Well, this is probably the first time we've ever met a deadline. Hope everyone had a happy thanksgiving, and hope you enjoy. :)

Epilogue – A Final Farewell – "There is no Light without Darkness, nor is there Darkness without Light."

4 June, 1999, 8:14AM
Remus dug out a quill from a mess of papers and candy wrappers on the counter and salvaged a crumpled post-it note from the crammed bulletin board.

Out for the morning, he scribbled. Be back by –

"Going somewhere?"

Remus looked up to see Tonks shuffle out of the bedroom, attempting to stifle a yawn.

"I was just writing a note," he said with a smile, holding up the unfinished post-it. "You're up early."

Tonks sighed glumly and trudged into the kitchen. She sat down at the table and flicked her wand at the coffee maker. "Gotta be in by ten today," she said, setting her elbows down and rubbing her eyes. "There's a load of new recruits coming in."

Remus grinned as he bent down to kiss her on the forehead. "Good luck. I've just got someone I have to see down in London."

Tonks nodded as she Summoned her mug of coffee. "Don't be too late."

"I won't," he replied as he grabbed his wallet and headed for the door.

Once outside, he stood on the doorstep of his flat for a moment, blinking in the bright summer light. He slipped his hand in his pocket and felt the touch of cool metal in his palm. Reassured, he took a deep breath and Disapparated.

––––––

The broad, store-lined streets of London were relatively empty – probably because it was so early, Remus mused. Most of the shops hadn't even opened yet. But there would be many festivities later in the day, of course, even in the Muggle sectors.

He strolled at a leisurely pace, basking in the warmth and thinking about what he was going to say. It was exactly one year ago that they'd last seen each other, and they had not parted in the friendliest of circumstances. Remus certainly wouldn't have had anything to discuss with him now, if it weren't for Harry. He fingered the cool metal in his pocket again.

He eventually made it up to the large, red brick department store labeled Purge and Dowse Ltd. It was as shabby and grimy as ever, with the same chipped dummies posing in the dusty display window. He approached the female dummy standing in the forefront, leaned close, and said clearly, "Remus Lupin, from the Ministry."

The dummy gave a nearly imperceptible nod and beckoned its finger. Remus stepped through the glass.

Like the streets outside, the reception area had a considerably calmer air than other times. Only a dozen or so people waited in the lobby, most of them scrutinizing outdated magazines or dozing off. Remus waited patiently while a man conferred with the receptionist witch; he had what appeared to be a banana tree sprouting from his backside. Once he had been directed to the third floor, the witch turned to Remus with a bright smile.

"Hello, welcome to St. Mungo's," she said cheerfully, undeterred by the grotesque appearances of various patients passing by. Behind her, Dilys Derwent beamed at him from her portrait.

"Hello," Remus said. "My name's Remus Lupin. I made an appointment for 8:30 this morning, I know I'm a bit early…"

"Oh yes, Mr. Lupin," the witch said, nodding as she consulted the list before her. "Mr. Remus Lupin, 8:30. Fourth floor, room 407. Visiting hours are until eleven, so you have plenty of time, sir."

"Thank you," Remus said, and turned toward the double doors beside the desk. He made his way down a short, well-lit corridor before coming to the stairs. He climbed the four flights, squeezing past babbling patients and chattering visitors and flustered nurses, until he reached the fourth floor.

The corridors here were rather empty; motes of dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the windows and his footsteps echoed down the hall. He passed only one Healer, who nodded to him in greeting, before he arrived before room 407.

The card beside the door read:

Long-Term Patient
Healer-In-Charge: Oliver Raffensperger
Visiting Hours: 8AM-11AM, 2PM-4PM

Squaring his shoulders, Remus took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

It was a small room; about twice the size of his kitchen, if he'd had to guess. Unlike other wards, it and others along this corridor had been originally designed to accommodate only one patient as a long-term resident. It was sparsely furnished, with just one window, a small table with two chairs, and a worn couch. The walls were completely bare.

To his right, propped up on several pillows in a solitary ray of sunlight, was Severus Snape.

Remus looked him straight in the eyes and managed to smile. "Hello, Severus."

The sallow-faced man – he looked paler and older than ever – had looked up when Remus first entered; after seeing who it was, he lay back on his pillows.

"Funny," he said in a low, raspy voice, "isn't it, Remus? How you get to be on a first-name basis with everyone once they know you're dying."

Remus had closed the door behind him, but he made no move to approach the bed. "So it's true," he said.

"Of course it is," Snape said flatly. He didn't elaborate any further.

"I came to see how you were doing," Remus offered.

"How touching," Snape muttered.

Remus sighed. He still hadn't moved. "We missed you at Christmas. Severus...if you'd told us then, we could have helped you."

