The school was utter chaos, what with it being the last day before Christmas holidays. Harry and Draco had packed up their things and I had packed mine, and tomorrow we would head for the house. The students would be going by train in the morning, leaving us to depart at our own pace. There were a great number of things I had to accomplish before we could leave, and one of them was to go over to Hagrid's to see how Munkastrap was doing. I doubted he would want to leave his mate and litter of kittens, as magical cats actually raised their young as a team rather than the mother being the sole provider. It was something that was considered a product of a higher intelligence, for two providers guaranteed a higher survival rate for the offspring. Either way, I knew that Munk would be hard to drag away, but I at least wanted to say goodbye to him. Although it wasn't as though I never saw him these days, as he still came to visit me in my quarters occasionally via the magically concealed door that had been designed for pets to come and go; it was something of Minerva's invention, created a few years after she began teaching.

It was evening and already a thick layer of darkness was beginning to fall over the grounds. The wind was bitter cold, and the snow swirled around me as I pulled my scarf more tightly around my neck and thrust my gloved hands deep into my cloak pockets. Unfortunately my right hand stayed cold, thanks to a small hole in my pocket, which had come to be thanks to some explosive powder of Draco's which I had confiscated. It had given me quite a start when my pocket spontaneously burst into flame. Despite being a little bit irked over the hole, I payed little attention to it for the amount of snow I was trudging through with some difficulty. It was cold, wet, and quite deep. However, I was still thankful that the snow was not quite as deep as it had been the year Harry and Hermione were de-aged, as that would have been hell and a half to walk through. Still, I was very relieved when I saw the light shining faintly through the thick snow, and I began to walk faster. I was a little dizzy and my lungs were tight again, but this did not worry me as that was pretty much the norm these days.

Hagrid ushered me into his cabin , a flurry of snow blowing in with me. There were two mugs already on the table and waiting to be filled with tea. Thankful I had sent Hagrid a note prior to my visit, I unwound my scarf and thawed by the fire while Hagrid poured the tea. After he had sat down with his own cup of tea he told me all about the kittens, which he quite obviously adored. In the midst of our conversation Munk came over, and with a throaty purr rubbed against my legs. I bent down and gave him a good scratch behind the ears.

"I've missed you, you rascal," I said fondly, and he responded with a long and pleased yowl.

Munkastrap then pranced over to his mate and he curled up next to her, where he lay watching the kittens roll and play clumsily with a piece of yarn that had unravelled from an old sock of Hagrid's.

"Have you decided on a name for the female yet?" I asked.

"Buttercup," said Hagrid. "She's real nice fer a stray. Even Fang likes her."

I reached down slowly to stroke her head, and she closed her eyes, purring. Munkastrap was busy watching one of the kittens wrestle with his paw. He had that characteristic smirk of his upon his face.

"Well, it's official," I said after taking a sip of tea, " my cat's gone soft. That makes two of us."

"You haven' gone that soft Professor," said Hagrid.

"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes in mild amusement. I stirred my tea thoughtfully, mind beginning to tread over to deeper water. "If at sixteen, someone told me what made me who I am now ... all the things that have happened ... I probably would have told them to go check themselves into St. Mungo's. "

"A lot happened ter me that I never woulda expected in my life," Hagrid replied, eyes deep and thoughtful. "I wouldn' change any of it, now. Not even the bad stuff."

"Why?" I asked curiously. "Surely there's been some mistake you wish you could ... change?"

"I used to wish, but not any more I don't. I've done some pretty bad things, but all of it I learned from. Even the bad things sometimes bring good."

"I suppose," I muttered, thinking of Lily. After a moment it started to occur to me that if I had never made that mistake with the prophecy I would never have gotten to know Harry so well, and never would have been given the chance at a family. That was a blessing, even if it came about through tragedy. While I knew I would always wish to change that dreadful mistake, I began to see what Hagrid was saying. Shutting some doors can sometimes open others. For, if Lily had never died I might have let myself be seduced by the darkness that always lay within me. I may not have ever opened my eyes enough to see it all for what it truly was.

"Yeh gotta let her go Severus," Hagrid said to me earnestly. "Lily's in a better place now."

"It's not as easy as it sounds," I said sharply, not surprised that he would bring Lily up. "I can't just forget her."

"Forget Lily, or forget what yeh did?"

"Well ... fifth year is hard to forget in a lot of ways ..."

"I'm not talking about what happened in yer fifth year."

His voice was soft, but it cut me like a knife and left me questioning how much he knew of my past. I looked at him, and for a second I knew my emotion showed through, but I quickly covered it with a mask of indifference. Sometimes I wondered if I was less difficult to read than I had always believed; little things like the phrase that Hagrid had just uttered, on occasion, made me question whether or not the Dark Lord's inability to discover my intentions over the years had a bit to do with with him being a dunce when it came to interpreting emotions, rather than being completely attributed to my occlumency and acting abilities.

