You're Still You

You're Still You

A short fic by Sabaye Leyr

Through the darkness

I can see your light

And you will always shine

And I can feel your heart in mine

Your face I've memorized

You walk past me

I can feel your pain

Time changes everything

One truth always stays the same

You're still you

After all

You're still you

You're Still You, sung by Randal Keith

--

There was complete silence hanging in the air, and no light could shine through heavy darkness. The moon was clouded over, and the air was thick and muggy even though it was rather far into autumn.

The silence was violently broken with a chorus of screams, hundreds of men and women and children crying to the skies, the happy, heartbroken, insane, and horrified screams mixing to form one single cacophony of human feeling. Joining with the screams, the earth began to shake. Buildings crumbled, and one single, shining light shot into the night sky, blinding all who looked at it.

As suddenly as it began, the noise ceased, the earth stopped shaking, and the light vanished. It was as if the land was heaving a great sigh of relief, and the clouds opened up and poured rain down onto its stained and filthy surface. The rain mixed with the mud, blood and tears on the faces of witches and wizards, and a great weight was lifted from the world.

The rain continued to fall, but the clouds cleared apart and let the tiny, crescent moon in the sky shine through. Perhaps it was the work of a skilled wizard, or perhaps it was God smiling down on his creation, rewarding them for their victory. At this point, it didn't matter which. The light was a blessed thing, and a cursed one.

Hermione Granger's mouth dropped in horror; for the first time, she could see the full destruction of the days long battle that had finally ended the terrible war.

Weary and broken, she stumbled through the moon-painted field. Bodies were strewn about the great field and forest, and as far as she could look, all Hermione could see was death. It was surreal, like she was standing in an art gallery, looking at some horrid painting.

Men and women were face down in the mud, spread-eagled on their backs where their empty eyes stared at the night sky; some were on their sides, others were still desperately reaching for their wands or each other in their moment of death, and some were blanked faces--while others had looks of loss, anger and terror eternally etched on their features.

Overcome, Hermione slipped to her knees, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Silently, she began to sob, tears spilling down her skin. How very thankful she was that it was finally finished, and how very haunted she was at the terrible price it had cost them all.

Fighting to compose herself, Hermione unwisely glanced at the bodies surrounding her. Did she know any of them?

A small breath of relief left her. No, she didn't. But one of them was a little boy, no older than five or six. The age that her son would be, if she had ever had a son. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as she wondered whom this boy was, knowing that his family had been fleeing from the town nearby. She cried because he'd hardly had a chance to live, and cried as he reminded her of the life she might have had. One without war, one without death, and one full of love and one day, perhaps, children. Now those dreams were faint memories, and had little chance of coming true.

Gently, Hermione leaned over and pulled him onto his back, folding his hands over his chest and straitening out his legs. Tenderly she closed his eyes and brushed his hair out of his face. For a moment, she just stared at his innocent face, and broke down into sobs again.

Strong arms grabbed her under her shoulders, and Hermione felt herself being lifted to her feet. Stumbling around, Hermione found herself staring into the face of Seamus Finnigan.

"You look like hell, Seamus," Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself. She was too tired to censor everything she said. His hair was matted and no longer blond, more a muddy brown. He was brushed and dust streaked, and had a large cut across his forehead. Seamus laughed; a tired, dead sounding laugh.

"So do you, Hermione," he said softly, ruffling her mass of tangled, matted curls. Hermione gave him a weak smile.

"We're not finished yet, love; He may be gone, but there are still prisoners held in the town by his remaining followers. We need to get them out, and then we'll be done. For good," he explained, spitting out the word 'he'. He suddenly looked worn and empty, and so very old. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, softly kissing his cheek. When she pulled back, Seamus gave her an affectionate smile.

"Let's go," Hermione said, after taking a deep breath and steeling herself against what was to come. Most of those prisoners were probably dead, or worse. A flutter of hope rose in her stomach, and she immediately crushed it. She'd given up trying to find him a long time ago.

Pulling herself tall, even though her shoulders still slumped with weariness, Hermione quietly followed Seamus through the fields, keeping her eyes fixed on the mess that was once a town. It was better if she looked there, then she couldn't see the many dead faces staring up at her.