"Don't call me Severus."

Remus shook his head and slipped his hand in his pocket again. "We fought a war together. It's been – how long? Two decades."

"I love holding grudges," Snape replied sharply.

Remus studied the man lying in the bed, more helpless than anyone had ever imagined he could be. The Order had received word of his mysterious illness only two months ago. He had previously been assumed missing as of Christmas last year, when all attempts to contact him had failed. Then, suddenly, he had checked in to St. Mungo's in the middle of March and refused to see visitors. At first, the Healers had thought his malady was some sort of mutated strain of dragon pox, but none of the cures seemed to work. They then decided that it was some rare hybrid of Withering Syndrome and Muggle cancer, to which they announced there was no cure.

So far, Snape had lost the use of his legs and his left arm and was confined to his bed. Eventually this paralysis would spread to his entire body, including his heart. Madam Pomfrey had offered him a private room in the Hospital Wing, away from the bustle of a public hospital. He had refused.

The silence stretched on for some time. Snape's breathing sounded shallow.

"Last Marauder, aren't you?" he finally rasped, still not looking at Remus.

Remus nodded. "And you're the last of the loyal Death Eaters."

Snape snorted. "Good riddance."

"You're happy your colleagues are dead?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows.

"They were imbeciles," Snape said shortly.

It was quiet again. Remus ran his thumb over the smooth engravings on the metal in his pocket as his eyes traveled across the room. There was no clock.

"Why did you come?" he asked softly.

There was no reply.

"Why did you come back, after you killed Dumbledore? After you took Harry?"

The words filled the room and dissolved in the air. When Snape spoke, his tone was impassive.

"I promised Dumbledore."

"Promised him what?" Remus asked perplexedly. He had never heard this before.

"That I would help Harry."

"And you kept your promise?"

"Unlike others," Snape said, and there was a note of bitterness in his voice.

Remus turned toward the window. "You know what today is?"

He thought Snape was going to say something caustic, but the answer was simple: "Of course."

"He was 17," Remus said, almost to himself. "Younger than James and Lily were. Ginny was only a year younger."

"He was a fool," Snape said. For a split second, Remus thought there was regret lacing his tone.

Remus swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. "He didn't want to die. Did he tell you that, while he was with you?"

"No."

"I think he believed in miracles, right until the end. Right up to when he told Wormtail to kill him. Dumbledore – "

Snape finally shifted to look at him, and Remus turned to meet his gaze. "If you're going to spit nonsense about miracles and love, you can leave now," he said coldly.

Remus stared at him. "You still don't believe in them."

"Why should I?" he said harshly. "Love didn't save anyone. That's what I told Dumbledore, and he fooled me for the second time in my life. Let me die in peace, Remus Lupin, with what few beliefs I have left that are still untarnished by your follies."

"Dumbledore didn't fool you, and neither did we," Remus said firmly. "Without love – "

"It didn't save your friends, Lupin," Snape spat. "Love didn't save the Marauders or Cedric Diggory or those in the Order or Albus Dumbledore. Love didn't save your precious hero and his girlfriend, either, did it?"

It was odd, how hollow his accusations sounded. Any antagonism Remus might have felt at these words died away, because there was an unmistakable undertone of grief in Snape's voice.

"No," he said thoughtfully. "It didn't save them. But it did save us."

Snape snorted and turned away.

"Besides, it depends on your definition of being saved," Remus continued. "True, love didn't save Harry or Ginny or Hagrid or Hestia from death. They were forced to sacrifice their lives. But it saved them from temptation, Severus. It saved them from giving up and giving in, from succumbing to the desire to just back away and hand the burdens to someone else."

"What good is that, if the outcome is the same?" Snape asked. "Harry didn't want to die, you said. He didn't want to fight, Dumbledore told me. He survived because of love, everyone insists. So he didn't turn to the dark side. So he fulfilled his prophecy, so he didn't fail. That doesn't change the fact that he's dead."

Remus sighed. "Always the pessimist, aren't you?"

"Miracles and love don't work," Snape said adamantly. "You won't convince me otherwise by the time I'm dead, either."

Remus wondered at the stubbornness of this bedridden man. What would prevent someone from denying a power so universal? Had he lost every ounce of his hope, his faith? How could he not accept something that was clearly thriving within him? He had to believe in the good – that was why he had come back, wasn't it?

"It's real, Severus, and it exists in all of us."

Snape grunted.

"And you believe in it, too."

He seemed to have given up on arguing. "Why would I?" he asked wearily.

"It's the reason you came back. It's the reason you helped Harry and kept your promise."

"But it's never done me any good."

"Maybe," Remus shrugged. "But maybe you didn't try hard enough."

"And what would I have gotten out of that? Salvation?" He snorted again.

