There was no need for the breakfast or previous night's dinner dishes to be washed by the time Severus was done with them after her departure.

He could repair them with magic, but why bother. He had no idea how long she'd even been gone by the time his fury at the … gall … of her speaking to him in such a fashion wore off.

Who the bloody hell did the witch think she was?

It was time.

The potion had been ready for a week or so now. He wasn't sure why he'd put it off this long other than the timing just seemed … off. He'd waited for six months and, yet, when the day came that he could take it, he'd delayed. He had no idea why.

Well, the timing no longer seemed off, that was for fucking certain.

He made a final walk through of the first floor, ensuring everything was where it should be. Other than the mess in the kitchen. Well, whoever found him could wonder what caused that, as he was pretty certain it wouldn't be Granger anymore.

He waved his wand, canceling the notice-me-not on the envelope he'd secured to the top of the television months ago now. Her name was on it. Someone would tell her about it.

Eventually.

He went down to the basement and to his private lab. There he grabbed his special vial of sleeping draught and the second vial containing the gold-like liquid he'd been both patiently and anxiously waiting to be done for six months now.

That done, he took them upstairs and set them carefully on his dresser. He showered, shaved, and dressed in what he hoped was an acceptable way to see his one true love one last time, as well as what he knew he would be found in.

He watched his reflection in the mirror above his dresser for a moment as he ensured everything there was as it should be. He grabbed the vial of the sleeping draught, pulled the stopper, and watched in the mirror as he downed the extra potent draught he devised to ensure the end he sought.

He scowled at the taste, setting the empty vial on the dresser before grabbing the vial of Felix Felicis he carefully brewed and watched until he knew for certain it was ready. He took a deep breath, and slid the dropper out of the vial.

"Here goes nothing," he murmured, placing a drop and then a second on his tongue.

If it didn't work. Well, he supposed he'd truly never know since he'd be dead.

He made his way to his bed, laying on top of it, hands crossed at his midsection. If this worked as he hoped it should, as he drifted into unconsciousness he would get one last conversation with his true love.

That was all he'd wanted for years. One last talk with her.

The first thing he noticed was that he felt weightless. He remembered that old game children played: light as a feather, stiff as a board. He'd never played it, but he'd heard others he'd gone to primary school with talk about it. He wondered now, if this was what they had been seeking when playing that game.

All he knew was that he didn't feel as if he was in his body any longer.

He saw his bedroom but almost as if he was an observer. Floating, not really there, yet he was.

Utilitarian. Simple.

A simple - and old - dresser and mirror, chair, bed, and nightstand. Each item was at least forty years old. There were no pictures, personal or otherwise. There were no plants or knick knacks. No boxes of memorabilia on the bedroom's closet shelf. Nothing stood out about any of these things to say he'd even lived here for the past twenty years, let alone forty. The lamp at his bedside was the same one his mum had in here when he'd been a boy. He could still hear the clink from the pull chain that turned the lamp on and off coming in contact with the lightbulb if it was pulled on too hard or fast.

"Why are you doing this? This is not what I wished for!" he called out when he was led to his hallway. He knew this fucking house by heart. Why would he want a guided tour of it now instead of to see Lily?

He noticed things, though.

Newer, better quality, and clean towels were in the bathroom. He'd used them, of course, but had paid no attention to them being any different than before. There was a new shower curtain even and a small, but nice and cushiony-looking, area rug on the floor in front of the sink. He was sure it would make his bare feet on a winter's morning not quite as cold. He never took the time to notice until now. He remembered full well how cold the floor had been when he was younger. He'd never bothered to try and improve the heat. He didn't stay here in the winter to care. The towels and rug matched, as did the shower curtain. Something that hadn't been true ever in this house as long as he'd been living here anyway.

Next was his study. It hadn't been that long ago when he caught her in here reading his book. While he'd noticed that day that it was neater than he remembered, he hadn't taken the time to notice that, like the bath, there were new touches here and there, too. And it wasn't just neat but clean. From floor to ceiling. A nice seascape picture on the wall that would be nice to look at when he was thinking. If he spent time in here. Had she spent time looking at it? A better lamp than he'd had. There was even a muggle calendar on the wall, displaying a variety of guitars for each month from the looks of this month's photo anyway.

