oOoOo

“Hello, Professor. Me again. I just stopped by because, well, earlier today Kingsley, he's Minister of Magic now, awarded you Order of Merlin, First Class. Anyway, I just thought I ought to pay my respects, you know. I can’t think of anyone who deserved it more, especially myself. I mean, I know many people died to bring down Voldemort but you lived for it, every minute of every hour for the last seventeen or so years. I mean, I know you were wrong to join him in the first place but… Well, Dad and Sirius were also arseholes at Seventeen and Dumbledore… well, the thing is that you decided to make amends and you did. Above and beyond what was necessary. I hope you’re at peace now… Okay, well, that’s me done. I’ll see you around this September. Bye.”

oOoOo

“Hi, Professor. Yeah, I know, it’s past curfew but, well, after the Sorting Feast McGonagall called me to her office and there you were, well, your portrait. You were sleeping. Or pretending, I don’t know. Anyway, I couldn’t sleep and, with Ron in Auror training and Hermione busy becoming the next Rita Skeeter… Well, here we are. Just thought I’d sit with you and Dumbledore for a bit.”

OoOoO

“Hi Sir, it’s Halloween already… everyone is celebrating but, you know, I don’t much feel like it nowadays. Especially tonight, given what happened and everything. So I thought I’d stop here for a bit. Lay some flowers. I know, lilies, I’ve got no imagination, have I? Anyway, I thought you might like to have them nonetheless.”

OoOoO

“Hello Professor. Just came down to say ‘hi’. I’m feeling a bit asocial at the moment: all the students treat me like I’m a God or something. Well, not Ginny and Luna but… they’ve got their own friends and their studies and… Yeah, I know what you’d say; Harry ‘superstar’ Potter is whining because he’s not getting the right sort of hero-worship. I’m not only an attention-whore but precious with it. But, you know, its so bloody irritating. Everyone treats me like they know me, just because of this dumb scar. I’m supposed to be some perfect, paragon of all virtues. You know, it’s getting to the stage where I even miss your insults, it’d make a change from the monotony…”

oOoOo

“I’ve been thinking, Sir, and, I just wanted to say that I sort of understand. I know what it’s like to be hated, remember second year? Come to think of it, I’ve never thanked you for not bitching me out about being parseltongue; you were practically the only person in the room who treated me like I wasn’t a total weirdo. Anyway, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been thinking- surprise, surprise- and I’ve realised that, if someone had said to me, during second year, ‘join our club and we’ll protect you’ I’d have been tempted. I probably wouldn’t have done it but… well, maybe I would have. When the good guys are bastards who hurt you because you’re different, the bad guy option must be pretty tempting...”

oOoOo

“Hello Sir. Wow… a whole year. Doesn’t feel like it, really. It seems like only yesterday. Hurts like it was only yesterday too. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin, you… Oh God! I’m so sorry. I keep on wondering whether I could have done something to help you, instead of just standing there like a lemon and watching you die. I mean, I could have summoned some anti-venom from your stores, I could have healed you… I mean, I know it probably wouldn’t have worked but I should have tried! I didn’t even close your eyes. And the worst of it is that so many people seem to think we should be celebrating. I mean, yeah, the hall is draped in black but we’re still having a feast. The war cost us all so much… we shouldn’t celebrate that it’s over, we should mourn that it ever began…”

OoOoO

“Yup, just when you thought you had got away from me, here I am again. ‘Rest in Peace’ really was false advertising. Anyway I’ve been offered a job at Hogwarts this September. Guess the wizarding world is kind of low on appropriate candidates, huh? They first asked me to do ‘Defence’, the curse has been lifted, now, you see. But… Well, maybe sometime in the future but not now. I’ve lived it too much, I’d be rather like Mad-Eye Moody was… well, Barty Crouch pretending to be Mad-Eye. We finally got back his body, by the way: Lucius Malfoy, slippery bastard that he is, turned Minister’s Evidence for amnesty and he told us where, well, quite a few people were buried. Anyhow, I also didn’t want to take Defence because it felt kind of hard on you, in a stupid way. Oh, just to let you know, your portrait gave me the finger, behind McGonagall’s back, when I turned the position down. You’ll probably find that funny. Anyhow! I’m officially nothing more than a ‘Quidditch Twit’: Madam Hooch decided to retire and McGongall asked me if I'd like to give it a go. So, as of two months time, I’ll be teaching kids not to fall off their brooms. Okay, well, I’ll get going now. See you later Sir.”