"How do you ..."

"I don't," Hagrid said honestly. "But it's on your face from time to time, somethin' terrible. You always talk like yeh don't deserve nothin'. It just fits, see?"

I sat stock still, wondering how much Hagrid caught that others didn't. People did not give him enough credit.

"You don't need ter forget her," Hagrid said softly. "Yeh just gotta move on. Let her go."

"I know," I muttered finally.

We finished our tea in comfortable silence. Hagrid knew I was thinking, and he also knew I preferred not to talk unless I had to. I remembered coming to tea every once and a while with Lily, and Hagrid would tell us stories about giant spiders and centaurs and all manner of magical creatures. He was good to me then, and he still was good to me now; one of the few who treated me like I was really something, cared even. I had been too afraid to come to tea all that often as a student though, because the Slytherins didn't approve in the least. Now I wished I had, for Hagrid sometimes had the best advice, despite what others thought of his intelligence. Hagrid may not have had much of an education, but he had life experience - and sometimes, that is the best education one can receive.

I checked the clock on the mantle, and realized I should be going. I thanked Hagrid for the tea, and tried to somehow communicate to him without words the gratitude I felt for his advice. I didn't express such things easily, but I thought that Hagrid understood just how much it meant to me that someone remembered I was still mending a broken heart, even after all these years. It was then that I realized he most certainly knew more than he let on, and why shouldn't he? He had worked on these grounds for years, and seen generations of kids grow into adults and leave, many only to find their way back eventually, like I had.

"Take good care of Munk, will you?" I asked, feeling a little blue that I was leaving my cat behind.

"Yeh know I will," Hagrid said, smiling beneath his beard. I nodded, and walked out into the blistering cold, fingertips warm and face still glowing under my scarf from the heat of the cottage.

It was a long walk back, and a cold one. The snow had thickened, and I felt myself wishing to turn back to the warmth of Hagrid's hut, with the light still shining through the frosted windowpane. I made myself move on, even though my legs were already stiff with cold and my lungs ached. It wasn't until I had gone halfway up the hill that Hagrid's light disappeared completely, and the cold pressed in fully. The lack of oxygen getting into my tight lungs made me dizzy, and the snowy drifts rocked beneath my heavy feet as I dragged them forward, one at a time. There was nothing to do but keep going. I lowered my scarf and coughed red specks onto the snow. I thought wildly of Hansel and Gretel, leaving bread crumbs behind them so they might find their way back. The thought was taken from my head upon a strong gust of wind, which rippled my scarf around my face. Numbness settled in and my breath froze on my scarf, which I had to lower every so often to cough. It was all too familiar to me by now: the fatigue, the spinning, the fear.

I couldn't see the lights of the castle yet, and I continued to climb the steep hill up toward it, heavy feet slipping and sliding in the deep, wet snow. Finally I caught sight of the familiar twinkle, and I sighed in relief, though that sigh was quickly overtaken by a rattling cough. The dizziness grew subtly, until I realized that the distant windowpanes of the castle were spinning like mad fireflies. It occurred to me that I could barely breathe, and that my legs were shaking so badly that I was having great difficulty taking a step. I knew I was in trouble, but I didn't have the strength to think of a way to prevent this. It was then that I crumpled, and the cold drift became what felt to me like a shallow grave, as the snow turned black with the darkness that had gathered in my mind. The last thoughts I had were of the phrase not again, and finally of the parasitic numbness that was engulfing me.

***

An urgent voice was calling me. I knew I needed to wake up, but I didn't want to yet. I knew if I did it would hurt.

"Dad!" said the voice again. "You have to wake up, please!"

I knew that voice. It sounded familiar. Other voices tried to comfort the one who spoke to me, or at least that was what I thought. I felt a warm drop fall onto my face as the voice called out again. I opened my tired eyes, and as soon as they could focus I saw two boys standing over me, both looking terrified and blurry eyed.

"What happened?" I asked, brain feeling slow as once more the vague thought of not again floated through the surface of my mind. I was lying down in a bed, and there was a very thick layer of blankets upon me. My feet and hands, and parts of my face felt like they were burning, and they stung like a thousand needles had pierced them.

"You fainted out in the snow," said Poppy, gently guiding the boys (who were looking relieved but still a little worried) aside so she could examine me. I also saw Hagrid standing nearby, his thick overcoat sitting on a chair and making it appear as though some sort of ratty brown creature had taken up residence.

"How'd I get here?" I said slowly, for it hurt to move my tingling face.

"Hagrid found you lying in the snow," Poppy said. "He brought you up here."

"Yer wand fell outta yer pocket Professor, back at my hut," said Hagrid, gesturing to where it was on the bedside. " I followed yeh, so I could give it back."

I groaned slightly, recalling the hole in my pocket as I tried to move my arms, but Poppy quickly stopped me.