The other two bedrooms were much the same as they always were, but there were touches in here, too. A throw pillow on each of the beds that matched the decor. A silk plant on top of each dresser under its respective window in both rooms. Area rugs off each bed that would again keep one's feet from immediately getting cold in the winter. Both clean. Certainly cleaner than he'd ever bothered to keep them.

Downstairs his consciousness guided him. The dining room was never used, but here there were touches, too. Candles on the table ready to be lit for perhaps a nice dinner. He couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten in the dining room. Had they ever when he was a child? He didn't think so. Maybe when he was very young.

The living room also had different things in it. A blanket set over his favorite chair. He'd used it but, like the towels, hadn't paid any attention to it. The guitar he'd bought at a pawn shop the summer after his fourth year at Hogwarts was near the fireplace clearly having been cleaned and restrung. A package of picks was on the floor beside it.

The kitchen had new towels and dishes, even cookware (obviously his consciousness was showing him the kitchen prior to his tantrum this morning). The cupboards were fully stocked, more than they'd probably ever been in forty years.

The thing that jumped out at him about all of this was not just that the new items were subtle enough to go unnoticed, but everything was clean. From floor to ceiling not a speck of dust or grime could be found. The curtains and windows had all been cared for even.

There were flowers on the kitchen table, from his garden he assumed. There was a crystal bobble attached to his kitchen window in front of the sink that would no doubt catch the evening sun and reflect wondrous colours throughout the small room.

It was in the shape of a snake.

He went to go to the garden but he could not.

Interesting.

He could look at it out the window the door offered, though. Flowers, herbs, and some bushes were there where before there'd been little to nothing but weeds.

This wasn't what he'd wished for, though. Why was he seeing this?

He turned to head back into the living room, but instead he saw a room he was not at all familiar with.

This was no longer his home. He'd question how it was possible, but he realized he likely wasn't even really here so anything was possible.

He saw Hermione laying on a bed. If he was awake he'd likely be blushing seeing her in such a state. Ironic, since she'd probably seen him essentially naked at various points in time of his recovery. Granted, he wasn't awake for them, and he was just assuming she'd been part of his healer team while in his coma.

She had earphones in and was talking softly to her familiar.

"Why is the magical world so backwards about taking care of their mental health, Crooks? The headmaster should have gotten Severus help years ago. Instead, he had him working as a spy and basically left him hanging. Instead of reassuring him that he wasn't responsible for the deaths of Lily and James, he seemed to let the opinion that it was his fault fester in Severus. He had no one, nothing." She sniffled and he glanced at her face, surprised to see that she was obviously crying. Real crying, too. Not the faux tears that he'd witnessed so many shed in an attempt to escape detention.

"Then his mum and dad weren't rushing out to get him help either, were they?"

He watched as she scratched the half kneazle behind his ears. A gesture he himself had done many times during her tenure as a student when the creature had made its way into his quarters. He responded to his owner in a more than familiar way, arching in such a way so as she'd scratch him where he wished to be scratched.

"Do you know how many times I've wanted to touch him when I'm not working with him on his exercises? I was always so afraid he'd react by making fun of me. I look nothing like Harry's mum, and if I was wrong. Well, if he truly has loved her for twenty years that would be his type, yeah? Not bushy-haired know-it-alls. I'm never going to be the life of a party, or someone anyone even thinks about later. How can I compete against someone who's dead, Crooks? And he doesn't see! I was hoping," she sniffled here, rubbing her cheek against the half kneazle's head. "Well, I was hoping with time he'd see me as more than just his healer. I thought we were on our way to becoming at the very least friends, but now. I have ruined everything! He'll never talk to me again, and I can't really blame him. On the other hand, I don't see any other potion masters who've been on the receiving end of the cruciatus curse repeatedly who might be able to help people like Neville's mum and dad. So, it had to be said, didn't it? And if he never talks to me again but does something brilliant as a result of today. I guess that's good, isn't it? It wouldn't be completely for nothing, but I'll miss him. He's so stuck on living twenty years ago that he doesn't stop to see the world has kept moving. He doesn't see how brilliant I think he is. I'd love to sit and talk to him about the riddle from my first year to, well, everything!" She huffed. "My evenings there were my favorite. It was just us. No therapy. I wasn't Healer Granger. He shared things with me. I thought that meant something."

