The battle was fought. The war was over. Finally. No more would the world live in fear of the dark wizard named Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle as the coward should have been called. So many souls sacrificed themselves for the peace, though. Death did not discriminate unfortunately. Families were destroyed with survivors being left to pick up the pieces. Pain and destruction was all that remained in that solemn moment.

Harry's dull green eyes passed over the dead resting in the battle-scarred Great Hall. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, sighing softly. The dead would be buried soon like the heroes they were. All of them. Fred. Tonks. Lupin. Colin. Lavender. He swallowed harshly. Snape.

He drew in a slow breath before he shook his head, tiredly pushing back his shaggy dark hair. How could he have been such an idiot? Really? Every year he had been convinced the hook-nosed man had been trying to kill him. And every damn year, Harry was spectacularly wrong.

"Harry," Hermione softly said, resting a gentle hand on his arm. "Professors McGonagall and Flitwick have returned." She stared at him with a somber look as if she wasn't sure how to help him. How to make it right.

Harry nodded slowly before he glanced towards the doors. He inhaled sharply when he noticed the cot the two professors carried in silently. He quickly rose to his feet, heading towards them. His eyes trailed over the covered sheet that shielded the person's identity.

"Y-You found him?" Harry asked with a slight waver to his voice as he watched the professors gently lower the cot to the floor.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall replied quietly. Her eyes softened slightly as she stared at the young man who seemed on the verge of breaking down.

"I want to see him."

"Mr. Potter," she started to say before frowning when he glared at her.

"I know about his neck. I know about the wounds. I don't care. I want to see him. Please."

"There's something you need to know, Harry." She sighed. "It would seem after you left the Shrieking Shack," she paused for a moment "someone set it on fire. He's badly burned. I-I can't even. If you hadn't told us where he'd be, I wouldn't have said it was him."

Harry stared at her in frozen horror. He felt sick. Horribly so. Someone had set— He turned to the side, heaving a moment later. How could someone—? Beyond sick. Beyond sane. Snape was a hero! Not— Who could do something so sick? So wrong? So vile? The mess vanished a moment later.

"Why? Why would someone do that?" Harry yelled, glancing at each of the professors' faces once he got himself back under some semblance of control.

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know."

"He's a hero. He gave everything for us. Sacrificed himself for me. I-I—dammit!" Harry shook his head. "We owe him! Hell, we should be—It's not fair! It shouldn't have been like this!"

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore—"

"Screw Dumbledore," Harry snapped. "That manipulative bastard used Snape from the start! Made him believe that he was doing everything to protect me, keep me safe! That was a lie! An utter fucking lie! The bastard raised me like a pig for slaughter! So I'd die right when Dumbledore wanted me to. He guessed! Guessed that I'd live in the end. He didn't know for certain. But he knew that I had to sacrifice myself, had to give up and lose everyone to make that choice! He knew! KNEW!"

Harry caught several gasps from his outbursts, but he was so angry right now. He wanted to know who had desecrated the man who gave so much for them. And if he learned that person's identity, he was going to kill them. Slowly. Snape didn't deserve any more of this crap. The man had suffered enough in his life. He didn't need to suffer any more in his death.

"Mr. Potter, I understand that—"

"He loved my mother, Professor! All of this—all of it—was because of his love for her! And Dumbledore fucking used it against him!"

"Harry—"

"No! If anyone should have been burned and desecrated like that, it should be Albus Fucking Dumbledore!" Harry shook his head. "For the Greater Good, my arse!" He swept out of the room then.

~Lullaby~

Another funeral. It never became any easier attending them. And lately it felt all he did was attend another funeral. Another lost soul cut down before his or her time. That was all it reminded Harry of. However, this one he knew he had to be at. He didn't care if the others didn't show up. The idiot bastards who fell in line just as he had.

Harry readjusted his tie once more before he headed out onto the grounds. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and the warmth of summer caressed him. He walked past the white marble tomb Dumbledore was encased in, resisting the urge to hex it to hell and back. The arrogant, manipulative, son of a bitch!

He slowed when he approached the black marble tomb. Had Snape asked for the black? Or were they just assuming he'd want his trademark color for his final resting place? He frowned, shaking his head. He didn't know. Then again, did anyone really know Snape?

Harry took a seat towards the front. He noticed that the staff was already present, sitting collectively together. There was something to be said about the strength they projected currently. His eyes passed over each of them, noticing that only a few of them seemed real choked up. He turned back and sighed.

"Hey, sorry we're late, mate. Has it started yet?" Ron asked quietly as he slid into the chair beside Harry with Hermione, Neville, Luna, and the surviving Weasley family. He frowned when Harry shook his head slightly. "Bit surprised that there aren't more Slytherins here, aren't you?"

"He's seen to be a traitor in their eyes, Weasley," a voice softly answered behind Harry.

"Morons," Ron mumbled.

"Precisely," the voice whispered.

"Good of you to show up, though, Malfoy. And your family."

"He was braver than most of us, Weasley. Wasn't a coward and shied away like us. He deserves our respect. Like Potter says," Draco replied.

The official slowly walked up to the tomb then to start the funeral. Harry drowned the man's words out, though, his eyes focused solely on the black tomb. Was Snape happy now that he couldn't suffer anymore? Was he with Harry's mum up there, finally telling the witch how much he loved her? Was his afterlife better than his life was? Harry hoped so. The man deserved it after all he went through in his life for them, living a life full of scorn and bitterness and mostly pain.

