A/N: Companion one-shot to the letter, After All This Time, from Snape to Lily. :)

Dedicated to everyone at Unspoken, check out After All This Time for the more sentimental dedication!

Severus stared out of the window into the dark abyss outside. The war was coming closer; he could sense the ending was near. All the years he had devoted to playing for both sides, and now it was almost over.

He couldn't imagine a life without the Dark Lord's control over him. He would have fulfilled the last of Dumbledore's orders, and then - then there would be nothing left for him, but to... enjoy life, he supposed.

Enjoy life, he sneered. With who? He didn't have any family, or friends - the Dark Lord had ensured that much - and he doubted he would be allowed to live simple in peace as he wished to after the war ended. Either the Ministry would declare him as hero, and no doubt lavish him with worthless, insincere gifts that had no value for him; or he would be labelled as a villain and a criminal - a murderer. Azkaban was sure to be his home in such a case.

Assuming he would be alive, of course. He rather hoped he would be killed. After all, a life without the raging war was sure to be wasted on him.

He stared blankly into the darkness. As always, his thoughts took a turn towards Lily. He shook his head. This obsession was unhealthy.

He growled in frustration. He needed closure, damn it. But how? Lily was long gone, and apologising to Potter on her behalf was out of the question.

He sighed. He might as well do something completely ridiculous in his desperation. He opened the drawer and pulled out a blank piece of parchment and a quill. Smoothing it out in front of himself, he dipped the quill into the deep emerald coloured ink he kept for his correspondences as Headmaster. Casting a quick locking spell on the door, he began writing.

Dear Lily,

It has been so many years, and still my conscience will not relieve me of my guilt. I have tried to repay you in every way that I could to atone for my mistakes, but till today, as I sit here at the Headmaster's desk at Hogwarts, I know that I haven't even come close to repaying my debt to you. I don't think anyone realises how much you did for me - I doubt it that you yourself realise what I owe you.

That was true. Lily had never known how much he had truly appreciated her, how much he had needed her. She had been his hope, even in the darkest of times.

As an eleven year old from a broken home, meeting an equally young girl who was ready to befriend me without judging me harshly was the best thing that ever happened to me. My father hated my mother and I, as you already know, but Lily, I never told you how close he would sometimes come to beating her to death every once in a while. He would beat her within an inch of her life, and if I ever dared protest, I would be on the receiving end of his blows too. I hated him, Lily, and I had no way of escaping him. I had no friends, no family, and no outlet for my anger. He came very close to destroying my magic once, when I was ten. As you know, extreme emotions or pain can hinder one's magical ability. I couldn't do magic for quite some time, and it was only after meeting you and becoming friends with you that my magic reappeared.

You saved me, Lily, he wrote. You saved me from my father, from the Marauders, from power and most of all from myself. Lily, I can never thank you enough, nor can I ever express how deeply I regret my words to you that fateful day.

That day… He gave a bitter laugh. Mudblood. How easy it had been to say it. I never meant to call you a Mudblood, he thought mockingly, mimicking his own pitiful attempt at apologizing to Lily. He shook his head at his own foolhardy and idiotic behaviour. He had been a dunderhead - an even bigger dunderhead than all his students here at Hogwarts combined. He picked up the quill again to continue.

At fifteen, my apology and justification of that foul word simply 'slipping' out seemed perfectly acceptable, and I could not fathom why you flung it back in my face. I understood only after you died, Lily, and it was too late then. The significance of that word, the implications behind it... Lily, I am so sorry. For me, it was only a word, a label, a fact. But it is so much more. It is an attitude, a perception, a belief. You were right – you were always right. I treated all others of your birth with the foulest contempt; there was no valid reason for you to be an exception. Except for me, there was. I was in denial. My perfect best friend, my Lily could never be as lowly as a Mudblood. I was wrong. Muggle-borns are so much more than a deviation. They are truly better than a lot of pure-blood wizards I have had the misfortune of meeting. I'm sorry I was so bigoted and pig-headed, Lily.

He breathed in sharply. It was hard to believe that he had thrown away everything he had with Lily only for a few superficial friends who he had nothing in common with anyway. Lily had been the perfect friend - always supportive, always advising him to make the right decision, always pushing him to be the best that he could be.

And yet, subconsciously, he had believed her to be below him. He had taken advantage of her unrelenting Gryffindor loyalty. He had assumed she would forgive him as always and take him back as her friend. Oh, how wrong he had been. Lily was never one to allow anyone to simply walk over her – there were no exceptions.

