A/N: Huge thanks to Eternely Snape for letting me translate this wonderful piece. I hope you enjoy!

Original title: "C'était mon ami" (id: 12854162) by Eternely Snape.

He Was My Friend...

There was nothing left. Nothing but smoke and ashes. The sky, the earth, the forest, the park, Hogwarts...all was nothing but ruin, sadness and despair. The war was over, but at what price? Nearly nobody was left. After Voldemort's death, after his body had been brought out of the Great Hall, they had carried all the dead and the injured to the Hall to mourn. Of course, crying and praying hadn't brought anybody back, but they had all needed time to get past the shock and finally be able to shed tears. From now on, nothing would ever be the same. Not the grounds of Hogwarts, not the trees dancing with the wind in the Forbidden Forest nor the sky they loved to see so blue and which was now blackened by smoke and sorrow, not the singing of the birds, nor the sound of the Centaurs' hooves on the muddy ground of the forest, not the smooth surface of the lake. None of this will ever have the same taste as before, and life will be even harder after having lost so many friends and family members. And while Minerva's tear-filled eyes sweeped across the grounds, two figures appeared, limping. Minerva knit her brow when she glimpsed another figure, floating behind them. After a few seconds, she managed to recognise Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, walking towards the castle in the dark night. She glanced back towards the floating figure behind them and the tears at the corner of the old woman's eyes finally started flowing down her cheeks, cheeks wrinkled by age and tiredness, and they fell to the floor in a deep, muffled sound.

"Severus..."

She whispered his name almost inaudibly with the tip of her lips, but to her, it sounded like a powerful, devastating litany.

Yes, Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin and, more recently, Headmaster of Hogwarts, ex-Death Eater and spy under the orders of the late Headmaster Dumbledore, was no more. He had died in the saddest and most ironic of ways: killed by the symbol of his house. And Minerva, more than ever, was stricken. Like everyone else, she had believed that the Potions Master had disgustingly betrayed them. Like everyone else, she had been subjected to the order imposed by Voldemort, by the Carrows, and, she had believed, by Severus. Like everyone else, she had wanted to rebel, to stop the Death Eaters who lived in the castle from doing harm. She had fought against Severus to help Harry Potter. And now, like the idiot she was, she found herself crying over the death of this man she had liked so much and, much to her shame, hated as well. And despite this, after all what had happened, she knew deep down that Severus Snape would have forgiven her weakness of having doubted him and his true allegiance.

He would have asked, "how could you have not doubted, after all this?"

But it did not decrease the unconditional sorrow she was feeling, on the contrary. Severus had been such a good man, so very sincere and friendly towards her that he would never have resented her for failing to keep the promise the old woman had given him so long ago. How could she not blame herself to have felt so much hatred and resentment towards a man as good as him? She had been his ally, his mentor, his confident – how could she not blame herself to have considered him her worst enemy, before even Voldemort himself? She would never be able to forgive herself.

There had never really been words between them. Their discussions were very often richer in glances and silences than in words. But, as one says, eyes are the windows to the soul, and Severus' were sincerely expressive, when he wanted them to be so. When they were together, he let all his emotions show in his eyes. And his silence spoke much better than all the words of the world. And Minerva knew how to listen to him. At least, she had known. Because if she thought about it now, every time the occasion had presented itself, Severus had tried to meet her eyes, to catch her gaze and get her attention on everything he could not tell her. But she had been blinded so completely by her anger that she had been unable to hear him, to understand him. And now she would never be able to tell him of her regrets, to tell him how sorry she was. And while the tears kept coming to her eyes, flowing on her cheeks, while she gazed at the grounds of Hogwards through her blurry vision as Harry and Hermione had passed the door of the castle, she thought of all the times when, after their rounds, they had met there, in this tower, in this very same place, leaning against the balustrade. Here, at the very place where Albus Dumbledore had died. Over the last year, Minerva had often found herself there, alone. And if she was honest with herself, she had often turned around, secretly hoping that all this was nothing more than a dark nightmare, or even that Severus had good excuses and would arrive, looking beaten, like every evening when they met in this tower, ready to explain everything. But never again had Severus passed the frame of the door to the tower, never again had Severus stopped on the last step, waiting for Minerva to turn towards him and to invite him to stand next to her. More importantly, he had never looked at her with this look he reserved only to her. This expression full of thanks and gratitude, filled with affection and friendship. Never again would Minerva see this expression again, in nobody's eyes, because nobody could look at her the way Severus did.