Harry closed his eyes, wiping at his cheeks when he felt the traitorous tears again. No matter what, he couldn't get past how much the man had sacrificed for them, and how little Snape had to show for it. According to Hermione, he had no family. Harry's mother being the larger reason why. And because of several dunderheads at the Ministry, Snape wasn't even allowed to have a portrait to hang in the Headmaster's office. All the man had to show for his pain and suffering for them was this, a black marble tomb on the grounds of Hogwarts.

"This isn't right," Harry whispered, swallowing back his emotions as he stared at the tomb.

"It's what he wanted, Harry."

"No. I-I don't understand. Why doesn't he get a happy ending, Hermione? Why did his life only consist of pain when he gave so much for us?"

"Because the Fates are bitches, Potter," Malfoy replied quietly.

"And because life isn't fair, Harry," Neville stated just as quiet. "Something he wanted all of us to learn, remember?" The young man glanced at Harry before shaking his head.

The guests then stood, lining up to pay their final respects. Harry closed his eyes when he reached the black tomb. What did one say to the man who was the reason he was alive? Really? There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell the man that his mum would have been proud of Snape for everything. But it wasn't enough. He wanted to tell the man how sorry he was for always thinking the worst of him. But that too wasn't enough. He wanted to tell Snape that it wasn't his fault, that he was forgiven. But the words wouldn't come. He frowned, hanging his head.

"Thank you," he whispered with a shaky breath as he rested a hand on the black marble. He then drew in a slow breath as he let every memory, every thought in his mind flow through his hand to the tomb. When he felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder, he closed his eyes before he walked past.

~Lullaby~

After the funeral, Harry slowly walked up to the Headmaster's office. Or was it Headmistress's office since Professor McGonagall had taken over? He shook his head at that thought. Honestly, who cared anymore? He knocked on the door and sighed as he crossed the threshold.

"Mr. Potter," said with a faint smile the normally stern Gryffindor. She seemed extremely aged now. But then again, they all did in some extent. He watched her dab at her eyes before she drew in a steeling breath. "I'm under the impression that you've decided to continue becoming an Auror—" A knock on her door stopped her instantly. She frowned. "You'll have to excuse me for a moment, Mr. Potter." She then called out to the person on the other side of the door. "Enter."

Harry turned slowly, watching the door open to reveal Professor Sinistra. He glanced down at the floor immediately. More than a few times, he had noticed his Astronomy professor glance towards the empty chair in the Great Hall where Snape should have been.

"Aurora, dear, I—" Professor McGonagall started with a clear motherly tone directed towards the younger witch who approached slowly.

"I won't take up too much of your time. I promise." Professor Sinistra's normal warm eyes were dull and lifeless now Harry noticed when she glanced at him briefly. She withdrew a sealed envelope from her robes, holding it out to McGonagall. "My resignation."

"Aurora, please reconsider."

"No, Minerva." She shook her head, her dark curls moving a bit but not much—not like they used to at least. "There's nothing here for me anymore. You know that."

"Let yourself heal first, my dear, before you make any—"

"I can't stay here, Minerva. Everywhere I look I see him," the witch pleaded. Her voice wavered slightly. "Please. Just accept my resignation. That's all I ask."

"Hogwarts will always be—"

"Not for me. Not anymore." Professor Sinistra closed her eyes before drawing in a slow breath. "Goodbye, Minerva." With that, she turned around and left silently.

Harry sighed quietly, glancing down at the floor. He shared his former Astronomy professor's sentiments. Hogwarts wasn't home anymore. It had been violated and ruined by war. All anyone saw anymore was pain and destruction.

"Oh, Aurora," Professor McGonagall whispered softly.

"Are a lot of the professors resigning?" Harry asked. He supposed it was natural to do so. They had likely seen so many of their former students die. He knew he had. But he wondered if there was something more to the story. He had, after all, a habit of missing half of the story usually.

"No. Just Aurora so far." Professor McGonagall sighed, falling back into the high backed chair. "I wish she wasn't, though."

"She's a good professor. Hogwarts will miss her," Harry offered quietly. He watched Professor McGonagall nod slowly.

"Yes, she is." She shook her head a moment later. "She needs time to heal, though. Good lord, we all do actually." She pinched her lips together for a moment as she thought on something for a bit. "She was the closest to Severus, I think. Except Albus of course." She ran a hand through her hair. "I knew his death would affect her greatly. We all did. Hopefully, she can find some sort of solace and heal properly. I fear, though, that she'll do what she always does—hide herself away and suffer in silence." She shook her head. "She took after him a bit too much for my liking some days. But she loved him."

Harry's eyes narrowed. Sinistra had loved Snape? Had Snape known that when he was alive? Of course he did, Harry thought not long after. Snape, however, only loved Harry's mum, though.

"A broken heart unfortunately will take many years to heal," Professor McGonagall quietly remarked. "I know that firsthand." She shook her head again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter." She sighed. "Am I correct in hearing that you've decided to continue with becoming an Auror?"

"Yes, Professor." Harry nodded. "I have a meeting with Minister Shacklebolt tomorrow. We're going to discuss my options, and I'm also going to see if he can somehow help me get Professor Snape's portrait hung in here. Where Professor Snape belongs." He watched her nod slowly.

"I wish you luck, Harry. If anyone deserves his portrait, it's Severus."

~Lullaby~

Ten years had passed since the Final Battle. Harry had become an Auror just like he had planned. Most of his work was done from home, though, since all had been quiet for a decade. He glanced across the table at his wife, smiling at her when she caught his eyes.

"What? Did they agree?" she asked, wiping her hands into her apron as she headed towards him.

"No. They're still being idiots and not replying." He shrugged. "I'm not going to stop, though. Not until they do answer my request." He watched her nod, her red hair waving slowly. "How's Lily?"

