Shades of Grey
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling wrote the books; I'm biding my time until Book Seven with a few stories of my own.
Summary:
There is more to Severus Snape than meets the eye, and perhaps a little trip down memory lane will convince Harry Potter as well. Venture into Snape's Pensieve and see a little boy grow up into the man we all know and love (er, hate).
Dedication: To Christina, my most devoted reader—er—listener. This one's for you.
Author's Note:Well, first off, I must admit, I'm one of those annoying "Snape-Isn't-Evil-And-I-Will-Prove-It-BWAHAHAHA!" type of people, and though I've done a little oneshot about him and his "goodness," I didn't think I did the poor old guy justice. So, be prepared. I am attempting, along with my other new multi-chaptered fic, to write a ::gasp:: long story. I want to update as often as possible, and I am determined to finish it. So, here come Snape's memories. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Prologue
"Ah, Potter. I daresay I've been expecting you." The tall, sallow-faced man smiled rather nastily from the doorframe, absentmindedly pushing greasy hair out of his cold, black eyes.
"Snape." Harry Potter's voice was soft and dangerous, his green eyes glistening darkly behind his glasses.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Severus Snape asked archly, raising a brow. "I expect you're here to kill me. Do come in." Hardly blinking an eye, the seventeen-year-old followed his former professor into the dank-looking house on Spinner's End, his white-knuckled grip on his wand tightening.
"So," Snape said, beckoning him forward into the foyer, "I can hardly say it's a pleasure to see you, Potter, but I am neither surprised nor concerned. You may kill me, if you wish." Stopping dead in his tracks, Harry glowered at the man who stood before him—the man he hated most in the world (excepting Voldemort).
"And you're just going to stand there and let me, are you?" Harry asked in a grating voice, a feeble attempt to keep his temper from getting the better of him. "Don't give me that, you unbelievable bastard. I've searched everywhere for you, d'you understand that? Everywhere. Look at you, you don't even have your wand out—you think I'd kill a defenseless, unarmed man? I'm not like a Death Eater, Snape. I'm not like you."
"Do not try me," Snape said in a deadly voice, his dark eyes narrowed. "I am far from defenseless, Potter. Even you must know that, limited as your cerebral capacities may be."
"Get off your high horse," Harry snapped. "I didn't come here without back-up." He managed a smirk worthy of Draco Malfoy. "Hey, even my cerebral capacities aren't that limited."
"Clever," Snape said nonchalantly. "Still the same Boy-Who-Lived-to-Plague-My-Existence, I see." Briskly, the ex-professor strode across the room to an ancient old cabinet, opening the doors, and extracting a stone basin. "Potter, we can do this the hard way, or the very simple way. It is up to you."
"How about we do it my way?" Harry asked angrily, his hands shaking. "You're in no position to be calling the shots, Snape. You killed Albus Dumbledore—has that registered yet? You killed the greatest wizard in the entire bloody world, and you are going to pay. So here's how it's going to work: you are going to explain to me your exact reasons for killing Professor Dumbledore, then I will call my back-up and you will be escorted to the Ministry of Magic, where you will receive a trial, as fair as any are willing to give you. Then, if and when you are found guilty, the Dementors will administer the Kiss, and you will spend the rest of your soulless days in a cell in Azkaban. Got that, Snape?"
"Potter, you never were any great shakes at intelligence, but I see in the time we've been"—here, Snape sneered delicately—"separated, your I.Q. has taken a rather noticeable dip. You have chosen the very hard way, and though it pains me to do this, you leave me no choice."
"If I have to Stupefy you, tie you up, and force-feed you Veritaserum to get you to tell me why you murdered Professor Dumbledore and how you even fooled him to begin with, I will! Don't play games, Snape, you're not in charge here anymore."
"All right, Potter, I shall give you your wish," Snape said, in a sinisterly agreeable way. "Come." Harry once again tightened his grip on his wand, and
cautiously made his way across the room.
"What is it you've got there?" he demanded harshly, nodding at the basin.
"Surely you recognize this, Potter," Snape remarked. "It is the Pensieve. But before I—ah—tell you of my reasons for killing the Headmaster and how I came to be what I am, I will first state that you are, quite simply, the densest child I have ever encountered."
"You bloo—"
"Do not interrupt me while I am speaking," Snape directed idly, watching his former pupil's face turn crimson with fury. "I do not doubt you will have plenty to say when I have finished. So, where was I? Oh, yes—you and your incomparable stupidity." He sneered distastefully at Harry. "You see merely black and white, taking everything at face value, and never for a moment stopping to ponder the grey areas and what they might mean. Why, you fail to imagine, am I such a…what was the word you used? Bastard? My, my, where do you come up with these original invectives?" Ignoring Harry's furious glower, and practically feeling the hate radiating off of him, Snape continued. "Your witless insults aside, boy, you do not question motives or reasons, or even alternate scenarios. Instead, what you see and believe becomes the only truth you know, and never once do you stop in your quest for revenge to ask if perhaps you are wrong."
"Do you have a point, Snape?"
"Yes, Potter, I do." Snape gestured towards the Pensieve. "Have a look, by all means." Apprehensively, Harry peered down at the swirling, misty contents of the familiar Pensieve. The faces of several children and a scarlet train engine swam in and out of focus. "Do you want to understand why I am the way I am?" Snape asked quietly, his gaze boring into Harry's. "Do you want to know why I killed Albus Dumbledore?"
"Yes," Harry answered, his voice cracking with fury, "I do."
"Well," Snape said smoothly, "let's go, then, Potter." And before Harry could stop him, before he could think to protest, Snape had jerked him forward sharply into the Pensieve, and the world went momentarily black.