Hello! I'm half-way through my next Merlin one-shot, but I quickly cleaned up the last of the Harry Potter stories that I still had in my old writing file. I wrote this piece in a matter of a days after having a sudden burst of inspiration, and it remains my favourite HP fanfic that I've ever written. Hope you enjoy it!
Harry Potter strolled up to the large door of the gamekeeper's hut on Hogwarts' grounds and rapped it sharply several times. It had been three months since the defeat of Lord Voldemort, and Harry had already made countless trips to his old school, but this one was slightly different. All of his previous trips had been of a business nature; putting the broken pieces of Hogwarts back together again had been a long, hard task and Harry had been - and still was - central to its success.
This trip, however, was of a personal nature. Hagrid's rather cryptic owl earlier that day had made no mention of the final preparations that needed to be made before the school re-opened on September 1st.
Hi Harry,
Could you pop by for a bit of tea with me this evening about six o'clock? I've got summat that might interest you. Bring Ron and Hermione if you like, I expect they'll be glad for the chance to visit before we get the students back next week.
Gotta go, the rock cakes are about ready,
Hagrid.
Notwithstanding the rock cakes, Harry was very much looking forward to visiting his old friend again. Hermione couldn't make it unfortunately (she was busy organizing a census of all the house-elves in Britain), but Ron had agreed to pop by as soon as he finished work. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had reopened for business only a few weeks before, with Ron taking over the bulk of the work. George was coping quite well with his twin's death, though it had taken all of the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry to talk him into opening up the shop again. Of course, Ron had none of Fred's genius, but George had grudgingly conceded that his younger brother showed some promise, even if he could never be in Fred's league.
Thoughts of Fred caused Harry to frown, and familiar feelings of grief and rage warred within him as Hagrid opened the door.
"Blimey, Harry, my dad used t' say that your face'd stay like tha' if the wind changed."
Harry smiled at the half-giant and allowed himself to be drawn into a bone-crushing hug. Now that he was an adult in the muggle world as well as the wizarding one, Harry rather thought himself above hugs, but you couldn't really argue with someone the size of Hagrid. Anyway, adult or not, hugs were rather nice.
"How's things, Hagrid?"
"Ah, things are not so bad I s'pose. Professor McGonagall's been tha' busy organizin' the repairs and such, and Shacklebolt's been back and fore. We're ready to open fer the students though. Dumbledore woulda bin pleased abou' tha'."
"Yes, Dumbledore would have wanted to school to open as soon as possible," agreed Harry, tactfully ignoring – or trying to – the great sobs that Hagrid was muffling with his handkerchief. It may have been well over a year since that awful night when Dumbledore fell from the tower, but Hagrid still felt the loss keenly.
"Ron'll be by a bit later, but Hermione is busy tonight," said Harry, in an effort to distract Hagrid from his distress. It worked, as Hagrid gave a watery chuckle.
"Aye, that's Hermione fer yeh. Always busy, tha' one. Anyway, I s'pose I should tell you why I sent tha' owl."
"Well, I was kind of wondering when you would mention it."
Hagrid nodded and blew his nose – Harry was infinitely thankful that he was seated a few feet away – and the half-giant seemed to shake himself, before getting up to to pour some tea and fetch the rock cakes that Harry was hoping had been forgotten.
"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry, sipping at the tea gratefully while pretending to nibble on a cake.
"Well I won't keep yeh waiting," said Hagrid . "While everyone's bin busy with the school's repairs, I finished my bit a couple o' weeks ago, so I were at a bit of a loose end, see. I thought I'd take a peek at yer parent's old place seeing as yeh said yeh couldn't see it fer yerself. I had a dig round and didn't find much of owt, but in the cellar I came across a tin. Anyway, I've not looked properly as it don't seem fitting, but yeh're their son, so the way I sees it, yeh can look as much as yeh like."
Harry raised startled eyes at his friend. Hagrid smiled bracingly and rubbed his hands on his thighs.
"It's always nice to find out about yer kin after they've gone. Seems like yeh've always been starved of information about yer mum and dad. This might be a way to feed yeh."
Hagrid bent over and dug around under his chair for a few seconds before pulling out what looked like a cookie tin. He passed the tin to Harry and muttered something about making another pot of tea.
It took Harry a few moments before he could bring himself to open the tin. At first he simply held it reverently in his hands and stroked it a little. Part of him wanted to rip off the lid and devour all of the contents, while another part seemed strangely reluctant.
"Seems to me like yeh can't look at summat if you can't see it," said Hagrid in a helpful voice.
"Right," said Harry quietly, then more firmly, "Right."
Harry had to loosen the lid for a few seconds before he could get it off, but once he had twisted it a few times it came off with relative ease. Although he didn't know exactly what he would find, Harry had been nurturing hopes of discovering diaries from one or both of his parents. What he found instead were a large bundle of what looked like letters, and a few bits and pieces of memorabilia. There was a Hogwarts badge, of the type stitched on to the school robes, a Head Boy and Head Girl badge, an emerald-green hair ribbon, a broken pair of spectacles, and a very battered-looking school diary.
Harry picked each item up and held them carefully in his hand, smiling slightly as he imagined his parents putting their mementos away for safe keeping. The hair ribbon still had a hint of some sweet-smelling shampoo, giving Harry a fleeting memory of some vague and distant comfort. His father's spectacles were of much the same design as Harry's, and when he tried them on, Harry discovered that they were a good fit. The lenses were cracked, but Harry did not try to fix them; he felt they should be left as they were.
Harry next picked up the diary, but a quick inspection merely revealed a normal school diary showing lesson schedules, holiday times, and homework assignments. Harry scratched his head; why would a school diary be considered important enough to keep? The other items were obviously of sentimental value, but a school diary?
Unable to answer his own question, Harry put the diary back into the tin, and picked up the bundle of letters. They were bound with another of Lily's emerald-green ribbons, and Harry slowly undid the knot and placed the ribbon carefully to one side. On closer inspection Harry discovered there to be around twenty letters, each one dated and addressed to one of two recipients. The letters appeared to be in order, and Harry was eager to read them. However, he wanted to read them in private.
"Hagrid, thanks for these," he said abruptly.
"But yeh want to go away and read them by yerself," finished Hagrid.
"Yes," said Harry gratefully. "I just think I'd like to be on my own for a while."
"That's alrigh', Harry. Yeh just get on home, and if yeh need summat, yeh've only to send me an owl."
"Thanks, Hagrid. I'll call by tomorrow or something."
"Righ' yeh are, Harry."
Harry gathered everything together and left to Apparate back to the Weasley's house. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket - he never left home without it - and shrouded himself so that he could get to his bedroom without being seen. As calm as he pretended to be in front of Hagrid, Harry was feeling more than a little concerned. He had recognized both of the handwritings on the bundle of letters he had found, and he was anxious to find out exactly why his mother had been writing to Severus Snape.
oo0oo
Harry turned off all of the lights, closed the curtains, and settled himself inside the spacious clothes closet. It was quite dark, but moonlight filtered through the curtains and allowed some light to shine through the slatted doors of the closet. He opened the tin and lingered for a few moments while he once again examined the various bits and pieces inside. He was unable to linger for long though, as his curiosity was getting the better of him. He allowed himself another sniff at his mother's hair ribbon before placing everything back inside the tin and removing the bundle of letters.
"Lumos," he muttered, needing the light from his wand to be able to read. He quickly made sure that all of the letters were in the correct order before setting them down on the floor beside him.
"Well, I hope these are full of nice things rather than nasty surprises," he muttered to himself, biting his lip as he did so. Shrugging lightly, he picked up the first of the letters.
Dear Severus,
I know that I have not seen you for quite some time, but I was hoping we could renew our friendship a little. Domestic bliss has given me a new perspective on things, and I can now admit that I was more than a little at fault with the breakdown of our friendship. When you're happy you don't worry about the here and now, but the past seems to come back and haunt you I guess.