"Still colicky. Mum's going to come over later to help." Ginny shrugged. "We didn't have half of these problems with the boys."

Harry snorted. "Oh, come on, Gin. You love our daughter, and you know it."

"I do. I just wish she wasn't so fussy." She sighed. "I honestly don't know how my mum did it with all of us."

"I'm telling you. She's a saint, Gin." He chuckled when she rolled her eyes. He then caught the bird flying in and sighed. His eyes narrowed on the Ministry seal on the envelope tied to the owl's leg. He carefully removed it, feeding the bird a snack before opening the envelope to read the message. His green eyes skimmed the letter prior to him smiling.

"I take it they agreed?"

"Yeah. Finally." He sighed tiredly, rubbing his face. "It only took ten years." He leaned against his wife when she wrapped her arms around him. "They're going to put it up later today." He closed his eyes as Ginny carded his hair gently.

"You should get ready then, so you're there to see it. Get your closure."

"The kids—"

"Don't. I've got them, Harry. Go."

He sighed. "What do I even say?"

"I don't know. But then again, I didn't know what you should say to Professor Dumbledore either. And look how well that turned out? Our middle son shares his name."

"And Snape's."

"And Snape's," she agreed quietly. "Go on. I've got things in hand here."

"Thank you, Ginny." Harry stood, kissing his wife's cheek before heading upstairs to dress. What would he say to the man responsible for saving his arse so many times? That question had plagued him ever since the man's funeral. Nothing seemed to be enough for Harry.

"Dada go bye-bye?" said a toddler with brilliant green eyes.

Harry knelt down, picking his son up with a smile instantly. He chuckled when the young boy wrapped his arms around his father's neck.

"I have to go to Hogwarts for a bit, Al. I'll be back soon, though."

The toddler blinked a few times before burying his face into Harry's neck.

"Hey, little man. It'll be all right. I'll come home soon enough. I just have to see someone. Someone special to me, to us," Harry added after a few moments.

"Who, Dada?"

"The man you're named after, Al. Severus Snape." He watched his son's face scrunch up as the little toddler tried to figure that out. "Your middle name, Albus Severus." He then watched his son nod slowly. His son gave him a brief peck on the cheek.

"Dada say hello?"

"Of course, I'll do that for you, Al." He kissed his son's forehead with a faint smile. "Now, go on. Before your mum realizes you're free." He chuckled when his son ran off in the other direction. Fastening his cloak, he Disapparated then, appearing on the grounds of Hogwarts and quickly heading up to Headmaster's office. After ten years, finally Severus Snape would receive the respect he deserved.

"Ah, excellent. You did receive our letter then, Mr. Potter." The Ministry official then finished hanging the silver frame in the open spot. "Now, I just need to activate the portrait, and we're set." The man flicked his wand towards the empty portrait as Harry waited beside Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. However, nothing happened. "Hmm. That's odd." The Ministry official tried several more times before finally glancing at the three. "Well, sorry to ask this, but, well, are you sure he died?"

One could hear a pin drop in the Headmaster's office after the question was asked. The three stared at the Ministry official with identical confused looks. Were they sure Snape had died? Did that man seriously just ask that question?

"What?" Professor Flitwick breathed with wide eyes.

"You've got to be kidding," Professor McGonagall whispered with a horrified look.

"He's alive?" Harry asked, his voice trembling.

"Well, yeah, I guess," replied the Ministry official, shrugging. "Has to be. It's only the only way we'd end up with this type of thing happening. You saw me. I tried the spell like a hundred times. And even if he is Mr. Stubborn git in death like he was in life, he'd have to show himself after I cast that. So, either he somehow can bypass my spell—unlikely mind you—or ergo he's alive."

"His body was burned."

"His neck was—" Harry inhaled deeply to keep from sicking up as the memories flooded to his mind again. "You—I saw him. You have to be wrong. He can't be alive."

The Ministry official shrugged once more. "I don't know what else to say. Well, other than 'Just who did you bury out there.' But I guess you'll try to figure that out now. Either way, not my problem. I'm just supposed to put his portrait up. Up to you to figure the rest out now. Like why he's not there. Have a good day." The official then walked out of the office.

"Minerva, you don't think—"

"That he's alive? I-I honestly don't know, Filius." She glanced towards Harry before leaning against her desk with a hand to her chest. "Oh, goodness gracious. He always did this to us, didn't he, though? We should have expected it."

"Professor, I—um—maybe we should, you know, see for sure, if he's alive?" Harry quietly said. "Before we get our hopes up for nothing." If Professor Snape was alive— That opened an entirely different avenue Harry had never once considered. He watched the professors nod.

"Of course. We'll speak with Pomfrey and find out for certain." She shook her head slowly. "If it hadn't been for you, Mr. Potter, we'd never have—I mean—oh goodness. If he's alive, then—"

"It's a whole new game we're playing," Professor Flitwick finished for her.

"Exactly." She laughed softly. "We'll certainly owl you with the results either way, Mr. Potter. We both know how much Severus means to you now."

Harry nodded slowly. Disregarding Snape saving his life and protecting him for Harry's mum, the man could have easily been his father if it hadn't been for him losing his temper with Harry's mum that day by the lake. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine what his life would have been like then. Or what Snape's life would have been like either for that matter. Would they have had the normal father-son relationship like Arthur and Ron had? Would the Dark Lord have even come after Harry in the first place? Would so many deaths have been avoided then? So many questions.

"Thank you, Professors."

"No, Mr. Potter. As we keep telling you, thank you," Professor McGonagall responded with a soft smile. She then headed towards the Floo with Professor Flitwick following close behind.

