Life is our Sentence

Staying with the Weasleys was not uncomfortable, but he still felt like an outsider.

Walking through the Burrow to return to his borrowed bedroom after a short stroll outside (something told him this was why Albus sent him, he took to pacing and strolls when restless. The man knew there would not be the many floors and halls of Hogwarts to house him here. For the first time in months, he was finally made to go outside; the snow and freezing weather doing little to deter him) he passed by Potter and the youngest Weasley boy working on their homework. Perchance, the defense professor's casual once over caught something of interest.

Pausing, he squinted at the book propped up in front of the fire. An old flame in his mind was rekindled at the sight of it; he knew that book, from its fraying edges to spidery scrawl scrunched in the white spaces it was–

"That's my book," he said.

A redhead and bespectacled boy looked up at the sound of his faint voice. Propping his head on his chin, Harry asked, "What?"

Instinct told him to shrink back, to become mute and scuttle off. However, Severus was not a child and told himself he would not behave as such. "That's my book," he repeated, pointing at the shabby thing.

"This?" Potter inquired holding up Severus's old schoolbook.

He nodded.

Frowning, the Weasley boy grumbled, "Well, isn't that great?"

"Ron!" the dark-haired teenager hissed. "Do you want it back?" he asked Severus.

He shook his head in response. "You need all the help you can get, Mister Potter."

Potter gaped, but, then, as if he found ex-potions professors jab humorous, he laughed. "Thanks, Professor," he finally said while turning back to his homework.

Troubled, the boy stood there for a while longer, not quite sure if he should be bothered or if it would be better for him to go on and take pleasure in their interaction ending without stress. Walking on, the Severus hardly realized he was smiling to himself.

-o-O-o-

"Were you always so small?"

The question was posed without malice and with true wonderment, but Severus till squirmed with unhappiness. Even on his best days, he did not enjoy extended contact with Remus Lupin. Now that he was twelve with twelve-year-old emotions fighting with adult rationality? Even less so. So, with fingers tucked beneath his legs and a scowl on his face, Severus snapped back, "Hardly!"

The werewolf tilted his head and looked truly apologetic. "Somehow, I feel as if you've always been smaller," he remarked in a far off voice.

Getting up, the boy declared, "I do not have to sit around for this degradation!"

"Oh, yes, you do!" Molly harped back from her spot in the middle of the room beside her husband and daughter, "I will not have us separated on Christmas Eve! We will be together and we will be happy and pleasant or so help me–"

The gathered look quite amused, but Severus and Lupin were embarrassed. Despite their differences, both cared little for unexpected attention. Reluctantly, the ex-potions professor fell back into his seat. He fidgeted still.

And later, he had nightmares.

The next morning, he was flinching at sudden movements and Lupin, as he took his leave, looked on sadly.

Some scars would never stop hurting.

Coming back to Hogwarts was a bit like coming home. It alleviated his mind to see her familiar halls and rooms, but the feeling didn't last long. The Headmaster greeted him soon enough and Severus's heart was deadened to know what was to come. There wasn't any stopping it, despite what he wanted. He wondered, briefly, what they would do with him if he managed to complete his task in this form.

He wondered, briefly, what they would do with him if he managed to complete his task in this form.

Somehow, Severus doubted they'd take pity on him. Being thirteen in appearance didn't do much to hide the fact that he was an adult in mind. Rubbing at his throbbing head, Severus began to put preparations in place. He would need a speedy escape in just a few months time, he was sure.

-o-O-o-

The ex-potions professor swept into the room and at the sight of his pale godson upon the ground with blood filling the rivets of the stone floor, he felt his stomach roll. Pushing forward despite the distasteful amount of blood that may have made him sick if not for years of familiarity with the substance, Severus brushed past Potter, who stood dumbstruck.

Absently, Severus wondered if he shouldn't have taken back his potions book that warm evening. But it is too late to regret his shortcomings as he fell to his knees and brought his wand to the grave wound etched across his godson's torso. Draco's eyes fluttered and a sigh that sounded a little too much like "Sev" frayed his nerves further as he tried to heal the cut.