Anyway, I would really love it if you would consider a more friendly relationship between us. I realize that you will never befriend James, but that doesn't mean we can't still be friends. And I have to admit, I could use the company. James still sees a lot of his friends, but I lost touch with my girlfriends, and there is only so much conversation with the marauders that a girl can take. A little contact with an old friend would be really appreciated.
Anyway, I'll leave the ball in your court, though I hope you throw it back my way some time soon.
Regards,
Lily.
Harry read the short letter three times, taking pleasure in the soft loops and flowery letters of his mother's hand. It was not until the third reading that he allowed himself to consider the actual content of the letter. Of course, he already knew that his mother and Snape had been friends in their youth. Discovering it had been a shock, and coming to terms with it had been very hard, but he was just about used to the idea now that he'd had several months to absorb it. Seeing further evidence was still rather unsettling though, especially given the tone of his mother's letter.
Harry sighed and reached for the next letter.
Dear Mrs. Potter,
I must admit to a great surprise at receiving your letter. As far as I am aware we parted amicably at the end of our seventh year of schooling, and with the agreement that we would probably not stay in touch. Your husband would no doubt be very unhappy if he were to discover your letter (I am convinced that you have not told him of your correspondence with me).
I must also admit to having little inclination in resuming our earlier relationship. Your 'domestic bliss' must be very nice, but it is of little interest to me. And I am sorry, but resuming our friendship just to alleviate the boredom of your husband's friends seems a little nauseating, if I am to be truthful.
I think it better that our friendship remains in the past.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape.
"What a nerve!" gasped Harry, incensed that his former Potion's Master had the cheek to throw his mother's offer of friendship back in her face. The gradual feelings of sympathy towards Snape that had been growing over the last few months seemed to take a sudden nosedive; Harry knew that ultimately Snape had been on the right side, but that didn't mean Harry was going to defend him when it came to insulting his mother. Eager to see Lily's response to Snape's rejection, Harry picked up the next letter.
Dear Severus,
Oh dear, I have offended you. I really didn't mean to. I explained myself badly I suppose. Yes, one of the reasons I would like to resume our friendship is partly because Sirius and the others do wear on my nerves a bit, but the main reason, and the reason I should have perhaps mentioned originally, is that I miss you. I miss the conversations that we used to have. Do you remember how we could talk about anything and everything? James doesn't really understand muggle stuff, though he tries his best. It's hard to reminisce about fish and chips wrapped in newspaper with a wizard. You know what I am talking about, I'm sure.
And I didn't mean to rub it in your face about my 'domestic bliss'. I wasn't trying to score points off you. And honestly, much as I love my husband, I can't fail to realize that my happiness with James came at the price of losing my best friend.
Can't we start over? You're right that I haven't told James that I'm writing to you, but that's only because I know he will turn his nose up at me. I don't want to start arguing with my husband over you again, we did enough of that at school. If we manage to patch up our friendship, I promise I will speak to James about it though, alright?
Please think about it, Severus.
Your friend, even if you don't believe me,
Lily.
Harry muttered darkly under his breath. His mother had apparently not taken offence at Snape's reply, and was even going as far as to almost beg him for a return of their friendship.
It was obvious that they continued writing to each other - the pile of letters still to be read confirmed this - but how on earth had Lily convinced Snape to change his mind?
There was only one way to find out, so Harry reached for another letter.
Dear Mrs. Potter,
You don't give up, do you? You always were stubborn. I'll unbend enough to tell you that I am tempted - more than tempted - to continue with our friendship. The stupid thing is that I know how manipulative you can be. Many the times have been when you have used clever words as tools for your persuasion. Reading the words 'fish and chips' almost had me, in fact, ready to surrender to your wishes.
However I must at least try to be sensible, so I have to ask myself a few questions. Or rather you. How long will this interest in our friendship last? Will you become bored with me as you have become bored with Potter's friends? Do you really intend telling your husband? And if you do, how long will it be before you brush me to one side and forget about me all over again?
I remain a sceptic when it comes to Lily Potter, nee Evans.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape.
Harry read this latest letter several times, and much as he wanted to continue feeling angry at his former teacher, he found himself worried instead. Snape was portraying Lily as being manipulative on more than one occasion. And there was a definite implication that Lily had really hurt Snape when she had taken up with James. Perhaps Snape was justified in his scepticism, and perhaps Lily hadn't been as wonderful a friend as Harry had previously thought.
oo0oo
A tap at the door jolted Harry from his thoughts, and he quickly pushed all of the letters back inside the tin and stepped out of the closet. Ginny entered the room with a raised eyebrow.
"I never thought I'd see you coming out of a closet, Harry. What on earth were you doing?"
"Sorting through some stuff."
"In the dark?"
Harry shrugged and grabbed Ginny's elbow, leading her downstairs.
"Mum told me to come and get you, dinner is ready," said Ginny lightly, though her frown told Harry that she knew something wasn't quite right.
"I've got some things that I need to straighten out in my head, and as soon as I sort them out, I'll let you know what's going on, I promise."
Ginny squeezed his arm reassuringly and Harry sighed. It wasn't that he wanted to keep things from Ginny, but at the moment his thoughts were so jumbled that he didn't know how to even begin explaining them.
Hermione was already sat at the table and was earnestly talking to Mr. Weasley about the house-elf census, while Mrs. Weasley was hovering in the background, busy serving the evening meal. Harry also saw that Ron was seated too, and his flame-haired friend raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.
"I thought I was meeting you at Hagrid's?"
"Sorry about that, I had to leave unexpectedly," replied Harry shiftily. Hermione paused in her conversation and looked at Harry thoughtfully. Once again Harry shrugged slightly, and gave them a small smile. Hermione nodded; she obviously understood that Harry would tell them what was bothering him when he was ready. Ron was, as usual, slower on the uptake.
"Why did you have to leave? You do realize that I had to eat three of Hagrid's rock cakes before he would let me go."
Harry grinned in spite of himself. Then he took the easiest route to distract Ron from his line of questioning.
"At least you've got your mother's cooking to forget about it, mate. Looks like Mrs. Weasley's outdone herself yet again."
It worked. Ron eyed the plentiful plates placed before him and was soon engrossed in eating. Everyone rolled their eyes, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He ate as little as he could without alerting Mrs. Weasley to his current mood, and left the table as soon as it was polite to do so. He smiled at Ginny in passing as he made his way back to his bedroom, and settled himself on his bed. He magically locked the door and chose the lamp rather than the main light to resume his reading of the letters.
Dear Severus,
I see I am still 'Mrs. Potter'. That may be the correct term to use given my married state, but it would be so much nicer if you could call me 'Lily' instead.
Anyway, I can see that you're a little bitter, and I can't say that I blame you. But you have to understand that while I did, to all intents and purposes, 'forget' you once I started dating James, I never really brushed you completely from my life. Almost every day my thoughts have strayed, and I have found myself wondering what you were doing, and if you were okay. And you have to give me a little lee-way, Sev, the fault wasn't entirely mine. You were mixing with the wrong people, and it really wasn't my fault that you and James couldn't get along. That was something that you needed to sort out with James, not me. You can't blame me for that.
You ask me how long I will be interested in our friendship. Well, I have been interested ever since we first met. Just because we didn't speak for a while doesn't mean I lost all interest, Sev.
You also asked me if and when I would become bored. Well, I won't. I might get angry, frustrated, upset even, but never bored. Even if we weren't friends, I would still find you interesting. You're a complex person, Sev, and you've always managed to keep me interested in you. Even when we fell out, I still worried about you, and still cared about you.
I think I already answered your last question - would I brush you aside if and when James got angry about us talking again? Just in case you didn't understand my answer, then no, I wouldn't forget you 'again'. I never forgot you to begin with.