Harry shook his head after the two Flooed to the hospital wing. He glanced up at the large portrait behind the high-backed chair. He caught his former Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes.

"What do you think, Professor?" Harry asked quietly.

"I think if anyone had reason for a second chance granted to them by the Fates, it would be Severus, my boy." Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Though, I would imagine if it turns out that he is, in fact, alive, then I'll have to endure yet another profanity-laced rant."

Harry snorted. "You deserved that."

"Yes, and no. As I told you before, my boy, I thought what I was doing was right."

"Yeah, and I still say you were a manipulative git," Harry remarked quietly.

"Agree to disagree again?"

"Agreed." Harry smiled faintly before shaking his head. "Is it wrong for me to hope he's alive now? Just so I don't feel guilty and sad that he went through hell for us, for me, Professor?"

"No. It's not wrong at all. Secretly, my boy, I think we all were hoping for him to be alive."

~Lullaby~

A few days later, Harry pulled his sons up into his lap, holding them against him. His green eyes reread the letter from Hogwarts once more before he chuckled, a smiling spreading across his face. It was confirmed. Severus Snape was not the man buried in the black marble tomb. They were one step closer to knowing that Snape had somehow survived Nagini's attack.

"Dada happy?"

"Daddy's very happy, Al," Harry replied, kissing his son's forehead. He watched his eldest child turn his head to the side in confusion. "Do you boys remember me telling you about the brave man I used to know? The man who saved your dad's life more than a few times?" Harry watched James nod while Al shook his head. "Well, it would seem that man's alive."

"Cause of Grandmum Lily?" James asked softly.

"I'm not sure, James." Harry laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not sure." He hugged his sons closer, smiling and closing his eyes.

"Dada?"

"Yeah, Al?"

"Story," the young toddler begged.

Harry nodded slowly. "All right, little guys." He sighed softly, trying to think of a story he hadn't already told his boys. He had used up most of his stories already unfortunately.

"Bout the man, Dada," Al said, sucking on his bottom lip quietly.

"All right, little man." Harry smiled faintly. "I'll tell you about my first class with Professor Snape." The boys snuggled against him, settling in. "I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect at all. Everyone whispered about how much of a git he was, you see? And your dad followed suit, believing it. Course Snape didn't really give me much to dispute that, though. Either way, there I was, sitting next to your Uncle Ron, when the door suddenly banged open and in walked this tall man with black billowy robes stalking to the top of the class. I was scared of him to tell you the truth. Afraid that at any moment he'd just attack or something. Stupid looking back on it now." Harry chuckled softly.

"Was good?"

"Yeah, Al, he was good." Harry sighed, shaking his head. "Just had everyone convinced he was a slimy git, though. He likely didn't know how else to act but that. Either way, he started off with this scary glance about the room before reading off all our names for roll call. He got to my name, and he got this sort of 'I hate you so much' tone."

"Like what Aunt 'Mione does to Uncle Ron?" James asked innocently.

Harry chuckled. "Sometimes. Yeah." Leave it to his boys to say that. He cleared his throat before he did his best Snape impression. "Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity." He heard his sons' giggles instantly. He smiled. "Well, let me tell you. It was positively scary." Harry shook his head. "And then he started with his speech about potions. We were all hypnotized by his words." He cleared his throat again before starting another impression. "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses." Harry let his voice trail off, watching his sons' eyes widen as they were on the edge of their seats. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death." The boys' mouths were hung open as they stared at their father, positively entranced. Is that what he had looked like when Snape had said it to his class all those years ago?

"Whoa," James whispered.

"'ick'd," Al said as well—Harry assuming his son was trying to say the word 'Wicked.'

"It was."

"Do you know how to do all that, Daddy?" James asked as Al looked on in utter fascination.

"Bottle fame, brew glory, stopper death?" Harry repeated. When his son nodded, he smiled. "Somewhat. I'll admit that I'm not exactly the best at Potions. I was one of Snape's dunderheads. Your mum is a hell of a lot better than me at it, though. She'd know." The boys snickered, however.

"Maybe he did that then? Stopper death?" little James said.

"Maybe," Harry agreed, shrugging. "I don't know for sure, guys. But what I do know is that Severus Snape was—" He stopped before inhaling. "Is the bravest man I ever knew."

~Lullaby~

In his office several weeks later—since Ginny practically threw him out of their house so he could obsess elsewhere, Harry frowned as he stared down at the map of England, namely the black dot slowly making its way across the map. His eyes remained transfixed on the dot. It had to work. Otherwise, he was back to square one again and nowhere closer to finding it Professor Snape. He grabbed his cup of tea, slowly bringing it up to his lips for a sip. He grimaced instantly.

"Yuck," he said, spitting the tea back into the cup. How long had he been staring at this map anyway? He frowned as the dot continued, though. It seemed as if he had been watching the black speck for days now, knowing it had only been hours, though. There was a knock at the door before it opened.

"Um, Harry?"

"Yeah, Ron?" he replied, not glancing up at his friend.

"Anything yet on Professor Sinistra?"

"The bloody owl is still flying." They had to find her. Somehow, she'd be the key. He knew it.

"But you don't think that, you know, it's circling, right? Like if she was, um, beyond the Veil?"

"No. It's flying diagonally. Has been since about two when I sent it off with the Tracker."

"Two?! That was like three hours ago, Harry! Just where does she live?"

Harry shrugged. "Somewhere northwest of us if the bird's right. It keeps flying up in that general direction." He then snorted as the black dot deviated sharply. "Scratch that. Owl just turned."

