~Teddy's POV~

My palms were sweaty as I sat in Potions after class, waiting for all of the students to make their way out. It didn't take long; most of them couldn't wait to get as far away from Professor Snape as they could. Normally, I would be rushing out with them, but today was different. Today I had to talk to Snape privately.

It had taken me all week to muster up the courage to do this. After Vic had shown me her dreams, I tried to act calm and collected for her. But I was secretly wracking my brain for an explanation. The dreams, they didn't make any sense. Why would she be dreaming memories from a war that happened a year before she was born?

I had tried researching dreams at the library. According to the books, dreams were just your mind projecting your thoughts into pictures, and could often be interpreted. I tried to find something to help me interpret the dreams, but the librarian, Irma Pince, had locked them away in the Restricted Section.

After the war, Professor McGonagall had made sure that it was impossible to get into the Restricted Section; so breaking in wasn't an option. I knew that it had this huge padlock hooked to the doors that was charmed so that only the owner of the key could open it. Then, with a sinking heart, I remembered that Snape was the key- keeper.

So that's how I ended up in Snape's classroom, after class, on my own accord. This was the first and hopefully the last time I would willfully speak to Snape in private. It wasn't that I didn't like him, because I did. Harry had always spoken highly of him and the many sacrifices that he made for the Potters. The wizarding world knew him to be a hero, but that didn't change the professor's taciturn demeanor. Even Harry's own children were afraid of Snape, despite their father's insistence that they invite him to Christmas dinner each year.

Professor Snape was still sitting at his desk, oblivious to my presence. I coughed into my fist awkwardly, unsure how else to make myself known.

"What do you want, Lupin?" Snape snarled without looking up at me, adding emphasis to my name. He never let me forget his disdain towards my father.

"Professor, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment," I said with as much humility as I could muster. I got my confidence from my mother, or so I was told, and it often got me into trouble when I spoke to professors.

"Aren't you doing that already?" Snape smartly replied.

"This is serious!" I snapped, suddenly impatient. My sharp reply made him look at me, finally.

Standing up behind his desk, he said, "Well if it's so urgent, why don't you get on with it?"

I decided to ignore his sarcasm and just tell him. "Professor, a friend of mine has been having dreams. Horrible, vivid dreams that can't be normal."

Snape suddenly seemed very interested. "What exactly are these dreams about?" He questioned.

"Most of them are what seem to be memories of the war. But my friend wasn't even alive during the war, it just doesn't make any sense. And they are so realistic, I've seen them; the dreams, that is," I struggled to tell the story in order, because most of it was just a jumble of thoughts in my head. "I saw the dreams in the Pensieve. That's not even the worst part, though. In every single dream, she dies. My friend has to feel death over and over again every time she closes her eyes. Either a death eater kills her during the battle, or she is pushed off of the Gryffindor tower like Dumbledore. Once she drowned in the lake." I looked down at my hands and completely forgot whom I was talking to. "I just don't know what to tell her. When she wakes up screaming, asking me why this is happening to her, all I can do is hold her tight. I need to know, I need to understand or at least have an idea of what is happening to her. I've been researching, but I can't find anything in the library. I think that there is something that will help me, but it's in the Restricted Section." Sucking in a deep breath of air, I stood there still in my own world. My mind was replaying the night before, when Victoire had woken up looking so scared and in so much pain that it hurt me to look at her. She had grabbed my t-shirt in her hands and begged me to make it stop; there was nothing I could do. The world inside her dreams was out of my reach. It wasn't some boy I could beat up, or protect her from. There was no way for me to protect her from herself.

"Mr. Lupin, I need to know exactly who it is that is having these dreams. It is very important that you tell me," Snape said harshly, snapping me out of my delusions.

"Professor, I don't want to involve her in this," I mumbled.

In one fluid, sudden movement, Snape had moved around his desk, over to me, and grabbed my shoulders. "I don't have time for this, boy!" He snarled through clenched teeth as he shook me, "TELL ME WHO YOUR FRIEND IS!"