He backed away, not wanting to hear more. He had no idea. He hadn't even noticed. Any of it. He'd truthfully just been passing time until the potion was ready for use.

Okay, maybe he had been doing more than that for the past few months. He just hadn't noticed that he was.

Did he find her company more than passable?

Well, yes, he supposed that he did. He hadn't bothered to stop to realize she felt the same. He just presumed she was doing what healers did, and being kind.

He still had no idea why he was seeing these things. This was not what he'd wished for.

"You wished to see your one true love, Severus," a voice from behind him came.

He hadn't heard it in twenty years except for memories, but he'd recognize it anywhere.

"Lily," he whispered. "Why would it show me these things and not you?"

"Because I'm not what you wished for."

"But you are."

She shook her head. He saw empathy in her eyes. Eyes still so familiar to him because of her son. If it were anyone else, he'd say it was pity. He didn't think she'd pity him.

"Look around you, Severus." He did and he was back in his house again. "Look at all these things this witch did for you to make your house into a home, to help make you feel good. To attempt to aid in your healing. Not just physically. On her own time. With her own money."

"She's only twenty-one."

"That didn't matter to Remus now, did it?"

"I'm not sure I want to be compared to him."

"If you'd given him a chance when he was teaching, I think you two would have gotten along. I've been watching you closely for months. I knew what you had planned. I hoped you'd see without trying to end your life."

"I don't want to live any longer in a world without you."

"Oh, Severus, you haven't even tried to live in a world without me. Not really. You've been existing, not living. There is a difference. What do you think is going to happen if you die today?"

"What do you mean?"

"I chose James, Severus. I will always choose him. You were a good friend. At first. You changed."

"I didn't have a choice!"

"You did and you know you did. That's why you've carried the guilt around for so long and wore it like love. You don't love me. You never did. Not in the romantic way. We were friends. It was always guilt that you smothered yourself in, and made into something it just wasn't."

"You don't know how I feel."

"Of course I do. You'd be surprised at what I know from where I stand. Hermione," she said. "Was anything she said today wrong?"

"If you're not my true love then why are you here?"

"The potion knows what you wanted, Severus. You wanted your true love. You wanted me. They are in this instance two separate things. It gave you a glimpse of what your life has already become by letting Hermione in. I was your past, Severus. Your childhood, someone to help get you through until Hogwarts. I was never meant to be your future. This witch could be, if you give her the chance and don't let her get away. The potion gave you both things you wished for."

"I do not want…"

"But you do! If you don't, you certainly have done a very good impression of someone who wanted love for a very long time. You are fond of her, Severus. You felt jealous, and attraction, when you saw her dressed up last night. You didn't like feeling either of those things, but they were there. It was why you tried to insult her, make her think there was something wrong with how she looked. You adjusted your will to leave her your money. Forget your money, your books and the house."

"Yes, well, no one else would care…"

"And that's where you're wrong. There are several who would care. My son for one. Very much so. Professor McGonagall is another. I imagine Lucius Malfoy's son would, too. So there are people, Severus, yet you thought of her and left everything to her. Draco's your godson, and you changed your will to leave everything to the witch he hated most as a student."

"He hated her because she was smart enough to keep up with him grades-wise." And of course because of her blood status. If she'd been any other muggleborn, though. He wasn't as vicious to Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Look at me, Severus," she said.

He did. He stepped toward her. She lifted her hand and he did the same. He clasped his hand around hers, and was surprised to find he felt … nothing. Maybe not nothing, but certainly not the elation he expected to feel upon touching her again.

"I do love you, Severus, as a friend. There was never more than that. Even before James. It took me a long time to realize that I played a role in what happened between us, too. I'm sorry. I knew you were fond of me. I liked it. You were the tall, dark, dangerous boy from the wrong side of town Mum warned me to stay away from. I forgave you a long time ago and, Hermione is right, you did not kill us. That's on Peter, and Tom Riddle." She shrugged. "Deep down you knew all of this. You put me on a pedestal because I cared when no one else did. I'm not a saint, I'm not perfect. I made mistakes, and have regrets. Choosing James was not one of them, though. You haven't loved me for years, Severus. Not really. Albus."