"You did use one of the good owls, right, mate?"

"Of course I did, Ron. I wasn't going to have another Errol incident." The men laughed softly, shaking their head as they recalled the late Weasley bird.

"I miss that crazy bird some days." Ron finally reached Harry's desk, leaning forward in his friend's line of sight. "That's near the border with Scotland." He frowned. "She didn't get too far from Hogwarts then. Wait! Harry! Look! It stopped."

"Finally," Harry remarked. "Carlisle," he read, thinking. A mill town if he remembered right.

"Seems like she lives in the suburbs."

"Yeah." He stood up, reaching for his jacket. "If Gin firecalls for me, tell her where I am."

"What are you going to say, though, Mate? 'Hey, Professor. You know that Slytherin git you used to love, well, he's not dead but we don't have a damn clue where he is. Yay?"

"I don't know, Ron." Harry shrugged. "I just feel like I need to be there. I can't explain it." He clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "See you soon." Harry turned on the spot, Disapparating in a nearby open area. He glanced around, making sure no one had seen him before heading into Carlisle.

Ron was right. What would he say? He sighed, recalling Hermione's words then followed closely by Ginny's. The ladies were vehemently against this. In fact, both Ginny and Hermione had claimed that his seeing their former Astronomy professor was only going to open up old wounds. Harry secretly agreed. It likely would. But at least then she would know. He couldn't get past the guilt now of knowing that Snape was alive. They had left Snape there, lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. It would be welcoming to know that Snape was alive now. Right?

He kicked at the ground, finally reaching the outer edge of Carlisle. He carefully removed his map from his pocket, glancing at the speck before heading off in that direction.

He soon approached a modest two-story house where a familiar gray owl rested atop of a chimney. Harry smiled faintly. He had found her. Maybe now they could find Snape, too. He walked along the sidewalk, the house still a few feet from him, when he stopped suddenly.

He caught a glimpse inside the house through an opened window. The sitting room he noted. He could hear the sound of laughter from inside the home. He slowed in his approach. Maybe Hermione and Ginny were right. Maybe this was stupid and reckless and idiotic. So, the professor loved Snape and was devastated by his supposed death ten years ago. Ten years was a long time. He stopped when he watched her walk past the window. She was smiling, laughing, happy.

He heard a male's voice then, velvety warm and clearly happy as well. He could have been wrong but it felt like his house, standing out there looking in—the whole scene partially obscured by curtains. He swallowed again. If it was him, he'd want to know. He continued then towards the door. His nerves were shot. He wanted to bolt, but he couldn't. Raising his hand, he gently knocked.

Harry's heart raced as he waited for the door to open. He felt his stomach lurch. Oh, Merlin, what was he doing? He was going to ruin everything. And for what? Really? For what? Because he thought that it'd make up for all the times Snape saved his pathetic arse? Make up for all the times Harry was convinced of Snape's guilt? All the times he wished Snape had died? Really? Is that why he was here? Out of some foolish attempt to make amends for a man who wouldn't even know Harry was trying to make amends? For a man they didn't even know where the hell was right now?

He watched the doorknob slowly turn and inhaled deeply. He had stood down the Dark Lord numerous times. With help from Snape of course, he added quickly. He couldn't forget that anymore. Snape had played a large role in Harry's life, and the young man hadn't even known it for the most part. This couldn't be as bad as choosing to die, though. He drew in another breath to steel himself as the door opened slowly. This was the right thing to do. He glanced up then and quickly took a step back, nearly falling backwards into the bushes. That was if it had not been for the quick hand that grabbed a hold of Harry and yanked him inside, the door slamming shut behind them.

"Potter!"

"Snape!"

"Oh, boy." Professor Sinistra cleared her throat quietly when the men's eyes darted to her. "I'll just be in the kitchen if you need me."

Harry watched her quickly leave before glancing back at Snape. Snape was the man he had heard laughing earlier? Snape was here? With Sinistra? His eyes narrowed. What in the world was going on?

"How did you find us, Potter?" Snape took several steps back from him, but still wore a dark glare as if he was mere moments from ripping Harry in two. "Answer me!"

"I put a Tracker on the owl and sent it to find Professor Sinistra, sir."

"Who knows you're here?" Snape demanded.

"Ron."

"Of course. Weasley." Snape scoffed, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. He turned away and limped into the sitting room.

Harry hesitated for a minute. Did that mean he was supposed to follow or not? The man wasn't exactly tossing him out onto his arse yet. But then again, the man wasn't exactly inviting him in either. So, he inhaled slowly and followed after a moment. They needed to talk. Maybe Snape knew that, too. They had a lot to work out. He swallowed when he took a seat on the sofa across from Snape.

"You don't seem that shocked to see me alive," Snape remarked with just a bit of bite to his words now. "Just that I'm here with her."

"The Ministry finally let us hang your portrait, only you weren't in it, sir. Wasn't hard to figure it out after that," Harry replied respectfully, staring at the man.

So many questions. Where would he even begin? Silence clearly, he noted a moment later as they just looked at one another for a long while. The awkward silence was sheer murder on Harry. Why wasn't Snape talking? He frowned inwardly. If the man wasn't going to talk, he would then.

"Still wearing black, I see, Professor," Harry said dryly, forcing an uncomfortable smile to his face as he noticed the man's black shirt and trousers.

"Still a complete pain in the arse Gryffindor, I see," Snape returned with his familiar sarcasm. He leaned back in his recliner then, his arms crossing slowly. "Why are you here?"

"Honestly, sir?" Harry laughed shortly, shrugging. This whole thing was ironic. Really. "I was going to tell Professor Sinistra that you were alive."

