Chapter 20: In Which Snape's Past and Future Collide

Snape continued to stroll about, looking at the gardens and wondering if they were always this green. He walked over to what had once been a lone mausoleum, but was now a small graveyard. Professor Sprout was buried here along with several of the students who had died defending the school. He rested a hand on Dumbledore's grave.

He spoke with a low voice, more tired than angry. "You used me and my love. You should have let me die with her. If you had stayed out of it, I would have lain down and followed her. But I kept going, because, as you said, we needed to protect her beloved son. I had never felt as betrayed as I did that day you told me we weren't actually trying to save Harry. I hated you for that. You killed me that day, or worse, killed my hope. You could have at least told me that you didn't expect him to stay dead. But no, that would have required telling more than the absolute minimum amount of information necessary to get the job done.

"It's been almost eight years since I killed you. Almost nine since you left me a walking corpse. Those were the worst years of my life. The worst of many people's lives. But unlike most of the rest, I can blame my misery almost entirely on you." He paused for a few moments, images of his last two years at Hogwarts flashing through his mind. "But it's starting to fade. I've been thinking about forgiveness this last year or so, and thinking about moving on this last week, and I think it's time I make my peace with you."

He sat quietly next to the stone and wondered what the Old Bat would have to say to him. He'd offer me a fucking lemon drop and say something about how proud he'd be.

"Severus." He jerked upright when he heard her voice. Lovely, a furious Minerva just to make everything that much better. He looked her in the eye as she came closer. She doesn't think I should be here, let alone be allowed to touch this stone.

"Minerva."

"May I have a moment of your time?"

"Certainly." The formal politeness was icy as Norway in December and sharp as a dragon's tooth. He followed McGonagall to her office. Her body language was stiff and prickly, much like the thistle that graced the band of her hat. His body language began to change also, the relaxed calm from Hermione's class and his time with Dumbledore switched into a defensive posture.

Once inside her office, he noticed something was missing, specifically, the portrait of him. Where his portrait should have been was a seascape.

"I was under the impression that all of the former Headmaster's portraits hung in this office."

He looked into her eyes as she answered, "That is correct, but I'm sure you can deduct what all of the other Headmasters have in common that you do not." He nodded; yes, all of the others were dead. "In that you are still alive, it did not seem fitting to hang an image of you in what is effectively a graveyard."

"Minerva, you must remember, I can tell when you lie to me."

She looked flushed for a moment. "As you know it is policy to not allow visitors to roam about the school unaccompanied..."

"As I also know, that is not the reason you wished to see me. So many years later, and yet you are still angry at me for not telling you. Still angry at the Order for not trusting you with any of the important information. Still angry that Dumbledore did not think you were good enough to be involved in the biggest event of the last twenty years."

She was holding her temper through immense force of will. He could see that if he kept going she would hex him. He decided to change track. "We all took our orders from Dumbledore. It is not my fault that Dumbledore was not the man you wanted him to be, and it is not my fault that he did not think as highly of you as you would have wished. But it is my fault that I did not tell you what was going on when I was the Headmaster, but my reason should be obvious. Had you known, and had you been interrogated, it would have been the end of everything. Any chance we had of winning depended on me."

She glared at him. "You let Professor Burbage die."

"Yes, I did! I sat and watched her tortured and killed, I ignored her pleas for help, and I would not change a moment of it." Though that was not entirely true, he would have very happily not been involved in the whole thing. But he had been, and he was sure he had made the right choice. "If memory serves you are a fan of the game of chess, so I will put this in chess terms. I was the only piece on the board that could not be replaced. Even Harry was not irreplaceable. As you saw, Neville dispatched the last Horcrux. As the only piece that could not be replaced, I was the piece most in need of protection. I was so well protected that Dumbledore told no one, not Harry, not you, not Moody, of my real purpose. Dumbledore had me kill him to make sure everyone in the Order was convinced of my loyalty to the Death Eaters. In effect, my position was that of King. Harry, the most important of the active pieces, was the Queen. Dumbledore was the man playing the game. I'm sorry you were a pawn, but it was neither my fault nor my decision.

"If I had tried to save Professor Burbage because, as I'm sure you know, I could not have actually saved her; I would have been tortured for hours and then killed, probably in an extremely messy and painful way. And then, Voldemort would have won. I would not have been able to take over Hogwarts. Amycus would have done that. Do I need to remind you of his gentle teaching methods? Do I need to point out how many students would have been outright killed if he had been named Headmaster? And, had I been dead, Harry would not have gotten the sword or the information he needed. He'd be dead by now, or still floundering about looking for the Horcruxes, trying to find a way to destroy them.