He shook his head, smiling slightly, as various instances when Lily had hexed someone for being rude to either of them cropped up in his mind. She had always been most creative with her spells, and even Madame Pomfrey had marvelled at the use Lily put the simplest of spells to.

He brought his attention back to the letter, gazing at the still fairly empty parchment as he reflected over all that he had wanted to say to Lily but had been unable to because of her early death.

I think it's about time I told you the true story of how I joined the Death Eaters. You asked me once when you caught a glimpse of the Dark Mark tattooed onto my arm in seventh year. I didn't give you a straight answer, Lily, but only because you would never have believed me if I told you.

He gazed at the empty portraits of the old Headmasters, most of whom now preferred to stay out of the office more than they liked staying in it. His mind flew back to the day he had taken the final decision to take the Dark Mark.

"Professor, may I have the password to Professor Dumbledore's office, please? I have to discuss something important with him," Severus asked.

Professor McGonagall looked at him in surprise. It was rare that one of the Slytherins should come to her for assistance, as they usually preferred to consult their own Head of House. "Yes, of course, Mr. Snape. The password is Jelly Beans."

"Thank you, Professor," Severus said, nodding politely as he made his way out of the Transfiguration classroom. "Oh, and Professor, would you happen to know where Lily Evans is?" he asked awkwardly.

"I think I heard something about a picnic near the Black Lake," she replied, all the more confused at his out of character behaviour. She hoped that young Snape was planning to apologise for whatever had occurred between the two friends. They hadn't talked since their fifth year, and from what she had heard amongst the students, it had been Snape who had caused the two to fall out.

Severus made his way over to where Lily and her friends were sitting. He could see those dratted Marauders with her. Really, he couldn't understand why Lily insisted on spending so much time with them, and he didn't understand what she saw in Potter. Hadn't she always sworn she wouldn't agree to go out with him, even if it was a choice between him and the Giant Squid? And yet, here she was, playing the role of perfect Potter's beloved girlfriend. He sneered in disgust. He hoped Lily would come to her senses once she heard what he had to say.

He approached them from behind the large tree in whose shadow they were sitting. He could hear gales of laughter, as the Marauders no doubt made fools out of themselves to entertain the girls.

"Sirius, what are you doing?" Lily giggled.

"Jumping into the lake, what else does it look like I'm doing," he heard Black's cocky voice.

"Mate, your pants are filthier than Snivellus'," Potter snickered.

An unbecoming blush crept up his neck as he remembered the incident two years ago. How he hated those two bullying idiots. They thought they were so much better than him. Why? Because they had money and he didn't? Because of his house? No, their rivalry had started much before the Sorting. Because he had Lily's friendship before they did? Well, what use was that? They had her now, and he didn't.

"James, don't," Lily reprimanded, though her stern tone was ruined by the fit of giggles that overcame her.

"Oh come on, Lils. You have to admit, those pants needed washing," Potter said. He could just imagine the arrogant grin on Potter's face.

"Alright, yes," Lily conceded before continuing. But he didn't hear anything else. The world receded around him, and he reeled with shock. Lily had really become one of them!

He glared, angry tears blinding him as he realised that he had truly lost his old friend forever. What was worse, he had no one to blame but himself. No, he corrected himself, it wasn't just his own fault. Potter was at fault too. He had pushed Severus into calling Lily a Mudblood. His lip curled in an ugly sneer. He would get his revenge on Potter, if it was the last thing he did.

He stomped back to the castle, not caring if they saw him and realised that he heard them scorning him. He was enraged beyond belief. He stormed to the Slytherin common room, looking for Avery. He had some signing up to do.

Severus leaned his head on his hands. What a stupid reason that had been to join the Dark Lord. As an immature and rash teenager, Lily's betrayal (which he completely deserved as he realised much later) had been enough to send him straight into the clutches of Lord Voldemort.

"So you'll do it?" Avery asked, smirking.

"Yes," he gritted out.

"Why? You never agreed before. Your stupid Mudblood friend disapproved I suppose," Avery mocked.

"She did," he replied shortly.

"And? I suppose it doesn't matter to you anymore, since you two aren't on speaking terms anymore."

"Avery, shut up. I want to join the Dark Lord. You told me to decide before the twenty first, and I have. Now can I leave?" he finally snapped.

"Go," Avery smirked, having finally broken the other boy's cool facade.