"As you can see, she already knows that."

"Yeah," Harry replied quietly. "Obviously, sir."

"Why you, though? Why not McGonagall? Or Flitwick? Clearly the others are involved and likely are aware of your attempts. So, why is it you, Potter?"

"Because I was the one—"

"Quit being an idiot and answer me," Snape snapped. "The truth, Potter."

Harry stared into the black eyes, frowning. Snape was likely using his Legilimency on him again. Or maybe he just saw the guilt written all over Harry. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Because after your funeral, I was there when she resigned, Professor. After Sinistra left, Professor McGonagall told me that Sinistra loved you."

"So? Why do you care?"

"I care because you protected me all those years, Professor, and I-I was an idiot. I thought the worst of you. I was wrong. So, I thought that telling her now would somehow help. Make up for every crap thing I did to you."

"By telling a woman who loves me that I'm not dead after ten years of thinking that I was? Once again, Potter, you surpass even my lowest expectations of your intellect."

"It sounded better in my head."

"Oh, I'm quite certain of that." Snape scoffed.

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. The questions were just bubbling up out of him. He had to get them out before he exploded. "I don't understand any of this, sir. How did you—"

"What, Potter?" He stared at Harry with a dark look of amusement. "Wondering how I managed to survive after you and your little friends left me there to die? Alone?" He smirked at Harry's flinch. "Hurts to hear the truth, doesn't it, Potter? To know that you and your friends—the Golden Trio of Goodness—were as heartless as the Dark Lord himself?"

"I tried to stop the bleeding, Snape, and you damn well know it, you greasy git!" Harry snapped. His words reverberated around the room, making Harry's insides clench. It had been a decade since he had uttered an insult towards Snape. Lately, all his words about the man were praise.

"There's the Potter we all know. Much better than this pretender in his place."

"What?" Harry's frown deepened. "I'm not lying, sir."

"Oh, stow it, Potter. Anyone who ever knew you knows this whole respect crap you're doing with me now is pure show. You don't respect me. You pity me."

"I don't, sir! It's not pity. I swear! I respect—"

"Lies."

"No. It's not! Snape, I respect you! I do! Merlin, I tell my kids every day how you're the bravest man I ever knew, sir. It's the truth. I respect you. It's why I tried—"

"No, Potter. You don't respect me. You pity me."

"You're wrong, Professor. I don't pity you," Harry argued, shaking his head. Why wouldn't the man listen? Why did he have to be such a stubborn git?

"Then, tell me, Potter. Truthfully. Why do you respect me? What did I do to earn that?"

"You protected me all those years and kept me safe."

"Self-serving actions that were merely to repay a life debt to your father and keep a promise to your mother. Nothing more."

"You put yourself in harm's way and spied again so the Order knew when he'd come after me. What the plans were and relayed it to them."

"As I said before, it was merely to keep a promise to your mother."

"No. I mean, you're right. Of course. My mother played a large role in everything you did." Harry paused before glancing at the man. "But the Forest of Dean? You led me to the Sword so I could destroy the Horcruxes."

"As per Albus's orders," Snape replied with a shrug.

"The memories you gave me? The begging to find me when the Dark Lord called you to him? The keeping the students safe from the Carrows?"

"Following Albus's orders so you would know do what needed to be done. Wanting to find you so I could relay that and to get back to my wife. And doing my duty as not only a decent human being, but as a Hogwarts' professor. None of that is a sign of bravery, Potter. Merely me following orders and being human."

"Wait. What? Your wife?" Harry's eyes darted to the direction Professor Sinistra had left in. "You were married before the Final Battle?"

"Perhaps you're not as hard of hearing as I thought you were, Potter." Snape nodded slowly. "Yes. We were married before then."

"But you loved my mother." Harry hadn't meant it to sound so accusatory, but he had thought the man had been solely devoted to her. He was convinced of it based on the memories he saw. It was strange to hear otherwise.

"The keyword in that being 'Loved,' Mr. Potter. I moved on. Obviously."

"But I saw—"

"You saw what I wanted you to see, Potter."

"But." Harry frowned. "I don't understand. Your Patronus is a doe. Like my mum's."

"Yes. And your point is what exactly?"

"Unrequited love or whatever. It's deep and powerful and unending and—" Harry stopped abruptly when Snape chuckled loudly. Wasn't that true? "What?"

"So you would rather I had remained alone, miserable, and bitter the rest of my life?"

"Well, no. I just—I don't know. I thought—well, from what I saw from your memories, my mum was like your life. I didn't—I thought that you didn't—like it was—" Harry sighed. He couldn't explain what he thought.

"You saw what I wanted you to see, Potter," Snape stated, leaning forward in his chair with a relaxed look on his face. "There was no need for you to see anything about my life with Aurora."

"Yeah, but what you did show me made me think your whole life sucked, sir," Harry replied with a sigh. "All this time I thought you suffered so much for us. I mean, we were all gits to you, always adding on top of all the other crap you had to deal with already. Me especially with all the stuff I pulled, thinking that I was better. I didn't see anything in your memories that showed that you received the respect, the honor, the whatever, you deserved. And what you did show, leave as a memory for all of us to remember you by was just—well, people would just remember you as a snarky git who hated everyone, me especially." Harry shrugged. "But I'm clearly wrong."

"You made an assumption based on what you saw. An assumption that anyone would make based on the memories I gave you."

"But why? I mean, I understand why you didn't let me see that part of your life. It's private, but why those memories, sir?"