Perhaps a little cheery news might brighten this letter up a bit - it could do with it. Perhaps my news might cause you to be at least a little happy for me, perhaps not. Either way, I'd rather you found out from me than from anyone else. I'm pregnant, around two months along. Maybe you might think that I am rubbing more salt into the wound of our friendship, but that's not my intention. All I want is to share one of the happiest times of my life so far with my best friend. You still are my best friend, you know.
Love,
Lily.
"Oh mother, I don't think you really understand Snape at all," said Harry to himself, shaking his head sadly. It was difficult to understand the complicated relationship between Lily and Snape, but Harry had enough sense to know instinctively that Lily's 'happy news' would have probably been one of the worst things that had happened to Snape. The next letter confirmed Harry's suspicions.
Dear Mrs. Potter,
Congratulations on your impending child.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape.
Painfully short, Harry could only imagine Snape's feelings at hearing about Lily's pregnancy. And Lily must have been devastated by the abruptness of the response.
Dear Severus,
Is that it? I answer all of your concerns, try to explain my feelings to you, and tell you the biggest news of my life, and all I get is one line?
I won't give up, Sev. You can hurt me as much as you want, but I know you still care. Do the same as me, Sev, and don't give up on a friend.
Love,
Lily.
Merlin's Beard, Harry could definitely see where Lily might be described as being manipulative. It pained him to admit it, but Harry found himself starting to take sides with Snape, and eagerly grabbed the next letter.
Dear Mrs. Potter,
My God, you have to be the most manipulative little witch that I have ever come across in my entire life! And let me tell you, I have met a LOT of nasty witches in my time. What on earth makes you think that I could possibly be happy for you? You were my only friend, the one person I could be myself with, and you ignored my concerns about Potter and his cronies for months - years even! - and ultimately chose them over me. You banged on and on about me mixing with the wrong people, yet YOU did exactly the same thing. What was I supposed to do? If I stopped mixing with these people I would have been lynched. You had other friends to rely on, I had no-one. You expected me to become even more of an outcast in my own house that what I was already.
Now you want me to be happy for you. I don't wish you ill, and I hope that your child will be born healthy. That is the best I can give you, there is nothing else left.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape.
Harry could almost feel the anger and pain that had gone into that letter, and winced on his mother's behalf. Anyone else would have probably given up at that point, but the pile of remaining letters told a different story. The problem was, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to know how the story ended. These letters were opening up a whole new can of worms, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to learn anything else. It was easy to see that both Lily and Snape felt slighted, and each had been hurt by the other, but at this moment Harry was unsure who he felt the most for. Thinking of his mother and Snape in this light was more than a little unnerving.
oo0oo
Harry leafed through the piles of read and unread letters and realized that he was almost half-way through them. Part of him wanted to pretend that there was nothing else to read so that he could keep the image of an almost-perfect mother in his mind's eye, but the logical part knew that he would never rest unless he completed his reading. He looked at his watch and saw that it was still pretty early, but he acknowledged to himself that he was in for a long night. Deciding that it would be better to get it out of the way - rather like a trip to the dentist - Harry slipped into some pyjamas and got beneath the warmth of his blankets, grabbing the next letter with mixed feelings.
Dear Severus,
I decided to wait before I responded to your previous letter. Partly because you made me angry, but mostly because I realized how right you were about a lot of things, and the anger you made me feel was directed at myself. Then I started feeling a little guilty, and guilt rarely lends itself favourably to letter writing.
I still feel guilty, but recent events have overshadowed that guilt and now I am brimming over with the very best of feelings. I feel like I want to spread as much cheer as I can, and even though I know you'll probably still be angry with me, I have to share my happiness with you again.
I have a son! A beautiful little boy with ten fingers and ten toes, and everything as it should be in between. He's a little over two months old now, and I thought it was high time that I tried convincing you again about renewing our friendship. I had a difficult labor, Sev, and at one point I thought I would lose my precious child. Thank Merlin, everything turned out fine, but it gave me quite a scare. So much so that the only thing I have been thinking about lately - when I get a chance to think, that is, babies are SO demanding! - is how terribly fragile life can be, and grudges and disagreements aren't worth sacrificing a friendship over.
So I am asking you one last time, Sev. Please be my friend again. I know now that the things that went so wrong between us were mostly of my own doing. I ask you to forgive me, and reconsider our friendship. Wipe the slate clean, Sev, there's still a friend out there for you, and she's hoping that you will soften towards her once again.
I named my son Harry. I'd like to think that maybe one day you and he could be friends, even if you can't be friends with his mother any more.
Love,
Lily.
It was a little odd to read about his own birth, Harry decided. Having never been able to speak to his parents, he had been unaware of the apparent complications during his entry into the world. Harry knew the basics of what childbirth entailed, but had never stopped to consider what could go wrong. He wondered what had happened during his own birth, and made a mental note to pop to St. Mungo's and ask if there were still any records available in the maternity wing.
Aside from that, Harry was now intensely interested about how Snape would respond to Lily's latest olive branch.
Dear Lily,
Yes, I have used your given name. You have won. I have decided to try and renew a more friendly relationship. Before you gloat over your triumph, however, I should let you know that it was not your recent letter which convinced me to change my mind. I have no illusions about where you are coming from, Lily, I know you too well. You dangle the hope of comfort and friendship like food to a starving man, but it was not your promise of companionship that forced me to rethink our status.
I don't want to alarm you, but I have reason to believe that you are in danger. Or, more specifically, your son. Possibly Potter too, though I'll tell you right now that I'm not too concerned about that.
Sorry, I am trying to be nice, I really am. Maybe I should rephrase the whole thing and just say that your family could be in danger, it saves me from having to think about him.
Whichever way I phrase it, the point is that you are all in a precarious position, and I urge you to be vigilant over the next few months.
You said that life is too short, and that we should not let the past shape our friendship. Maybe you are right, and maybe it was partly you who persuaded me to change my mind. I guess you can still worm your way back into favour, after all.
I don't think I am surprised.
Regards,
Severus.
It was an abrupt turnaround, but Harry of course knew that Snape had overheard a certain prophecy just before Harry had been born, so the change of mind was not unexpected. It surprised him that Snape did not mention the prophecy, but a few minutes of thinking about it made Harry realize that it would have made sense to keep that sort of thing quiet.
Harry didn't waste any more time thinking, and reached for the next letter.
Dear Severus,
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. For months I have been hoping that you will relent and call me 'Lily', because I knew as soon as you did so it would mean you had forgiven me. As soon as I saw your greeting, my lips spread into the biggest smile since I had given birth to my son. I should have guessed my smile wouldn't last though. Only you could make me smile one minute, and be close to tears the next.
I have heard whispers myself about the possible danger that my family might be in, but thought little of it. The times we are living in sort of makes everyone at risk really, so I hadn't given it another thought. Your letter has made me more wary though, so thank you for the warning. I don't know what worries me more - the fact that my little family could be in mortal peril, or the fact that you know about it.
I'll be frank, Sev, I think you are probably aware that James and I are part of an anti-Voldemort group, and that is where I heard the 'whispers'. I know that you are not a member of this group, and the Ministry is not exactly sprouting information either. I can only assume that you got this information from the 'other side'. I worry about you, Sev. I know that you are not a bad person, and although I am probably risking our tentative friendship by saying something I have said before, I am going to say it anyway. I worry about the people you are mixing with.
Get out while you still can, Sev, please.
I'll be in touch soon,
Love,
Lily.
Harry was now riveted, and had reached for the next letter before the current one had left his fingers.
Dear Lily,
My first reaction was to crumple your letter into a small, tight ball and hurl it into the fire. Fortunately my logical side took over and I forced myself to read your words more carefully.
Yes, you are right. I was quite ready to curse you to high heaven for interfering in things that you do not understand. But perhaps I should also ask for some forgiveness, because I am beginning to realize that a lot of your interfering was done with the best of intentions.
