Disclaimer: I do not own the characters contained herein, except for the Healer, who I made up for practical purposes. I also own the house Sev lives in. Aside from that, everything belongs to JKR and her various publishers as well as Time Warner Productions.

Author's Note: This is SLASH! No like? No read. Simple, isn't it?

Also, this is not a happy tale, not by any means. If you don't like watching people die, don't read it. That's all. Enjoy!

My Immortal By: Evanesence

I'm so tired of being here

Suppressed by all of my childish fears

And if you have to leave

I wish that you would just leave

Because your presence still lingers here

And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

And I've held your hand for all of these years

But you still have all of me

You used to captivate me

By your resonating light

But now I'm bound by the life you left behind

Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams

Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal

This pain is just too real

There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears

When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

And I've held your hand through all of these years

But you still have all of me

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone

And though you're still with me

I've been alone all along

You Still Have All of Me

Chapter One



A tall man with sallow skin, long black hair and black eyes stood at the stove making dinner for two. His husband was outside in the garden, harvesting the vegetables to be stored away in the pantry for later use. The man didn't know why his husband insisted on harvesting the vegetables at night, but then his husband was very eccentric, so he didn't ask.

After chopping carrots for his stew, he moved to dump them in the pot, splashing water all over his hand.

"Damn it!" he growled irritable. "Ruddy Gryffindor clumsiness must be rubbing off on me." As he ran his burning hand under a cool spray of water a piercing scream rent through the air, accompanied by low, animalistic growling. The man shut off the water, running through the house to the back garden, drawing his wand as he went. As he burst through the back door, he saw his husband being mauled by a werewolf. The sounds of ripping flesh reached his ears as he watched his husband being dragged toward the woods by the beast.

"Avada Kedavra!" he cried as he ran, sending a shot of green light at the beast. The spell hit it, causing it to cry out in pain before sprinting into the darkness. The man ran to his husband, who was lying in a pool of blood moaning in pain. He stumbled as he reached the scene, falling heavily to his knees and crawling the rest of the way to his husband's side.

His dear, beautiful husband was covered in gashes that were slowly oozing blood, the werewolf's saliva appearing in thick, white, foaming mounds in the terrible wounds. His throat was nearly ripped out from a bite that was would have broken his neck if not for the spell that hit the beast. On his chest and stomach, the fabric of his robes was torn and bloody, bits of bone and flesh hanging off limply. One of his arms was nearly bitten through, the other was intact, but the hand was being held on by a mere sliver of skin, reminding the dark man of the Gryffindor House ghost, Nearly Headless Nick.

"Oh gods, love," he said, lifting his husband into his arms. "I've told you a thousand times that gardening at night was foolish."

"I'm… sorry," his husband replied before passing out. The man gathered his husband into his arms, taking him directly to St. Mungo's.

"Help me!" he cried as he entered. "He's been attacked by a werewolf!"

The staff jumped to action, taking the injured man away on a gurney.

"Wait here, sir," the nurse said, holding the dark haired man back.

"Where are they taking him?" he demanded.

"To surgery," the nurse replied. "A Healer will be out later to speak with you."

The man paced for what seemed hours to him, until a Healer finally came to speak to him.

"Are you with the werewolf victim?" he asked.

"Yes," the man replied, staring at the Healer in desperation. "How is he? Will he live? When can I see him?"

The Healer held up his hands to stem the flow of questions. "He's stable now, but he's in a coma. We don't know if he'll live or not, but we're hopeful. He'll be settled in a few minutes, and you'll be able to see him then. The werewolf tore out a large portion of his flesh, as well as breaking several bones. If he survives, he'll be heavily scarred."

"Are you hopeful?" the man asked hesitantly.

The Healer looked at him sadly. "It doesn't look good, but he may make it through. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Healer Johnson, you are needed in hex casualty two. Healer Johnson, you are needed in hex casualty two," a feminine voice said, echoing through the halls.

"Duty calls," the Healer said, shaking the man's hand. "A nurse will be out to escort you to his room shortly." With that, he walked away down a side corridor. Several minutes later, the man found himself at his husband's bedside, holding his hand gently.

"You have to wake up, my love," he whispered. "You simply must. What will I do with that silly garden of yours if you don't?"


The man sat at his husband's side quietly, his hair falling in his eyes, greasy from lack of care. He'd been in the hospital for nearly two weeks, refusing to leave his husband's side. The Healers didn't even bother trying to throw him out anymore.

A tall man in tattered robs, with graying brown hair, hazel eyes, and a tired face sat down next to him. "How are you today?" he asked.

The dark haired man shrugged, refusing to speak. He hadn't spoken much to anyone during the past two weeks, except to speak to his husband when no one else was around.

"He might just wake up yet," his companion said. "He's always been strong. He can beat this and keep me company on the full moons."

"Indeed," the dark haired man replied. He took his husband's hand and squeezed it gently.

The werewolf sighed, sitting back in his chair. "You have to keep faith."

"In what? God? Thanks, but no thanks. I know no god. I only know my husband, and that he may not live."

"You can't think that way," the werewolf admonished. "You have to be strong for him when he can't be."

The man merely nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything. He dreaded that one day he would wake up, and his husband would be gone, never to garden foolishly at night again. The thought made his heart clench painfully. He was pulled from his musings when he felt a feeble squeeze on his hand. He looked up to find green eyes studying him tiredly.

"Thank the gods you're awake, my love," he said, leaning forward slightly.

The werewolf looked up, smiling sadly at the man on the bed. "Hey, kiddo," he said.

The injured man smiled gently, turning back to his dark husband. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't fast enough."

"I still love you, even if you are foolish sometimes," the dark haired man replied. "But you're going to get it when you get home."

"Don't do that," the victim whispered. "I'm not coming home."


"Don't mourn for me, my love. I'm going to be with my family now. I'll miss you, even in heaven." With that, the werewolf victim closed his eyes and stopped breathing, his head dropping to the side lifelessly. Almost at once, Healers and nurses flooded the room, pushing the two grieving men out.

The dark haired man leaned against the wall, desperately trying to control the tears that were threatening to fall.

"It's okay to cry," the werewolf said gently, moving forward and putting his hands on his friend's shoulders.

"He wasn't supposed to die," the dark haired man said, his voice breaking. Before he could stop it, he was sobbing uncontrollably into the werewolf's shoulder. He wailed in agony, unable to control the sounds escaping from him. "Oh gods, what will I do now? He promised to be with me always! I can't live without him! Gods, Harry, you can't die! You can't!" His knees gave up and he sank to floor, taking his friend with him.

A Healer came out of the room, clearing her throat gently. "I'm sorry, Mr. Snape," she said. "He didn't make it."

With that sentence, Severus Snape felt that he had nothing left to live for.