All characters belong to the superior intellect of JK Rowling.

Harry Potter stepped into the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore smiled down on him in his benign way, Dilys Derwent waved madly, and even Phineas Black offered a thin upturning to one side of the lips.

And Snape. There was Snape.

Snape of the flowing robes, the wrathful ways, the hard, unfathomable black eyes. He of the anger, and the love.

Harry had asked for Snape's portrait, along with some others who believed Snape's allegiance after his death. And so it was commissioned, though one couldn't say that Snape would have been exactly happy with this.

The rendered Snape was thrown back in his chair, his limbs lazing on the arms it. The curtain that half obscured the room behind him was deep royal red, tied back with a golden cord to the right. Harry bet that Snape was loath to this; probably emerald green or black would have been more to his liking. Beside him was a desk – stone with flasks of simmering liquids and stacked with yellowing parchment and old books upon it. And behind the curtain, rows of books, the binding coming off most of them.

Snape's eyes glistened, and he sat up straighter in his chair when the boy with the scar entered.

Harry cleared his throat. "Professor McGonagall let me use her office and talk to some of you." His eyes lingered on Dumbledore, who's eyes sparkled.

Up he went to his portrait, and felt a lump forming in his throat, looking at them man he most wanted to be like, who's own follies showed that he too, was human.

"Harry," went Dumbledore, smiling down on him with what looked like grandfatherly pride. "You've come back to pay the old tyrants a visit? We need it, old things we are with nothing to do all day." Harry had made previous visits to the office, but not for a while.

Harry didn't have anything to say to that. He did have the impression that they were a lot of aging farts who would either bombard him with unanswerable philosophical questions, great teachers that they were, or mollycoddle him, past student that he was and 'Boy-Who-Saved-Us-All.'

"Yes, Professor. I'd like to tell you what's been happening. There's been a lot of changes and I'd like your advice on them. Mr Shaklebolt is proposing - "

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "I know about most of them, what with Minerva holding up the newspaper to me, and turning the pages, and answering my questions. I rather think she's getting tired of it. But I think you may want to converse with someone else first." His eyes glanced to the portrait overhanging McGonagall's chair.

Snape had risen, his hair hanging about his features. "I hope you don't mean me, Professor. I think Potter has more, savory things to do than talk to me," he said, and Harry could almost feel the sarcasm oozing out of that voice, filling the room with like some dense liquid.

Harry made his way over to the frame, tentatively, still dreading interacting with him, as if he was still the defiant student being taught by the Potions Master. But it had to be done.

"Well, Potter. Even I thought you'd have more sense than to ask for a portrait of me."

"I thought it best, you being Headmaster and your part in the Fall."

"Potter," Snape's voice was low, so none other could hear. "These events have not disposed me to any other opinion of you than before. Let it be known to you that I am still the same man as before, and that you should still hold what you though of me before my," a flicker of the eyes "death."

"And," the voice went on, deadly as always "that I am incensed with what you revealed to the world before you killed the Dark Lord. That information was intended to be privy to you, and you alone. I did not impart with it willingly, especially to your dunce of a being. What that cost me should have made an impression on your mind, not to let it be let flown in your arrogance, to be bandied in broad daylight!"

Harry clenched his fists, and then remembered, that Snape was a dead man, and dead men who gave their live to help others, whether sincerely or not, should be permitted to some indulgence of their fancies, no matter how stupid they were.

"How else was I to prove your loyalty, to clear your name!"

Snape sneered. "Apparently you made a speech before you finished the Dark Lord, expounding on the greatness of your cause and your sheer cleverness, and my folly. You could have just killed him straight away! If that was a play to shown your arrogance, to make it clear to the Dark Lord and the world of your superior intellect and morals, then you are more the fool! Why explain to him why he is to die, don't you think it wold have been a greater shock to him to die without knowing why? You must learn that not everything can pander to your conceit. Subtlety Potter!"

Harry started "I-"

"What I revealed to you was not for you to prove your greatness or be whiled away as an explanation. You could have succeeded without revealing it!"

"It had to be known eventually! And to love is not a folly, despite what you believe." Harry said this quietly, but his anger was clear.

Snape was silent for a moment, it was like he had retreated to his mind to think. Then he lashed out, the hair jerking back from his face, his teeth bared.

"Potter. I am a proud man. I do not have the luxury of salvaging what was left of my pride now. And I doubt you would feel the same way if she wasn't you mother."

Harry had never though of it that way. Would he have been so easy to impart Snape's memory if it wasn't Lily Potter? If it had been some other woman? Perhaps. He considered. But perhaps not.

"The fact is, Professor, that you loved someone, you loved someone your whole life. It just so happened that the woman was my mother. Did it engulf you, make you who you are? You don't want to admit that. You want to pretend you aren't human, that nothing can make you fall, except death. I had to show everyone, who thought you were inhuman, pure evil, that you weren't. I wanted to show them that even you had a heart. And how else was I to explain that you were good in the end?"

Snape's eyes were unreadable. If you dropped a pebble into the depths of them, you would hear a dull splash as it hit the viscous liquid, but never hear it hit the bottom.

"The more the fool you, Potter. I am not good. Lily Evans was the sole reason that I existed. Without her, or if it meant that I would be closer to her in some way, I would have happily stayed on the dark side. Without Lily Evans I'd have shunned the cause, and not cared for her son."

Harry was silent for some time and then answered. "But you didn't. And maybe that's the balance of it. I can't excuse of what you would have done if you if this wasn't the path you chose. It's too complex to judge whether you are worthy or not. Perhaps the only easy way is to accept that fate lead you to do good. And be thankful that it wasn't the other option. For I'd have no mercy then, except for the fact that she was my mother and that her opinion of you meant something to her."

"Perhaps the easy way is to say this, Harry." Dumbledore crooked open one eye and said calmly. "Love is the saving grace. Love has shown good."

Snape gazed down at Harry. He was still seething. Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Thank you, and I'm sorry that because I'm my mother's son I've caused pain. Professor, I still hate you, but only now I respect you."

Snape's eyebrow twitched and his face rearranged itself into an expression that on a lesser, or greater man would have been slight surprise.

Harry turned away from the frame and walked towards Dumbledore, who was waiting patiently to hear the rest of the news.

Don't be deceived, I'm not fan of Snape/Lily and cannot believe that the whole mystery that is Snape can be summed up I the three words "Snape loved Lily."

The conclusion of the series to me has made Snape more of an enigma to my mind, and instead of liking him more, as most people are undoubtedly doing, it makes me even detest him. Without Lily Snape's personality and motive would be nothing. JK Rowling has said that if Harry wasn't Lily's son he would not have cared a whit for his safety and thus not for the fall of Voldemort. I can't accept that Snape would have been an empty shell without Lily. It was just a twist of luck that he died doing good. I think I'd have preferred him to be pure evil, than be a slave of love. Yes, that sounds incredibly cold but though love is great, Snape is just a puppet because of it.

I also think Harry is a bit dense. Yeah, he just has this high opinion of Snape because he loved his mother. If it were someone else's mum I don't think he'd have named his son after him. I suppose in a way the naming of Albus Severus is a tribute to the man and that it is a way for Snape to be somewhat 'closer' or connected to Lily. But still, Snape is definitely not a hero.

I'm sorry if this story does not make sense or if you disagree with it. It's late and I'm not working very well so I may try to correct it's vagueness some other time. Also I'm rather upset at the way Snape turned out, but hey, if that's the way Snape was in JK's mind and that's how his personality is explained, who am I to judge. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it despite it being not my best effort. And please R/R!