Note that I still think you are manipulative though - don't think I'm going to forget it, either.
I don't want to get into the whys and wherefores of who I associate with at present. It has little to do with our friendship, just as much as it little to do with it back when we were in school. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is the information I have given you regarding the safety of your family. Take every precaution that you can, and take a leaf out of Alastor Moody's book, and practice constant vigilance. Worry about your family for the moment, and if you are careful enough, maybe you will live long enough to worry about me.
I'm serious, Lily. Don't waste time trying to 'save' me from myself. Use your time wisely and take care of your family.
I may not be able to write to you for a while, so do not worry if you don't receive anything from me. I'll be in touch as soon as I am able.
Regards,
Severus.
oo0oo
Of course the timing of the letter told Harry exactly why Severus would have been too busy to write for a while. He would have been preparing for his first year of teaching at Hogwarts, and Harry could hazard a guess that Snape was also probably very busy doing whatever it was that he did in Voldemort's camp too. The year prior to the deaths of Lily and James had been littered with other casualties of war, and Harry was pretty sure that Snape would have been running around like crazy between his two 'bosses'.
Not for the first time, Harry wondered what it was exactly that Snape did for Voldemort. He shied away from the possibility that Snape was actively involved with the actual murders. For some reason thinking about Snape as a murderer suddenly didn't seem to feel quite right. He had no evidence either way, but Harry was slowly coming to realize that Snape was probably one of the most moralistic people that he had ever known. He definitely had a fondness for rules, and although his former teacher had been perhaps more strict than was probably necessary, Harry had to admit that the punishment usually fitted the crime.
Of course, that philosophy hadn't exactly included Harry, or even Gryffindors as a whole, but given Snapes's personal history, Harry was reaching the point of understanding, and was now verging on the previously unthought-of of feeling of forgiveness.
.
Harry was distracted by this unusual line of thinking, and found himself trying to be objective with his school memories. Taking them one by one, he started to realize that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students had never really been singled out by Snape. Of course, Slytherin were favoured, but that was not unusual; Snape had been their Head of House after all.
Harry had to acknowledge that Snape had been mostly fair as a rule. It had been Harry and Neville who had received most of the cutting sarcasm from the Potion's Master, but in all honesty, Harry couldn't really feel victimized about it all. Neville's clumsiness had been the subject of many a teacher's ire at some point; even the Gryffindor students used to take him to task on it once in a while.
And Harry? Well, while he was being so objective, Harry couldn't deny that he had done some pretty stupid things during his school years. In fact, the memories of some of those things made him feel very uncomfortable.
A knock at the door caused Harry to jump, and he quickly gathered the letters together and shoved them under his pillow.
"Who is it?"
"It's Ginny."
"Hang on."
Harry quickly unlocked the door and told Ginny to come in. He saw her hair before he saw her face, and he smiled fondly at her.
"You're up late," she remarked, sitting down on the end of the bed. "What's going on?"
"I'm having a revelation," said Harry dryly. Ginny threw a cushion at him.
"You know, you don't have to tell me what's going on, Harry, but you don't have to be cryptic either."
Harry leaned back and pulled the letters out. Maybe it was time he shared them.
oo0oo
"This is really sad, Harry. I think your mother and Severus had one of those really rare friendships that really mattered, you know? And nobody knows."
"Actually, Dumbledore knew. Hagrid sees a lot too, so I bet he knows. He definitely knew they were friendly at any rate. And…"
"And?"
"My dad knew too," said Harry, sighing. "I think my dad was a bit of an idiot when it came to Snape."
"Well, of course he was! Everyone knows that. Just like you were an idiot with Malfoy. It's just the whole Gryffindor/Slytherin thing."
"No, it was more than that. I hate thinking like this, but I reckon my dad knew that Snape was competition for him."
"Snape? You mean Snape and your mother?"
"You already knew this, Gin. Heck, probably everyone knows how Snape felt about my mother now. I didn't exactly whisper that little titbit when I threw it in Voldemort's face."
They both laughed, though it wasn't really because they were amused.
"I guess not," said Ginny. "But I sort of had the impression that Snape's feelings were more, I don't know, platonic. Like what you have with Hermione."
"I thought that too, at first," said Harry. "But then, reading between the lines of these letters, I think it might have been more. There's a lot of bitterness in them Gin, and you don't get that unless you really, really care for someone."
"Well, we'll never really know either way, Harry, and there's no use speculating about it." Ginny touched the letters softly. "They're both gone now."
"Yeah, I know."
They both sat for a few moments, each thinking about the puzzle that was Lily and Snape's relationship.
"You probably shouldn't form any lasting impressions until you have finished reading them all," said Ginny softly.
"Yeah, I know. I really want to read them, but at the same time I don't. Feels sort of strange, somehow."
"Well your mother kept these letters pretty safe; whether it was for her own sake or not, she kept them. That shows how important they were to her. Maybe you should finish reading them to find out why they were so important."
Ginny squeezed Harry's shoulder and said a quiet goodnight, then she left Harry to consider her words.
Of course, there was never really any doubt that Harry would pick up the next letter.
Dear Severus,
You know, it still makes me grin with astonishment to think of you teaching up at our old school. I bet you'll be the scary-teacher type, you know, the one everyone is wary of, but can't help respecting. You always did have that air of authority about you.
James was disgusted, of course, when he heard the news. I'm only telling you this because I get the feeling that you would enjoy the image of him ranting about it all, but not being able to do anything about it. He may be my husband, but between me and you I think it's good for him to be thwarted sometimes. Not that I admitted that to him, you understand. There are definitely some things that need to stay secret between a husband and a wife.
Anyway, enough about James. I can almost see you pulling a face as you read this.
So I have been practicing this constant vigilance that you suggested, and I haven't seen anything untoward as of yet. We've been to several anti-Voldemort meetings, and things seem to be unchanged. That's not really good though, is it? I am so sick of this war, Sev. I just want things to be like they were before. I want to be able to take my son out for a walk without having to look over my shoulder.
I suspect James is not as sick of this as I am though. Oh, he doesn't like the whole 'everyone's in danger' part, don't get me wrong, but he loves the excitement. I think he actually enjoys it when he gets an owl requesting his assistance for something.
Oh bother, I'm talking about James again. Sorry, Sev. I guess this is going to be harder than I thought.
Anyway, I'd better go, Harry's demanding to be fed, and he's not exactly the silent type. Write soon and tell me all about Hogwarts from a teacher's perspective. I've always wondered what it would be like to be sat on the other side of the fence.
Take care,
Love,
Lily.
oo0oo
Dear Lily,
I can't say that I am enjoying teaching, but I'll admit that it keeps me busy. I've never been entirely comfortable in the classroom, and being the teacher hasn't changed that. If I've learned one thing in the last few months though, it's that teachers don't get paid enough. Honestly, some of these kids are enough to drive you insane. It's little wonder that Binns died a little loopy.
I've gotten into a routine of sorts, and the days pass swiftly, if a little monotonously. Most students are the same you see, only putting in enough work to get by, but not enough to make a teacher's life feel worthwhile.
There are a couple of students who make it worthwhile, but I'd never tell that to Dumbledore. The old fool thinks that every student in the school has the potential to be wonderful, and we all know that isn't possible. The law of averages tell you that there are rotten apples in every barrel.
Dumbledore's a funny man, and I don't mean in an amusing way. He's got these odd ideas about right and wrong, and black and white. He doesn't seem to understand the grey areas in life at all, though he's not above tweaking things to suit him when he feels like it.
Still, I suppose I should be grateful to the old man. There aren't many people who would have given me a job, given my history. And Dumbledore believes in me implicitly, though Merlin knows why. I just have this odd feeling that I am only here because it suits him, and not because it helps me at all.