Their footsteps echoed dully on the stone road, and Hermione quickly pulled her wand to the ready, not wanting to be caught off guard.

Seamus pointed silently to a building on the left side of the street, and his eyebrows rose in surprise as they approached it.

"It was destroyed in the earthquake," he muttered, picking his way through the rubble. He leaned over, finding one of the Death Eaters trapped beneath a large hunk of the wall. Placing his fingers at the man's throat, he turned to Hermione and shrugged.

"He's dead," he said simply. Hermione came to Seamus's side and looked at the man.

"What are the chances of that?" Seamus asked, and Hermione raised her shoulders in a slight shrug.

"The wrath of Heaven is great," she commented as she climbed over the broken wall, hopping into a small, dank room. The floor was filthy, and a dirty, ratty woman sat in the corner.

She looked up when she saw Hermione, and her face broke into a brilliant smile. Hermione couldn't see her features through all the grime and blood, but she could see the woman's soul in that smile. She had light hair, and wore square glasses.

"What is your name and what's the status here?" Hermione asked the woman, who had stopped smiling, but her eyes still twinkled with joy.

"My name is Amanda. Almost everyone escaped during that earthquake, but I couldn't leave because my leg is broken and they couldn't get me over the wall."

Hermione nodded, keeping her tone and expression professional. It was all she had to hold on to; otherwise in seconds she'd be an exhausted heap of tears on the floor.

"Who else is here?" Hermione questioned as Seamus jumped to the ground behind her.

Amanda's brow furrowed as she thought.

"The only person I didn't see leave was that tall, pale skinned bloke. He'd been captured quite a while ago, as a spy, I think. I used to hear them taunting him through the thin walls." She rapped her hand on the plaster wall to emphasize what she was saying.

Hermione had gone completely still, her brown eyes wide. Her heart had stopped for a moment, but she still wasn't accepting what this woman was saying.

"A...spy...?" she stammered, and Amanda nodded, giving Hermione a queer look.

"Yeah, I never caught his name, though..." she peered closer at Hermione, and must have recognized her expression, and continued to describe him without being asked.

"He had shoulder length black hair, and very dark eyes. Kind of had a hooknose, always looked real sour. I would too, mind you, if I was in his place." Amanda finished.

Hermione had gone distinctly pale. Seamus looked at her with a worried expression, but Amanda merely stared at her with a look of understanding. Her eyes twinkling again, and a small smile twitching at her lips, she pointed.

"The last door on the left down the hallway. Go check, and I'll get this handsome man to help me out," Amanda winked, and Hermione took in several breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

After a moment, Hermione nodded and dashed to the door, blowing it out of the way with a reductor charm. She rushed out the door, her hair a tangled mane flying behind her. Her footsteps were heavy on the floor and the muscles in her legs screamed against the effort of running. Her breath and heartbeat was loud in her ears and she was beginning to feel dizzy as she continued to pelt down the hallway.

She came to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. Cursing, Hermione shoved her shoulder against the door. Surprisingly, the door gave way and creaked open.

The room was dank, clammy, and completely dark except for the sliver of moonlight coming in through the half-open door.

A figure was curled in on himself in the far corner of the room, chains binding his feet to the wall. The figure shifted and he spoke in a voice full of venom and sarcasm as he continued to stare at the dirty floor.

"It's about time," he spat, and Hermione gasped. Her legs gave way and she crashed into the doorframe, grasping at it for support.

The figure's head snapped up, and his onyx eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise. His heart leapt from his chest and immeasurable relief and joy filled his chest, so much so that he could hardly breathe. It couldn't be her in the doorway, could it? What fate or god had brought her back to him?

Hermione was still leaning on the doorframe, and the man studied her. She was thin--thinner than he remembered and thinner than she should be. Her hair had grown out, it was very long, but right now it was a matted, full of dirt, sticks, and leaves, and on top of it all, it was wet, and rain water dribbled down her face. She was deathly pale and had great bags under her eyes, making her look much older than her twenty-five years.

After a moment, Hermione pushed herself so she was standing straight. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably, whether from exhaustion or shock, she didn't know. Maybe both. Her hand kept a tight grip on the doorframe, and she merely stared at him for a moment.