oOoOo

“Oh, God, it feels good to sit down. Those brats have run me ragged. I thought being Quidditch instructer would be a doss because, yes, you’re right, I am a lazy sod. I hate to think what you’d have said if you’d known that I wrote most of my Potions Assignments in fifteen minutes flat, usually whilst talking to Ron, eating or reading 'Quidditch Through the Ages'. Bet you did know, actually. You always marked me down. Or maybe you were just being a bastard. By the way, now I’m teaching, myself, I kind of get why you were such a mean bastard to us. I mean, I think I’m as easygoing as the next bloke but, yesterday, I screamed myself hoarse at Stubbins, just because he got accelerate and break mixed up. I mean, admittedly it was the thousandth time I’d corrected him and, yeah, it did end up with him almost going into the lake but he’s a decent kid. Dim but decent enough. (Sigh) Now I’ve come to think about it, trying to keep a classroom of kids from killing themselves whilst handling highly toxic and explosive chemicals can’t exactly have been a breeze. I guess, after a couple of years, even I might be tempted into terrorising the little bastards until they’re too scared to move. At least, then, they might pay some attention to what they’re doing, huh? How come it never occurs to us how much we must have sucked until it’s too late?”

oOoOo

“God, it’s been a while, huh, Professor? I can’t tell you where the year has gone. But, you know, I had to come down today. Yeah, lilies again. It kind of makes me feel sad that I’m the only one who does this. The kids treat this place like it’s some Gateway into Hell. Still, I guess you’re probably pretty pleased about that, aren’t you? You’d probably say something like ‘Then I achieved that which I intended, Mr Potter, now kindly fuck off” in that silky drawl of yours. Ha! What I wouldn’t give to be told to fuck off today! They’re all at it again: ‘Here’s the Hero of Hogsmeade, folks, bow down and worship Harry butter-would-not-melt Potter!’ The kids and teachers aren’t so bad, I mean, they know me a bit. But, those bastards at the Prophet and the parents… it’s like they think they know who I should be, just because of this scar. But, then, you, of all people, know what it’s like to be judged just because of a scar…”

OoOoO

“Hi, just felt like popping over for a bit. Ginny and I got married yesterday and… well, I knew that Fred wasn’t going to be there. Or Remus and Tonks. Or half a dozen other people but it still felt weird. Like there was this gaping hole where there shouldn’t be. Like a missing tooth or something. I mean, you probably wouldn’t even have come to my wedding. If you were still here and I’d invited you, you’d have probably told me to go fuck myself. But, y’know, I still imagined you, leaning back against a pillar and looking at me with that ‘Precious Potter is centre of attention again. Oooh how wonderful!’ look of yours. Anyway, Gin will be wondering where I got to, she only went off for a massage. I’ll see you next term, I guess. Okay, well, bye for now.”

oOoOo

“God! Women! You know, Sir, Gin and I are best friends, soul mates even, but sometimes I just feel like… well, not hurting her, of course, but bashing my head against the wall. Maybe even just screaming my throat raw. She’s four months pregnant and she’s still insisting on going to training. With Bludgers flying around and everything. I mean, fine, by all means go back to Quidditch after our kid is born but for heavens sakes! (sigh) God, I must have aggravated the hell out of you, Sir, with all the shit I pulled. I mean, it should have been obvious to me that Hogwarts wasn’t safe, even in my First Year. The troll incident at Halloween, for example. Yet I still wondered around, alone, at night, where someone could have picked me off at a click of their fingers. No wonder you were up traipsing the corridors at all hours. For years I thought you were just a nocturnal bastard, it didn’t even occur that you were staying up to protect me…”

