She ran as fast as her body would allow, each movement a challenge, every step a superhuman effort. The tourniquet she had made with the Ferula spell barely held the wound together, but the pain was unbearable, and her mind was too clouded to attempt a Vulnera Sanentur. That spell required focus, calm, and surgical precision, which she no longer had the capacity for in her current state.
Automatically, she made her way toward the dungeons after passing through the entrance of the school. The infirmary seemed too far away, and the risks of encountering Umbridge or Filch along the way were too high. She had no time for questions.
Upon entering the dungeons, she rushed toward Snape's desk. There, she knew she might find potions or remedies, something to help her survive. She pushed the door open with a spell, her hand trembling, and threw herself at the shelves, searching in haste. But nothing. Nothing that could help her.
"The Dictame comb..." she murmured, a cold shiver running down her spine as she realized the gravity of the situation.
She felt her energy draining with every heartbeat, swept away by the blood loss that continued to escape despite the tourniquet. Each breath became a struggle, each movement unbearable. Her body protested, but she refused to collapse. Not yet.
In a final burst of resistance, Alice forced herself to concentrate. She approached Severus' special cabinet, her mind foggy but determined. She turned the handle, but the cabinet was empty. Nothing. A cry of despair rose in her throat. Then, with terrifying clarity, she understood that she should have gone to the infirmary from the start. It didn’t matter if Umbridge was there, it didn’t matter the questions or the lies she would have had to give. That was where she stood a chance. There, she might have survived.
She took a step toward the exit, but everything had become too heavy. The pain, the weakness, the blood loss had caught up with her. She staggered.
Then, with a dull thud, she lost her balance and crashed to the floor.
Her hand, like a dead weight, seemed far too heavy. Yet, she forced herself to raise it, grabbing her wand with the energy of desperation. In one final motion, she whispered, her mind half lost in the fog of pain:
“Expecto Patronum…”
A flash of light shot from her wand, and a small doe appeared, bright and vibrant, leaping immediately across the room, its movement swift and determined, slicing through the heavy air. Alice, exhausted, sank into the darkness of unconsciousness, her last hopes fading into a soft, distant mist.
November 11, 1981. Eleven days had passed since the tragedy that had taken the Potters from life, leaving behind a void that nothing seemed capable of filling. The magical world was divided: some mourned the loss of the two fighters in silence, but the majority celebrated loudly the end of an era of terror. For them, the fall of Voldemort was a victory, but for those who had lost loved ones in the struggle, this victory had a bitter taste.
Alice, however, had not closed her eyes in days. She wore the heavy cloak of mourning, wrapped in the loss of her best friend, Lily. Her thoughts were a dark labyrinth of guilt, worry, and fear.
She now found herself raising little Harry, still a baby, as fragile and innocent as any child could be at that age. Harry's cries, his laughter, his innocent gaze reminded her every day that Lily was no longer there to watch over him, and it threw her into deep anxiety. She dreaded every moment of potentially failing him. She wondered if she would ever be able to give him all the love he deserved.
Today, Remus Lupin had visited her. He too was shattered, a burden of anxiety and sadness weighing heavily on him. Together, they supported each other as best they could, trying to lighten the burden of their shared grief. But in the middle of the day, they had received the dreadful news: Sirius had been sent to Azkaban. His trial had been canceled, and the jury had decided that he was irredeemably guilty, sealing his fate without trial. For Remus, the shock was profound; he spent the day trying to understand, to rationalize, but no explanation could fill the injustice he felt.
The day had felt endless, each hour stretching out, heavy with an overwhelming sadness. Eventually, exhausted by the nights of accumulated insomnia, Remus fell asleep on the couch, his face marked by fatigue and pain. Alice, meanwhile, kept watch over Harry, sitting in the oppressive silence of the living room. Slumped on another couch, she distractedly made faces at the baby, her gestures lacking conviction. Harry, in his innocence, babbled joyfully, unaware of the gaping void left by the death of his parents.
The pain would likely fade with time, but for now, it felt infinite, suffocating. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, and she didn’t try to stop them. She gently held the baby close to her, hoping that the warmth of this contact could fill, even if just for a moment, the emptiness she felt.