He sighed, pulling out of his memories. He contemplated on removing it from his head and storing it away in a vial. He shook his head, dismissing that idea straight away. There was no point in removing the memory of one of his gravest mistakes, when he had to live with the consequences each day.

He looked back at the parchment, picking up where he had left.

The Dark Lord had decided to begin recruiting from Hogwarts, and Avery, Mulciber and the other purebloods had received letters from their families asking for a compiled list of all those who wished to take the Dark Mark that season. The word had been spread throughout the Slytherins, and many had already agreed and signed up willingly. I was still uncertain. However, Avery made it clear that I did not have much of a choice, and that only disgraceful blood traitors would be too righteous to back out. (To this date, I do not understand why Slytherins are labelled as cowardly. We are selfish and give ourselves priority over others, that much is true - but it takes a great deal of courage to swear fealty to serve the Dark Lord with unfailing loyalty.) I was torn, and after much debate I had decided to turn to Dumbledore to help, as you had advised me when we had talked about this some years prior.

I was going to apologise to you, and inform you of my decision. You were sitting with your friends by the lake. I approached you from behind, and I suppose you didn't notice me coming. Potter and Black were reminiscing about the day in fifth year, mocking the humiliation my forced state of undress had caused me. But that wasn't what troubled me. It was the fact that you were laughing too. I had never felt more betrayed in my life. Embarrassed and blinded by rage, I immediately rushed to Avery and signed up for the initiation ceremony.

Now that I look back on my foolhardy and rash behaviour, I cannot regret it more. No matter how hurt I may have been, I had no reason to sign away the rest of my life for that diabolical fool. The only excuse that I can give for my behaviour is that I was a teenager, and teenagers often do not consider the full consequences of their actions. However, the excuse is not good enough, and I only hope I can redeem myself before the end of this war.

He scratched out the words 'the diabolical fool', replacing them with 'the Dark Lord'. Merlin forbid, if someone was to come across this written piece of evidence about where his loyalties truly lay.

Now, to the most difficult of confessions he had to make to Lily - his involvement in her death.

He pinched the bridge of his nose sharply, trying to stop the tears that threatened to overflow. It was surprising that even after all this time, thinking about this particular event in his life always threatened to send him reeling with emotions.

He steeled himself to resume his writing.

However, the story of how I joined the Death Eaters is not the most important thing that I wanted to get off my chest. My darkest confession is of the hand I had in your death.

I have thought about this long and hard, and the one conclusion I reached repetitively is that although you may have died at the end of the Dark Lord's wand, it was I who actually killed you. It was me - me, me, me.

He sighed in resignation.

As a young man who had just joined the Dark Lord's ranks, it was my utmost duty to prove my unquestionable loyalty and devotion to him. I already had a track record of having been best friends with a Muggle-born, and I had grown up amidst Muggle society. My half-blood status only sealed the deal, and I had started off on the completely wrong foot as a Death Eater. Thus, when I overheard fragments of Dumbledore's conversation with Sybil Trelawney, I hastened to report to my Lord.

At the time, I did not know it would be you. Had I any idea - any hint at all! - that the prophecy referred to your child, I would never have even considered relaying the proceedings to him. Some may call it selfish; that my conscience should only appear for you. But no matter how much I have changed, or how willing I may be to change, I cannot alter my basic nature. I am a Slytherin. We protect ourselves and our loved ones. We are not cowards; rather we simply choose to use our courage for the benefit of a selective group of people. I cannot bear to think of how different life would have been, how much better everything could be today, if I hadn't made that single error of conveying the prophecy to the Dark Lord.

Even after finding out it was you the Dark Lord had chosen, I did my best to convince him to choose the other boy, Longbottom. When nothing worked, I begged him to spare you. Yet again, my own selfishness disgusts me. I cannot imagine how I ever thought you would be happy living a life without Potter and your son. Till then, I was desperate to convince myself that if Potter were somehow obliterated from your life, you would forgive me and come back running to me. The Dark Lord's plan seemed perfect. I would kill two birds with one spell. Not only would Potter be dead, but all reminders of your life with him would be eradicated too. I cannot be more ashamed than I am right now - for wishing death on an innocent child, simply to have your approval once more. I did not understand that the problem lay with me - it has always lain with me. I was a fool.

I still am

His mind flew back to the day he had unknowingly made Lily's death inevitable.