Minerva didn't know how long she stayed there, her back straight, her arms at her side, her eyes staring at nothing, looking at nothing but the darkness. She had remembered everything. From the first time they met to the first time they had arranged to meet, their first glance, their first words. She had remembered their first walk together, in the grounds of Hogwarts, the first time they shared a laugh – the first time she saw Severus laughing genuinely – their first hug, all that had lead to Severus being Minerva's friend, and to Minerva being the person who gave Severus strength. She had not only been his friend, she had been his light in the dark, when, the night Lily had died, he had ended up walking around aimlessly through the castle like the shadow of himself he was at that moment. He was thinking of one thing only, at that moment; that he must become as evil as the Dark Lord. When Minerva had found them in the corridors, his eyes had been filled with hatred and sadness, with a terrible mix between despair and uncontrollable fear. Minerva had thought that nobody could do anything to help him anymore, that he was lost forever, but despite that, the hope and friendship she had put in him had helped him repent. Within only a few seconds, Minerva had found her son, the child she had never had. The boy she had just talked to was hers. All the students of the school were, but above everything she could imagine, she had been a mother for one of them. He had been a sad student, silent, shy and terrified, and although she had done nothing back then, she wanted to repair her mistakes that night, to take him under her wing and help him find a new start so he could become what he had always been, deep down: a good man.

Like the Little Prince, she had needed time to tame the fox. She had needed time but also a lot of patience. She had needed to get angry, to appear cold and heartless, to make him feel unimportant sometimes, and although it had broken her heart and had made her stomach twist and turn, it had had the desired effect. And more Minerva tried to take some distance from him, the closer she got. He liked her; he was slightly awkward and insecure about it, but he liked her. She loved him deeply and sincerely in the way a mother loves her son. But she loved him too much, and when she had tried to take some distance from him, it was because, as a Gryffindor and as a woman, she was far too attached to him. Much more than she should have been. And she knew very well that this love for him, this affection she gave him, should never have existed. And while her feelings became as unconditional as possible, she had told herself a million times that she should never have got close to the boy who was so lost that night. She should never have talked to him, looked at him, touched him. She should never have grown attached to him. But it was too late, and her heart was beating for this child. After some time, she had sometimes believed quite easily that she had been living only for him. And even if it wasn't entirely true, it wasn't entirely false, either. And now, he was dead, and she had not been able to protect him like a mother has to protect her son. And worst of all, the last few words she had addressed to him, the last word she had spoken, the last thing she had done, in addition to raising her wand to fight him, had been to call him a coward. Something which had never been true, not in all the time she had known him.

She had known everything about him. His weaknesses, his fears, even the deepest ones, his unique love for Lily Potter, his affection, sometimes mixed with bitterness towards Dumbledore, his hostility for Harry Potter but his will to protect him from everything, and most of all, and this is most probably what had troubled him most during these last few years, the tenderness he had felt for Hermione Granger. It was nothing like what one would imagine. It wasn't a real feeling, Minerva knew it, he simply felt a duty towards her. He hated her, probably because her intelligence made her so much like Lily, but it was probably also for this reason that he had so much consideration for her. For nothing in the world would he have admitted it to anyone else, but Minerva was not anyone. Everything he had told her, everything he had only had the courage to tell her through his eyes, was anchored in her. She had loved to listen to him speak, she had loved to observe him, to watch him fix his eyes in the starry summer sky, she had loved to smile to him, to see him smile or look at her like a lost, disoriented child who didn't know why she had given him so much attention. And, above all and despite everything she could have thought at a certain time, she had been able to help him that evening.