But then, she saw it. The doe, that ethereal, blue and glowing shape, appeared before her.
“Lily?” she murmured hopefully, before catching herself. “No… Severus.”
She sat up suddenly, struck by a strange sensation, a mix of surprise and necessity. Severus' Patronus was there, in her living room, staring at her, patient. It had come for her. She felt her heart tighten, but she could not ignore this sign. She knew what it meant.
“Remus…” she began softly, then repeated, her voice becoming more insistent. “Remus!”
The man seemed to wake slowly, but Alice, feeling the urgency rising within her, stood up hastily. She placed little Harry carefully next to him.
“Remus, keep Harry for me, please… I have to... I have to leave. I’ll be right back…”
“Alice?” he called, fully waking now, looking confused. But she was already gone. Only little Harry gurgled at his side, unaware of the commotion that had just taken over the room.
She ran, the Patronus by her side. She didn’t need to follow it; she knew exactly where it would lead her. Alice had been living for two years in a small house on the outskirts of Cokeworth, about fifteen minutes on foot from Spinner's End. It was the Evans family who had informed her of the place, and with few other options available to her, she had bought it.
At that time, she still harbored a deep bitterness toward Severus Snape. She kept repeating to herself that he had betrayed her, that he had made the conscious and cruel choice to become a Death Eater. His decision had contributed to plunging the Potters into that tragic situation, the very one that led to their demise. He had chosen his side, a dark side, and that damn prophecy, that threat he had indirectly fueled, had sealed their fate.
When she had heard of his switch in allegiance, his supposed redemption, she hadn’t even considered talking to him. Despite the words passed on, Severus’ awkward attempts to explain himself, she rejected the idea of reconnecting entirely. In her eyes, his apologies and remorse were worthless.
And yet today, Severus Snape had called on her for help, and without hesitation, she was rushing to him. The hatred and bitterness that had consumed her for so long had not disappeared, but something more powerful than her anger was pushing her forward. A small part of her, though he had betrayed her, still wanted to help him, despite the betrayal she thought was unforgivable.
She arrived at the front door and, after a few spells, managed to open it.
“Sev’?” she called, her voice tinged with hesitation. Her call went unanswered, but she crossed the threshold without waiting.
Alice took a few cautious steps into the old house. As soon as she entered, a sharp, overpowering smell hit her, burning her throat and stinging her eyes. She immediately recognized the mix of rancid alcohol and pungent potions, the air heavy and stagnant in the poorly ventilated place. All around her, glass bottles lay scattered on the floor, some broken, leaking thin streaks of liquid that dried into dark, sticky stains.
Alice moved forward, her heart pounding, her hands trembling slightly at the thought of what she might find. The light was dim, filtered through heavy curtains, leaving the house in a suffocating semi-darkness. She called out again, hesitantly, but once again, no response came, only the oppressive silence of the place, as though abandoned. She continued searching for him, crossing a disheveled dining room before glancing into the kitchen.
It was there that she saw him, lying on the floor, motionless, his body surrounded by a chaos of bottles and vials of various shapes. The smell of alcohol intensified, mixing with the more bitter scent of spoiled potions.
She rushed to him, her heart pounding in her chest. She dropped to her knees beside him and, with trembling hands, checked for his pulse. Fear tightened her throat, but she forced herself to stay calm. He was unconscious, but she felt the weak, irregular beat of his heart under her fingers. She let out a slight sigh of relief, the tense muscles of her face relaxing just a little.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “Severus…” she murmured, her voice almost broken by the mix of worry and disappointment.
“Severus…” She realized then that he had fallen into a spiral of self-destruction.
Alice looked around her, wondering how long he had been in this state, alone, lost in the shadows of his own demons. But the answer was painfully clear...
“Severus!” she exclaimed louder, giving him a small slap on the forehead.
He slowly woke up.
“Alice?” His voice was hoarse, almost unintelligible.
She exhaled, exasperated, rising abruptly. With a few quick spells, she waved her wand, and the bottles, vials, and other scattered objects around the room disappeared. She yanked the curtains open with a swift motion, sweeping away the dust with a magical wave. The kitchen seemed to breathe under the effect of her magic.
