XI. Reflections
"Don't go so quickly." The lab was darker than it needed to be, but Harry rather liked the ominous feel of it. He had spent the last couple of weeks wrestling with himself, trying to figure out what exactly Dumbledore wanted him to forgive him for. The Dursleys? The way he hid from him fifth year? Then it hit him- everything. Luckily the strong odor of ginger down here kept him from being sick. It smelled good, familiar.
"Is it hot enough yet?" he asked. Snape shook his head.
"Only three hundred degrees. You'll know when it hits four twenty-five." Taking private potions lessons with Snape was in a whole other realm from learning Occlumency, Harry discerned quickly. Snape had learned (and taught) Occlumency ought of necessity. But he had a passion for potions he was willing to share. He was at home here.
"Okay. Let's put in the wormwood first." And so was Harry. After waiting for a nod of approval, he grabbed the ingredients and laid them on the bottom of the cold metal. "Slughorn. Is he hard to please?" The dungeons would be so different; Harry was quite curious.
"Not nearly enough. You'll be fine."
He could not stop the grin in time. Snape reached over him to grab a container of something orange-looking, and the stench as the lid was ripped off made him flinch. "Oh, get used to it." They went in too, and immediately the stuff began to bubble. It was the first time he was actually helping prepare Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion, and it could not be messed up. Considering this, he was getting a lot more free reign than he expected. It was nice being here.
"Easy to manipulate, then?" That look crossed Snape's face where Harry knew he was trying to resist saying more than he needed to- which rarely ever worked.
"You didn't hear it from me."
Harry almost laughed, but that sneer. "Dumbledore asked me to bury him in Godric's Hollow," he said softly. "I just thought that… you should know."
This didn't seem to bother Snape as much as much as he expected initially. Just another sharp nod of approval. "He might have mentioned it." And of a sudden Harry figured out what was bothering him.
"You'll still be here."
"Always. But it won't be the same." No. Snape would be ostracized and shut out, treated more maliciously than Harry cared to envision. It would be torture. Harry shut his eyes for a brief second. Then, Snape was used to torture.
"We'll make it." Both then sunk into a silent reverie, lost, working rhythmically together to finish the batch perfectly. Lupin would now have enough to last to the next couple full moons. It was sweltering and Harry was sweating, but the hard work was rewarding. They were just corking the last vial and slipping it into the case when a loud bang issued from upstairs. "They're here."
Snape followed him up sullenly, and they were met by the sight of six of the nine Weasleys, minus the three eldest ones. Harry was ready. He was ready to go and bury himself in their smiling faces, ready to go back to Hogwarts in a fortnight. He took one look back at his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and in an instant flew into the black cloak. Relief flooded through him when he felt the hug returned, felt a reassuring hand on the back of his head. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Harry."
"Thanks," Harry said, facing the happy Weasleys. "I'm ready. Let's go." And he was. He was glad even more when Ron did not ask why he had just hugged Professor Snape.
~Fifteen Years Later~
The cemetery was cold, cold and foreboding, and all present were shivering. Harry's navy blue sweater was not doing enough to keep him from the darkness. He had recovered fully, of course, since the war ended. Ginny was right beside him, as were their three children. He was thankful, he was lucky, he was happy.
But here.
Here it all came back.
The cemetery at Godric's Hollow had not changed at all since Voldemort's defeat, except for one new grave etched between two others. Though that was unfair; it was a war casualty. It had been the last war casualty. "I'm not surprised you wanted to come, Albus," he said, turning to face his youngest son. So full of life, so beautiful. He was only eight years old.
"No. I wanted to see who you named us after. Visit them."
"Do we have to stay long? I'm freezing." So James had noticed the cold too. For Harry it did not come from this bitter winter weather. He stood in front of his firstborn and looked him in the eyes, preparing to tell him something he hoped he would never forget.
"I named you after my father to remember him. He died to save me. I didn't know him, but I will not forget him." He paused, waiting for it to sink in. James said nothing. "Sirius Black is my Godfather and the only family I ever knew. I only knew him for a short time, but he died to save me too. I loved him." There were tears in his eyes, but the December air kept them from falling. Lily Luna was clutched to her mother's leg, huddled close, and Harry brushed that red hair away from her face. His only daughter.
