AN: For those who have just finished reading the first chapter, that chapter was written in 2003 before the Deathly Hollows came out. I'm leaving it as it though it could easily be altered to conform to HPDH. I feel proud to have placed at least Severus Snape's sentiments for Lily in the correct place. And if it weren't for the Mudblood incident, I believe that could have been the conclusion for their seven years together. The continuation is HPDH relevant.

Out of Memory

Graduation had come and passed. He had stayed in the school long enough to ask the headmaster for permission to visit two places students were not allowed to remain without supervision. So here he stood in the Headmaster's deserted office, gazing at the portraits of pervious headmasters and headmistresses, their likenesses asleep in the frames. But there were only two that concerned him at the moment. His namesakes. Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Actually it wasn't true to even say Severus Snape had a portrait in the room. No one had taken the time to create one while he was alive, much less after his death. The portrait was stiff and silent, reproduced from someone's memory of what the Headmaster had looked like. From what he had been told, it was very accurate. The only thing that was missing was the memories. The memories that made a portrait speak and interact with the living.

It bothered Albus Severus that despite his seven years in Hogwarts and the eleven he spent with his family before even stepping foot in its doors all he ever heard about was the Great Headmaster Dumbledore. Even with the truth of Dumbledore's life they still praised him as a great and wise wizard. He wanted to know more. His father could only tell him the distorted stories of his childhood and battles with the Potions Master of Hogwarts. And he was very reluctant to tell any stories about the memories he had seen in the Pensive. Because in truth, his father didn't know much at all about Severus Snape.

Albus had befriended Griffindors. And Slytherins. The house rivalry was so thick he felt like the burning hot knife cutting through it. And at least once every day he wondered if he had chosen the right house. He was a Griffindor. Like his father, like his brother, like the rest of his family and family friends. And he very easily hid his middle name from the school. He was just Albus Potter. Simple as that right? Of course not.

Now he was staring at the portrait of the second man he was named for. The bravest man Harry Potter ever knew. A man who had died a lonely death. Suspected of betrayal by all. Murdered at the whims of Lord Voldemort. Hated and feared by a generation of students. Whose very name brings back terrible memories to anyone he asks. A betrayer, Death Eater, murderer, evil. Words he heard often. And yet Harry Potter, his father, called him the bravest man he knew. The side people rarely spoke of. The redemption given only in the heat of the moment when no one was really listening to it. A man who had spend most of his life protecting a boy he hated for the woman he loved.

How Albus Severus would have loved to speak with his grandmother about that. Albus had finally pulled the stories from his father just before graduation and he was glad. He wished he could have been influenced by those stories long before. But at least now he knows them. He's seen the memories. And now he looked at the face of the man he'd seen before on the rare occasion. It was a hard name to live up to now. Even if it was just himself who knew the stories, and everyone else conveniently forgot, Severus had a history Albus Severus Potter could never hope to rival.

Unbidden he put his fingers lightly on the painting just next to the sleeping man's head. The headmaster who had barely lasted the worse year Hogwarts had ever seen. The Headmaster who reportedly, from Albus Dumbledore, helped save the students from certain destruction. But who most remembered for the cruelty that occurred in the reign of darkness.

"What would you say if you had the ability?" He asked the silent painting. "Would you denounce everything they ever said about you or would you remain silent and let them think and speak of you as they wished. I wish I knew more about you. From you... not second hand views. I have so many questions only you could answer." The greasy haired middle aged wizard just blinked at him with a dull stare. "They probably only put you on the wall because of tradition."

Later that afternoon he stood before the small graveyard at the edge of Hogwart's boundaries. Dumbledore rested in the pure white reconstructed marble tomb that had been destroyed by Voldemort. It dominated everything around it. Albus had seen it many times at a distance. But what he came to see was a small headstone, simple with only the name and dates on the granite.

The funeral of Severus Snape was reported to be very small, with very little visitors. No one cared about the man they had grown up believing was a Death Eater with a bitter grudge against the world. The only thing that made the burial remarkable was the fact that the famous Boy-who-Lived was present. Albus had also learned from his father that the spy's body wasn't recovered for several days after its death. People were more concerned with loved ones. But Headmaster Snape probably wouldn't have wanted a large funeral. Not from what Albus understood. So one hero of the war would be forgotten. Dismissed from the pages of history because he was neither charismatic or beloved. Albus Severus Potter believed he could at least live up to the name in the sheer determination to never back down nor quite doing the one thing he believed would set everything right. After all the one thing both Slytherins and Griffindors shared was pure passion.