A/N: Just playing with Severus and Harry, I don't own them and I'm not making any money off this ;P

I did a little research and found out that May 2, 1998 (the day Snape died) was a Saturday, ironically the Severus Snape was also born on a Saturday.

I highly suggest reading my companion piece to this, "He Was Born on a Saturday", because there are some parallels but it isn't necessary to read that in order to understand what goes on in this oneshot.

WARNING: I didn't have a beta look through this so there are probably plenty of mistakes of all kinds throughout, I did try my best though

He died on a Saturday, unwanted and unloved.

The pain that shot through his body was excruciating even for someone who had developed quite a tolerance to pain over the years. There was nothing he could do about his present condition and because he was alone no one would be able to help; he was used to this as well.

Those who thought him loyal to their cause could care less if one of their own died, and the side of the Light, well, McGonagall had tried to kill him herself not too long ago and Severus knew that everyone fighting for the Light would be more than happy to see him go. There was no point in feeling sorry for himself over this; he'd planned it this way after all.

The pain was getting worse and so sharp that he could feel his eyes becoming wet with tears in an automatic and involuntary reaction to the searing pain that originated from his torn neck. If he had been in control of his faculties he would have wiped angrily at his eyes, removing any sign of weakness. He was dying, and he didn't have the strength to do go with just an ounce of dignity intact. This was all really happening, this was how he'd be leaving the world.

He'd had nightmares about dying, it couldn't be helped in his line of work. He had been expecting this for years now, but nothing he had done had truly prepared him for any of this, he could not fight this nor could he accept it fully. This would be the final living nightmare, dying on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack, sprawled in a pool of his own blood.

So much blood, blood he couldn't see but he could feel it flowing from him, not in angry spurts as it had in the beginning but in a lazy but steady flow. As he was bleeding out he remembered her eyes, his Lily's eyes and suddenly it wasn't just pain he felt but guilt as well.

How Severus wished he hadn't made that life-altering mistake, that horrible word tripping out of his mouth before he could think was the worst in the series of terrible mistakes he'd made.

"I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last,"* his master had said barely loud enough for Severus to hear as his unnatural eyes were locked onto Severus's dark eyes. As always the puppet-master was in complete control, Severus could do nothing even though for an instant where Severus had thought that Fate had spared him when, after the Dark Lord waved his new acquisition, Severus felt nothing. Severus had forgotten about the blasted snake and now here he was, bleeding out and fast approaching Death's door.

He'd failed the boy, he thought. He doubted all that had been planned would work if the boy didn't finally realize what his role in Dumbledore's grand scheme was. Voldemort had the wand and would be only a matter of time before he found the unprepared Potter boy. Severus had never been optimistic to begin with but while Dumbledore lived he'd still believed there was a chance, the old wizard was after all one of the few things that put fear into the Dark Lord's shriveled heart.

What had he been thinking when he'd joined Dumbledore, why had he bothered, it had all been for naught, Lily was dead, her son would be joining her soon, the Dark Lord would reign, and there was no longer anything Severus could do to atone for his part in making all of this come to pass.

The green eyes he'd seen in his mind were suddenly in front of him and Severus was not sure if they were real. Severus could feel his mouth moving but he couldn't hear his voice, he couldn't hear the rich baritone that not so very long ago could send children scurrying and even send fear shivering down the spines of full-grown witches and wizards much older than his own 38 years. It was not vanity that made him sorry for the loss but the fact that there was so much he needed to tell the boy, the boy that might be able to pull one last foolish Gryffindor stunt and save the wizarding world. If he could not tell him he'd have to show him.

Severus began to force some of his memories out, the ones Potter would need but he had so little strength left that he could not properly control the stream of memories that he felt coming out of his eyes, ears, and nose.

That stupid Potter face simply stared; the boy had no idea what to do with what Severus was struggling to give him. This was already far from his ideal death and the last thing he wanted was to add annoyance as the last emotion he'd ever feel on this earth.

"Take... it... Take... it,"* he heard himself say, maybe he'd imagined it, he hadn't been able to use his voice before. He was probably hallucinating, Merlin only knew what Nagini's venom was capable of, and everything was even hazier now that he'd lost not just blood but memories too. The confusion grew but he was certain that Potter had snapped out of his stupor and managed to take the memories because he noticed some sort of flask in the boy's hand.

The boy would have to go now and Severus suddenly felt sorry, he didn't want to die alone and he didn't want Lily's eyes to leave him. He could hardly keep his own eyes open now but he willed himself to in order to peer into those emerald orbs one last time.

"Look...at...me...," he whispered* his voice less audible than the last time, but the boy heard him and looked directly at Severus.

So like his mother's, but it wasn't just the color he had inherited from Lily, he realized as he saw the boy's eyes. How could he have been so wrong, he was his mother's son and it had always been so. The boy still did not know the truth and yet his eyes had shown Severus that perhaps the boy would forgive Severus and if the boy who was so like Lily could forgive him then maybe there was hope that the girl with the emerald eyes and fiery hair would forgive him too.

Severus felt his head loll to the side, he no longer had the strength to keep it up and he was quickly beginning to lose feeling in his extremities.

He heard Po- Harry, he heard Harry, rush out of the Shrieking Shack. Severus would be breathing his last soon, very soon, and he'd done all that he could, it was all in Harry's hands now.

Inside the castle that Severus Snape had called home for so long, a young man, with a lightning bolt scar and green eyes shielded by a pair of round glasses, was traveling through a sea of bittersweet memories, the truth breaking a heart that loved so easily and strengthening his resolve. No one who had fought and died before him would die in vain, it would all end today, the young man promised.

Severus Snape died on a Saturday, unwanted and unloved by all, except one.

*Taken directly from HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

A/N -5/2/12: After reading one particular review I have been left thinking that perhaps I wasn't clear enough on who "the one" is, it's Harry, not Lily