"Because you've always wanted to know more about your mother," Snape answered softly. "Lupin and the others could only provide some of the story, Potter. They could never give you the back story. Before she came to Hogwarts. I could at least help you with that. And in doing so, you would gain the understanding of what you needed to do, the difficult choice you had to make." Snape sighed. "Willingly sacrificing yourself for others while not knowing the end result? If you would live after making that sacrifice? Now that is brave."

"But you didn't know your end result either, though, sir."

"If I didn't know the Dark Lord would try to kill me that day, then I was clearly a dunderhead then. Of course he'd try to kill me. I killed Albus Dumbledore. So he made an assumption. An incorrect one, but based on what facts he knew, he jumped to the logical conclusion—I killed Albus Dumbledore, ergo I mastered the Elder Wand. Had he ever bothered to ask Mr. Malfoy if he had disarmed him before I and the others had arrived, he'd have known that Mr. Malfoy had. The Dark Lord, however, was too gleeful about Dumbledore's death to ask that question."

"You knew?"

"I believe I just stated that, yes." Snape stared at Harry for a few moments as the young man mulled over that statement. "I'm a Slytherin, Mr. Potter. We're cunning and self-preserving."

"How, sir? How did you survive?"

"As it seemed inevitable towards the end there that he would at sometime try to kill me, I dosed myself frequently with anti-venom potions before I left Hogwarts whenever he called me."

"So that took care of any poisoning that would happen." He watched Snape incline his head. "The wounds to your neck? The moving no more? The lifeless appearance? You really looked dead, Snape." He caught the other man's faint smirk.

"Glad to know I brewed a perfect Draught of Living Death."

"But that's instantaneous, though."

Snape chuckled. "It would seem I was mistaken. You did actually manage to learn something in Potions." He shook his head. "I'm impressed, Mr. Potter." He then drew in a slow breath before speaking with clear pride in his voice. "I made numerous modifications to the potion, namely including a trigger release—something that hadn't to my knowledge been done before. I needed the potion to work at precisely the right moment, you understand. After I had given my memories to you in other words, Potter. None of this would have worked if I hadn't."

"What was the trigger?" Harry quickly thought back to that day after asking. Snape hadn't said a spell or even tried to reach for his wand that had rested beside him. The man frankly was too weak for that. For good reason of course. So, what was the trigger?

"Originally, it was going to be when my systems started to shut down. However, I had changed it during the bottling process." He sighed. "It would be too easy for my systems to have shut down after that massive of blood loss. So I changed it to your eyes meeting mine."

"Look . . . at . . . me . . ."

Harry felt a chill sweep down him as he recalled the ghostly rasp from that day. He still to that day would sometimes relive that moment in his dreams. It was so heart wrenching, and Harry didn't even know at the time how much more it would hurt to know the truth. He nodded numbly. Up until that point that day, he had been so focused on trying to stop the gushing wound to Snape's neck that he hadn't met the man's eyes. He had been too horrified and shocked. If it hadn't been for Snape telling him to take something, he'd never have noticed the memories pouring out of the man in fact.

"Even I knew that you would be your usual idiotic Gryffindor self and strut up to the Dark Lord, so that part was a given clearly. So it was logical. I just needed to make sure that I stayed conscious long enough for you to get the memories."

"I didn't strut," Harry grumbled.

"Well, you didn't necessarily walk all that silently upon finding me."

Harry frowned. This was why he hated the man. Snape always had to find one more thing to insult him about no matter what it was.

"So how did you wake up then, Professor?"

"A week before my supposed death, I had ordered one of Hogwarts' house elves to revive me by use of Wiggenweldpotion upon hearing of anyone mentioning my death."

"Which happened when I told McGonagall." He watched Snape nod slowly. "But your neck, Snape. It was all . . ." Bloody. Sliced open. Pierced. Utter hell. "you know."

"After drinking Draught of Living Death, your body is in suspended animation. You do not suffer any more blood loss in other words. You just stop living temporarily. You can be, however, healed during this time. Which I was by the house elf tasked with reviving me. However, the idiot thing didn't know which potions it was forcing down my throat, just that I had three vials of some sort of potions. Thankfully, I had the foresight of having two Blood Replenishing vials on my persons."

"But the wounds!"

"Dear Merlin, Potter, I'm getting there," Snape hissed rather exasperatedly—more annoyed with being interrupted than angered. "In addition to the Blood Replenishing, the house elf gave me a vial of Felix Felicis."

"Liquid Luck."

"Precisely."

"But you were on the ground bleeding to death, though. How would it help you?"

"State the effects of taking Felix Felicis, Potter. Aloud."

Harry frowned. What was he playing at exactly? He thought back on his experience with it and his learning it from Professor Slughorn before answering.

"All of the drinker's endeavors will tend to succeed. It gives the drinker confidence and a tremendous sense of opportunity." Harry's voice trailed off as keywords flashed in his mind. "All of the drinker's endeavors . . ."

"My wishing to survive clearly succeeded," Snape finished.

"Tremendous sense of opportunity . . ."

"My magic instinctively healed me upon my revival."

"But the burned body, though."

"A Death Eater who stumbled upon the Shrieking Shack in an attempt to gain access to the castle through the use of the secret passage."

"You killed him?"

"He'd have gained access to Hogwarts otherwise."

Harry swallowed back the bile that gathered in his throat. He felt sick again as he stared at the man across from him. He didn't want to ask the next question. But the question left his mouth.

"You burned his body?"

"It was necessary," Snape replied calm and collected like always.

"That's—"

"Would you rather I have left him in the Forbidden Forest for the wolves to eat him, Mr. Potter?"

"You burned his body, Snape! You desecrated—!"