He was seized by fear at the sluggishness of his magic, it should be working faster! His godson shouldn't be bleeding still! It was then, with the sting of loss, the Severus was made to realize that his thirteen-year-old body's magic reserves simply weren't enough to staunch the bleeding. They weren't enough to sooth the intent behind the spell. Glancing behind his shoulder, he noted that Potter still hung back there with a pale face and large eyes.

"Potter!" he barked.

The teenager startled. "Yes, Sir?" he murmured.

"Here. Now," Severus ordered with a jerk of his head. Harry Potter came and did not hesitate at the blood as he fell to the stone floor beside him (later, the ex-defense professor would wonder why he did not recoil, but, for now, Severus was simply grateful). "I need you to want to help Draco, and I need you to place your hand on top of mine." His voice wavered at his next words. "It seems I do not have enough magic to fix your blunder on my own," he admitted.

"Of course, Sir," Harry agreed, putting his hot, sweaty hand on top of the ex-potions professors.

Thankfully, a moment later Severus's healing spell began to work properly and the wound nit itself back together. Relieved, he flopped back with a dizzy head. Draco would need a blood replenishing potion or two, but he would be fine. And, oh Merlin, he'd been so close to death and it was all because of–

His head turned. A deep, furious scowl marring his too young face, Severus bellowed, "GET OUT!"

Potter scrambled to his feet, stumbling from his own exhaustion as Severus hurled a castaway book at him. "LEAVE YOU CHILDISH DUNDERHEAD!" he shrilled and the bespectacled boy all but ran from the room. This left Severus with the chance to weep in relief over his godson as he struggled to get up to find the necessary potions to finish healing Draco, still laid out in a mess of drying blood.

Before he could really understand what he had done, Severus saw the green light leave his wand and strike the Headmaster. Mouth falling open, he stood there for a moment. Blood rushing in his ears and deafening him.

The headmaster was dead. Albus Dumbledore was dead. DEAD!

With this horrifying thought in mind, Severus may have stood there a while longer, contemplating the execution that was surely awaiting him once it was all sorted out, but, suddenly, other Death Eaters were rushing past him. Jostling the ex-potions professor as they ran after their true enemy:

Harry Potter.

Cursing himself, his fellow Death Eaters, Harry Potter, the war, and Voldemort, Severus ran after them. Yelling at the top of his boy-lungs in his shrill, unfinished voice, "Don't hurt him! Don't kill Harry Potter!"

It went on like that for a while as they battled through Hogwarts, racing through tall corridors, fighting off other students – the castle itself. Despite it all, they were like hounds of a chase and they would capture Harry Potter by any means necessary. Severus cried out for them not to harm Potter until his voice was hoarse, but the longer things went on, the more Severus knew they weren't taking him seriously.

Why would they, though? He was a boy. No one looked at a boy and listened to his commands. It was as they nearly cornered Harry that Severus heard a familiar unforgivable leave someone's lips.

Knowing that he could not allow such harm to happen to the boy, not to Lily's son, not to the wizarding world's only hope, Severus dove in front of the curse. A scream escaped his lips as his whole body turned to fire. Every nerve burned and all his senses felt completely overwhelmed and he may have kept screaming if he hadn't felt a pair of arms gather him up.

Still moaning, he barely heard the voice whisper, "You saved me..."

And even less did Severus notice that the arms holding him were attached to a running body.

-O-

It was sheer luck, Harry decided later, that he had run into his friends at all in the havoc. Even more when they didn't question the presence of the diminutive professor chattering away in his arms. Dodging spells and curses as they tried to find a way out of the castle, Hermione took lead and brought the trio out of the castle. Running across Hogwarts's grounds as several Death Eaters chased after them, casting curse after curse at their heels, Harry didn't think they'd get out of there alive.

And he certainly didn't believe they'd get the ex-potions professor out of the fray.

Crashing into the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the trio thrashed through the under brush and eventually jumped into a ravine as Death Eaters above stopped and demanded of each other where they had gotten to. Pressed against the dirty edge of the wall of the ravine, Harry kept the boy close to his throat in an attempt to muffle his quite whimpers.