oOoOo

“So, yeah, my firstborn is now called James. Gin named him before I got to St Mungos. Not that it’s a bad name and, I mean, my dad did die for me and, despite being a real arsehole at school, he was a good man. Eventually. It’s just, naming kids after their relations is a bit daft: Gin’s got three ‘Charles Weasley’s in her family. And, well, I’ve never much liked the name James…”

oOoOo

“Let me tell you, Professor, calling our son James was tempting the devil. He’s only 14 months but he’s racing about like no-one’s business, causing chaos wherever he goes. And, God, the crying!! It’s so nice to sit out here and finally get some peace and quiet. I know, you’d say ‘You spawned him, Mr Potter and it's merely poetic justice that you lose as much sleep over your brat as I did over you’. I mean, I’d probably have to be upset at your use of ‘spawned’ and calling him a brat but, all in all, you’d be right. Looking back, it seems almost unreal how much decent advice you were giving me behind the barbs. If I’d have listened to what you were really saying… but that way madness lies…”

oOoOo

“Hello, Sir. This is Albus Severus Potter, my new son. I got to choose the name, this time. Anyway, I can’t stay long, Molly will have my guts if this little one catches cold from being outside. I know, irresponsible to the last. Bye for now, Sir.”

OoOoO

“Come on, boys. Hello, sir… James! Get down from there! No! It’s a tomb, show a little respect for God’s sake. Yes, Dumbledore would have minded. Now, down! Right. Now, kids, today is the Second of May. It’s the day that Voldemort, the nasty, evil dark wizard, died and this man, Severus Snape, died on that day as well because Voldemort killed him.”

“Sev’rus like me?”

“Yes Albus. You were named after Headmaster Severus, who was a good, incredibly brave...”

“Daaad! I’m bored.”

“Be quiet, James, I’ve warned you once already.”

“But Daaaad!”

“Oh, s…sugar. Now you’ve set Lily off. Anyway, Sir, this is my Daughter Lily Luna Potter and... James! Come back here this instant. Right, I’ve got to go, Sir. Bye for now. Jaaaaames!!!”

oOoOo

“And Minerva offered me the Defence position again and I accepted it. Probably best, seeing as Albus has been chosen to be Seeker for Slytherin next year. The Slyth/Gryff Quidditch matches would have been hell, with both sons on opposing teams. Well, they’ll be hell anyway but I definitely don’t want to referee them. So, now I’m Defence Professor. I hope I make a good job of it. Teaching Quidditch isn’t so bad, really, just repetition, good reflexes and being able to cast solid cushioning charms. But, in defence, I’ll be responsible for teaching kids things which could save their lives one day. And if I don’t… well, those without swords can still die on them, right, Sir?”

oOoOo

“Hello Sir, recognise this? I found it in the Restricted Section and, I’ve got to say, it’s bloody brilliant. And sodding frustrating. If I’d actually listened to you when I was at Hogwarts rather than thinking that you were just a creepy, greasy deatheater whom I could and, indeed, should ignore… Well, I bet there was a lot of stuff you told me that you didn’t write in that book. Best not to tell them everything you know, huh?”

oOoOo

“Hello, Sir. Just thought I’d walk over because, well, today is my Thirty-ninth birthday. Its really odd to think that I’m now older than you were when you died. I feel so young, you know, and, when I think back to my self at seventeen… I was just a child... As were you, when you joined Voldemort and made the mistake you spent the rest of your life paying for… I just hope you realise that, although… Well, my mum wouldn’t have wanted you to be punished like that. I expect she kicked Dumbledore’s ass pretty thoroughly, when he finally turned up in the afterlife, seeing all that he’d done to you. Anyway, even though you weren’t obliged to do all you did… I just want you to know that I’m very grateful...”