Severus sat in a corner of the Hogshead, sipping his Firewhiskey slowly, lost in his thoughts. The Dark Lord had been extremely unpleased with him, as of late. Try as he might, Severus simply could not perfect the Cruciatus Curse. His curse was always too weak, too short or too kind. It was never merciless enough.

The door to the bar opened, an icy gust of wind shook him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see who had disrupted the somewhat warmer environment of the interior as compared to the outside temperature.

Dumbledore.

The Dark Lord's most hated enemy.

Severus' eyes lit up as he thought of the glory it would bring him, if he were able to report back something of use to his Lord. The reward would be ten times more fruitful if the information was about Albus Dumbledore.

Stealthily, Severus got up from his corner, and silently made his way up to the stairs Dumbledore had just taken. He was presumably here for a meeting, Snape mused, or perhaps a clandestine affair, he thought with a chuckle to himself.

He followed Dumbledore's receding shadow, and noting the room Dumbledore had entered, he popped into the toilet that was located nearby. Dumbledore would no doubt become suspicious if Severus was seen to follow his footsteps so closely. After waiting for a few moments, he made his way outside the room.

"...great-great-granddaughter of... famous seer... job interview at Hogwarts for the Professor for Divination..."

Although he had only caught fragments of the woman's introduction, he was sorely disappointed. It seemed that the meeting was nothing of importance after all. The Dark Lord may have been interested in finding out about the new Professor for any useful subject, but Divination... It was the woolliest and most unreliable out of all the branches of magic.

Severus sneered as he continued listening to the job interview, clinging to the small thread of hope that something of importance would occur soon. The woman called herself a Seer, and yet she couldn't even predict that Dumbledore was sure to reject her for the post. He moved a step closer so that he could hear her better. Although the eavesdropping no longer had anything to do with his services for the Dark Lord, the amusement he was gaining from this was far too much to be missed out.

"My apologies, Ms. Trelawney," he heard Dumbledore say. He grinned manically. Now was surely the point when she would be sent home in tears. "Although I greatly respected your great-great-grandmother, I do not think I will be able to hire you on the basis of your relative's repute. I am deeply sorry."

Severus was about to take a step back as he heard chairs scraping, when the woman's - Ms. Trelawney - voice took a harsh, hoarse tone; one that chilled him to the core.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..."

"Just what do you think you're doing?" a gruff voice demanded, pulling him away from the door by his collar.

"No-nothing," he stuttered.

"Get out," the barman said in disgust. "We don't serve filthy eavesdroppers here."

Moments later, Severus Snape found himself standing outside in the cold, wet night.

He stood there for some time, mulling over what he had just overheard. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that the fraud could not possibly have prophesied something true, deep down he knew he was wrong.

That was not pretence, he thought, recalling the words that he had heard.

That was real.

He shuddered. What was to become of him if the Dark Lord was defeated? He had no family, no friends outside the Death Eaters. Lily had joined the Order of the Phoenix, and would no doubt be on the 'winning side'.

One thing was for sure - he would have to warn the Dark Lord. A surge of pride rushed through him, as he thought of the Dark Lord's reaction. He would no doubt be exceedingly pleased with Severus for relaying such an important piece of information, which could easily tip the scales of the war.

He turned on his heel and Apparated to Headquarters, a smug expression on his face.

Severus shook his head. How naïve his younger self had been. Had he really thought the Dark Lord would be please at hearing news of prophesied defeat? No. Instead, the Dark Lord had vented out his anger at the situation on the bearer of the message - Severus.

He had undergone countless hours of torture. He could barely remember it now, except as a vague haze of excruciating pain.

However, if that had been pain, nothing could compare to what he had felt when he had seen Lily's dead body.

Severus stood silently, staring at the cottage that had been Lily's home till only a few hours ago. His heart refused to believe that she was dead, and he hoped against hope, that any time now, their wards would go off and Potter would run out as the valiant hero he had always wanted to be, ready to protect Lily and their son.

Son.

How he hated the very idea of that boy, even though he had never met him. That boy made it impossible for Severus to deny the love between Potter and Lily - his Lily. He had seen her first. It wasn't fair.

He took a deep breath, Dumbledore's letter echoing in his mind.

Lily and James are dead. Harry, however, survives.

Dead. The very word was chilling and had such a sense of finality to it. Although he resented the bluntness of Dumbledore's words, he was simultaneously glad that the old man hadn't inserted useless words that would have done nothing to change the icy reality.