Remus looked at him sadly. "What you've always wanted. Everything stems from love. Peace of mind. Justice. Forgiveness. Power."

"Power?" There was disbelief in his voice.

"Isn't that what Dumbledore always said?" Remus asked him simply. "Love is the most powerful magic in the world."

Snape said nothing, but closed his eyes.

Remus moved from his position at last; he slowly made his way up to Snape's bed, watching Snape's eyes open again as he drew near. He stopped just two paces from the edge, so close that they could have reached out and touched each other.

Wordlessly, Remus finally took out the object in his pocket. It glinted in the light as he brought it out, dangling on a gold chain, and Snape's eyes widened as they caught sight of it.

Remus set it down on the bedside table and Snape swiveled his head, following it.

After a moment of silence, Remus nodded at the gleaming pendant. "Harry wanted you to have it."

Snape eventually tore his gaze from it to look at Remus questioningly.

Remus reached up and gently tugged out an identical pendant from under his shirt. "It's a mark of the Order – everybody has one. He gave the first one to Ginny and wore one himself. It was Harry's last gift to us; part of his will."

And in the words Remus had spoken hung the tacit decision the Order had made, the decision Remus had come to share before it was too late:

You are a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

They had debated long and hard over the matter. So many things had condemned Snape, even before he had killed Dumbledore. After he had turned traitor, Minerva had firmly declared him an exile, an outcast. But, Remus insisted, things had changed once he returned. Didn't his recent actions prove something? He had helped Harry in a way no one else could have. He had fought against his fellow Death Eaters and ultimately killed Bellatrix Lestrange.

"It took courage, to do what you did," Remus said quietly. "To return. Dumbledore trusted you, and I do too. Harry believed you were a good man, and so do I."

Snape shook his head roughly, as if trying to ward away demons. "I'm not. I was never what you thought I was."

Remus shrugged. "Whether you acknowledge it or not, we've accepted you as one of us. Do you want to put it on?"

A slight pause; then Snape nodded.

Remus picked up the pendant from the table and stepped closer. Snape rose from the bed with some difficulty, but Remus knew better than to offer help. He unclasped the chain and reached forward. Snape flinched slightly at his touch, so he took care to finish the job without further contact.

When he was done, he retreated a few steps again. Snape leaned his head back against his pillows as a long sigh escaped him.

"Idiot boy," he murmured, closing his eyes; Remus could barely catch what he was saying. "Like father…like son, eh? Except…the eyes…"

And they had nothing more to say to each other, so Remus turned away. As his hand touched the doorknob, Snape spoke again.

"I'll be gone by tomorrow morning."

Remus didn't ask how he knew. Didn't ask why Snape was telling him this. "Tomorrow morning," he repeated.

"I suppose this is goodbye," Snape said gruffly.

"I suppose so," Remus agreed. Was he sad? He wasn't surprised, at any rate. Maybe he would find out later. He turned the doorknob and opened the door. For some reason, the word 'goodbye' wouldn't come from his throat.

Before he closed the door, he glanced back once more. Snape was still lying with his head back, his eyes squeezed shut and tears trickling down his cheeks. His right hand was clutched into a fist, holding the silver phoenix hanging around his neck.

True to his word, it was the last Remus would see of Severus Snape.

–––––––

He stood before the two graves, a single white lily in his hand. He squatted down and placed the flower reverently in front of Harry's tombstone. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply.

Everything stems from love. Peace of mind. Justice. Forgiveness. Power.

Power?

Isn't that what Dumbledore always said? Love is the most powerful magic in the world.

Remus felt a smile tug at his lips as tilted his head back toward the clear summer sky. No one else had seen Harry's face before his body had been lowered into the coffin. No one else had seen the faded outline of a scar that was no longer there.

Powerful enough…to heal any scar.

The End.

We played around with that ending a lot, especially since we wanted that last word to be "scar." But anyway, you have no idea how relieved we are to say that this is really The End. What was supposed to take us four months has been dragged out into a whopping eight months and twenty days, and we're simply amazed that so many people have stuck it out with us until this moment. Thank you so much to everyone – for putting up with our complaints and excuses, for waiting ridiculous periods of time between chapters, and for all the enthusiasm you put into reviews. We also extend special thanks to those who've been with us from the beginning; most notably Moon Goddess for her encouragement, advice, and critique.

So now we'd like to say farewell, and good luck on your own writing endeavors. We hope your final impression of this story was a good one, and we hope you review this time. ;)

With gratitude,

jynkyg and The Fat Chipmunk

P.S. – If on the off chance you'd like to continue reading our works, our next project will be 50 Things That Really Matter, a series of 50 one-shots we started a long time ago and postponed in favor of this story. We hope you stay tuned!