In the least, inebriation gave way to assuage him from his past mistakes, his life, Lily… People erred from time to time, even the almighty Dumbledore (despite what some deluded dunderheads might think), but to go from making a string of mistakes to another like what he did, required an exceptional level of retardation.

He felt disgusted with his weakness. Great, Snape!, he chided himself. First, Lily, then a stupid overrated tattoo that you never really stop paying for, serving one manipulative master to another. And now, you think you… you, he recoiled from that foolish, offending word, fancy Granger!!! He covered his face in his hands, thoroughly mortified by the inward confession.

Did he? Had he really developed any feelings other than seven years’ worth of supreme annoyance toward the girl? Oh of course, it had probably started during all those time in Grimmauld Place. Despite Severus’ grievances, Dumbledore had once again proved that common sense had left him by allowing the Golden Trio to come to the Order meetings.

Throughout these meetings, Miss Granger had been in a decidedly gloomier mood than usual, looking slightly out of place amongst the merriment of Order members. No more incessant questions and haughty looks of self-satisfaction. The matter became clearer in several weeks, when one rainy day, Miss Granger’s peers were chatting animatedly with each other, seemingly oblivious of her, while other Order members engaged in similar conversations. Granger pretended to scribble notes on her parchment but Severus knew better. She looked too distraught and a little bit sad. Soon, she sensed someone was watching and looked up to find a pair of coal black eyes boring into her brown ones. He was the first to look away.

As a muggle-born, she would feel the sense of never truly belonging in the Wizarding World, wherein Potter and Weasley were too dense to see the difference in their supposed best friend. Severus could relate. Struggling to fit it must have been difficult. He too, had been forever trapped in the middle, treated like a dirt in the Dark side, and with constant suspicion in the Light, never to be genuinely welcomed by either. The fact did not disappoint him as he did not have great expectation to begin with.
Later on, the fact that not only had he noticed but also cared about Miss Granger’s emotional welfare was positively distressing. Worst, there had been an insane urge inside him that wanted to let her know: he noticed.

He stared down at his empty flask. But what about Lily? He had loved her wretchedly, he knew that as much. If his feeling had been anything but, certainly it would have ceased to exist as soon as she married his archnemesis. It had not. Even though utterly stricken, he had eventually come to terms with it and wished for her happiness, even if he constantly resented the fact that it had to be Potter. He recalled that once they had both despised the guts of Potter and his minions, but people changed. Lily went to form friendships with them while putting an end to hers and Severus’.

He had bitterly come to understand that the filthy boy from Spinner’s End, too poor, too dark, too broken inside to pretend to be anything but, would always be undeserving of Lily Evans, the epitome of goodness. It was unfair to ask Lily to see him beyond all that inconsolable qualities. Yet, he had loved her still. Always have, always will and all that crap.

Severus Snape had spent the better part of his adult life hell-bent on battling this sickening, crippling emotion called Feeling. Twenty years later and then it decided to dissipate, just like that??? Worse, that the object of his affection now changed to Granger? He flat out refused to believe it. Severus poured down another shot of firewhisky and gulped it down hurriedly. His throat burnt.

There was a way to find out. He raised his wand and after pondering somewhat distractedly, muttered, ‘Expecto Patronum!’

The doe appeared before him, illuminating the room with its soft light. In a way, he observed, it wasn’t quite the same doe he had been used to seeing for more than two decades. This doe was not quite as graceful, not quite as lustrous, not as pretty. He was bedazzled by its inexplicable beauty nonetheless.

Instead of the familiar soundless steps, the doe paced around the glass table in nervous fashion. Then she looked pointedly into his black eyes, as if determined to start a starring competition.

How unlike Lily. His stomach lurched a little as Severus remembered precisely who this little doe reminded him of… Several moments passed before she raised her hand to meet his but stopped short just before touching. Utterly baffled by the silent gesture, however, he let his fingers brushed ever so slightly with the tip of her tiny ones, careful not to pass through it.

Her wide eyes fluttered happily and she glowed even brighter. She stepped away lightly across the table and started to fade, but not before turning back to gave him one last sweet, silvery smile. In the depressing darkness that engulfed the room once more, Severus Snape closed his eyes and cursed.

.

.

-The Shrieking Shack-

Severus Snape saw Death coming. This was it. He would die a useless death. Alone. How ironic. After forever dreading of the day when something went wrong with his occlumency and his cover would be blown out, but evidently he was going to die over some curious tale about a wand, his double-spying still safely concealed. He laughed at the ever perversity of the universe, never one to let him think that his strings of bad luck had ended. Yet, when his demise had seemed so final, it was the pain of betrayal that stung. Albus, how could you? If only Severus’ mind were not so clouded with pain and shock, he would remember that Albus Dumbledore could and would. This, sadly had been Albus’ second ultimate betrayal. There would be no betrayal number three. It was anything for the greater good.

Severus blanched as he thought about the reason of The Dark Lord’s action. This was his trap, he realised. Albus had known that as soon the Dark Lord learnt that Severus was the master of the wand, the spy would be disposed. By Nagini, no less. His mentor had failed to give him this information, and why should he? Albus Dumbledore had never expected Snape to survive the final battle.

Would it have been better if he had been AK-ed instead, Severus thought, at least save him from this slow, torturing messy affair that Dumbledore had once dreaded? Of course, Severus knew he was not the true master of the wand. Albus was. And Voldermort was now off with a wand that was definitely an ordinary wand. Somehow, Albus’ scheme had worked its magic again. Too bad, the old wizard hadn’t calculated that Severus might die before passing the Horcruxes’ information to Potter.

His trembled fingers tried to stanch the bleeding with little success. The floor seemed to shook beneath him, or was that his body trembling? He could not be certain. As he wondered about this, several figure appeared, stepping out of the previously empty corner. From his blurry vision, he saw that one was Potter. Granger was not far behind him, her beautiful face deathly white, for once speechless.

Severus’ mind was racing. Potter… Dumbledore’s order… His last chance to finish the task assigned to him… With what little energy Nagini’s venom had yet to overtook, Severus reached out for the boy, clinging to him as he attempted desperately to pick out the information essential to defeat the Dark Lord. Forget the pain, forget the pain, he chanted to himself, forcing himself to concentrate. His motivation, his true allegiance and the things about Horcruxes that Dumbledore had confided to him… There were things he did not wish for anyone, least of all Potter, to witness, but his control failed him miserably and those too, flowed out. The memories spurted out of everywhere until at last they stopped.

Severus thought he could no longer bleed. It seemed an eternity had passed before the pain mercifully ceased. Coldness started to creep up to him, coldness that had nothing to do with the icy air. His entire life did not flash before him. But now that his death was fast approaching, he let himself think of nicer, less bleak memories from the times when he secretly allowed himself to dream of future. His future. Granger.

There was always a strong denial inside of him when it concerned Granger, no, Hermione. In his mind, she had been Hermione for a long time. He was just too adamant to admit it. Did he really love her, if not as much, then perhaps close to what he had felt for Lily? He had to know this one last thing. His voice was strangled and hoarse but Potter seemed to understand his request. Severus heard Hermione’s muffled gasp at his selfish dying wish. She knew.

The boy with his mother’s eyes that had forever haunted Snape’s dreams however, did not seem to notice. He fixed Severus a long gaze.

Emerald green.

Potter’s eyes were wrong. His eyes were all wrong. The color, the shape… not chocolate-brown, not impossibly big and innocent.

And in that infinitesimal second, with a horrified realization that came too little too late, Severus Snape knew the answer to his question. He choked out, ‘Hermione!’.