"If it is any consolation, I do not think the Order or Hogwarts was harmed by your lack of information. Other than satisfying your curiosity, I do not see what you could have improved by knowing about my real allegiances."

She scowled at him, but held her tongue.

"Is that all you wished to see me about?"

"As if you need to ask."

"You are correct, I do not need to ask, but it is polite."

"You may go Severus. Please do not disturb the students by wandering about too freely. Some of them will still try to hex you, and that would be unfortunate."

"For them, not me." The day a student got off a successful hex against him was the day they needed to put him on his funeral pyre, breathing or not.

He walked out of her office and headed to Hermione's. He could feel a headache beginning and the feeling of peace at Dumbledore's grave had gone sour. Class was in session, so the halls were deserted. Or at least as close as they ever came in Hogwarts. The portraits stared at him, some whispering to each other as he passed.

"Snotty, snively, Snapey, snotty, sniv…"

This encounter he had prepared for. He began casting before he had fully turned. Snape walked over to Peeves, now hanging suspended, immobile, and silent.

"If we ever meet again, you are to silently turn and go the other way. Otherwise I will let the entire school know how to cast this charm. It will wear off in about two hours. Use that time to think on what you will do when next we meet." He turned, robes flaring, and stormed towards Hermione's office.

What was I thinking coming back here? I'm as welcome here as Dragon Pox. No, I'm less welcome here than Dragon Pox, most of the students would welcome the respite from classes. If I marry Hermione, they'll expect me to show up at social functions. The Graduation Ball, the Pre-Year Feast, and who knows what other ones they have now. Probably some sort of Yule thing. They'll start to expect me to show up for Battle of Hogwarts Day, and all the crap that goes along with it. The Ministry will probably want to make a big deal out of the wedding. Heroes United, or some shit. He remembered the fanfare when Harry and Ginny had married. The Ministry had made sure the Prophet had run articles about both of them, their heroism, how they had hunted the Horcruxes together, and the huge number of awards they had both received. For something like a week he had taken one look at the front page, saw their smiling faces, and promptly tossed the damn thing out. Hell, we'd be an even bigger spectacle. "The Man who Voldemort Trusted and Harry Potter's Best Friend: Love at Last!" writes Rita Skeeter. God, just kill me now!

He had reached Hermione's office, and saw he had ten minutes before she would be back. The door was slightly ajar, so he decided to wait inside. Her office was quite a bit like her home, clean lines, muted colours, fewer books than he had expected. There were pictures on her desk, a Muggle one of her with two older adults, probably her parents. A magical picture of her hugging Ron and Harry, they were all dressed up, and looked happy, obviously from sometime before they left for the Horcrux hunt, sat next to the shot with her parents. He picked up the one on the other side of her desk. She was surrounded by a sea of Weasleys. There must be thirty of them! If I marry her, I'll have bound myself to them as well. He tried to imagine himself at a Weasley family gathering. Baby Weasleys recoiled in fear while the adults scowled at him and gave Hermione a cold shoulder for bringing him along. Fucking excellent!

He looked at the picture of her parents. They'll take one look at me, decide Hermione can do better, and forbid the match.

"I see you found my family." Hermione walked in. "That was taken two years ago. Percy has another wife. Charlie got married about six months after that shot was taken. George and Angelina married Deidre last year, and there are three more babies now."

"We can't do this. You're lovely, and I've been having a great time with you. But I can't…"

"Lay down." Snape blinked hard. Hermione was in a surprisingly good mood for someone who was being broken up with.

"Lay down?"

"Yes, on the floor. Wandless magic lesson number one."

"Did you not hear what I said?"

"Yes, I heard it. Lay down." Hermione closed the door to her office.

"It's not just…"

"Shhh… Lay down."

He felt silly settling himself on the rug in front of her sofa.

"Scoot down a bit so I can sit at your head." He obeyed while she shucked her robe and sat cross legged at his head.

"There are two components to wandless magic: will and imagination. Both of these require observation. I walked into my office, and saw you standing at my desk. You were glaring at the photo of the Weasleys, shoulders hunched up. Your body posture told me that you were feeling rather defensive." She placed her fingers on his temples and rubbed gently.

"I thus assumed that it just occurred to you that should we get married, you'll find yourself a member of the Weasley family, and that spending afternoons surrounded by a herd of Gryffindors was causing you distress. Your defensive posture told me that not only was your own dislike in play, but that you are assuming a less than warm welcome." She slid her fingers into his hair, moving them in small circles. His face indicated that she had guessed correctly.

