BROKEN:

This story means the world to me. Which is why I have cried twice before publishing this. I love it. It is everything that I have ever hoped for, and more. Enjoy.

Epilogue:

Not long after Severus Snape's funeral on March 25th, 1995, Lord Voldemort used the information he had taken from his prisoner's mind to attack the Order.

He started with Sirius Black—and soon the list of the dead outnumbered the list of the living. Lucius Malfoy was found tortured in an alleyway—he died in St. Mungo's not long after, forcing his young son to seek revenge on the one responsible.

Albus Dumbledore was about to realise that in war, there would be so many casualties, so many that he could not save. As he watched those he cared for die around him, forever haunted by the loss of the one he called his most beloved, he realised that the war had to be won.

With the help of one Harry Potter, six Horcruxes were found. Albus briefed Harry in how to destroy the final one—and once Harry had been "killed", he faced Voldemort one final time.

They duelled—but old and weary, Albus knew that he could not best him. He simply occupied Voldemort's time until he saw Harry, lingering, hidden beneath his cloak on the perimeter. And Albus realised that...this was his time. This time, he would not fight it. He lowered his wand.

Voldemort saw the slip in his defences—and he cast his curse.

The green light shot towards Albus Dumbledore.

He braced himself for the green light to strike—he expected it to hurt, and yet, it felt simply as though someone had taken his hand and gently pulled him. The last thing he would see is his laughing face—and yet, the laughing face did not know that his end was so near.

And for the first time, Albus felt happy, content, at peace.

And when his eyes flickered open, he was staring up at a cloudless blue sky. The ground beneath him was firm, but not hard. It was a field. He could hear the birds singing and the animals speaking in their own tongue. So this was death? He got to his feet, looking down at his tangible figure. It seemed quite nice—death.

"How nice of you to finally make your appearance." A sarcastic voice murmured behind him. Albus knew the inflections so well. He turned to greet Snape, who was stood a few metres away, hands on his hips.

"Severus..." It had been such a long time...three years...Severus did not look very different, pale and thin. He wanted to run and hold him close in his arms, but instead just contented in examining every detail. The scar was still present on Severus' cheek—confusion must have crossed Albus' face, because Severus raised one hand to touch the white lesion. "I wasn't a complete saint." His words were dripping with acerbic humour. "I have to suffer for my sins. Unlike you."

Albus laughed briefly, "I did terrible things."

There was a long, weighty pause—and as usual between them, words were left unsaid. Albus could feel that. He changed the topic. "So...am I dead?"

Severus nodded. "The Dark Lord was victorious for a single moment. I have watched him fall. Justice, at last." He paused. "You were the last person that he killed."

Albus was tired—and he had moved to a bench, seating himself down. "I should have died long before now. I came so close..." So many times—the Astronomy Tower and Draco Malfoy. The cave with the locket. Bellatrix and her games.

"I know." Severus came closer. "But it wasn't your time. I promised that I would watch over you, Headmaster. Do you remember?"

The sudden change in Draco's judgement—nothing that Albus had said...a calming, soothing voice in his ear when he had been drinking the potion in the cave, telling him not to panic, and that none of it was real...and Bellatrix, her curse rebounding and destroying her. He stared at Severus, "That was you?"

"I do not break promises that I make to you, Headmaster. I have waited for you—because—there was no one else for me to go to. I don't have a family, and I have not yet found Lily...so...I have clung to whatever life there is, until I knew that you were coming. I promised. I would not break it."

Albus smiled fondly, touching the space on the bench beside him. "Stubborn after death too, Severus?" He waited until Severus had sat down. "It has been a long time...are you at peace now?"

Severus looked at him for a long moment. "I am now. I couldn't rest..." He paused, as if the words surprised him. "I couldn't rest with you still fighting in the war. It was my fault. The Order." He looked away, and Albus saw the guilt.

He answered that vehemently, "Never your fault, Severus. You had no control over your actions. He was too powerful for you. I refuse to let you feel guilt over that..."

Severus' eyes were dark. "You would have won the war earlier, if I had not given in. I know that well. I suffer for it every day. As do you. I know the deaths affected you."

"Not as much as losing you." Dumbledore murmured, resting one hand on Severus' arm. "No one will ever understand how painful that was."

He remembered returning to Hogwarts, carrying the body in his arms reverently. The school had been in uproar, wondering where their Headmaster had disappeared too—and for those in the know, where his patient had gone too. Minerva had been the first to see him. He still remembered, vividly, the expression on her face—horror and despair. Poppy too. Severus had been well loved, despite his behaviour and general manner.

The funeral had proved that. Albus had tried to keep it a small affair—but the Order and the teaching faculty would not allow him that. They had wanted people to know about the strength that Severus Snape had possessed—they had wanted people to understand how brave he had been. What he had been through.

He still had the letter that the nurse who had treated Severus in St. Mungo's when they had first recovered him had sent, after the funeral had made the front page of the Daily Prophet. He had hardly thought about her since they had returned to Hogwarts—but he remembered how kind she had been.

Somehow, Severus touched lives thanks to his determination and devotion and loyalty. In the end, Albus had been pleased that he had finally been recognised for his efforts. People had loved him, yes.

But, as Albus had fiercely reminded Minerva when she had accused him of being lost in his grief, they had not watched him die. They had not seen the life fade from his eyes.

He had been thirty-five years old! Practically a child!

He drifted back to the present—Severus was watching him, expression unreadable. "What was I saying?"

"You gave me what I wanted most in the world, Headmaster."

"Giving you that bottle of poison remains the hardest thing I have ever done, Severus. It broke my heart—and I was the never the same." Albus' expression had darkened.

Severus felt a tug on his heart. "Albus." He murmured. "It was the best thing you ever did." He reached out and interlinked his fingers with Albus', "Listen to me. You gave me the freedom I didn't deserve, but so desperately craved."

Albus bit his lip, the emotions of that moment, that terrible decision, flooding back to him. "I am sorry though, for forcing you to think that was the only way out. I suppose...I cared too much about you. I swore to protect you—and my selfishness..."

"I need no apology." Severus smiled affectionately, a genuine emotion that Albus had missed. "You did what you always did, Headmaster." He paused, perhaps for effect, perhaps because the words were so heavy with emotion. But he still forced them from his lips. "I was broken. But you...you..."

Black eyes fixed on blue, unwilling to let go. "Fixed me."

Thank you so much for reading To Break, Breaking and Broken. This is the story that helped me realise that I wanted to write fanfiction. I started this trilogy in January of this year. 10 months later, it remains so close to my heart.

To all 25,000 of you who have read this over time, and all who have left their comments, thank you. I will never forget it.

I hope the ending is satisfactory.

SeverusSnape19.