I pushed him away roughly and resisted spitting in his face. As much as I didn't want to let him know it was Vic, I didn't think I had a choice if I wanted to figure this out. And I had to face it; I needed his help. Everyone knew he was the expert of DADA, and I suspected that Victoire's dreams were something evil.

"It's Victoire Weasley, if you must know," I finally told the Professor. He stepped away from me and started pacing down the row of desks.

After a few moments of looking deep in thought, Professor Snape turned back towards me. "From what I remember, her birthday falls on the exact day of the Final Battle, does it not?"

"Yes, it does. You don't think that has some sort of connection to her dreams, do you?"

"I'm afraid so, my boy. Lucky for you, I am very fascinated by the prospects of dreams and memories. Dreams can tells us what will come in the future, which I am sure Professor Trelawney has told you. Most wizards are familiar with the power of dreams, especially after Potter witnessed Mr. Weasley's death during his fifth year. Now that was a powerful dream…"

"Yes, yes, I think I would know, considering he IS my godfather," I said, becoming impatient and irritated at Snape's change of subject.

The professor merely glared at me before continuing, "But memories, those can be the most powerful. Memories, though not as common, have a way of haunting you. They can cause a person great harm.

"If you were to mix the two, dreams and memories, the results could be . . . catastrophic, if they were powerful enough. I have no doubt that what you are saying is true, I only wonder why Miss Weasley would have memories of a time before she was born. Obviously it has some connection to her date of birth . . ." Snape trailed off, seemingly talking to himself.

"Professor, what should we do?" I asked.

"WE wont be doing anything, Mr. Lupin," He snarled. "You will return to your friend and act as thought we never talked. I will figure out some sort of explanation for this. Some see me after the holidays, and we will discuss whatever I have found."

Unsatisfied by our conversation, I huffed a reply and started towards the door.

"Oh, and Mr. Lupin?" Snape called. I turned on me heel in annoyance.

"You are not, under any circumstances, allowed in the Restricted Section."

I nodded and left him sitting at his desk.

As I walked back to the Gryffindor common room, I wondered why Snape still worked at Hogwarts. You would think that after what he went through during the war, he wouldn't feel like teaching anymore. Maybe teaching is the only thing he has left, I thought. I don't remember him having any family to go home to.

Almost 17 years ago, Voldemort's snake, Nagini, had attacked Snape. The poison of the snake had spread like wildfire through the professor, paralyzing him instantly. Snape had appeared to be dead for hours, so he had bean buried. Luckily, whoever buried him had kept his wand with him, so when Snape woke up from his 'Poison Coma' he was able to free himself. It made me shutter, the thought of being buried alive. It must have been a horrifying experience. Some say that Snape could see and hear everything around him while he was in his coma, that he had to watch his students bury him without being able to stop them.

Now that I thought about it, something like that could leave a man with horrible memories, probably terrifying dreams. Perhaps Snape had been speaking out of experience, when he told me about the power of haunting dreams and memories. No wonder he knew some much about the topic.

Satisfied with myself for figuring at least a little bit of Snape out, I told the Fat Lady the password and heading into the common room, looking for Victoire.

Today had been our last day of classes, and we were leaving for the Burrow tomorrow. Knowing that even her dreams couldn't contain Victoire's Christmas cheer and excitement at going home, I couldn't wait to get there. The Burrow would surely provide some sort of sanctuary for her. At least, I hoped it would.

I saw Vic sitting on the couch in front of the fire when I walked in. She turned around and saw me, then jumped out of her seat. Running towards me she started squealing madly, saying "its Christmas time!" over and over again. Happy to see her smiling for the first time in weeks, I grabbed her in my arms and spun her around, laughing.

"Oh Teddy, this year is going to be even more amazing then last year, I just know it!" she exclaimed when I finally set her down.

Ruffling her hair, I smiled and said, "You say that every year, little one."