Minerva, as was her habit, despite the recent events, was finishing her rounds close to the large door, through the cold and humid corridors of the castle. There was never anybody there, all the other professors who were doing their rounds knew that the Transfiguration Professor always came there. But that night, there was someone. A tall, slim figure, with a hunched back, and uncertain steps. Minerva approached them slowly, carefully. Despite how dark the corridor was, she could see that the person who was there was deeply affected by something the deputy Headmistress did not know. Every step this person took seemed to be an unbelievable effort for them. And that's what surprised her most, what made her approach them. But when she was only a few meters away, she recognized the boy in front of her. As usual, he was wearing black from head to foot, and despite how alike he was with the student she had known, something was bothering her: his eyes had changed. She wasn't sure he immediately recognized her. He seemed so sad, so deeply scared, that she doubted he could see anyone. And yet, he looked up to stare at her with his black eyes, his expression filled with such hatred and madness that the Gryffindor took a small step back. She did not talk. She simply waited, her arms at her side, her strict gaze unwaveringly fixed in his onyx eyes. There was nothing else but the heavy silence and the sound as the boy – who had become a man faster than she could have thought it possible – panted, each breath resonating in the empty hollow space. And yet, when she listened attentively, Minerva realized that the young man's deep, hoarse voice was muttering something.

"Lily…, Lily…"

Minerva held her breath as the Slytherin collapsed to the floor in a clatter of bones.
She hurried to him, her expression stricter than usual.
"Get up," she ordered in a cold voice.

She did not help him. She simply waited for him to get up with difficulty, and to stand in front of her like the man she thought he was. She didn't hate him. She never hated any of her students, and even though he had made a terrible choice, she knew, deep down, that he was a good person.

"I know that Lily Potter would not have wanted to see you in this state, Severus," she stated in her dry voice.

Severus didn't answer. He kept fixing the green eyes of his old professor with his obsidian eyes, to swallow his tears and wait. He was in a pitiful state, Minerva thought. His hair was greasy and tangled, his face pale and broken by the immense sorrow he was feeling. His regal attitude had flown away faster than a snitch. His mouth was distorted by a sneer of disgust.

"What are you doing here?" Minerva accused strongly. "Shouldn't you be hiding, now that the Dark Lord has disappeared?"

Severus felt the question as an attack, but he did not reply in the way Minerva had expected.

"She's dead…"

There was nothing more heartbreaking than the tone of his sentence. Minerva's heart stuttered and, despite all the sadness she felt at the loss of her brother, the love of her youth, as well as two of her best students, she decided to help this young man who seemed not to know what to do any more.

"Unfortunately, putting yourself in this state will not bring her back," Minerva declared softly. "You have to face your sorrow and look forward."

But Severus did not hear what she was telling him. He was so decided to let himself die slowly that everything else was irrelevant to him. And now, he had to protect Potter's offspring.

"You're going to make it," Minerva continued without paying attention to Severus' sneer. "And… and I will help you."

The last sentence made the Slytherin react. He opened his eyes wide for a moment, unsure he had heard her correctly, and raised an eyebrow, perplex.

"Why would you do that?" He asked in his hard voice. Why would you help a Death Eater repent?"

Minerva's lips curled into a small smile.

"Because, like you said yourself, you wish to repent. A Death Eater would not. A Death Eater does not cry for lost love. And a Death Eater would definitely not obey orders given by an old lady. Which you did when I asked you to stand."

Severus stayed silent. There was nothing else to say, and Minerva knew it too. She had given him a promise, they were both aware of that. Although he had not accepted her help, Severus knew she would never let go and, deep down, he did not want her to. For a long time, she had been the only person who was crazy enough to offer him her help, and that was worth so much more than what the old Dumbledore could give him.

"You should go back home," Minerva said, taking a few steps back to leave. "You should go back home, Severus. Tomorrow will be a new day."

