Here it is. The long-awaited conversation...

THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

"HAGGER!"

At the thunderous yell Harry turned around and saw Hagrid enter the Great Hall, waving happily at his half-brother; Snape was nowhere to be seen yet. Everybody turned around and gazed at the half-giant expectantly.

"There were no spiders," Hagrid told everyone loudly, his shoulders sagging in visible disappointment. "So Professor Snape burned the corpse. 'S gone. The snake too, we took it and burn' 'em both."

There were approving murmurs all around the tables.

"So, anythin' left fer me ter eat?" the half-giant asked more lively and clasped his hands together with a loud clap. People turned around, focusing their attention back on each other and on the food in front of them. Harry, though, kept his gaze, waiting for Snape to arrive. Sure enough the tall man appeared at the entrance to the Great Hall, unsure whether he should enter and join the festivities or not. He decided not to and turned around.

Harry felt strangely sorry for the dark man, so he stood up and hurried to catch up with him, not really knowing why he was doing it. Some people turned their heads to see where he was going, but they didn't try to stop him.

"Professor Snape," Harry called after him. The man turned around, an unreadable expression on his face. When he got closer Harry realized that he didn't really know what to say.

"Er..." he said awkwardly, his fingernails digging nervously into his palms. Snape didn't say anything; he simply waited for Harry to speak.

"We need to talk, Sir," Harry said finally. He would figure out eventually what exactly he wanted to say to the man. The only thing he knew was that he needed to talk about what had happened, and what to do next. It felt like the right thing to do. All the twists and turns, painful losses, unexpected outcomes, and finally his archenemy's demise, have left him exhausted, but also restless. There were things left to do, and he needed closure before he could move on.

Snape nodded. "The headmaster's office," he said stiffly and turned towards the marble staircase.

"Sir, I would like Ron and Hermione to be there, too," Harry called after him, deciding that his two best friends, who have endured so much with him, deserved to be included into this final act, too. Besides, he still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of talking to Snape all alone, face to face, despite of what he had learned of him – or perhaps precisely because of it.

Snape turned his head and nodded in acknowledgement, but he didn't stop to wait for them.

Harry re-entered the Great Hall to find his friends. They had some troubles getting out; people kept shouting over the noise, asking them where they were going. Eventually they managed to disentangle themselves from the crowd and head to the office.

"So, what's up, Harry?" Ron asked as they finally got out and started to climb the marble staircase.

"We need to talk," said Harry simply.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You said that already. What about?"

Harry shrugged. "Everything, I guess. The Horcruxes, how I survived, the Deathly Hallows. Since Snape has the Elder Wand now, we need to talk to him and to Dumbledore's portrait about what to do next," he said.

Ron paled. "We're going to talk to Snape? Is he... waiting for us?"

"Ron, he's on our side, he's always been," said Hermione reproachfully.

"Yeah, but-"

"But what?" Harry asked. Ron didn't respond. "What?" Harry pressed on.

"Didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"About Snape."

Harry frowned. "Hear what about Snape?"

"What people were saying about him, after he left with Hagrid..." said Ron, avoiding a direct answer again.

Harry stopped in the middle of a staircase. He didn't remember hearing anything particularly strange being said about Snape. "What were they saying?" he asked, an unpleasant taste rising from his stomach.

"Well, some are saying that he's even worse than Voldemort," Ron told him.

"That's a load of rubbish!" Harry protested. He couldn't believe people would doubt Snape just minutes after he'd saved them all from Voldemort.

"Well, can you blame them? You saw how he finished him off," Ron said apologetically. "And some were really terrified by the fact that he survived the Killing Curse, saying that he must know some really Dark stuff-"

"He survived because I was willing to die to stop Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "Just like I survived because my mother died for me! He didn't survive because of some Dark Magic, he's nothing like Voldemort, he wouldn't do what he did!"

"We know, Harry," said Hermione reassuringly.

"No, we don't know," Ron objected.

"Ron-"

"What? I'm just saying, we don't know Snape at all, if he managed to fool You-Know-Who-"

"Voldemort's dead, you can say his name now!" Harry cut it angrily.

"Sorry. Old habits die hard," Ron murmured and looked at his feet.

They remained unpleasantly silent until they reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office, the word 'die' accompanying them the whole time. The faces of the people they've lost were still freshly carved into their minds.

When they stopped beside the hidden entrance Harry turned around to face his friends.

"Listen, I've seen Snape's memories," he told Ron and Hermione "He's practically shown me his whole life to convince me that he was on our side all along. I've seen my mother in his memories," he said awkwardly. Ron and Hermione lifted their heads in interest.