He took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry… I had to call you…"
She froze for a moment before slowly turning her gaze toward him, a glimmer of frustration in her eyes. "And why me?" The question was almost an accusation. "Dumbledore accepted you—he’s patient, generous, full of wisdom. I pushed you away. I ignored you… Why me, Severus?"
A heavy silence fell between them. Severus closed his eyes briefly, feeling the heat rise to his face, ashamed of his own words. "I don’t really know… Maybe because I… have no one else. Maybe because… you’re the only one who never looked away from me, even when I betrayed you."
He paused, the words tumbling chaotically in his mind. "You waited for me, Alice… And I never wanted to come back. I left you there, alone, hoping I would change… but I never made the effort to do it. And now… now, I deserve no forgiveness. I've destroyed everything."
She stared at him, her gaze a mixture of irritation and pain. "So what? You call me to ask me to save you? To give you some pity and offer you my hand to pull you out of your abyss?" Her voice trembled slightly, but she held it back, suppressing the anger she had accumulated over the years.
"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," he replied hoarsely, his voice almost cold. "I'm not seeking your pity. I know what I've done, and I know what it’s cost. I’m not even sure I have the right to ask you for anything."
Alice was silent for a moment, her gaze hardening, though a brief flicker of understanding crossed her face.
"Are you telling me this to convince yourself, Severus? To tell me how much you hate yourself? Do you think that’s going to soften me? That I'll pity you because everything has become unbearable for you?" Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the pain she refused to show.
Severus felt like a burden too heavy to carry. He lowered his eyes, unable to meet her piercing gaze. He didn’t have the strength to respond to her anger, to her sorrow.
"You… You’re the only one who truly knows me, Alice. The only one who never stopped reaching out to me, even when I let your hand fall. And I…" He faltered, the words catching in his throat, the shame more palpable than ever.
Tears began to stream down Alice’s cheeks, and for the first time in years, she let her emotions break free. The feelings she had suppressed, buried deep within her for so long, poured out like a river bursting its banks. Her shoulders shook under the weight of what she could no longer contain. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to stifle the wave of pain and regret washing over her. But it was too much. Too heavy. Too old.
"Alice?" Severus’s voice was weak, almost broken. He seemed to want to move toward her, reaching out a trembling hand, but stopped at the last moment, as though an invisible wall of shame and guilt kept him from moving closer.
She slowly turned her head, her tear-reddened eyes fixed on the ground before she looked up at him, her voice choked with emotion. “I didn’t reach out to you. You’re lying… it’s not true…” Her voice broke on those last words, as if speaking this truth tore her apart. “All I ever did was push you away, every single time.” Each phrase seemed to cut her to pieces, but she kept going, as if she had no other choice.
She stepped toward him slowly, her hands trembling, fear and guilt crushing her heart. “Dark magic terrified me… you terrified me, Severus. You… you were starting to look like them—like my brother, my father, all those Death Eaters…” A sob shook her voice, breaking it again. “I didn’t want to lose you like I lost them… so I tried to be even more terrifying, to scare you into stopping…” She stopped, the tears flowing even more freely now, her face disappearing behind her hands. “I didn’t reach out to you. And it’s no wonder you didn’t find your way out…”
Severus was paralyzed. He stared at her, his mouth slightly open, unable to process what she had just said. How could she feel responsible? It was him—it had always been him. He had made the wrong choices; he had let the hate consume him. Not Alice. Never Alice. His eyes widened, horror spreading across his face.
He searched desperately for words, something that might reach her, that might lighten the unbearable weight she was placing on herself. “Alice. It was me who chose to walk away. You did reach out, and even when you hated me, you still kept looking at me—you kept waiting.”