After a short while, the dark wizards split under the belief that they'd run in a different direction.

Meaningfully, Hermione exchanged glances with him and Ron. Taking her hand as Ron did the same, he felt the pull of apparation at his navel and with closed eyes, kept Severus as close as he could as they went to a place only Hermione knew.

They ended up at some ocean shore, Harry still holding Snape and Ron beside him as Hermione looked to the ocean and then at them. "I used to come here with my parents," she told them. "I don't think we can stay here all that long, but…" she shrugged with wet eyes. "It's better than being there."

"Yeah," Harry croaked as their ex-professor trembled against him.

Ron walked over to Hermione and put his arm around her shoulder.

Turning then to him, the redhead questioned, "What happened, Harry? Why do you have Snape?"

"He saved me," he answered without hesitation

Hermione blinked as she leaned more fully into Ron's body. "What do you mean, Harry?" she demanded.

"He saved me," The bespectacled teenager repeated. "But he killed Dumbledore…" Looking up at his friends, he whispered helplessly, "I don't understand."

His friends' eyes were wide and Ron's face suddenly morphed into a scowl as the beginning of a curse left his lips, "That bast–"

"The H-Headmaster sa-aid to," the boy in Harry's lap stuttered. "W-Was dying, anyway."

Harry grabbed his chin and dark-eyes glared up at him. "What do you mean he was dying?" the older teenager growled.

His ex-potions professor frowned and jerked away from the grasp. "He did something thoughtless and h-he was dying." Seemingly regaining strength, Snape pushed himself up and tried to move away, but the bespectacled boy took his arm in a rough hold and caused him to yelp as the pain that still vibrated through his whole being intensified.

It took a little bit of interrogating, and a couple hours, but Snape ended up explain just what his role in everything was. He was a double agent and worked for Dumbledore. Up until the accident he'd been an active Death Eater too. He also explained a lot of other stuff and by the end, Harry almost felt he respected the fellow.

He still didn't like him and didn't, couldn't, understand why the ex-potions professor thought he had to be a right arse to fulfill his mission of keeping Harry alive, but he could put it aside. For now.

It so happened he knew a few things about Horcruxes and was willing to help them out. Snape wanted to start at soon as possible (meaning, right now,) and Harry wanted to go back to Hogwarts to see what the damage was and be there for Dumbledore's funeral. Ron and Hermione agreed with him.

"We have to find out what happened!" Ron yelled.

The professor shook his head. "Time is of the essence. The sooner we find and destroy the Horcruxes the better."

Hermione, ever the mediator asked, "Could a couple of us go back? Like Harry and Ron? The other two could figure out where we start."

Snape didn't look at all pleased, but eventually relented and Ron and Harry left.

Turning to the boy, Hermione questioned, "What are you going to do once we get rid of the last Horcruxes?"

The ex-potions professor looked at her. "Disappear," he answered. "I have no interest in going back to Hogwarts. You three might have believed my story, but I doubt many others will."

"Surely we can–"

"No, Miss Granger," Snape sighed. Scrubbing at his eyes, the thirteen-year-old said, "I tire of this life and I when I have fulfilled my mission, I will find a place to quietly exile myself and stay there the rest of my days."

The girl did not like this plan at all. She thought a man who'd done so much deserved better, but Hermione realized she would not convince him now. Maybe, with time, she could formulate a better future for her professor with the help of Harry and Ron.

Looking at the skinny boy that still shook from time to time from the unforgivable cast upon him, the Gryffindor felt a sad smile pull at her lips. "Would you like to lie down for just a few minutes? The curse seems to still be affecting you," she commented

"I'm–" He growled lowly beneath his breath. "I just need a second to gather myself." And curling in on himself, Snape hunched his shoulders and put his pale face in his hands, his dark hair curtaining his features.

Waiting for him, Hermione turned her head skyward and began to think of the future.

You know what? I don't know anymore. I considered writing a lot more to this fic, but I feel an open end like such as this is much more interesting and will let you, the readers, make your own (un)happy ending.

Thank you all a million for reading.

EDITED 5/7/17