"Are you sure the memories were real? It's just – well, it's Snape, mate..." said Ron.

"I'm positive. The memories were definitely real. And I've seen his Patronus; we both did actually, don't you remember?"

"Where? When?" Ron asked in confusion.

"When we got the sword. The doe was Snape's Patronus," Harry reminded Ron.

"Yeah, Harry, and it almost got you killed! If it weren't for me-"

"Look, I really don't want to argue about this right now," Harry raised his voice. "I trust Snape, alright? I trust him like I trusted Dumbledore. He wouldn't turn Dark."

"Harry, he kind of is Dark already," said Hermione quietly.

"You can't possibly believe-"

"I don't," Hermione said firmly. "But you have to admit it; he'd always shown an affinity for the Dark Arts. He's the Half-Blood Prince, remember?"

Harry's eyes suddenly widened. "His book! I hid it in the Room of Requirement, and now it's gone!"

"Perhaps that's a good thing," said Hermione gently. "And maybe we shouldn't mention it further; it might get him into trouble."

"Why?"

"Imagine what could happen if that book came into the wrong hands."

"It's not that dangerous, I've read the whole thing!" Harry said dismissively. "What could possibly happen if someone found it?"

"It could've been used as a proof of his affinity for the Dark Arts," Hermione told him seriously.

"You don't think he'd be treated as a criminal, do you? He's the bloody hero, Hermione! He was the one who finished off Voldemort in grand style!"

"I don't know, Harry," she said gravely. "People might be simply scared of him and his powers. And we all know that fear can make people do completely irrational things."

Harry sighed tiredly and took off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"There's no need to worry over something that might never happen, right?" he said and smiled hopefully.

"I'm sure it won't come to it. Like you said, he's the hero now," said Hermione and smiled back.

"Well, hero or not, I still don't like him much," grumbled Ron. "So let's just do this quickly," he said and turned to the gargoyle.

"Do you know the-"

"Dumbledore," said Harry and the gargoyle stepped aside.

"That was his password?" Ron murmured in surprise.

The moving staircase quickly delivered them to the familiar office. The door was slightly open, and when they pushed it aside, they saw Snape seated behind the large desk with the Pensieve in front of him. It had just been emptied, the memories he'd extracted for Harry to see placed back where they belonged.

Three chairs were already waiting for them in front of the familiar broad desk. All the portraits were now occupied, and each painted eye was looking at them in apprehension. They sat down quietly whilst Snape pushed the Pensieve aside.

They stared at each other in awkward silence until Snape spoke up.

"I was under the impression that you needed to speak with me, Mr Potter."

"Er – yes," Harry said awkwardly. "I don't know where to start," he added and sighed. "It's been an eventful night."

"That is an understatement."

"Quite." Harry smirked.

"Perhaps you could start with explaining how you survived the Killing Curse again, and why you thought it wise to pretend you'd died." Snape's face was unreadable when Harry looked at him, but it sounded like an accusation.

"What else was I supposed to do? If Voldemort tried to kill me again, he would have succeeded. I needed to let him think he had beaten me. The element of surprise, remember?" he said defensively. "It was difficult for me, too. All that time I wanted to jump up and shout that I was alright," said Harry quietly. "I'm sorry I made you all think I was dead. I realize I hurt a lot of people, but it was the only way," he said sincerely, glancing at his two faithful friends.

"Why did you go looking for Voldemort without telling us in the first place?" asked Ron, sounding slightly hurt.

Harry found it difficult to respond. Bu he took a deep breath and told his friends everything, starting from when he left them in the Great Hall after Voldemort's ultimatum, and how he encountered Snape in the Headmaster's office, and finally how he survived. He carefully avoided mentioning that he'd met his parents, Sirius and Lupin, and lastly Dumbledore. He felt it unwise to announce that he'd seen and talked to dead people; after all, that wasn't exactly a common occurrence.

"I was given a choice to either... go on, or return," was all Harry told them, and he could have sworn then that for a moment he saw a strange mixture of shock and realization in Snape's eyes, but he couldn't quite place it. "I was still tied to life because Voldemort used my blood to create himself a new body, thinking it would make him stronger, but he only preserved my mother's protection. I told him that he was wrong; you all heard it in the Great Hall."

"Yes, you told us all quite a few things then. Some things, even, that weren't yours to tell." Snape's voice carried a sharp edge now. Harry opened his mouth and closed them again.