"So, I have now observed the problem, I have used my imagination to see the extent of the problem, the next move is the implementation of will."

His eyes went wide.

"No, I am not going to brain wash you to make forget your concerns. They're legitimate concerns we need to talk about.

"This is much simpler. When you feel stressed, your body releases a chemical that makes your muscles tense, ready to run or attack. Since fleeing the castle or punching the picture are not appropriate responses, your body holds onto that tension. I'm going to help your body metabolize that chemical, and then your muscles will relax. Then we can have some tea and talk rationally." He looked sceptical, but did not move from her hands.

She moved her fingers from his temples to the back of his head, where it met his neck. He felt the magic, and then felt something incredible: it was like being massaged in a warm bath while drinking fine brandy. He had never been so relaxed in his life. He opened his eyes slowly and saw her smiling down at him.

"Ready to talk?" she asked.

"I'll marry you for that alone."

She stood up and moved to the sofa. He lay on the floor with a dopy smile on his face. "That's quite a skill."

"It certainly got the attention of my students. Once I taught them that, they were hooked. It's really just the first level of healing magic. Get the person calm, and many of the complaints go away or heal themselves."

He slowly sat up, yawned, and moved to the sofa next to Hermione. She handed him a cup of tea and a small plate with a few nibbles on it.

He sipped the tea, and she said, "The way I see it, we can keep going with this, or we can be scared off by each other's past."

"It's not your past. I'm sure I can deal with your ghosts if you can deal with mine. It's the very large group of people who make up a huge deal of your present and future. It's not just the Weasleys; it's this school, and the fact that we'll be a spectacle. We'll have the Prophet watching us. The Ministry will want to make a big deal about us getting married. Heroes of Vold War II, Order of Merlin Winners, and all that. And the Weasleys… And your parents… They must want better for you than a washed-up, old ex-spy."

"You are not a washed-up ex-spy. You are the most fun I've had with a man in the last seven years. And, I'm looking forward to seeing what else we can get up to."

"I've been enjoying your company as well, but…"

"The Ministry and the Prophet I can handle. The Head of the Department of Rebirth is eager to keep me on his good side. It might have something to do with the fact that we all get together on the first Sunday of every month. I've also got a good pile of dirt on Rita Skeeter, enough at least to make sure she isn't the one writing about us. As for my parents, they don't know you from Adam, what objection could they have? And the Weasleys, well, if I could get over six years of the company of the Greasy Git, I imagine they can as well. Especially if you show up. Plus, at this point, more than half of the Weasleys have never met you, or only knew you from afar. Actually, at this point, almost half of the Weasleys are under the age of six, and really couldn't care less about who their Aunt Hermione is dating."

"And your co-workers?"

"I would certainly enjoy having you as an escort to the formal functions, but I'll never make you attend anything here. I know this is not a bastion of good memories for you. That's part of the reason we met for class outside, I thought it would be a... neutral place for you. The same thing goes with the Weasleys. I'll always let you know when there will be gatherings, and give you the option of attending, but I will never nag, beg, or bother you about attending."

"You're very blithe about going stag to all of your family and work gatherings."

"I've been doing it for seven years; it hasn't hurt me so far. Plus I've got experience with this. My mother and father love each other very much and cannot stand each other's families. Christmas Eve with the Dad and the Grangers, Christmas Day with the Mom and the Hornes, then reverse the next year. It seems to me that as long as everyone acts like a grown-up, this isn't a recipe for disaster."

Severus looked thoughtful. "I wish we had done it that way in my family. Instead we got huge screaming matches about how my father ruined my mother's life and vice versa. The Princes glaring daggers at my father for being a Muggle. Meanwhile, the Snapes thought my mother and I were some sort of unwholesome freaks."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to that. She took his hand and held it. He lifted both of their hands, and kissed the back of hers. "It's been a long time since then. My parents divorced in 1973. Both of them were quite a bit happier after that. By the time my father died in '78, and my mother in '87 I was on good terms with them. I'm not sure why they married, maybe they loved each other once, but by the time I was able to remember them, they were doing all they could to make the other miserable."

They sat quietly for a while. Hermione looked at him; touched his face. "I can't say you and I will always have an easy road, but I've gotten to the point in my life where I've dealt with enough pain. I'm no longer in the business of causing unnecessary hardness in anyone's life."

Snape thought about what he said at Dumbledore's grave. Forgiveness, moving on, making peace. "When is the next Weasley Family gathering?"