"Bastard," Severus said. He didn't think he was a complete bastard, but manipulative? Yes. Kept things he shouldn't have to himself? Yes. Endangered people unnecessarily because he didn't want to share? Yes.

"Yes. Well, in this you're not wrong. He knew what he was doing. He was worried that if he didn't remind you of your promise, of your debt to James, that you'd change sides again."

"I wouldn't have."

"I know that, but he wasn't able to see into your heart as I could. And I couldn't tell him from where I was. He thought that my memory was what was keeping you on this path."

He was quiet, trying to find something to argue with her about.

He couldn't.

When had that happened? Had he truly been so focused on loving Lily that he hadn't stopped to realize he no longer did?

He swallowed hard, not that in this state it had any effect. He met her gaze then, and he didn't see the pity in her eyes as he might expect given the conversation. And what a fool she must think he was.

"So you're telling me that I've wasted twenty years, Lily."

"I wouldn't say wasted exactly, no. What you did was very important. And, well, there was no one else you allowed to get close to you the way you have Hermione. Honestly, from my point of view, there was no one worthy. And before you comment on the age difference again, should you live to be two hundred, twenty years will be nothing." She tilted her head then, releasing his hand and cupping his cheek. "She's right, you know. People will think what they're being told is accurate because you're not telling them any different. You have the power to say those things were taken out of context when you were mortally injured, trying to ensure Harry got Albus' message, and fighting to stay alive. You have the power to prove with the rest of your days that you are not the wizard the Prophet has painted you as. You have a chance, Severus, to get exactly what you've always wanted. Someone to accept and love you . The Half-Blood Prince for all that he is. And gain a half kneazle who has brought you comfort. For you."

"It's too late… The potion."

"She's on her way here right now. She wants to apologize. She doesn't want to lose your friendship over a fit of anger. You have an advantage that I never had when you came to apologize to me, Severus. You know what it feels like not to be taken seriously. You know what it feels like to realize you said something you shouldn't have in a fit of passion and embarrassment. I've had time to realize you said what you said not because you truly thought of me as that but because you were hurt and embarrassed so you lashed out. Was it still wrong and hurtful? Yes, but things were different then than today. And again, I can admit to bearing some responsibility for what happened. For things getting to that point. It ended our friendship. You have the chance to do what I couldn't. Move forward. With her. Choose wisely."

"I don't want her to see me like this. She had a friend whose mum was an addict. She's going to think I'm no better than…"

"She's going to know that you are angry, hurt, and depressed, Severus. She's not stupid, as you very well know. She knows that you have a great amount of guilt and sorrow on those shoulders that you've kept to yourself for twenty years. She wants the magical world to realize that mental health is important. You could assist her in getting that point across. Try talking to someone. Try trusting someone."

"You can't expect me to…"

"I wasn't suggesting her, no, but if she's your only option. Why not? You think you'll tell her anything that will shock her? She sat through countless trials, Severus. She heard terrible act after terrible act described in detail. Yet she volunteered to work with you. She fell in love with you."

"She should still not have to hear them from me."

"Then tell her that. Don't fly off the handle and tell her that she doesn't understand. Tell her that you're not comfortable telling her things."

"She'll prod me with questions."

"She will not. Has she done that these months? She has her own boundaries, Severus. Haven't you noticed? Have you stopped to realize that the reason she ensures you eat is because she didn't for months? So she knows what it's like to be starving. Or maybe you want her to move to France with Artur. He was very charming and handsome."

"Both of which I am not."

"Yet she thought of you, compared him to you, more than once during the evening."

He scowled.

"You were not happy to hear she had a date last night, Severus, and you went out of your way to provoke her this morning so that she'd leave you. Her leaving meant you could remain in the past instead of starting to see what she was making you feel."

"She was my student."

"Was. Think over the past few months, Severus. Have you enjoyed her company? The discussions you've had? That she watches old movies and talks with you about them when they're done? That she is here every day later than she needs to be? You don't think there are other places that she could go if she truly just wanted space from her flatmates? There are libraries in London and Cokeworth."

"I don't know," he said.

"Know you are forgiven. Truly. I want you happy, James and I both do. You deserve it, but you need to let go. All of it. The past is the past, Severus. Dwelling on it will not help. It will leave you stagnant, and I know deep down you don't want to be that. You just aren't sure how to get away from the habits you've known for so long. And worn them like a protective shield. If you die, who is going to tell Harry about me?"

