Rest In Peace, John Lennon

~Pozagee~

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter world, nor do I own John Lennon or Imagine.

December ninth of nineteen-eighty started out as a normal day. Albus Dumbledore was sitting up at the teachers' table, his old friend Minerva McGonagol sitting next to him on his left. To his right, was newly hired Severus Snape. The boy looked too thin, almost sickly. He barely talked to anyone, worried about evoking Dumbledore's wrath and being kicked out of Hogwarts. Albus was wary about the Death-Eater-turned-spy, still quite unsure of the man's loyalty. If Severus, say, let himself show some emotion, then Albus would be more willing to trust the boy.

The students slowly trickled in, yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Breakfast was uneventful, until the owls arrived. There seemed to be more than usual, but Albus shrugged it off.

Well, he did, until he heard several anguished cries of the teenage population.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore yelled, using a Sonaris. The teachers hadn't moved, staring baffled at the student body. "Miss Tonks," Albus addressed a young Hufflepuff, who looked as though she was in teary shock. "What has happened?"

The little girl's hair had changed to the color of black, as did her eyes, giving her the unnerving look of a little girl version of Snape. "He was killed, professor! Shot by some creep!" she cried, rubbing her eyes furriously.

"Who?" Albus asked, confused. She was obviously talking about some Muggle, if it involved shooting. But what Muggle's death would effect so many?

"John! John Lennon!" several of the teens, both male and female screamed, tears streaming down their faces.

Albus was aware of the name, but couldn't place it. He looked at his staffers pleadingly.

"He was a musician. Lead singer of The Beatles." Surprisingly, Severus was the one to answer.

"Oh. Hmm," Albus murmured, wondering how to handle this. It was a Tuesday, so they had classes. But... with most of the student body as distraught as they were, it would almost be counterproductive to hold class...

Albus stood up, and announced classes for that day were canceled. The purebloods that hadn't even heard of the man were grateful for the break, but the other teens were too busy grieving the singer to care.

As he wondered throughout the halls that day, he passed many students dressed in mourning black. Girls would be sitting in circles with candles which they had gotten from who-knows-where, singing various songs. One of the most prominent ones he heard was a little tune called, "Imagine." He himself had never heard the song before, but could sing it flawlessly by supper.

At supper, things seemed to have calmed down a bit. People were talking loudly again, laughing and such. Everything seemed perfectly fine.

"Where's Severus?" came Minerva's voice, as she sipped her tea, seemingly uninterested. In all truth, the woman had been adamantly against hiring the dark boy, thinking he would betray them. But, to her dismay, over the last few months she found herself more often than not worrying about the boy. Especially how he seemed to keep every emotion bottled up.

"I do not know," Albus said, suddenly aware of the absence of the cold boy.

He stood, unconsciously and unwillingly worrying about betrayal, and made his way down to Severus's rooms. They were in the dungeons, dark and cold, much like their inhabitant.

He knocked cautiously, but there was no answer. He slowly pushed the door open, surprised at the lack of wards. That's when he heard the quiet music coming from a record player:

"Some may say I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one. I hope someday you will join us. And the world will live as one," came the warm English voice.

Albus looked around the rooms, slightly disturbed at the orderliness of them, and the lack of personal possessions.

"Severus?" Albus questioned, the unease growing.

A quite moan came from the bathroom, so Albus walked over. The door was open, and Severus was backed into a corner, arms wrapped around his legs, pinning them to his chest. He rocked slightly, giving him a mental patient-esque look.

"Severus! What's wrong?" Albus asked, rushing over to the boy, becoming even more fearful after seeing the tears running down Severus's face.

The boy didn't answer for a second, instead listening to the record making crackling sounds. "He's dead," Severus said in a choked whisper.

Albus looked at the boy, very confused. He knew that Severus was a half blood, probably grew up listening to The Beatles, but it was strange that this Lennon kid's death was to be his undoing. 'I mean, the boy's father abused him, killed his mother even; the Marauders constantly harassed the boy at school; the love of his life married his worst enemy; he has to endure torture at the hands of Voldemort...' The list was endless. And yet, a Muggle singer dying was causing the boy to break down.

"It will be all right," Albus murmured, feeling awkward.

Severus glared at him. "No it won't! He's dead, never coming back! Do you not understand?!"

Dumbledore felt bamboozled.

"He's just a singer, Severu-"

"No! Have you ever listened to his songs? Their songs? They're real! They talk about love and loss and war; everything my miserable little life has been about!" Severus yelled, his deep voice rising several octives, making it very... hysterical-like.

'Ah,' Albus thought. 'It seems that Severus can relate the the songs, therefore the singers. It would be like losing a part of himself, maybe...'

"And yet... they make it seem so easy. Love, and all. It's not..." Severus got a faraway look on his face, it gaining a little red color. Albus knew that meant he was thinking of Lily Evans-Potter.

There was a long period of silence where Severus seemed to be deep in thought. Suddenly, Severus exclaimed, "And he was so young too!"

The puzzle pieces started to shift in Albus's head. "Hmm. And how do you feel about that?"

Severus seemed confused, before he let loose another of his outbursts: "Bloody horrible! He was 40, for Merlin's sake! Only, what, 20 years older than me? He still had so much of his life left! He could have done so much, but some monster took that away from him; making him die prematurely..."

Albus suddenly understood. He sat down on the cool bathroom floor beside Severus. "It's pretty horrible."

Severus nodded, his lower lip quivering. "Damn right, it's horrible. You know he probably died in the arms of his killer. He probably felt so alone-"

"Severus-"

"so unloved-"

"Severus-"

"so-"

"SEVERUS!" Albus finally cut him off. Dark unsure and fearful eyes found his. Some strange force made the older man reach out and clasp the younger man's hands tightly. "Severus."

Tears were once again cascading down the poor boy's face. "I don't wanna die like that."

That strange force was stronger this time, making Albus wrap his arms around the boy' bringing him closer. Severus stiffened for a minute, before relaxing into the soft purple robes and crying in earnest. Albus was startled slightly, before he slowly ran his fingers through Severus's soft hair. "Shh, child, it's all right. You're all right."

Severus had his head under Albus's chin, his hands grasping Albus's shoulders for dear life.

"You won't die that way, my boy. You are going to die old and happy and surrounded by those that love you." Whimpers came from his youngest teacher.

"And you will die a free man." Black eyes looked up at him, disbelieving, despite wanting to believe. "I promise, Severus, you will see the end of this war through, and you will be alive and well."

They stayed there for who knows how long, Severus slowly opening up and revealing his secrets, his hopes and fears. Finally, emotionally drained, Severus walked to his bedroom to sleep in his bed.

Albus stood by the boy's bed, feeling like a parent. He gently smoothed the child's hair off his face.

"Have a good night, Severus." Albus started for the door.

"You as well, Headmaster," Severus said gently. Dumbledore stopped.

"Call me Albus."

A/N Da End. Love it?

RIP John Lennon. Love you!

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