I'm sure you know what must be done. No, Severus wanted to scream. I don't know what must be done. I am not a good person. Don't expect me to do the right thing!

But unfortunately - or fortunately - the old codger saw the good in everyone - even Severus, who had given up on himself. There was no way out once fealty had been sworn to the Dark Lord. No matter how much Dumbledore naively tried to believe otherwise.

Protect the boy. Don't let her have died in vain.

Severus gave a bitter kick to the ground. Severus didn't protect anyone. But even as he thought this, he knew in his heart of hearts, that when it came to Lily… he would always make an exception.

Steeling his nerves, Severus tentatively stepped onto the pathway leading to the house. He held his breath, waiting for some sign that the Potters were not dead, and that it had all been a misunderstanding. That perhaps, just perhaps, Dumbledore had been pulling a trick on him.

He drew in a sharp breath when he finally accepted that nothing had happened, and that nothing was going to happen. He couldn't handle it anymore.

Losing all composure and dignity, he ran inside the house. He had to see her one last time.

He stepped over Potter's body, the blank stare of the always mischievous eyes unsettling him. He checked room after room, looking for Lily's body.

And finally, when he was about to enter what he assumed was the nursery, he knew this was it. He stopped short for a moment, but then gathering the little amount of Slytherin courage that he had, he stepped in.

Tears dripped onto the parchment, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, till he could control himself no longer. Harsh sobs racked through his body, as the memory of finding Lily dead replayed behind his eyes - over and over again. If she had been beautiful in life, she was equally stunning in death. The already pale skin had been paler, her eyes and hair contrasting sharply with it. Her eyes had been as green as they were the last time he had looked into them, yet their characteristic twinkle had been horrifically absent. The image of those lifeless orbs would never leave him.

Through his blinding tears, he continued the letter - revealing thought after thought, all his emotions and tears pouring down onto the parchment.

I cannot even begin to explain what I felt when I heard that you had been killed. Shock and horror, were probably the dominating two. I remained disbelieving of the news till I had visited your old home in Godric's Hollow myself. Seeing your dead body... It shook me beyond belief.

I regretted not having taken the chance of making amendments with you when I had the opportunity, for being a coward who could not admit that I was wrong. But more than anything, I regretted being the bearer of the information that had led to your death.

Lily, I'm sorry.

I have done everything in my power to atone for my sins - all of which coincidentally orbit around you - but I fear, it will never be enough...

That was true, Snape thought grimly, roughly wiping away his tears. No matter how much he risked for Harry Potter, even if he died, it would never be enough.

Harry Potter...

If Severus was honest with himself, he wasn't even sure if the boy had even the most minuscule of chances at killing the Dark Lord. He had potential, but no proper training. Dumbledore's classes had ended too soon, and the boy had foolishly decided to run away after that.

He should have kept contact with the Order members. They would have helped him develop his skills, so that the Light could have some chance at winning.

Gryffindors, Severus sneered. They were so foolhardy and rash.

He dipped his quill in the ink pot, turning back to his letter.

Your son... I hated him, and the very idea of him. But I soon realised he was the only hope I had to make up for my mistakes. I would only be able to find closure and forgiveness for myself through him.

For ten years, I would sit apprehensively through each Sorting Ceremony, dreading the day when Harry Potter would enter the halls of Hogwarts, and the day when I would have to begin fulfilling my debts to you. You died for him, and as I had been your indirect killer, I felt it was my duty to continue your efforts to keep him alive. I could not let your sacrifice crumble futilely. And finally, the day did come, when Harry Potter came to Hogwarts.

I have never experienced such contrasting emotions. He was the spitting image of his father, and I could not even comprehend the idea of extending an olive branch to Potter's lookalike. On the other hand, I could not deny he had his mother's eyes, and that beneath the typical Potter exterior, he was far more like you than his father. Images of your dead body haunted me for weeks. The bittersweet memories I had of you alive were ruined by seeing your eyes sparkling with life again - only on Potter's face. Although I did more to protect the boy than I have ever done for anyone else, I am still at conflict in regard to his very existence. But perhaps had he not been here this day, I might never have forgiven myself the small amount that I have by risking my life for him, over and over again. Although he has your intuition and magical prowess, he is as reckless as his father. I can only hope he has been working on curing the Gryffindor trait to make rash decisions that he has no doubted not only picked up from his peers, but also inherited from his father.