She shook her head desperately, her hands still covering her face. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs, and her voice, though muffled, was filled with a pain she could no longer hide. “No, Severus. That’s not true… I… I didn’t reach out to you. I tried, yes, but I pushed you away every time—out of fear, out of anger… because I’d already lost you. Because I couldn’t accept what you were becoming.” She sighed, her voice breaking completely, the tears falling faster. “And now, here I am, and I can’t even bring myself to help you. Even now, I don’t have the strength to reach out to you. Because I hate you, Severus. Because what happened to Lily…”
Alice’s words rang like a bell in his mind. He closed his eyes briefly as a wave of pain overwhelmed him. “Alice,” he said softly, his voice barely audible, though his gaze was more intense than ever. “I understand how you feel. I understand the hate, the anger, the pain, but you are not responsible for what happened to me. I wasn’t innocent—I wasn’t blind. If I became what I am, it’s because I chose this path. It was me, Alice. Not you.”
“If you can’t reach out to me… I understand. I’m sorry I called you. I shouldn’t have…”
“No, you shouldn’t have…” she whispered bitterly, wiping at her tears. “Because it proves I’m still just as naive as before. You called, and I came.” She paused to catch her breath, her voice softening. “I was afraid you were… I was afraid for you…”
It was a painful truth, yet undeniable: Alice was incapable of abandoning him. She had thought about it, over and over again, after his betrayal, after Lily’s death. The anger she felt toward Severus was deep, almost unbearable. She blamed him for being the one who, through his words, had delivered the fateful prophecy. If only he hadn’t revealed it, the Potters would never have perished. Never. But deep down, she also knew that Severus loathed himself for it, that he bitterly regretted his involvement, that he had never wanted harm to come to those he loved. This strange contradiction lay at the heart of who he was.
Severus, like Lucius, was ensnared in that dark world, caught in a downward spiral of shadows. He hadn’t known how to escape—or perhaps he hadn’t wanted to. As long as the harm he caused didn’t directly touch those closest to him, as long as he didn’t see the consequences for himself, he had no reason to break away from that vicious cycle. But when danger fell upon Lily, when he saw the threat up close, everything changed. In that moment, he had understood, all at once, the poison consuming him.
And yet, Alice had known all of this. The cycle, the pattern, the inevitable repetition of the same mistakes. It sickened her. She despised Severus, without question. But perhaps she hated even more the way she had felt a strange sense of relief when she learned he had left the ranks of darkness.
The cost had been far too high, far too heavy to bear. For him. For her. Yes, she was relieved to know he was no longer part of that world, no longer consumed by the shadows. But what did that relief matter? One thing remained unchanged: she could never return to him. Never.
She would have let him go, would have wanted him to rebuild his life—alone and far from it all. If only… he hadn’t called for her.
“Alice… I won’t ask anything more of you. Please, go home,” he begged, his voice cracked with pain, laden with a fragility she had never thought possible in him. “I shouldn’t have… I had no right. It was selfish. I hurt you, more than anyone else… Forget me…”
He faltered, and suddenly, in a flash of despair, he reached for his wand. But Alice, quicker than him, snatched it from his hand with a strength she didn’t know she possessed.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” she shouted, rage burning in her voice.
“You don’t have to suffer, Alice… Forget me, I beg you. Or hate me… but leave!”
Alice’s eyes blazed with fury. “These are my memories, my pain, my sorrow! I forbid you to touch them! You don’t get to decide how I should feel just because you’re drowning in your guilt!”
She hurled the wand violently to the other end of the room, her chest rising and falling with the intensity of her anger. Then, in a completely unexpected move, she leaned forward and rested her head against Severus’s chest. Her voice softened, though her tone remained firm.
“It would be easier, yes, to forget you…” she murmured. “But I don’t want to.”
Severus froze, unable to comprehend. A mute pain seemed to deepen the lines of his face.
“Why, Alice? Why did you come today?” he finally asked, his voice low, barely more than a whisper.
“You called.” She answered mechanically, as though that alone explained everything. But deep down, she had no clearer answer to give. She didn’t know. It was instinctive, an irrepressible pull that always drew her to him, despite everything.
Severus looked away, his hands trembling. “Forgive me, Alice… I thought… I thought it would be better for you… if I disappeared.”