"Well?" she asked, her voice quiet and mouse-like.

Severus's eyes shone in the dim light, and the corners of his mouth turned upward in a tiny smile.

"I still say, it's about time," he said again, his voice still tinged with sarcasm, but it had an undertone of tenderness.

"Oh my god," Hermione breathed, and her legs gave out. She slid down the doorframe to the floor.

"Kindly toss me your wand, Miss Granger, if you're not going to free me yourself," he commented after a moment. His voice, again, sounded cruel, but she could still hear the affection in it.

Hermione gulped softly, and forced herself to crawl over to him, muttering a quick spell. The manacles around his ankles clanked loudly, and fell harmlessly to the floor.

There was a long silence as the two stared at each other, each at a loss for words.

Suddenly, Severus leaned forward and wrapped Hermione in his arms. She was filthy, and so was he, but he didn't give a damn.

It only took a moment before Hermione started to cry, clutching on to him, murmuring his name and exclamations of disbelief. When she finally quieted, Severus pulled away and stood up, languidly stretching his arms. He offered his hand to Hermione and helped her off the floor.

Hermione looked up at him, once again at a loss for words. She shifted her gaze to the floor, hugging herself in her insecurity. She'd dreamed of this very moment for a long time since he'd disappeared, and now that it was here, she had no idea what to do. It had been so long and they had both been through so much. Each had lived their own lives, had their own horrible experiences. Deep down inside, past her joy and relief, Hermione was terrified. Had it been too long apart? Would they have nothing in common anymore?

Severus gently put two of his long, elegant fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him.

"I knew you'd find me, someday," he said seriously, gazing into her eyes. Surprise echoed in Hermione's eyes. Did he still care for her? Their relationship had been long simmering in a friendship once she'd graduated, then finally progressed to a tentative romance. Soon after that, they'd been torn apart by the war. Hermione became an Auror, and Severus Snape was discovered as a spy and disappeared off the face of the earth.

"Do you still love me?" Hermione blurted out, and now it was Severus's turn to look surprised.

"Do you?" He replied cryptically. Hermione looked away, but Severus tenderly turned her face back to look at him.

"Do you?" He repeated, his gaze growing hard. He would know how she felt first. She had been his only light through the darkness, but he would not make a fool of himself if she no longer had feelings for him.

"I dream of you every night, and I still sleep with Ebony," Hermione said quietly, and Severus's gaze softened. Ebony was the black as death, somewhat disturbing teddy bear he'd given her as a tentative first gift as her boyfriend.

"Do you love me?" he asked again, but Hermione continued to talk.

"I took all your books, and put them on my shelves and have taken care of them. I didn't want them to be damaged or thrown away when...when they cleaned out your quarters." She explained.

Severus laughed slightly, brushing a tangled curl out of Hermione's face.

"You're still you," he said fondly. "You avoid emotional questions and talk about your books," he said in good humor, and a tiny smile flitted across Hermione's face.

"And you're still you," she commented after a long moment, her voice hardly audible.

"Who else do you think I would be? Harry bloody Potter? I should think not," Snape snorted, and opened his mouth to make another snide comment, but Hermione cut him off.

"I still love you, and I always will," she said quickly, her face blushing as she tried to pull away.

Slowly, a smile broke across Severus Snape's face. Not a wicked smile, not a sarcastic smile, not a small or half-smile. A full, shining smile. He gripped Hermione by the shoulders, grinning down at her.

"Good," he said simply. Hermione peered at him strangely.

"You're smiling," she said, looking surprised and somewhat disturbed.

"Don't ruin it, it's probably the only time you'll see it," Snape snapped, and Hermione chuckled weakly.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked him, sounding slightly lost and confused. Everything she'd fought against and lived for was now gone, and she'd found the only man she'd ever loved, but she was still terrified that he couldn't--or wouldn't--love her anymore.

"What else do you think we do, Hermione? We live, Hermione. We live," and he leaned down and kissed her forehead, and the emotion in his eyes told Hermione everything. He loved her, and there was no guarantee that they would still work together, but they would never know until they tried again.

And in this cruel and lonely world

I found one love

You're still you

After all

You're still you

--