That was the roundabout way of telling you that you should be careful around him, Lily. I'm not saying anything bad about the old boy, because he's as against the Dark Lord as anyone is likely to be, but he's definitely up to something.
I am glad that you are being extra careful, though that care should be taken with everything and everyone. Trust no-one, Lily. Not even me. Merlin knows I've done some things that I regret, and if I could take them back I would. Life doesn't let you do that though. I guess what I am trying to say is that even the people who care about you can make mistakes, and those mistakes could lead to others.
Trust no-one.
And on that happy note, I shall sign off. I have a detention to supervise with a couple of Gryffindor first-years. You can tell Potter that if you like, I'm sure it would interest him.
Regards,
Severus.
Knowing all that he did, Harry could make sense of Snape's letter right away, but he was pretty sure that Lily had been confused. One of Snape's greatest talents had been his ambiguousness. You never could tell what he was thinking. This latest letter could be interpreted as either a threat or a warning. Harry wondered which way his mother would take it.
Dear Severus,
Well you certainly know how to get a girl thinking, don't you? I'm trying to learn from my mistakes, and not automatically think the opposite of whatever you tell me, but trying to picture Dumbledore as being a manipulative old codger is stretching it a bit for me. Oh, I've always known he was wily, and he definitely keeps things close to his chest, but I've always thought of him as a kindly grandfather looking out for his family.
But I'm not dismissing your words. See? I really am trying to be more open-minded. I've even questioned a few things that Dumbledore has brought up in our anti-Voldemort meetings. Not that it gets me anywhere. Pretty much everyone thinks that Dumbledore is the only wizard capable of defeating Voldemort, and to be honest, Sev, I agree. I can't tell you how many disparaging looks I have gotten whenever I've spoken out. And James has had a few strong words for me too.
One of the main things I am worried about at the moment is the rumour of a traitor that is flying around. Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this, but it sort of concerns you. You see, bad things have been happening to some of our colleagues, and people are saying that the only way they could happen was if someone was passing information to the other side.
Spying, Sev.
James accused you. There, I said it. Of course, even though a lot of people would happily agree with him (I'm sorry, Sev, but you haven't exactly made yourself popular over the years, have you?), they had to disagree. You don't attend our meetings, and that's where all of the information is shared. There's no way it could be you.
Of course, I tried telling James this when we got home from the meeting, but his resentment of you is pretty deep-rooted, and he wouldn't listen to a word I said. We're not really talking much at the moment.
Other news! Harry has started crawling! I need my eyes to be everywhere at the moment - you would not believe the places an eight-month old baby can get into! I almost put him on a hot wash yesterday, though how on earth he managed to get into the washing machine is beyond me.
I guess I should tell you - warn you, more like - that Harry is the living image of his dad. That hasn't bothered me before, but now that I think about it, it probably won't help endear him to you. He's got my eyes though, so that's nice. I really wish that you could meet him. You know what, though? Even if we don't manage to meet up over the next few years, if you're still teaching by the time Harry gets to Hogwarts, you can meet him then, can't you?
It's almost funny to imagine you teaching my son. You're a great teacher though, Sev. I wouldn't have done half so well if you hadn't have helped me. Harry will be lucky to have you.
Take care,
Love,
Lily.
Oh dear. All these years of thinking that his mother was so smart, and here she was saying some really stupid things. How could she even think that James's son and Snape could ever get along? Sometimes Harry got the feeling that Lily was more than a little like Dumbledore - far too quick to only see the good in people. Harry used to think that was a good thing, but now he wasn't so sure.
Snape had the measure of Dumbledore better than anyone, it seemed. Harry had long since forgiven his old Headmaster for his sometimes catastrophic errors of judgment, but there was no denying that Dumbledore was far from being the perfect wizard that most people seemed to believe. And Snape had worked that out years ago.
Harry was more than a little disappointed in his father at the moment, though he couldn't really condemn him because Harry had committed very much the same crime himself, over and over again, in fact. Harry guessed that it was probably a Gryffindor thing, because Ron had exhibited much the same opinions against Slytherin – and Malfoy, in particular – over the years.
With a flash of hindsight, Harry realized that Dumbledore himself hadn't been above such actions. The day that Harry and his friends had gained enough points to snatch the House Cup from Slytherin's grasp came to the front of his mind. At the time, Harry had only recognized pride in Dumbledore's expression, but when he thought about it now, he realized that Dumbledore had been gloating as much as any Gryffindor. Perhaps that was not so surprising, as Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor too, but a headmaster was supposed to be neutral.
When Harry had told Ginny that he was having a revelation, he hadn't realized how true that was going to turn out to be. He looked at the next letter warily, as if it were a snake poised to bite him. Thinking of a snake made him think of Snape, and how much he would probably enjoy knowing how unsettled Harry was feeling at the moment.
"I guess I deserve to feel a little uncomfortable, don't I, Sir?"
Dear Lily,
Why am I not surprised that Potter accused me first? You know, you don't have to worry about my feelings being hurt by anything your husband says or does. I know what to expect of Potter, and nothing he does ever surprises me. You probably shouldn't argue with him over it though, much as it pains me to say it. You've got enough on your plate at the moment without adding marital strife to the mix.
Of course, you have my permission to resume hostilities with your dearly beloved once all this is over. I might even enjoy it some.
I'm not even going to apologize for the above line; we both know I wouldn't mean it.
I am pleased that you are taking my advice about Dumbledore seriously. He's not a danger to you personally, or to anyone for that matter - he's far too soft - but he's a stickler for doing things for 'the greater good', and I bet he's not above doing a few shady things along the way.
Actually, that's probably why I like him.
Regarding this traitor. This bit of news is disturbing. I sort of had an inkling about this already, but I have no idea who the spy is, unfortunately. I can tell you that it's not me though, but you already knew that.
The only advice I can give you is the same thing I have said before - trust no-one. The success of spying is down to the fact that nobody suspects you. If everyone was suspicious of everyone else, I'd wager that spying would be a thing of the past. Sometimes trust is overrated.
I'm glad that your son has at least one thing from his mother. I'll try not to let his father's looks annoy me too much, though I can't promise. You can curse me for that, Lily, but it won't matter. I'm not going to lie to you and say that having your son look like his father isn't going to bother me. Of course it will. I'd be happy if I never had to lay eyes on Potter ever again, and maybe I won't have to. But if we continue our friendship after the war, there will come a time when I'll have to meet your son. I'll try to be objective. What are the odds of the son being exactly like his father in both looks and personality? Surely the poor child won't be unlucky enough to have inherited everything?
Sorry, that was probably not the wisest thing to say to the child's mother, no? Still, you can say a lot of things about me, but I have always been honest with you. There are worse things, you know.
By the by, try using a different owl next time, would you? Dumbledore keeps looking at me strangely whenever that fluffy thing you are currently using flies over his head.
Take care of yourself, and the Potter clone too.
Regards,
Severus.
Harry counted the remaining letters - there were four left. The letter he had just read was dated 17th April, 1981. There was still another six months before James and Lily were killed.
Harry found he was able to distance himself from the tragedy of his parents' deaths for the first time in his life. He was able to think about it without anger and pain getting in the way. He knew that this was probably temporary - one never got over parental death, whether you were close to them or not - but it was definitely good to be able to view things without emotion getting in the way.
With a feeling of shock, Harry realized that this was something that Snape had been trying to teach him when they were having the Occlumency lessons.
"I guess you were right all along," muttered Harry. "Bet you'd never thought I'd be saying that."
Shaking his head and chuckling lightly, Harry reached for the next letter.
Dear Severus,
I'm so sorry that I've not replied sooner, but we've been so busy! Dumbledore has had us moving around on almost a weekly basis, and it's been trying to say the least. Poor Harry doesn't know what's going on - it must be awfully hard for a toddler to understand. The poor boy can't remember what it's like to have his own room.