"I was just – you gave me the memories yourself," he said in defence.

"When I gave you permission to see it, I thought you'd take it all to your grave!" Snape hissed dangerously through clenched teeth.

"Hey! You better not be saying you'd prefer to see Harry dead!" Ron yelled threateningly.

"Despite what you think of me, Mr Weasley, I don't particularly like seeing people getting killed."

"You seemed to enjoy killing You-Know-Who!"

"That I did. But he hardly fitted into the 'people' category," Snape growled.

"Fine. Point taken," Ron said and crossed his long arms in front of him.

"I don't see what the problem is," said Harry heatedly. "You should be satisfied that Voldemort died knowing the whole truth. Why are you still so secretive about it anyway?"

"It is a personal matter, Potter!" Snape spat, and his face became an ugly grimace. "You had no right to-"

"There are more important things in this world than your personal matters! We've just won the war! You killed Voldemort! People have died, children have lost their parents and parents have lost their children-"

"I realize that, but still, it should be me and my decision! You had no right to expose my secrets in front of everyone!"

Harry suddenly lost his nerve and jumped to his feet. "Is that all she is to you? A dirty little secret you're ashamed of?"

"How dare you!" Snape hissed, his hand twitching over the Elder Wand, but he didn't pick it up and he remained seated.

"No, how dare you!" Harry yelled back. "How dare you be afraid of being laughed at because you loved her? After all you've done? I thought you were braver than that," he said sharply.

"I couldn't care less what people think of me because of it!"

"Then I don't see what the problem is!" Harry yelled.

Snape held his lips tightly pressed together, and for first time he didn't have anything to retort. Or perhaps he simply decided not to say anything; Harry couldn't really tell, it was difficult to decipher what was on Snape's mind at the best of times.

The dark man didn't look at any of them either. He stubbornly stared at the Pensieve and said nothing, and Harry noticed that his hands were trembling slightly.

Harry sat back in his chair, his anger slowly cooling down. Hermione and Ron glanced at him sideways, but they didn't dare to utter a single word.

"I have a request," said Harry stiffly to break the unpleasant silence and change the topic. He pulled his moleskin pouch off his neck. It was an idea that suddenly came to his mind, and he grabbed it as a way out of the awkward and unpleasant situation. He turned the pouch around and dropped the content on the desk; his broken holy wand, the golden Snitch, half of a picture and half of his mother's letter. Snape stared at it, a deep frown still etched on his face. He pulled something out of his own pockets.

Harry gasped silently as Snape placed the missing half of the picture with Lily's smiling face next to Harry and James' half.

"You can have it – I have a whole album," Harry said hurriedly, because that wasn't what he was after.

"No," Snape said softly. "She belongs with you." He touched the two pieces with the tip of the Elder Wand and repaired it. "I have enough memories," he added quietly, pushed the photo away and stared absentmindedly into the empty basin of the Pensieve, his face unreadable.

The unspoken hung in the air thickly. Harry had no memories of his mother, aside from the piercing scream and the green flash of light.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly and took the picture of his family gently in his hands. "But I've been meaning to ask you something else," he said softly. "Could you... try fixing my wand?"

Snape's look slid over the broken piece of wood. "It's impossible to repair broken wands," he said dismissively.

"I know, but with the Elder Wand... You could at least try," he said hopefully. "I don't have a wand anymore. I gave Draco's wand to his mother, and then I found Neville's wand, after Voldemort disarmed him and threw it away. I returned it to him in the Great Hall," he explained. "So now the only wand I've got is this one."

Snape stared at it and nodded slowly. He took the two pieces of Harry's wand carefully in his hands, placing them in a perfect position on the desk in front of him. He touched the broken wand with the tip of the Elder Wand and whispered, "Reparo."

Harry's wand miraculously resealed, and red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that Snape had succeeded.

"It worked!" Ron remarked in disbelief, gazing at the Elder Wand with admiration.

"Obviously," said Snape, but there was a trace of awe in his voice, too.

Harry picked up his holly and phoenix wand with a big smile, feeling the familiar warmth in his fingers, as though his hand was rejoicing at the touch of its long lost half that had been revived from the dead.

Revived from the dead... That reminded him... The Resurrection Stone.

Harry stared distractedly at his moleskin pouch. It was supposed to be inside; he distinctly remembered placing it into the pouch together with his broken wand after he'd shown it to Voldemort, moments before he thought he'd die.

He turned the pouch inside out, and something small and black clinkered over the desk.

Or dear, do we see trouble ahead again? ;)