Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR. This fic is just for fun.
For this chapter--Some angst and violence. DH SPOILERS!
Notes: The first paragraph in italics is JK's work, not mine. Snape's journal entries are also in Italics.
SPECIAL THANKS: Suemonroeff was my amazing beta who really helped me out with this chapter. All praise her!!!!
The Force that Drives
"The alignment of one's mind with one's surroundings has repeatedly been proven to be the basis of all magic. Magic lives not with in the spell, but in the force that drives."-Karanina
There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left, it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as
his knees gave way, and he fell to the floor.
Only then, as blood gushed forth from Snape, did Voldemort pull Nagini back. With one last glance at his fallen Death Eater, Voldemort strode out the door his pet floating close behind.
With the coast clear, Harry emerged from the shadows, barely evading Hermione's panicked attempt to pull him back. He crouched over Snape's convulsing form, unsure of what he felt. God knows he didn't like the man, but something about what had just happened wasn't right.
The moment became even more unsettling when Snape's hand suddenly latched on to his own, the man's ebony eyes gazing at him with desperation, as if trying to communicate without words.
More and more blood oozed from his nemesis, small streams of it creeping out from the corners of his mouth. Harry should have felt fulfilled by this, content that Snape had finally been brought to justice—he felt nothing.
All Harry could see were flashes of Tonks and Lupin lying dead side by side, their boy, Teddy, never to know his parents, never to know the love of a true family because the war had cheated the boy and everyone else. It had ripped
Fred away from the Weasley's, along with the comfort and hope he'd always seemed to emanate. Even Mad-eye, the craftiest and most vigilant wizard Harry'd ever known, had been ravaged by death on the battlefield.
All these thoughts rushed through Harry's mind in the blink of an eye, and a surge of power gathered around him, in him, coursing through his veins. The anger and anguish he felt swelled and the shack trembled in its wake, all the while his soul cried, "No more…"
Hermione gave a small panicked shriek, snapping Harry back to his senses. Behind him there were crashes, and he turned to see debris falling from the ceiling. Had he just preformed magic? Old memories from his childhood began surfacing: Dudley and the snake, blowing up Aunt Marge, they'd all been
instances where he'd done wandless magic, his emotions taking charge of his magical energy.
Then, as if to answer his silent question, Snape's hand twitched in his own. Harry turned so quickly he swayed with dizziness for a moment; sure his eyes were deceiving him. Because what he found could not possibly be true. Severus Snape lay on the dusty floor fully intact and no longer bleeding.
One year later
Taking a drink of tea, he sighed in momentary bliss before hunching over a scaly, black book once more. His eyes devouring the content between its pages, each word making Harry's heart race:
Harry carefully closed the book, swallowing a lump of emotion. Even after nearly a year of reading Snape's journal he still couldn't believe this was the same man he'd thought he knew. The one he'd always seen as a greasy, git of a professor. No, the man who'd written those words was courageous and sorely misunderstood—his woes easily overlooked. By Harry himself in particular.
Who would of thought? Though, honestly, the man wasn't all peaches and creams either. Even on paper, he could still be a snarky bastard.
Stretching his hands over his head, Harry rose from his chair and walked to the kitchen, taking out dish after dish of food. Ron and Hermione were due for dinner any moment, supposedly they had fantastic news. So, with little
effort, Harry set the table and put a heating charm on the grub. When everything looked ready he settled back down in to a chair, Harry's attention once again enticed by the words in the Snape's journal.
A subdued whoosh came from the fireplace behind him, and Hermione came barreling out, a little soot smeared across her face and about a dozen bags in her arms.
Harry threw the journal aside.
"I brought you some more blankets since it seems to be drafty in here, and the most wonderful bread I found at a bakery near by. Oh! And also some more candles, since this place doesn't have electricity and last time I checked
you seemed to be running low on them."
"Hi to you too," Harry said with a grin, making Hermione pause in the middle of unpacking her many purchases. Turning around, her warm, brown eyes absorbed him and Harry immediately realized how much he'd missed her. It had been almost two months since they'd last met, despite having kept in contact by owl.
Walking toward him, she gave Harry a long hug, before saying, "Ron should be along in a minute, he was having trouble at the Ministry. Supposedly, men don't get maternity leave."
"Why would he need...," Harry stopped himself, his eyes widening.
"Yes! I'm pregnant!" Hermione screamed in an absolute fit of joy. "I wanted to wait until Ron got here to tell you, but I couldn't possibly wait. Oh! Harry." She swooped forward for another hug.
Ron arrived at that moment, stopping to take in the scene before him.
"Oy! I come for dinner and find my wife and you nuzzling each other!" Ron said this with a serious look, but Harry caught the biting of his lip.
"Damn! Way to ruin everything Ron, Hermione and I were just about to have a little fun!"
At that comment Hermione swatted Harry's chest with her arm, rolling her eyes.
"Actually, I just told Harry our little secret!"
"Congratulations!" Harry said happily, walking towards Ron, patting him enthusiastically on the back. "I'm sure the little tyke is going to be just like his (or her) parents."
"I'm sure it's going to be a boy," Ron said overconfidently.
"Ronald Weasley! What makes you so sure?" Hermione questioned in obvious annoyance. "It very well could be a girl!"
Ron gulped. "Sorry, sweetie. You're right; it could defiantly be a girl." Yet, when Hermione turned away to place food on their plates Ron quickly mouthed: "Defiantly a Boy".
Later on, after having their fill of food, they all sat on Harry's couch, chit-chatting about this and that until Hermione began squirming in her seat. Fishing underneath herself she pulled out a small black book, Snape's
journal.
Ron immediately cursed upon seeing the book, turning to glare at Harry. "I thought you were going to quit it with this, throw the thing away!"
"I..." That was all he got out before Ron cut across him.
"Don't you see how obsessed you've grown over that journal? Damn it Harry! My own sister, who loved you more than anything, left you because of it."
"She obviously didn't love me that much,' Harry muttered.
With a quick shuffling of steps Ron was leaning over him, eyes ablaze with anger, before punching him smack in the eye.
"Ron!" Hermione yelled.
"No 'mione, he needs to learn and if I have to beat some sense in to him, I will."
"Shut it!" Harry suddenly shouted, holding his bruising face. "It's my choice if I want to keep this book, so quit it!"
"You're ridiculous, ya know that?! Snape's gone, disappeared to Merlin knows where and yet you can't seem to put down his rubbish!" Ron said, holding up his fist again.
"It's not rubbish, it's the truth!" Harry bellowed. "And I've been working on finding him!"
"For what reason?" Hermione pleaded, trying to understand.
Harry took a deep sigh, thinking how he could put in to words what he felt. "Unfinished business, I guess. There are things...I just need to know something. Plus, he killed Dumbledore on his order; it's all in this journal he left me."
"And you believe it," Ron asked.
Harry hesitated and then said firmly, "Yes. Haven't we been through this? What he wrote makes sense!"
Shaking his head angrily Ron managed to get out, "Whatever." Then sighing defeated, he asked, "The wars over mate, isn't it time to move on?"
Harry's hand clenched around the journal.
"I can't. Not until I find Snape."
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