OoOoO

“You know, Sir, my family think I’m a nutcase when I come out here to talk to you. If you were alive, you’d agree with them, of course. But, you know, it helps a bit just to talk like this sometimes. I mean, it’s a bit one sided and, if you were here, you’d either be telling me to sod off, insulting my intelligence or just generally insulting me. Probably all three. (laughs.) I sometimes wonder, how it’d have been if you’d lived. Even though McGonagall, Gryffindor that she was, would have probably fought to keep you as Headmaster, I expect you’d have wanted to disappear off somewhere and do research or something. You never struck me as enjoying teaching much. But, if you had stayed, teaching Defence or Potions, I wonder how we’d have been as colleagues? I mean, I’d have grown up sooner or later so maybe, after a bit of grovelling, okay, a lot of grovelling, you and I would have become, if not friends, then on friendly terms. Or (laughs) maybe you’d have still been telling me that I was an obnoxious, addle-brained twazzok on your deathbed. Probably the latter but I guess I’ll never know… I like to think that, eventually, we could have got along.”

oOoOo

“Good afternoon, Professor! Isn’t she a beauty: ‘Rosa Adipatus nothus’ or, in the vernacular, ‘Greasy Bastard’. I thought about naming the breed ‘Rosa Severus’, ‘Severus’ Rose’, dumb, romantic, Gryffindork that I am, but I knew what you’d say about me if I did that... Anyway, as soon as she started growing thorns, I knew she had to be named after you; there’s practically not a milimeter of stalk free of the buggers and they’re wicked sharp. She smells nice, too and, as I think you’d appreciate the deep, moody red blooms, I’ve decided to plant her here. Don’t worry, though, you’ll still get lilies…God, if you could see me now you’d be either laughing or Avada-ing me for my sheer presumption…”

oOoOo

“Not getting so easy to visit you these days, old boy. I don’t know how Dumbledore managed it and he was thirty years older than me. Would you mind if an old man takes a seat? Hmm, yes, I thought so. Never mind, never mind. Here’s a handy leaf, I’ll transfigure one. Getting a bit of a dab hand at it; legs aren’t what they were. Albus sends his regards, married Malfoy’s boy. His grandfather-in-law is still an obnoxious tit, by the way. Yes, old Lucius is going strong, the bastard, though madder than Lockheart now. Still, at least he’s more honest: called me mudblood-spawned scum. Heh! I know, I should have defended Lily but I couldn’t find it in my heart to hex the old git…”

oOoOo

“I think this might be our last May 2nd, old friend. I feel my time is drawing nigh, as well it should. I thought Dumbledore was mad when he said that, to a well organised mind, death is merely the next great adventure. Or somesuch… I can’t remember his exact words. But I’ve lived in this world a long time and I’m feeling rather ready to see what happens next. Yes, yes, I know, short attention span. Heh. Do you think they might bury me here as well? McGonagall rather broke the precedent. Retired, you know, and, when her time came she was buried in her hometown, good woman. Perhaps you could put in a good word for me? Probably not, though; I expect you’re longing to get rid of me. I dare say your portrait is; haven’t had so much as a peep out of it all these years, you stubborn bugger. I expect you hardly recognise me, now… look more and more like granddad Evans as I get older and fatter… Well, off I toddle. Perhaps I’ll see you on the other side, old chap. Cheerio.”

oOoOo

Headmaster Harry Potter sat up and stretched, feeling a twinge of surprise when none of his muscles cracked or bones creaked. He smiled; perhaps this would be one of his better days.

“Mr Potter” a familiar baritone drawled.

“Sss…Severus?” Harry cried, jerking around, faded green eyes round behind half-moon specticals.

The shade of Severus smirked, raising a misty eyebrow “You’ve finally called me by my first name, what a miracle.”

“I apologise, Sir” the 124 year old said meekly, sounding, for all the world, like an eleven year old boy.

The spectre’s eyes, dark as midnight, sparkled “So respectful, Mr Potter. I have to say that you have improved with age.”

“I should hope so, Sir. I have learnt much since we parted. I would like to, not ask for forgiveness, but to say how sorry…”

“Hush, Harry. I know. Every time you spoke to me, I listened.” The shade smiled “I have also learnt much since we parted.” Severus Snape floated towards him and Harry realised that, in fact, he was not a ghost. The pale form was more solid, like the spectres of his parents and the Marauders had been that night, so many years ago…

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw that, lying on the bed, was an ancient, wrinkled form: the earthy remains of one Harry James Potter.

The ghost smiled and offered Harry his hand “Harry, I would like to invite you on a ‘Snape Approved’ out-of-hours adventure…”