"My mother's love protected me long after she shielded me and lost her own life. A mother's love is the most powerful force on earth." He looked at Ginny now, pleased to see that she held Lily and little closer then. "Luna Lovegood can make you smile when you feel like never smiling again. Not many people can, but you have her gift, Lily. I owed her that."
He felt the young presence immediately at his side, and he ruffled the messy dark hair so like his own. His son looked up at him expectantly. "Albus Dumbledore was a powerful and wise wizard, and the only one Voldemort ever feared. But to me he was loving and caring He taught me that love is always the answer. He had his flaws, sure. Power was a temptation. But he was the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts ever had."
"But Dad, what about-"
Harry wasn't about to let him finish.
"Severus Snape was Headmaster during a very different time, Albus. A time of fear and outright war." He closed him eyes, and could still see him standing there, with Dumbledore. "He was Dumbledore's most trusted advisor and my silent protector. He died a hero." This time a tear did fall, and a gusty breeze shook the brittle leaves to the hard ground. "When I think of him I imagine a ghostly, dark figure hidden in the trees watching a silver doe, glistening in the moonlight, guide a young boy to a frozen lake. He knew I would follow it. He made sure I was safe."
He could hear the crunch of snow as Lily was lifted off the ground to nestle in her mother's arms. He knew it must be now. From a bag at his side he pulled a long, flowing black cloak, and he could still see a sallow figure walk away as it billowed behind him. He looked at Albus Severus.
"I gave James Sirius his Grandfather's Invisibility Cloak when he was your age, as well as the mirror my Godfather Sirius gave me. The one that kept us connected." Albus nodded knowingly and it made Harry smile, even managed to block out the sharp pain for a moment. "Lily has the blanket my mother wrapped me in, the only thing I had of her. And you have Dumbledore's snitch at home."
I open at the close. Dumbledore had always been so elusive. "This is the only thing- well, almost- that I have of Severus Snape. That night I went back to the Shrieking Shack they had already taken his body. This is all I have left." Albus touched it gingerly, like it had real value to him already, like it was significant, and nothing could have made Harry happier. "I never saw him without it." The boy's expression was one of awe. "Help me, now."
Albus did not need to be told twice. They managed, together, to fold it into a neat square, a still one. "Go on," Ginny encouraged fleetingly, giving her son a push from the back. Timidly he walked forward, almost nervously, and draped it over the third tombstone, being careful that you could still read the words. They read:
Severus Snape
January 9, 1960-
May 2, 1998.
At Peace
Albus took a step back. "It was fabulous of you to bury him here, Harry," Ginny whispered in her husband's ear.
"It seemed most appropriate. His loyalties lied with Dumbledore, and he would want to be next to her. I couldn't think of anywhere better but in between them," he replied, just as softly. The image of a scrawny, unloved boy in baggy leftover clothes crossed his mind. It was him… except, the hooked nose, greasy hair. Snape had never, ever been loved, except in death. Then he looked at the stone to his immediate right, and an old, smiling Headmaster stood before him, that mysterious twinkle in his eyes never gone, gray beard shining.
He was laughing.
Incredibly pained now, Harry turned to find his wife laying wreaths she retrieved from the bag at the foot of all four of the graves, Lily Luna helping. Their shocks of red hair stood out dangerously in the midnight sky, and he had never felt more love for them. "Dumbledore once said that some wounds run too deep for the healing," he observed to Albus, who had reclaimed his place beside him.
"Was he right?"
That stopped Harry in his tracks. "Key word: some."
"I love you, Dad."
And then he was hugging the boy by his side. "I love you too, kid. You never cease to amaze me, Albus Severus Potter." And all the coldness of this place had fled, suddenly. It was a place of refuge, like it had been the first time he had been here with Hermione when he was seventeen. It didn't seem like so long ago now, though some days it seemed another lifetime.
"We should go." Ginny's voice brought him out of his reverie. She gestured to the child on her hip, whose head was bobbing sleepily. James was already waiting impatiently by the gate. That trapped, encased feeling was broken as the happy family drove away.
A/N: Hard to believe this is the next to last chapter. Thanks to all who stuck with me this long! I know Harry said here that he never saw Snape without his cloak, but in my fiction he did. That was not an accident. What do you think was written on Snape's grave?