Those words hit Alice like a cold blade. A wave of terror washed over her. She knew Severus was referring to his earlier action, to the attempt she had interrupted. But part of her sensed he wasn’t only talking about that. The chaos in which she had found him spoke of a man who had let go of everything, who cared for nothing anymore—not even his own life. The potions she had cleared earlier were further proof of that.
“Don’t ever try to take your own life again, Severus…” she murmured, straightening slightly. Her hands trembled as she steadied herself, gripping the fabric of the wizard’s shirt tightly. “I couldn’t bear to lose someone else…” She gently rested her head against his chest again, her fingers curling as if to anchor him in place, as if afraid he might vanish once more.
Severus remained silent, his breathing unsteady.
“I need someone who can believe in me…” he finally said, his voice almost inaudible. “Someone who can believe it’s not over… Because I… I’m not sure I can.”
A heavy silence hung between them before Alice responded, her voice soft but resolute: “I never stopped believing in you, Sev’…”
That simple nickname struck Severus like an electric shock. How long had it been since she last called him that? Sev’. It wasn’t tainted with disdain or burdened with judgment. Not Snivellus, not Rogue, not Tobias’s son. No, Sev’. In Alice’s mouth, that nickname was a breath of warmth, a promise of hope. With that one word, he felt himself becoming someone else, someone he had almost forgotten.
He wanted to pull her into his arms, to tell her how much those words meant to him, but he remained still, frozen in a mix of guilt and hope.
“Really?” he murmured at last, uncertain, almost dreading that she might take her words back.
She lifted her head slightly, her gaze locking onto his, filled with truth. “I will never forgive you for what happened to Lily and James. I will never forgive you for choosing the path of the Death Eaters, knowing how much I hated them…”
Her words were harsh, cutting, but devoid of cruelty. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, only to state truths that couldn’t be ignored.
“I won’t forgive you, and it’s not my place to free you from that burden.” She paused, making sure he was looking at her. “You will live with it, day and night. And I hope that burden will be heavy enough to keep you from ever going back.”
Severus lowered his eyes, overwhelmed by shame and emotion. “I…”
Alice interrupted him, straightening suddenly. She grabbed his collar, forcing him to meet her gaze. A fierce flame burned in her eyes.
“You’ll never go back, will you? Not to dark magic, not to another man dictating your morals!”
He was speechless, disconcerted by the intensity of her words. “Of course…” he finally stammered, almost mechanically.
Alice tightened her grip, her face inches from his. “Promise me, Severus! And promise me you’ll never gamble your life away because of your guilt!”
She loosened her hold slightly, but her tone did not waver.
“Give me reasons to believe in you, and I will follow you to the end… But for that, you need to live. Live, Severus. Do something that matters.”
She let those final words hang in the air, their weight deepening the silence. Severus, shaken, felt every syllable etch itself into him. For the first time in a long while, he dared to hope that he could still mend something.
“PROMISE ME!” she demanded, her voice rising, full of determination.
"I promise you..." he replied, his voice a fragile whisper, yet the sincerity within it was as unyielding as a shouted vow.
"Take care of your life..." Her voice trembled, but it held the strength of steel. Alice had no intention of letting him lose himself again.
"I promise you..." he repeated, more firmly this time, as though each word was a sacred promise of redemption he would strive to honor, no matter the cost.
She swallowed hard, feeling both weary and filled with a surge of unexpected energy. "Life is precious..." she murmured, tears once again streaming down her cheeks as she leaned against him, her head resting on his chest. "I don’t want to lose another friend..."
Her tears mingled with the warmth of his body, the pain in her soul dissolving into the fragile tenderness of this shared moment.
He kept thinking about that moment, over and over again. That promise, that word he had given her, came back to haunt him relentlessly, like a memory carved into his very soul. This promise wasn’t just a simple commitment; it was the cornerstone of their relationship, the foundation upon which they had rebuilt what had been broken. Time had passed, and after a difficult start, filled with awkwardness and misunderstandings, they had managed to find each other again. They had become friends once more, a strong, sincere friendship, but one marked by the distance of a tumultuous past. Severus had regained his friend, and he cursed every day that he had let her go because of his own madness.