He huffed. He thought he might cry, but of course he didn't really because this wasn't really happening.

And yet.

"She's coming, Severus. Wish to stay alive."

She released his cheek as he went through the images he'd seen when this first started. His house, the things she'd done that he had noticed subconsciously, but he'd been too caught up in his endgame - tonight - to pay attention. Was he jealous at the thought of her spending time with another wizard? He didn't really know, as he hadn't allowed himself to feel anything for anyone in so long. It certainly wasn't what he had felt when Lily had chosen James.

"Because it's different, Severus," she said. "You're not sixteen anymore. You're not that boy anymore. She's not just a crush. A one-sided one at that. She loves you. You heard her say so. I have to go now, but if you wish to stay alive she will find what she needs to help you. The potion will make it so."

It was quiet now. He heard nothing. Not even his breathing. He felt nothing.

He looked back over things that had happened over the past few months with Hermione.

Had he developed feelings for her?

He supposed he had. He enjoyed her company. He had never bothered to talk to any of his other healers, let alone invite them to stay longer. He couldn't claim he knew her and not the others, because he'd taught all of them at one point or another.

Did she really care for him, that was the question?

Looking over things he could see where that could be interpreted that way. The touches around his house aside. The meals she cooked, she paid attention to what he liked and didn't like, and altered meals accordingly.

What did she like? Did she prefer her eggs scrambled or over easy? Did she prefer bacon or sausage? Did she actually like corned beef and cabbage?

He thought of the conversations they'd had over books and movies. The light in her eyes that he'd assumed was always there, but he supposed it probably wasn't.

He saw her last night, dressed to impress a potential suitor. She'd never changed clothes here before. He hadn't minded her doing so, until he realized she was going out. That she'd done it for someone else. She'd looked lovely, and he implied that she hadn't because that was what he did. If she had feelings for him, though, why was she going on blind dates with the Potters?

Because she thinks you're living in the past, hung up on a dead woman. That thought came to him in Lily's voice. So she was still here with him, he just couldn't see her anymore.

He wanted to scream that she was wrong. He did still love her and it had been true love, but even he could admit now that he'd seen and touched her. Now that they had spoken and she said she forgave him. Well, something had shifted long ago. It wasn't so much that he loved her, but clung to the only positive thing he'd ever had.

He could buy that. It was rather pathetic that in forty years he only had one positive thing, which was what led to this. Him taking the enhanced sleeping draught, knowing it would end his life.

Did he want it, though? Did he want to try? Did he want to see what life could be without spying? Without Tom Riddle? Without Albus? Without the shadow of a troubled past threatening to leave him exposed?

He was well and truly exposed now. She was right. He avoided the magical world because he didn't want to face them. He didn't want to see the looks on the faces, and in the eyes. Occluding couldn't help him when people looked at him with pity.

He'd really never given thought to a life away from Hogwarts, war, and Harry Potter. His endgame had always been getting Lily's son through Hogwarts.

He'd done that.

Now what? He had no plan. He had no ideas. He had no one to tell him what he was supposed to do, and for the better part of twenty years that was exactly what he'd had between the Dark Lord and Albus.

What could he even do? He knew he didn't want to teach.

Could he do as she suggested and look into potions that might heal damage from the cruciatus curse? Could she with her healer background aid him with that endeavour? Would she? If Neville got his parents back, that would be one bad thing undone.

Wouldn't it?

Not that he'd been in on the raiding party that left them in the condition they had been in for twenty years. Still, though, it would be a step toward reparations. Seeking forgiveness, albeit wordlessly.

His thoughts were conflicted when it came to Albus. There was so much the old man had done wrong over the years, and yet the one thing he never wavered from was bestowing the virtues of love.

Did he want to take the chance again?

If he failed this time he wasn't sure he'd recover.

And yet if he succeeded. If she loved him.

The possibilities were endless. Weren't they? A future of his making.

Positive possibilities.

Something he never thought he'd have the chance for.

I wish to try. I wish to see what I can accomplish if I actually endeavour to move forward. I wish to live.

He felt the comforting warmth pressed against him that he recognized as the witch's cat. And then everything went black.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com