And yes, I said toddler! Can you believe that my beautiful boy turned one last week? Well, maybe it doesn't come as much of a shock for you because you've never seen him, but I still can't believe it. This last year has gone so fast!
I had a small party for Harry on the day, though it was only myself, James and a neighbour in attendance. This neighbour is an elderly witch - and a famous one too, so I won't say her name - and she's such a dear. Full of tales about Dumbledore, now that I think about it. I think you would like to speak with her one day; she has the same funny little ideas about Dumbledore that you do. Merlin, that came out wrong. I still don't really think Dumbledore is as odd as you say, but listening to my neighbour rattling on about him certainly makes me wonder.
Anyway, you'll be pleased to know that James and I are still not on the best of terms. Dumbledore wants us to choose someone for a very important task, and James is being an idiot about the whole thing, and refusing to listen to anything that I have to say about it. You can probably guess who it is that James wants, but I'm not happy about it. To be truthful, I'm not too happy about the alternatives either, though for vastly different reasons. But James won't be swayed. It annoys me that even now he is putting his feelings for his friends before me.
Don't bother telling me 'I told you so' Sev, I don't need to hear it. You always said that James would always stick with the boys. I guess I'm learning my lesson a little too late.
Would it be too awful of me to wish that he was a little like you? I bet you'd put your family before your friends, wouldn't you?
Love,
Lily.
"That was cruel, mum," said Harry sadly. "I can't believe you said that."
Dear Lily,
It's a little late to be wishing for something like that, wouldn't you say? If personality was the main thing you were looking for in a partner, then you'd never have looked at Potter to begin with. Like it or not, you went for the looks. Face it, Lily, you'd never have been satisfied with someone like me.
As to putting family before my friends, I can't really say. I don't have any family left, and you seem to be my only friend (and let's be honest here, not a 'real' friend at that. We've not seen each other for years). I suppose I could have Hagrid call himself a friend, and perhaps Dumbledore too. Though maybe Dumbledore would be a stretch. Maybe 'pawn' would be a better term when it comes to him.
I'll say this though - and it's only because I am writing it down that I can say it at all - I've put you first more times than I care to remember. I probably always will.
Don't go thinking I've turned into one of those new-fangled men who are in touch with their emotions, though, that admission was more a confession than a new way of life. A one-time only deal.
I suppose, as a friend, I should tell you to patch things up with your husband and try to see things from his perspective. That would be empty advice though, Lily, because you know I would never say that. I'll say it again, trust no-one, and if that includes your husband, so be it. I'm not stupid enough to think that Potter would purposely put you at risk - whatever his faults are, he loves you. But I strongly urge you to go with your instincts on this. I was reading up on alternative magic just the other day, and a mother's instinct is perhaps the strongest there is, and powerfully magical when used in the right way. Do what you can to protect you and you son.
I've been trying to find out who the traitor is, but I'm not getting anywhere. You'll probably guess where I have been doing my digging, but that is neither here nor there. It's not where I am, but what I am doing that is important here. All I have discovered is this - whoever the spy is, he's in Dumbledore's inner circle. I have no idea who it might be, but you'll be in a better position to make up some kind of list. You probably should tell Potter, though don't tell him I said so.
That's about all I have to say at the moment, so I'll leave it there.
Regards,
Severus.
Harry found himself chuckling over several parts of this latest letter. Why had he never noticed before that Snape had possessed a dry, and sometimes wicked humour? Harry found himself wishing that he could have known his old teacher better. He was coming to the awful realization that he had done Severus Snape a grave injustice. Of course, he already knew that Snape had been judged wrongly by a lot of people, himself included, but the revelations from these letters had caused a large lump of guilt to form in the region of Harry's stomach. It wasn't a pleasant feeling at all.
Harry looked at the last two letters, but did not reach for them. He had become so engrossed in his mother and Snape's private little world that he was loathe to finish reading about it. Instead, he skimmed over all of the letters he had read so far, pausing over some of the more sarcastic comments and chuckling with fresh appreciation. He even appreciated the somewhat cold tone of Snape's earlier letters. He had to hand it to the man, there was no doubting that Snape had a style all of his own.
Trying to put off reading the last of the letters, Harry found himself looking for ways to distract himself. He searched through the earlier letters and lingered over Lily's for a few minutes. His mother had definitely deserved the 'manipulative' title. Even after she had managed to persuade Snape into an ongoing friendship - Harry privately thought that whatever Snape had said, it had been Lily herself who had turned him - she had still managed to phrase things in such a way that most people would find hard to brush aside. Even the seemingly casual talk about Harry's baby activities had a calculated sound about them. Almost as if talking about the nicer things made Lily herself seem like a nicer person.
Another lump of guilt started to form in Harry's chest. Surely it was wrong to think of your own mother in this way? But what else was he supposed to think? The evidence was bundled together in his hands right at this moment. Just as much as he had misjudged Snape over the years, he had also misjudged Lily. Oddly enough, it was Snape he felt the most guilty about. After all, Harry had no memory of his mother; but he had seven years of uncomfortable memories of his former teacher. Not to mention that of the two, Snape was probably the most deserving. Even now, almost seventeen years after her death, people still thought of Lily Potter fondly. It was probably going to take seventeen years for people to even consider Snape in a favourable light.
Of course, Harry had done quite a bit towards restoring Snape's reputation in the last few months, but having decided to keep his mother out of things, it was a difficult job persuading everyone of Snape's ultimate goodness.
Even before he finished reading the last of the letters, Harry decided that he needed to do something big to make sure that his former teacher got the recognition that he deserved. He didn't know what exactly, but something.
Feeling that the lump of Snape-guilt was softening slightly, Harry breathed deeply and picked up the penultimate letter.
Dear Lily,
I'm going to apologize in advance, because I'm writing this in a rush and won't be able to tidy it up as I usually do before I send it. I only hope you will read it, and not toss it into the fire.
This is my last letter to you, at least for the foreseeable future. Things are crazy, I don't know what to do. I don't know what is happening any more, and there's no way that I can find out.
I'm burning my bridges here, but I don't care. I'm a Death Eater, Lily, and you have no idea how sick it makes me feel to have to tell you that. It's never bothered me before, but I know that it will sicken you, and the thought of you thinking badly about me is crucifying. I wouldn't be telling you now, except that I don't think I'm going to be around for much longer, and I'd rather you'd heard it from me than from anyone else. At least I can defend myself. Or try to.
I'm a spy, you see. Not THE spy, not the spy from The Order. Oh yes, I know about Dumbledore's Order, I've known for quite some time. I'm digressing, aren't I? I really want to tell you everything, but it's harder than I thought it would be.
Perhaps I should start at the beginning. They say that when you die, your body empties itself of everything. Maybe your mind does too. My thoughts are festering in my brain and I have to get them out.
When you made your final choice, you chose Potter. I still don't think you chose wisely, but that was the choice you made, and I've had to live with it. Choosing Potter meant that you could not have me too. There was never any doubt about that. I had to live with the fact that you didn't have any faith in me whatsoever, and maybe that pushed me over the edge. I don't blame you for that, believe it or not. I think I was born with the sole purpose of self-destructing, and I don't think even you could have saved me.
So you chose Potter, and I was left with nothing. I found myself scrounging for scraps of human contact, and I inevitably ended up drawn deeper into the circle of friends that you'd always hated.
From the Slytherin Common room, it wasn't so many steps to the Death Eaters' homes. Looking back, I can see how it was almost too easy. They drew me in like a fatted cow ready for slaughter. Oh, I allowed it to happen; I could have backed out if I'd really wanted to, but I had nothing left to lose, and a desperate man doesn't really think about the consequences of his actions.
At first, it was fine; nice, in fact. I had a steady little job brewing potions, and was called on now and again for a little spell work. There was nothing overtly BAD about any of it. By the time I started hearing about the bad things - the murders, the plots, the lies - it was too late. Once you receive the Dark Mark, they don't let you leave. It's not like I could hand my notice in.