And, without another word, Minerva walked away into the depth of the corridors of Hogwarts, leaving behind her the one who would become her friend, although she did not yet know it.

"Are you all right, Professor?"

Minerva jumped when she heard the voice coming from behind, her heart was beating faster. But she did not turn around. She waited for the voice's owner to approach and lean against the balustrade.

"We brought Professor Snape back inside."

Minerva nodded, her neck stiff, her cheeks marked by the traces of the tears.

"I think we should bury him here, at the castle."

This time, Minerva turned from the gloomy landscape in front of her. The voice had been so weak and unsteady that Minerva could not continue to ignore the person at her side. Hermione Granger was crying too. She thought, for a moment, that it was because she had lost Fred Weasley, Remus, Tonks and many others, but, seeing how lost she seemed, she understood that it was because Severus Snape was dead.

"I never doubted him," Hermione said. "Even after Professor Dumbledore's murder, I always thought there was an explanation behind his actions."

"You are a wise woman," Minerva declared in a shaky voice.

"I imagine I am not the only one."

"How wrong you are," Minerva replied coldly, causing Hermione to step back slightly, "I have doubted him for a whole year. I wish it had not been the case, but I was weak and I thought that he had changed sides, that he was a traitor and a murderer."

Hermione delved into Minerva McGonagall's emerald eyes. She saw, in her gaze, the sorrow, the resentment and the disgust she felt towards herself. The Transfiguration Professor, who was usually so cold and strict, was breaking down slowly, her face emaciated by age, exhaustion, anger and dejection.

"I doubted too," Hermione admitted after a long while. Once, in my first year. During the first match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, when Harry nearly fell off his broom. It was Quirrel who was trying to kill him and Professor Snape who was trying to save him, but Ron and I… We thought that Severus was the culprit. We were wrong. Everyone doubted at some point. It's not your fault, or his. It was simply… the circumstances. You don't need to feel guilty of everything which may have happened. Professor Snape did what he had to do to keep Voldemort's trust, and he knew what to expect. He knew his actions would arouse hatred from the whole institution, apart from the Slytherins maybe, but he did what he had to do to protect us. To protect you, Harry, Ron, I, and everyone else. He sacrificed himself to save our lives and it was his choice. Not yours. You shouldn't blame yourself."

Minerva stayed silent for a short moment, letting Hermione's words sink in, and finally, she said, "He was my friend…"

Hermione did not know what to answer, feeling the despair in Minerva's words. They both kept quiet for a very long time, not knowing what else to say. The sky was blue, but a huge cloud of black smoke was raising up in the sky. A sunbeam was attempting to break through the thick darkness. It was a new day, a new start. The times of Darkness was over. Voldemort was no more, and the few Death Eaters who had survived would soon be arrested. Rebuilding the castle would be difficult, but nothing would ever stop them from living in peace.

"I went to Professor Snape's office," Hermione finally declared, breaking the silence which was becoming increasingly anguished. "And I found this."

Hermione handed Minerva an envelope on which her name was written in Severus' tiny sloping handwriting. The hands of the Head of Gryffindor were shaking as she hesitatingly took it without looking at it. Hermione stepped away and started walking out to leave. When she arrived at the door, Minerva called her back in a voice which had become clear again. "He had a lot of consideration for you."

Hermione paused for a second, smiling.

"And I for him," she replied. She walked out and down the stairs with light steps.

Minerva was alone again, the envelope with Severus' letter held tightly in her hands. She knew approximately what the letter inside would contain, but she hesitated a very long time before opening it. She did not want to cry. She did not want to blame herself more than necessary. And yet, a violent feeling lead her to open the envelope and take out the letter inside it. The writing was clearly Severus', recognizable despite the obvious hesitation on several words and the trembling of his hands.

Dear Minerva,

It's terrible to start a letter like this, but if you're reading this, then I am dead. It's my fate, but I imagine I will not have the time to tell you goodbye. That is why I preferred to be cautious and lay the words on paper.