"Don't move," she said sharply. "You've frostbitten your hands and feet, and you had better keep them still until they're thoroughly warmed! Your face luckily has not been affected as greatly; you only froze it a little."

"Good, because we all know the only thing I have going for me is my looks," I said sarcastically.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Draco said with a shaky laugh as Harry tried to wipe his eyes on his sleeve without anyone noticing. I had scared them, that was for sure. Now that they knew what was happening to me, it made things like this so much worse. The incident of someone whom you know to be dying fainting in the snow is enough to inspire terror into any heart. Yet, amidst my sense of guilt for causing the boys such pain, I must admit, deep down I was a little bit elated that Harry was so concerned about me, which showed me that he still cared about me a great deal despite his new knowledge of my involvement in the prophecy. But, still, I hated worrying him so.

"I'm alright," I said to them, and both boys nodded, though all of us heard the unspoken words for now. We all knew the inevitable, we just couldn't speak it. Poppy knew now as well, for Albus had made me put it in my medical file. I hoped I wouldn't end up in the hospital wing while Laura was here, for I had the feeling she would not like the news either, and I didn't want to worry her for some reason. That, and I did not wish to break the fragile connection between us, that is, the delicate friendship we had so carefully created. And yet, despite my fears, a part of me did want to tell her ... wanted to spill my darkest secrets at her feet. I didn't understand it, but there were people who had that effect on me. My mother had been one, then Lily, and sometimes Albus, whom I had grown to trust over the years until the point that I greatly disliked keeping things from him. But really, what was the point in telling Laura anyway? For I now knew that I would not let myself get any closer to her than I already was, for how was that even fair, what with me having one foot out the door? My head felt muddled, and for a second I closed my eyes.

Despite their troublesome nature, the thoughts in my head did not last long for the sheer humility of having landed myself in the hospital wing again. The thought of Hagrid carrying me up here made my face burn more, and I hoped that nobody had seen. I hated it. I hated feeling weak. Most of all I hated when people worried about me, or worst of all ... pitied me. So naturally, anybody who can understand the hatred of such things can understand just as easily why I left as soon as possible, why I lied that I felt better sooner than I really was. I begged Poppy to let me return to my quarters for the night, and in a few hours she gave in. The boys had since departed to go to their beds, and the hospital wing was silent but for the click of Poppy's shoes against the hospital wing floor.

"You're scaring me Severus," she said to me quietly as I gingerly put my shoes on.

"You think this doesn't scare me more?" I hissed, words barely audible as I braved voicing my thoughts aloud.

"I would not be such a fool to think that," Poppy said. "After everything, all you've done ..." - She shook her head in disbelief - "it all comes to this, this deadly battle with so few weapons. I'm sorry Severus, I really am." She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief as I stared at the floor, unable to look at her for the turmoil within me. Merlin, why did they all have to say the same things? Yet every time those same words felt like a knife to the heart. "Have the Healers been able to give you anything that works?

I shook my head. They had sent a few potions, but they had done nothing. They were still at a loss, and after the last ineffective potion they had had to go back to square one.

"You were so young when I first met you," she said once she had quelled her shaking, "you've changed so much, and yet in some ways you haven't at all. I can still see that trembling little boy under it all, the one I met so many years ago. Or do I just imagine such things?"

I didn't say anything, and I forced my face to be expressionless, but Poppy knew the answer anyway. And she was right, for in such a situation one cannot help but feel like they are young again, and caught up in an elaborate game. And any moment the others, the ones loved and lost along the way, will come out from their hiding places too, laughing like it is all a big game, ready to let life continue as it used to be.

Of these things I pondered as I walked slowly and methodically through the corridors to my quarters. I was sure Harry and Draco felt that way too - like too many bad things had happened to them already, and so deep down it felt strangely as though this one would end up being nothing to worry about; something that would blow over like a bitter storm. Oh, but the truth is rarely easy to accept, and life cannot always work out the way we wish. That I knew. Life is complicated, broken and yet somehow beautiful, and the rays of hope - while not always - can easily be extinguished in a harsh breath. That was how life was for me then, and that is how life will be eternally, for all. Yet out of the ashes we rise, and sometimes it is not ourselves who are the ones to do so, but those who come after us. I knew Harry and Draco would move on eventually, but I didn't think I could reconcile the thought of me being gone from their lives. One seldom to never imagines what life would be without them in it: the tangled tapestry of a spider's web without the spinner, leaving new lines to be created, and old lines to be broken. Who will be caught up in it? Who will see the web, in the brightness of a new dawn, a new era, and find themselves inspired though the maker is long gone? Do such things last long enough for that to happen, without history books and paintings and legacies? What was my legacy? What was I here for ... what was I leaving behind?

I fell into bed and was asleep in an instant, my mind not even given a chance to cool down before I was plunged into restless dreams, filled with the eternal questions of who I was, and my purpose.