Still, as much as I now hated my life, I was able to stay out of the nasty side of being a Death Eater. I brewed my potions, and invented spells like a good little schoolboy.
Then everything changed. I found out that my friend - my only friend - was in danger. I did the only thing possible, and went to Dumbledore. He didn't believe me at first, and I was almost crying with frustration. By the time I managed to persuade him of the truth, he had me so tied up in knots that I would have done anything - anything - to get him to listen.
So that's how I became a spy. A spy for the Order, that is. Dumbledore bandied around words like 'duty', 'protection' and 'love', but I soon realized how crafty the old man was. I was to be sent back to the Dark Lord as if I was still loyal to him, and I was to feed information back to the Order in exchange for their protection.
Not the best of situations, but I would have done anything to keep you safe.
And now here I am, over a year later. Still alive, but maybe not for much longer. I've been getting more and more careless, you see. Every time I report to the Death Eaters, I try to dig for information. Usually I can do this without alerting anyone as to what I am doing, but I think my 'casual' questions are beginning to become too frequent to be considered 'casual' any more.
Maybe I am being paranoid, but maybe not. Living a double life tends to make a person jumpy.
Anyway, there's something brewing, and it's big. Everyone is walking around averting their eyes, and I haven't been able to speak with any of the Death Eaters for almost a month. The Dark Lord has streams of visitors almost every day, and any one of them could be your traitor. I think it's close. The final act of betrayal, I mean.
Please, for Merlin's sake, Lily, please be careful. Dumbledore tells me that you're using the Fidelius Charm. Choose your Secret-Keeper wisely. In fact, for all my misgivings about him, I'd urge you to use Dumbledore himself. And while you're at it, ask him to return Potter's cloak too. I've seen him with it, and I have enough memories of that cloak to be certain that it belongs to your husband. Get it back; it could one of the only things that can save you.
There's nothing else to confess now, I think I have told you everything. Whatever I have missed out is nothing of importance, anyway.
Well, maybe I have one more thing to add.
I won't confess undying love for you, Lily, because the feelings I have for you seem somehow more profound. I could never imagine us together as a couple, I don't think I'm made for lasting relationships. What I do know, though, is that there is no-one else in this world who cares as much for you as I do. There is nothing I would not do to keep you safe. I think I've already proved that. All I ask is that you think kindly of me when I am gone. Whatever my faults are, I have always put you first.
I am sending all of your letters back with this owl. As much as your words bring me comfort, they are too distracting, and I need all the concentration I can get if I want to get out of this mess I am in. Keep them safe; if I make it out of this in one piece, I'd like them back.
Stay alive, Lily.
Love,
Severus.
There were tear stains on the letter, and Harry realized that not all of them were dry. He had been crying and hadn't even noticed. He thought he'd understood how tragic Snape's life had been, but he really hadn't understood at all. Seeing everything written down so starkly made Harry realize that nothing could ever make up for the fact that Snape's death was probably the worst thing to have happened during the entire war.
Wrongful death. That didn't even begin to cover it. Snape had been a pawn, nothing else. Two powerful wizards had used him for their own ends, and had thought little about the man himself. Of course, Voldemort did that with everyone, and it was not unexpected. But Dumbledore was a different matter. Dumbledore was supposed to be the good wizard, the compassionate leader of the Order. In some ways, Dumbledore's actions were even crueller than Voldemort's. Voldemort was a power-crazed ego-maniac, and thoroughly evil to boot; you couldn't expect any less of him. But not Dumbledore.
Harry picked up the last letter thoughtfully. He decided there and then that how Lily reacted to Snape's confession would determine his own feelings about his mother. If she dismissed Snape out of hand, Harry was going to find it very difficult to think of her in a kindly light ever again.
"Please be kind to him, mum," he whispered, and crossed his fingers.
Dear Severus,
Oh Severus, you fool! You stupid, proud, compassionate fool! Why did you wait until now to tell me all of this? If you were stood in front of me right now, I'd be hard pushed to know whether to smack you or hug you. Stupid, stupid man.
You come across as cold and unfeeling to everyone who meets you, but I think you've got more compassion in your little finger than most people have got in their entire body. You make me feel ashamed. You make me feel humble. I'm not special, Sev, and to think that you've gone through so much just because of me makes my stomach clench.
I've put all of our letters into a bundle, and as you say you don't want to be distracted, I'll add this one too. Maybe I'll send it once things have calmed down. Even though you won't see it for a while, I still need to write this, and I can only hope that one day you'll see it.
You did not ask for forgiveness, Sev, but I am giving it to you anyway. I don't know what you have done to regret, but whatever it was, you have made up for it, and more besides. You deserve to know that there is at least one person in this world who thinks you are the very best of men.
And you are, you know. One of the best there is. You speak of self-destruction, and perhaps you are right. You are perhaps your own worst enemy, probably more dangerous to your well-being than Voldemort himself.
Oh, Sev. Voldemort. When I think of you being in the same space as him, I feel sick. I have seen him three times, and each of those times I felt colder than death, and more frightened than I care to remember. You're the bravest man I know, but I also know that you must have been shaking with fear every time you spoke with him. Especially after you started spying for Dumbledore.
Speaking of Dumbledore, I gave him the biggest lecture that he has probably ever had in his entire life. For a full twenty minutes I ranted at him, calling him all the fools under the Sun. He at least had the grace to look discomforted by my tirade, but that's not nearly enough. And I told him that, too. I still can't believe what he made you do. Everything you said in the past about him being wily makes complete sense now. Of course you would feel like that about him, and rightly so.
I've explained a few things to James, though I never betrayed your confidence. I just said that it was high time he stopped badgering me about our friendship, and that as soon as the war is over I planned to start spending more time with you, regardless of how he felt about it. He didn't like it, but I don't care. I'm past worrying about upsetting my husband. If he hadn't have been so pig-headed about you in the first place, things might never had gotten so out of hand. I don't think I can forgive him for that, even though I love him.
Yes, I still love him, Sev. But it's not the same love that I have for you. You were right - you and me as a couple would never have worked. Me and James sort of fit together - it's hard to explain. But I really do believe that you and I share the same soul, Sev. I don't know if you believe in reincarnation or not - I'm not even sure if I do myself - but I'd like to think that we're destined to end up together one day. We just weren't ready for it in this life, that's all.
That doesn't take away the fact that some of my heart will always belong to you. You, James, and Harry have equal shares. Three very different people, for three very different loves. The passionate, wild love belongs to my husband; the gentle, yet fierce motherly love belongs to my son. For you I give the very best kind of love; the kind that makes you feel warm and protected. The kind that lasts, no matter what obstacles get in the way. The kind that makes me believe that one day everything will be alright.
I just wish we had been more honest with each other from the start. I'm not blaming you. Merlin knows that I've made enough mistakes in my time. Leaving you alone was the worst thing that I ever did, and although you may not blame me, I'll never forgive myself for it as long as I live.
It's funny. I have album after album of photographs, mostly of Harry, but also some of me and James. Even the marauders. Most make me smile fondly; some make me cringe with embarrassment. But the other day, I was unpacking the last of the boxes, and came across an old school diary. It was the one from our first year, remember? You used to scribble notes to me and we would arrange to meet. I'd saved all of those notes and tucked them into the book's jacket, sealing it magically so that no-one would really know they were there. I ended up pulling out all of those little notes, and do you know what? I cried, Sev. Cried for all these wasted years when we could have been in contact with each other, but were both too stubborn to do anything about it. We were such good friends, Sev, weren't we? Me and you against the world.
Do you know what else I found? Remember that day in our third year when we asked a first year to take a picture of us? We were sat by the lake, having one of our birthday picnics. It was freezing that day, but we were pink with laughter because we were making up code-names for all of the teachers.