You, my friend, I know you and I know what your state of mind is at this precise moment. You are such a noble being, so generous and benevolent that you are surely standing there, hating yourself for having doubted me. I know that you would have wanted explanations on what I did, on what happened during this last year. I would have wanted to tell you, and, several times, I tried to come talk to you, but I was not allowed to. I could not do it. I could not give you this additional weight to carry. Because if I had explained everything to you, I know that you would have tried to help me, to reason with all the students who wanted to work against me and against the Carrows. This was not conceivable. So I kept quiet, I acted as if nothing was happening and continued on my way like you continued on yours.

It was very hard for me not to come to our meetings in the evening. And even though I never showed myself, I was there. Every evening, I was next to you, leaning on the balustrade, listing to your breath, watching your tear-filled eyes. My heart broke more than once when I heard you sigh, sniffle, mutter to yourself. But I was not allowed to appear at your side like the child I used to be. You needed those moments of solitude much more than you thought. I would also have liked to be on my own, but I had to protect you like you did for me all those years. It was my turn to protect you. And who will protect you from now on?

I never told you how much I appreciated those moments we spent together. They meant a lot to me. You were there in the hardest moments of my life and I am forever grateful to you.

The night you found me in the corridors of Hogwarts after my visit to the Headmaster, I was devastated, crushed by the death of the woman I loved most in the world. Dumbledore had promised to protect her and her family, but as he kept telling me, I did not trust the right person. If it had been you, I know you would have done anything to save them. I know they were your favourite students, as Potter and Granger are today – Potter and Granger, the James and Lily of today. But despite this, you managed to help me get control of my thoughts again, you were there for me in the moments where only darkness could get through to my mind. My soul was as dark as the Darkness in which I was constantly living and the light that was coming from you, even after the death of loved ones, allowed me to look back up and forward.

It is very difficult, now that I am writing this goodbye letter, to think that those will be the last words you will hear from me. I wish it would have been possible for you to keep in your mind the image of me as the weak, lost boy you knew, who was slightly innocent despite his culpability. During all these years, I tried to be the one you loved so much, but I never succeeded. You gave so much to me and I was not able to give back as much to you. It was never easy for me to articulate, or even to show my feelings, but the mentor you have been for me helps me, today, to share with you everything I could never have told you face to face.

Don't blame yourself. You've had many good reasons to doubt me. You have acted like everyone else and I assure you, I would have acted in the same way if it had been the other way around. You are not guilty of your feelings, and if hating me saved you, then so be it. For nothing in the world would I have wanted for something to happen to you. I would never have forgiven myself. You are a good, honourable woman, and you have seen in me all what I was unable to see by myself. I did what I had to to protect myself and to protect you. I killed Albus, I let the Death Eaters in our school and I put all the students' lives in danger. I wished things could have been different, but it was the only way for me to keep looking after Hogwarts. I am so sorry.

Now, I am dead and you cry because you lost the child who considered you his own mother. And I know that if it had been true, I would not have made all thosese wrong choices I made. That's life, and fate does not spare us. I will only ask two or three small things. Take care of my Slytherins. They are not all bad and they will need you to find the right path again. Take care of yourself, too. I know that you will, and that Potter will. I am a Legilimens, and I know he cares about you infinitely. He's a good man, despite his narcissism and his will to control everything, and I know he's partly capable to take care of those he loves, even though he tends to make them take inconsiderable risks.

Finally, I would like to ask you to take care of Miss Granger. I am not insane enough to think she could have any kind of consideration for me, but I know that she always defended me against Potter and Weasley. Even though it was something small, it was already too much. I did not deserve this from her.

Keep coming to the Tower, I will always be near you. My soul is there, as well as all the memories in you. Do not forget them, they are part of me.

Farewell.

Severus Snape.

The letter fell to the ground. Minerva didn't want it to end, and yet, Severus' last words were now over, closed by his own signature. There was nothing but emptiness. And Minerva shed a last tear which fell on the paper lying on the ground; the letter welcoming this salty drop in an eternal thank you.