Severus let out a derisive snort. After everything that so many had done to protect the boy, it wouldn't surprise him if the boy ended up dead because of some rash decision.

Pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment, he resumed writing.

For the past sixteen years, I have lived with my guilt and my conscience. Many times I considered giving up - exposing myself to the Dark Lord and perhaps being tortured to death. The pain would certainly be well-deserved. But amidst the horror inducing nightmares and the cynical thoughts, you remained my sole hope, Lily. Were it not for the sense of purpose you had given my life, I might have been in the pits of hell this very moment. You saved me from myself, Lily.

Potter's love for you and the way he gallantly jumped wandless in front of the Dark Lord to buy you a few more minutes, is known to every man, woman and child in our society. But nobody knows of the love I hold for you. Potter may have changed for you, Lily, but I changed too. And not just the way he did - altering a few habits here and there to grow up as everyone must - but you changed my very identity. They say extreme emotions can change one's Patronus, but it is more than just that. A Patronus is not only a guardian against Dementors for its caster, but it represents their innermost characteristics. It is exposure of one's bare soul. I am no longer who I was before I knew you, Lily, nor can I ever become that person again. Sometimes I resent the hold you have over me, but who would I be without the love I have over you? It is what defines me; it is what is expressed in my Patronus.

Perhaps there was no end to a love like the one he had for Lily - one that extended beyond friends and lovers, to something more if that was possible; one that was capable to changing his very identity and thereby, his Patronus. Pensively, he pulled out his wand and cast the Patronus charm. The familiar silver doe galloped around the circular office. He smiled fondly at it. Sometimes he felt it was the only reminder he had left of Lily. Pulling out the letter he had found in Black's bedroom, he stared longingly at the closing line.

Love, Lily.

He closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. He could feel the comforting presence of the doe near him. It was the only constant in his life. The spell wore off and it vanished. Opening his eyes, he added the finishing lines to his letter.

I do not wish to play with words and cover up my true motives with this letter, Lily. I simply want closure, and your forgiveness.

I'm sorry.

Always,

Severus.

Signing with a flourish, he felt a pang of regret that Lily would never be able to read this. He wished he had written such a letter to her while she was still alive.

But that time was gone. And there was nothing that he could do to bring it back; nothing he could do to change the choices that he had made.

He stared contemplatively at all that he had written. It was odd how the most absurd of actions sometimes helped ease the human conscience.

A letter to the dead... He snorted to himself. The foolishness of his actions was fast beginning to catch up with him, and he began laughing slightly till he could no longer control himself. Slowly, the laughter turned to sobs. His whole body shook as he gave in to his grief.

He did not know when he had fallen asleep, or how the door to his office had mysteriously unlocked itself during the night; but the next morning he was woken up by a highly irritated Minerva McGonagall.

"Headmaster," she said, her disapproval crystal clear. "You missed the staff meeting you called this morning."

He glared at her, only to be met by a slight twitching of her lips. "It was unintentional, I assure you, Professor," he said stiffly.

She nodded imperiously. "You have ink on your face."

He rubbed furiously at his cheeks, before the letter he had written last night caught his eye. He hurriedly balled it up and threw into the fireplace.

"Incendio," he murmured.

It was essential that the letter remain forgotten.

"Leave," he commanded.

Once Minerva had left his office - huffing indignantly about traitors and slimy snakes - he quickly pulled out his Pensieve. Strand after strand, he removed the memory from his mind. It would not do for the Dark Lord to find it when he performed his regular Legilimency sessions.

Perhaps it would be found after his death and the Ministry would realise that all his actions had been for the Light. Rather, all his actions had been for Lily, he corrected as he left the office.

It was strange, how out of character love could make one act.

Harry pulled out of the Pensieve, thoroughly shaken by what he had seen. He had known Snape loved his mother very much, but now he realised the meagre extent to which he had understood that love.

Professor Snape' entire life had seemed to revolve around his mother. He had been a lonely little boy in search of friends when they had first met, desperate to fit in with the group. More than anything, peer pressure was probably to blame for the rift that had come between them. And although Snape had been at fault, he had eventually realised his mistakes and done everything that a man possibly could to atone for them.

How difficult it must have been to live with that sort of guilt and negativity festering inside him... Doing everything you possibly could - but to no avail...

Harry gazed in wonder at Professor Snape's empty portrait.

Severus Snape was by far the bravest man he had ever known.

Did you like it? :D Let me know!

See you all in June,

Love,

-Sana