Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor anything otherwise related. I do, however, make claim on NM Harry's personality as well as those of all the other canon characters and my original chars.
Pray, we who are cursed
with the memories of War,
pray for us, please, thou who would.
Pray for us that are beaten,
torn to shreds by memories of Loss.
Pray for us that have stood
with our cold memories at our back.
Pray for yourself
that you should never have memories as we.
"Memories" by Saerry Lillianne Snape
Chapter 3 – Cold Memories"You let him do this!"
"It was his choice," said Etienne, not cringing before his great-nephew's ire. The boy may have his half-brother's name but he hadn't the other Snape's temper.
"Damn it to Hell, Uncle, you should have stopped him!"
"Severus," began Hermione but was cut off as an enraged Severus whirled on her.
"NO!" he shouted. "This wasn't right! They shouldn't have let him do it. Father shouldn't be DEAD!"
"But he is, Sev," said Draco gently, his gray eyes sad. He glanced beyond the raging wizard to the bed where Harry lay still. His eyes lowered to the wizard's hands where a picture of himself, Niamh, and their children was clutched, its edge just barely stained by the blood that had flowed from his slit wrists. "He's gone."
Severus whirled towards the Minister then let out a low groan of anguish. He turned his head slightly and focused sad eyes on the still form of his father in the next room.
"Sev…" started Saerry but Severus cut her voice off by stalking off down the hallway. She began to go after him but Hermione stopped her short.
"Don't," said the still bushy-haired witch, who had been the Headmistress of Hogwarts since the death five years before of Dumbledore's successor, Minerva McGonagall. "Leave him be for a while."
"I can't," breathed Saerry. "I don't know what else to do."
"Rest," intoned Etienne, passing his hand in front of her face. Magic pulsed from his hand and Saerry's body abruptly slumped into his arms, asleep. The older wizard grunted and looked at Draco, grumbling, "You wouldn't mind giving an old man a hand, would you?"
"You're only eighty-eight, man," said Draco as he flicked his wand, conjuring a cot to put the sleeping witch on. "That's not old."
"Tell that to my right leg."
Draco snorted then helped the other blonde settle Saerry onto the cot. They had just managed this when James Longbottom, Saerry's husband, appeared at the end of the hallway. Nine-year-old John Longbottom trailed behind his father, his blue eyes wide to take in all around him.
Hermione immediately scooped up the young boy before he could see his grandfather's corpse and carried him downstairs towards the kitchen. Draco managed a weak smile at his wife's quick thinking then watched James as the wizard peered at Harry's corpse.
"So it finally happened."
"You've been expecting this?" asked Etienne.
James nodded and replied, "Ever since the war ended. Father was just as surprised as I that he didn't end his life then."
"He wanted to live for them," said Draco, "for Severus and Saerry."
"And he didn't now, fourteen years later?"
Etienne shook his head in response then looked up as Dorian Malfoy and Neville Longbottom came up the staircase at the same time, both of their faces grave. The Malfoy heir nodded to his father then turned to Etienne, bowing slightly.
"I'm very sorry for being late, Uncle Eti."
"No matter, boy," said Etienne, remembering a time when the wizard before him had been a child and he had taught Dorian and his great-nephew to play MechWarrior. He then shook off the memories and added, "There is no lateness with the dead."
"Only that one was too late to save them."
"Clever as his mother," remarked Neville as he looked at Harry's body. He grimaced then looked at Draco, asking, "Does Severus know he's Head of the Line now?"
The Minister of Magic nodded and Neville sighed, shaking his head.
"Poor boy…"
"Poor both of them," said Dorian. "Hasn't their family been through enough?"
"The Snape's have always had hardship," said Etienne. "But we have prevailed."
"Officially you're not a Snape, Etienne," said Draco, arching one blonde eyebrow.
Etienne arched a graying eyebrow at the Minister and said, "I wasn't aware I had to be."
Draco just smiled at that.
"You don't."
"What of the funeral preparations?" asked Neville, bringing their attention back to the body in the next room. "Did he want anything?"
"Only to be buried next to Niamh," replied Etienne. "The quicker we do as such, the better for us all, I think."
"How so?" asked Dorian, his brown eyes narrowed.
"Easier to begin healing."
"Severus hasn't healed after his mother's death thirty-two years ago," said Draco. "I'm not even sure we should put him through the trials of being Head of the Line."
"He's the eldest Snape," said Etienne. "I cannot claim the title and neither can Saerry as she is a Longbottom now. Young John could possibly claim it but that would leave either the Longbottom or Snape name open, depending which way he leaned."
"Then it must be Severus," said Neville. "Where is he, by the way?"
Etienne sighed and replied, "Likely pacing somewhere by now."
"Hmm," said Draco. "I suggest we adjourn to the kitchen, gents. We have a lot to do and a very short time to do it in."
- - -
"We gather here today to bid farewell to Harold Jamison Snape…"
"Aren't you going to come closer?"
Severus turned his head to look coldly down at his sister before he returned his eyes to the coffin that held their father's body.
"No," he snapped icily in response.
Saerry gave him a pitying look and lifted a hand, sending feelings of warmth and love towards him. Severus brushed them off with a casual shrug, causing her to wince.
She then whispered, "I know you're angry, Sev. So am I. But it was Father's life, to do with as he willed."
"What about us?" spat Severus.
"What about him?" shot Saerry back. She then sighed and shook her head before walking towards the small crowd gathered around the grave.
Severus watched her go with an icy gaze then turned and stalked off into the gardens. He somehow wandered into the rose beds his mother had planted and tended during the last few years of her life and stood there, taking in the sight of the red roses, kept alive in the winter cold by magic.