Anyway, I still have that picture. It was mixed in with my old school robes, but now it is nestled safely inside the school diary, along with our notes. I'm placing everything into a tin - the diary, the letters, and a few sentimental pieces belonging to James and me - and I'm going to seal it, permanently. The only way to open it is if I unseal it myself, or if it passes a certain date. July 31st, 1997 to be exact. The day Harry reaches maturity. If I am still around by then, it will not matter, and I can re-seal it again. I won't break your confidence, Sev. But if the worst should happen and we both die, at least Harry will be able to learn about the man who sacrificed so much just to keep Lily Evans safe.
I know, I'm a Potter now. I'm still an Evans at heart, though.
I'm so sorry that it took a war for you to tell me the truth. I'm so sorry that you felt I would never understand you. I know you, Severus Snape, I always have. I was just too impatient to let you learn to know yourself. You would never have gotten involved with those Death Eaters if I had been more patient.
Stay well, Sev. Stay alive. The world will feel less safe for me if you are not there to protect me.
All my love,
Lily.
It took Harry perhaps ten minutes or so before he could compose his thoughts. He felt numb. There was such a depth of emotion coming from the pages that he felt almost as if he were intruding. It took a second reading of his mother's last letter before he realized that the answer to his earlier question had been answered.
The school diary. Such an inconspicuous thing, yet placed in its care was a memory so precious that his mother had thought to preserve it to the best of her ability.
Gently, reverently, Harry removed the diary from the tin and felt around the edges carefully. The back of the book felt a little thicker, so he tried a few simple spells to open it up. When nothing worked, he resorted to the tried and tested muggle solution and used a pen knife. Carefully, so as not to tear anything, Harry pried away the cover and gently shook the book. Out came several small pieces of parchment, yellowed with age, and a single black and white photograph.
Harry gave a cursory glance over the scribbled notes, but his interest was with the picture. He picked it up and studied it closely. With Hogwarts standing majestically in the background, the picture depicted two young students, smiling happily at the camera. At their feet sat the remains of what looked like a birthday cake, and left-over sandwiches and drinks. It took a moment for Harry to work out what was unusual about the picture, but then it hit him. The trees were moving in the background - it must have been a blustery day - but apart from the curtain of hair flying around Lily's face, both students were strangely still. Young Snape was smiling, though the smile sat oddly on his angular face. Lily was grinning widely, and had her arm draped loosely around Snape's shoulders. They both looked happy. Lily's eyes were sparkling with mischief, and Snape, though obviously a little uncomfortable, looked peaceful.
Harry studied the young face of his old teacher thoughtfully. He had not been a handsome man, nor had he been handsome in his youth. Yet there was a strange expression on his face. A look of calmness and content that lent a favourable light to his features.
The stillness was odd to see in a wizarding photograph, but somehow it felt right. It was as if they had both known that they would never be so close again as they were on that day, and were talking full advantage of the moment.
Harry studied the picture for the longest of times, and then he carefully replaced everything back to where they came from, sealed the tin, and hid it under a loose floorboard.
He had some thinking to do.
oo0oo
The first thing Harry did the following morning was talk to Ginny. He showed her the last of the letters, and allowed her to see the photograph, along with the rest of the saved mementos. They talked at length, and agreed that apart from Ron and Hermione, who were of course to be let in on the secret, Snape's most personal revelations should be kept private.
This left Harry with a problem. As much as he was determined to respect the privacy of his former teacher, as well as the memories of his parents, keeping everything quiet meant that the general wizarding population would be left in the dark about the true character of Severus Snape. This did not sit well with Harry at all.
There were a few people who knew most of the truth; the staff at Hogwarts, several wizards and witches from the Ministry, and a handful of fighters who were within hearing distance of Harry when he had fought that final duel with Voldemort. But that was not nearly enough. The majority of the wizarding world still thought of Severus Snape as a Death Eater through and through.
Harry spent the next few months doing what he could to restore Snape's reputation. He felt that it was something that needed to be done, and nothing was going to deter him. It became a mild obsession, and sometimes Ginny had to curb Harry's enthusiasm for his self-appointed task just so that he could put in some hours at his new job at the Ministry.
One of the first things that Harry did was petition for the Order of Merlin, First Class to be posthumously awarded to his former Potion's Master. There had been some disagreement at first, but Harry's new connections within the Ministry helped to smooth things along. There was some talk about a previous award, but Harry pointed out that the professor had lost his award before he had even held it on the occasion of Sirius Black's escape several years previously. Luckily, Cornelius Fudge was able to substantiate this claim and the award was approved, and presented to Hogwarts School for safe-keeping.
Soon after, a large portrait of Snape was allowed to be hung in the headmaster's office at Hogwart's.
The next thing that Harry did was to search for and restore Snape's childhood home. There were no surviving members of the Snape family left, but Harry decided quite firmly that the old house in Spinner's End should be dusted and cleaned until it shone. Harry selected good, solid furniture to furnish the house with, and added to the already existing library on the ground floor. With magic so readily available, Harry was able to create a rather large house full of weird and wonderful artefacts (the attic had proved to be a treasure trove), and the project was ongoing for almost two years.
Eventually, when the work was finally completed and the house was almost fit for a king, Harry hired a caretaker and opened the house to the wizarding public. He had built a large gallery where he had scrupulously added portrait-sized pictures of Snape, depicting him at various ages. Each picture had a small plaque placed beneath it bearing his name, the date when the picture was taken, and a few lines of descriptive text. Much to Harry's surprise, he had been able to find several photographs in the school's records, mainly class pictures, and a few depicting students relaxing during Christmas festivities. Of course, Snape had never really posed for these pictures, but Harry felt that the natural poses were so much better than false smiles. Snape looked serious, composed, and slightly wistful, and that was exactly how Harry wanted him to be seen. It was a vast improvement on the almost sulky, and often sneering, visage that Snape had usually presented to the world at large.
After a year of the 'Snape Tours', Harry shut them down. They had served their purpose, and had informed a great number of the wizarding community the truth about Severus Snape. Well, perhaps not the whole truth, but enough to persuade them that he deserved to be remembered for his good deeds, and not his poor choices.
Once the tours had stopped, the house became a sanctuary for anyone who needed some quiet time, and for those who were uncomfortable amongst the general community. Harry was bemused by the whole thing, as he had never intended for the house to be anything more than a means to educate wizards and witches about the true nature of his former teacher. It was rather a nice little outcome though, so he decided to continue to finance the house and pay the caretaker indefinitely.
There wasn't anything else that he could do after that. Harry racked his brains many times, but eventually admitted to himself that there was nothing more to be done. He was satisfied that he had done his bit for the general wizarding population, but he was still desperate to do something more personal. Something that would appease his need to show his gratitude for everything that Snape had done.
Many years passed; Harry married Ginny, and in time they had a son, named for Harry's father and godfather. Harry had long since come to terms with the marauders' antics, and had forgiven them, so it was fitting that their first child be named for them.
When their second son arrived, Harry knew what he had to do. Along with the marauders, and even his mother, Harry had long since reconciled himself to the actions of his former headmaster. He may have made a few wrong turns along the way, but Dumbledore's eventual road had led to the orchestrating of the defeat of Voldemort, so he had mostly redeemed himself in the end.
And of course, Severus Snape had been forgiven a long time ago.
Which is why Harry and Ginny named their second son Albus Severus Potter. Partly for the man who had, mostly, been straight and true. And partly for the man who'd had to cross many dark paths on the way to redemption.
Mostly it was because little Albus had been born with same emerald eyes as his father and grandmother before him. The same eyes that had enslaved Severus Snape all those years before, and had kept him for the good side. The same eyes that had allowed a dying man to purge his soul, even as he took his final breaths.
The eyes of Lily Evans, burning brightly in the face of a new baby.
It seemed fitting, and finally Harry was satisfied.
Finite