He had no one else to call "friend." No one, except Alice Mc.Garden. That dynamic, frank, and determined witch, who had, overnight, been thrust into the role of mother, and had embraced it with a grace he hadn’t anticipated. Severus had watched her evolve, change, and become a wonderful women. Despite her stubborn and mischievous nature, she had this gift of making herself indispensable. He remembered how she would place the baby on his lap as if his legs were a high chair, her presence gentle but determined, ready to do anything to protect her family. He deeply appreciated Alice and what she represented for him: an anchor in a world where dark magic seemed to invade everything. She had pulled him away from that path, from everything that had almost destroyed him. He had pushed away all the Death Eaters, all those who wanted to pull him back into their quest to resurrect the Dark Lord. She had been his light in the darkness.
But despite all that, he had broken that bond. He had given up that promise, that fragile connection between them, in a desperate act driven by the urgency of the situation. Dumbledore had needed him. To infiltrate the Dark Lord’s ranks one last time, to discover what Voldemort was planning. And he had agreed. Why?
That night, or maybe it was already the morning of the 25th, Severus was slumped on his couch, a glass in hand. The amber liquid swayed gently, reflecting the flickering light from the fireplace. His troubled mind kept returning to that final decision, the one that had pushed him to reject her, to deliberately push her away from him. After all she had done for him, after all the sacrifices and patience she had shown, he had made the choice for her to hate him. Because among the two options before him, he had convinced himself it was the best one: she wouldn’t mourn his death if she despised him enough. He wanted to spare her that pain, the pain of seeing him fall lower than he had fallen 14 years ago...
But somewhere deep in his heart, he knew he was lying to himself. The truth, no matter how painful, was that he wished for the opposite. But the fear of his own fall had driven him to distance himself, to build a wall of disdain and unforgivable actions. He hadn’t wanted to drag her down with him into his fall.
If he were to be honest, he knew he couldn’t run from reality anymore. He needed to tell her, admit the betrayal of that precious promise, and beyond that, admit that he thought she was definitively gone.
He had lost hope in her awakening and, thinking himself alone, he could fall without dragging anyone down with him. He had fallen back into the darkness, once again consumed by dark magic, and had thrown himself at the feet of the Death Eaters. He had locked himself into that spiral where life no longer mattered, where he submitted like a docile puppet, ready to serve the whims of the two most powerful wizards of their time. The cause he fought for, and the sacrifice, were just an immense echo of his remorse.
Severus closed his eyes, swallowing the bitterness that threatened to choke him. He knew that by confessing, he exposed himself to her reproaches, to her sadness, but above all, he would drag her into this story with him because he knew her too well; Alice would dive into the abyss to bring forth the light.
He stared at his glass, watching the amber hue of the liquid dance under the firelight. A blend of yellow and orange… but also a strange blue gleam. He blinked, wondering if the flickering light of the fire had played tricks on his eyes. But a sudden movement beside him caught his attention. He straightened up abruptly, his heart pounding harder. A small doe, hopping and leaping around him, stood there. Alice's Patronus.
His gaze hardened. Why was it here, so far from its mistress? He immediately rushed toward the door, his mind racing, and he followed hastily. The Patronus, as if understanding his concerns, darted in a specific direction, showing him the way. He hurried to run, not thinking, his wand still tucked in his pocket, his feet hitting the ground with urgency. She was in danger.
He finally arrived at the office, the doors slightly ajar. A chill ran through him, something he had never felt before, as though an invisible force was freezing his blood. He entered without hesitation, but as soon as his eyes landed inside, he froze.
The scene before him was indescribable. A macabre tableau, a carnage drawn by a sadistic painter. Alice was there, lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Her own blood. Horror gripped his chest, tightening around his throat. He couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be real.
“Alice…” he whispered, breathless, his voice barely audible. He rushed to her, his heart pounding wildly, as if each beat signified the last chance he would have to save her. She was there, lifeless, her face an eerie pale, her eyes closed. Her pulse was slow, almost imperceptible. Her breath, so faint he might have mistaken it for the silence of the room.
He knelt beside her, trembling with fear. Every passing second seemed to slip through his fingers, and yet, he refused to believe what he was seeing.