Shivering, he pulled his heavy cloak tighter about himself and sat down on a stone bench. Hanging his head, he idly reached up to touch the completely different set of braided cord attached to his shoulder. Before it had been that of the Heir of a Line. Now it was that of a Head of a Line, a title he had hoped he'd not hold for a while longer.
And if he didn't make haste, he'd be the last Head of the Snape Line. His one nephew would take over the Longbottom Line eventually since there was no other Heir for that Line.
"What am I supposed to do?" he asked the rose beds that spread before him. He dropped his head into his hands, fingers tangling in his dark hair. "Tell me, Father, Mother, what am I supposed to do without either of you to guide me?"
Live.Severus' head shot up and he gasped as he saw, transparent but there, his parents standing before him. Harry smiled thinly at his son, his eyes still emerald bright despite the fact that he was a spirit. Beside him Niamh gripped her husband's hand as her blue eyes took in her only son's lean form.
Severus, she said, her voice barely audible. He could just barely hear her, as though something was blocking his hearing.
"Mum…" he breathed, his voice choked with emotion. Idly he thought that this must be how his father had felt seeing his own mother before him.
You have a duty, said Niamh Snape, her eyes sad. You have a duty to your sister and to your family. Do it.
"How?" asked Severus.
Live, repeated Harry. I know it hurts but you must.
"You didn't."
Harry winced at the accusing tone but nodded all the same.
I know.
"Why?"
Your mother was my heart and soul, son. I barely survived the years without her. The only thing that truly kept me going besides you and your sister was the war. When that was over…there wasn't much left for me to do.
"There was us," said Severus.
Harry smiled tightly. I was a street rat, a warrior, and a murderer, Severus. All those things had a tighter hold upon me than my own children. After the war, I couldn't live.
"I still don't understand."
You don't have to, said Niamh. Just let us go, Verus. We love you and Saerry very much, but we must move on. Only you hold us here.
Tears welled in Severus' eyes and he started to will them back but remembered what Thomas Ymber had said to him at his mother's funeral.
"Don't hold it back. Your father would not want you to hide your emotions."
Remembering those words from a man dead fourteen years made Severus completely lose it. Tears he hadn't shed in far too many years rushed past his defenses and left him sobbing pitifully on the cobblestone walkway.
Cold fingers touched his cheek gently and he tilted his head to look up into his mother's gentle face.
We love you so much, whispered Niamh. Remember that always, Verus.
Yes, said Harry. Remember.
"I will," gasped Severus, pushing himself up onto his knees even as sobs still wracked his body. He looked around and found that both spirits had vanished. "Mum? Dad?"
"Severus?"
He looked up and saw Saerry standing there, her blue eyes gazing curiously at him. She then frowned and asked, "Have you been crying?"
Severus blinked then smiled and nodded even as he brushed the wetness from his cheeks.
"Yes," he said, getting to his feet and approaching her. "Shedding tears I haven't shed in a long time."
"Sev, are you okay? You're sounding…odd."
"I'm fine, Ry," said Severus. "I just got…reminded…of some things."
Saerry frowned at him then said, "They're about to lower the coffin. I thought you'd like to come."
"Yes," said Severus, surprising his little sister. "I would."
He straightened the braids on his shoulder and then took his sister's hand, walking with her back through the gardens.
"It's time I faced what's before me."
Author's NotesPlease, for the love of this author's head (and other important body parts), don't kill me. I truly – TRULY – did not mean for this to end this way. I tried ever so much to figure out another way to do this, to end it without Harry's death but…I couldn't.
Killing him pains me as much as it likely pains some of you. In the two and a half years I've worked on the Not Myself series, I've come to love my characters as much as you guys. This Harry is one of my favorites among those that I've created and the cast that came along with him also ranks highly on my list. Niamh, Mika, Mischa, Amanda, Jardin, this series' Ron, Draco, Hermione, Sev, and every other character that I can think of at the moment. Even Mrs. Norris, whose relationship with Harry came out of sheer nowhere (much like all else in NM).
Even though Memories is complete, leaving most of the NM cast dead (winces), Harry and the gang are not done yet. The story of Harry's life on the streets still is on schedule as well as the AU of Not Myself, where Harry grows up with Severus and not Argil. Perhaps even another chapter of Brother Mine can be done! I've not the foggiest idea of what my mind (and my muses) will get into their heads to do, so I can't guarantee anything. But I swear that the cast of NM is not yet done and even when they are, I know that you guys – you faithful readers and you newbie's – will keep rereading the NM series and keep telling people about it. So by that, it'll keep living.
Kinda scary, isn't it? Amazing how one can change so many people by just writing a simple story. looks at number of chapters in Not Myself and swallows Erm…well, maybe not a simple story. Maybe a simple piece of fanfiction is a better description.
Anyway, I suppose I should end this Note before it becomes as long as the first chapter. Thank you guys so much for sticking with me for these two and a half years. Without you all, the NM series probably wouldn't have been finished as much as it has. I know its just a piece of fanfiction and will never be published but I'm still proud of it. Maybe it's crazy to be proud of a piece of fanfiction but…I am. Proud that I wrote something that people liked. It gives me hope that I can write something original – something of my own making – and make it work. I don't know it you guys know what that means to me so I'll tell you…it means a lot. Writing is what I love (as you can tell from my massive amounts of fanfiction – and poetry if you've visited my FictionPress account) and what I want to do with my life. If I can make a piece of fanfiction work, half using characters that aren't mine – and half plagiarizing if you get down to it – I'm certain I can make an original fic work.
So, thanks, you guys. And thanks to you, James, for beta reading this.
gives hugs and Chocolate Frog's to anyone who's EVER reviewed a fic in the NM series – even Borg, whose comments made me determined to keep writing and never give up no matter what
saerry