greasy, putrescent smelling balm on the wound to his neck. He was completely alone. Even the portraits which lined the walls were vacant, their subjects giving the injured man the privacy he needed. He tried to get up but he was so weak he could scarcely move.

“You’re weak. The venom was particularly potent, Poppy told me. Had Longbottom not arrived when he did, she doubts there would have been much she could have done to save you. As it is, you’re exceedingly weak and have lost a good deal of blood, which simply must be replaced with blood restoring potions.”

“I cannot stay, Minerva. I put everyone here in grave danger.”

“Nonsense! Those who followed Voldemort are being hunted down as we speak. Why, even young Malfoy and Narcissa stood up against the dark lord. Lucius turned evidence against many of the others and Bellatrix LeStrange was slain by none other than Molly Weasley. You are safe. Harry is safe. The school is safe.”

“Good,” he said, his voice hoarse and rasping.

“Tell me of it. Is it true you were acting as a spy against Voldemort all this time?”

“Yes.”

“How did it happen?”

“Lily Evans ... I loved her. I love her still. She is the only person who has ever loved me ... I ... I made a mistake, overhearing that prophecy and Voldemort ... he assumed it was Potter who was the chosen one. It could have been Longbottom, but instead, Potter was chosen. I begged Dumbledore to save them, to hide them all, but Pettigrew was as much a double agent as I, and he led them to where the Potters were hiding. When I found out ... it was too late. I brought the child to Dumbledore. You know the rest.”

McGonagall sighed. “And Albus’ death?”

“A curse on one of the horcruxes – the ring of Marvolo Gaunt. My potions slowed the curse, but there was nothing to be done. Dumbledore would die from it. If it hadn’t been for his extraordinary skills, it would have killed him outright. He told me I had to be the one to kill him – to seal Voldemort’s trust in me, to be, as it would, his right-hand man so I could take control of the school and protect the students; most of Harry’s classmates were active in the Order under the guise of Dumbledore’s Army. I still carry the grief of so many lives lost, but had I not done what Dumbledore bade me, many more deaths would have happened. I couldn’t be anything but cruel to Harry and his friends.”

“Good heavens! No wonder you showed Harry such contempt. I trust you no longer feel that way towards him?”

Black eyes slid closed. “I kept my true feelings silenced. I couldn’t risk .... everything. He is so much like his mother ... I ... I could not help growing fond of him, which is why I had to be doubly harsh towards him.”

McGonagall placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, finally saying his name. “Severus, you must stay here until you are well. I insist! Once all is explained, and your true role is revealed, you’ll be received as a hero.”

“Minerva ... I am not a hero. To all, I am the exact opposite. I will only stay here as long as it takes me to heal up enough to travel.”

“Where will you go?”

“Spinner’s End ... Cokeworth ... home.”

McGonagall stepped closer, her hand reaching out and cupping his cheek in a motherly fashion. “Severus ... your home is here. It has been since ... well, since you got your letter from Hogwarts.”

A soft breath escaped his pale lips. “I never have had a home.”

McGonagall pressed her hand on his. “Of course you have a home. Home is where people are who care about you. This is your home, Severus. There are people here who care about you. You should have heard Potter telling Voldemort you were never his. Lord, it made me proud of the boy.” She stood and straightened her robes. “I must return to help tend the wounded, but rest here. I will check in on you tomorrow.” She made for the door, but then turned back to face him. “You’re not a coward, Severus. Forgive me for believing you were.”

He nodded, but secretly, Severus Snape knew he had to leave. He couldn’t risk anyone else because of his own actions, regardless of why he did them. The sooner, the better.