Severus Snape glanced around himself, his gaze cool and calculating as he took in the scorched ruins that had been Hogsmeade. It was fitting, in a sort of convoluted way, that the final battle had occured here, during a Hogsmeade weekend. And, in the end, the downfall of the greatest dark power in the world had been a group of school children.

His feet took him down the main thoroughfare, heedless of the dead and dying lying all over the place. He paused for a minute at the body of Draco Malfoy where it lay spread-eagled, a bloody whole torn in his chest, eyes staring upward unseeingly. With a shake of his head, whether in disappointment or sadness, he continued down the street.

As he approached the center of town, the bodies became steadily more gruesome. Neville Longbottom, with his mouth open in a silent scream and half of his face torn off, lay next to Bellatrix Lestrange, who was missing her body from the waist down. Perhaps the most startling thing of all was the utter lack of survivors. There was no one left alive. Everyone was dead, Death Eaters and children and shopkeepers and aurors alike.

There was Madame Rosemerta, lying half under the rubble of the Three Broomsticks. There was Kingsley Shacklebolt -- the Order member on duty that day -- lying on the street with Walden MacNair's huge axe buried between his shoulderblades. There was Lucius Malfoy, looking as pristine as usual, lying on the ground as if he had simply decided that it was a wonderful spot to take a nap. There was Ginny Weasley, or, at least, there was Ginny Weasley's head... body nowhere to be found.

Before he quite realized it, he was at the center of town, standing at the fountain in front of Gladrags and Scrivenshaft. Slumped against it lay Voldemort with half of the sword of Gryffindor sticking out of his chest. The blood-red eyes stared unseeingly at Severus, one hand resting almost carelessly on the portruding blade.

And then a movement startled him. Turning his head, he saw a lone figure standing in front of the Hogs Head Pub silouetted against the setting sun. A thought suddenly struck him, and he glanced around looking for the body. He paused briefly as his eyes fell upon the badly mangled body of Aberforth Dumbledore, but then moved on. No -- Harry Potter was not one of the dead.

Could it be...? He looked once more at the figure before making his mind up once and for all.

He walked down the street, long legs eating up the distance quickly. As he got closer, he made out messly black hair, a Gryffindor scarf, the broken off sword hilt in one hand.

"Potter!" he called out.

There was no response.

He sped up his steps until he was directly behind Harry. "Potter," he barked. "What are you doing?"

"Don't you ever wonder what the point of it is?" Harry asked him calmly, softly. "What point is there anymore? I have done my duty. I have fulfilled my destiny. And there's nothing left anymore."

Snape snorted and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Potter, don't be a fool --" he growled before being interrupted.

"Am I really the fool?" Harry asked in that same, infuriatingly calm tone. "Perhaps I am. My friends are dead and gone. What more is there here for me?"

Harry had still not turned to face him. There was something definitely wrong with the Gryffindor.

"Potter," Severus began cautiously. "Are you injured?"

"Why did I have to kill him, Professor? Why did I have to sacrifice my friends?"

The infuriating brat still had not turned to look at him. "It was your duty, you dunderhead," he replied. "Are you quite through with your self-pitying routine?"

"Will they even remember me, as me? Or will I just be the Boy Who Lived, the Savior? Who will remember me as the person, not the posterchild?"

There was something definitely wrong with the Gryffindor. His words, delivered in the same, calm, even tone, were now being slurred together.

"Potter--"

Abruptly, Harry sat down hard on the ground. Severus quickly moved in front of him and crouched down so that he was, more or less, at eye level with him. There were two daggers buried up to their hilt in his stomarch. Harry smiled weakly at the Potions Master, and blood bubbled out of his mouth and dripped down his chin. "Bellatrix was aiming for Remus. She sure loves these daggers. Fat lot of good that did him anyway," Harry slurred out through the blood.

Severus had grown deadly pale. Placing one hand on Harry's shoulder to steady the Gryffindor, his other hand went inside his robe as he fumbled for something -- anything -- that he could use to stop the bleeding.

"Please don't," Harry murmured. "It won't help. The poison ..." He took a shuddering breath. It seemed to be growing increasingly difficult for him to get enough air.

"Potter... Harry ... let me--"

"I can finally see them again," Harry murmured again. "Mum and dad. I can see them, when they're not screaming for mercy. And Ron, Hermione... I can see them too. And Sirius and Remus and Neville and Cedric and... and...."

His voice trailed off and he stared off into the distance, his gaze transfixed unseeingly on the sunset. Severus moved so that he was sitting on the ground next to Harry.

"Soon... You know, I've known for a while," Harry murmured a third time. "Known that James wasn't my dad. Sort of a shocker... everyone says I look just like him. My parents, but not."

His eyes sought out Severus's. "I could never figure...." he trailed off, taking shallow breaths, eyes once more going back to the sunset.

"Why... why you didn't ..." the breaths were coming increasingly quickly now. There was not much more time.

Severus quietly slipped an arm around his son's shoulders and pulled his body against his chest.

"Why you didn't... ever try to ..."

"Try to what, Harry?" Severus fought to keep his voice steady, gentle, but he know that he had failed miserable when his voice cracked.

"... To be a father."

The last words came out as a sigh. Severus opened his mouth to reply -- with what, he could not fathom. A father? Him? A Death Eater raising the Savior? And then, as if through a fog, he suddenly realized that it didn't matter anymore ... because Harry Potter was no longer able to hear the response.