"Do not go thinking that he was some helpless victim, Potter. Had he gained access to Hogwarts, he'd have slaughtered as many of your peers as he could find. And if that didn't satisfy him, he'd have defiled young ladies like Miss Weasley or Miss Granger. His so-called desecration was too good for him frankly, Potter. If I hadn't needed a way to ensure that you all believed that I was dead, I'd have done a hell of a lot more than just burn the Shrieking Shack down with him inside."

Harry glared at him. How could he be so calm about this? Snape had burned another man's body. Why didn't he find his actions sick and disgusting at all? Why was it just Harry who was horrified by it? The younger man then thought more on everything. Maybe Snape wasn't the only one who had played everyone like a damn fiddle.

"When did Professor Sinistra know you were alive? After your so-called funeral? Before? Hell, is she that good of an actress like you are, Snape?" Harry snapped. He ignored Snape's eyes narrowing on him. "Was everything I saw in the Headmaster's office pretend? Did you two plan to run off together and make all of us think you were dead all along so you two could play house with one another?"

"No."

"When did she find out, Snape?" Harry didn't know why he was so upset. Well, maybe he did. Everyone had at one time or another played him like a damn fiddle, and he was tired of it.

"So much for showing respect," Snape remarked quietly.

"When did she find out?" Harry repeated.

"What does it matter, Potter?"

"It matters because it means yet another person lied to—"

"Always has to be about you, doesn't it, Potter? Nothing can ever be about anyone else."

"She knew, Snape! She knew that damn day that you were alive and she didn't—"

"She didn't know anything, Potter! She didn't know until she arrived at the cottage that I was alive. I kept it hidden from her as well." Snape scoffed. "Merlin, Potter, you're even more self-absorbed than your father was. Not everything in the world is about you."

Harry blinked, staring at Snape. He ignored the man's trademark insults as Snape always had to get another barb in at him. Instead, he focused on what Snape had said.

"You didn't tell her?"

"I believe I just said that, yes."

"You didn't tell your wife that you were alive until after she left Hogwarts? After she left your funeral? You didn't tell her?"

If that had been Harry, Ginny would have hexed his arse to Australia. And if it wouldn't have been Ginny, then surely Hermione or Luna would. He stared at Snape, who merely stared back at him.

"You git!"

"I don't believe you have any right to call me names about something that is a private matter, Potter. Or something that happened years ago," Snape pointed out.

"I hope she hexed you for putting her through that."

"And here just a bit ago you were all but singing my praise and spouting how much you respected me, Potter."

Harry glared at him, knowing that Snape was right.

"All because I thought for years now that you were all alone, treated like crap by others, and miserable. Clearly all lies," Harry remarked.

"And obviously you showing that you do, in fact, pity me," Snape replied with a shrug.

"I don't pity you, Snape."

"Oh?" He snorted. "You thought I was all alone," Snape mocked. "That everyone in my life treated me like crap, and that I was miserable as a result." He shook his head, scoffing. "That is pity, Potter. You felt sorry for me. So you decided to take up the cause of being Saint Potter again and get my portrait hung in the Headmaster's office." His dark eyes bore holes into Harry. "Pity and guilt, Potter. Those are what drove you to do all this for me. To make yourself feel better."

"No!" Harry argued.

"Yes, Potter. That's all this is. When you found out that I'm not the miserable bastard you believed I was—not the lonely tortured soul who was hopelessly devoted to your mother, you became angry. Because I'm not fitting with your image of me anymore. Again. Once more you were wrong. And you don't take failure well."

"Does anyone?" Harry snapped, clenching his jaw. He wanted to punch Snape in the nose. Badly. The git.

"Depends what they fail, I suppose," Snape replied with a listless shrug.

"So, what is the real story about you, Snape? Since I have it all wrong according to you."

"I suppose I can divulge that. I have nothing better to do anymore after all," Snape drawled. "I was friends with your mother until I lost my temper one day and snapped at her after she tried to help me. We went our separate ways then obviously. She went to your father. I went to the Death Eaters. I overheard Trelawney's prophecy and relayed it to the Dark Lord. I did not think that it would mean her, though. Had I known before that he'd assume it was her, I'd not have told him. I never wanted Lily to be hurt. She was my best friend. Much like Granger is yours, Potter." Snape frowned, shaking his head.

Harry watched him silently. He knew most of this already, the memories matching up with Snape's words. Well, Harry had assumed that Snape had loved Lily a bit more, like one of those romantic novels Ginny always read—about the tortured man secretly loving a beautiful woman from afar too shy to tell her but loved her so deeply and passionately. Harry frowned. He really shouldn't have listened to his wife's summaries of her novels. They were utter crap.

"I begged the Dark Lord to spare her," Snape continued. "I admit that I told him that I didn't care what happened to you and your father. Because at the time I was still bitter for losing her to him. I came up with a plan b just in case the Dark Lord didn't keep his end of the bargain, and I begged Dumbledore then, too. Saving your mother was my ultimate goal, Potter. I didn't want her to die."

"I didn't think you did, Snape," Harry softly said.

Snape ignored him, though. "The Headmaster had offered me the Potions Master position, so I was at Hogwarts when the news broke out. I couldn't breathe when he told me. I felt as if I had no reason to live anymore. And I told Dumbledore as much. You heard his response to that."

"And what use would that be to anyone?"

Harry glanced down as he recalled Dumbledore's cold, heartless reply. It was something he had snapped at Dumbledore over. For saying that to a man who clearly was devastated.

"It was the right thing to say. Harsh but necessary. My feeling sorry for myself would not make up for my sins. Would not help me redeem myself."

"He didn't care, Snape."

"Is that what you thought every time I said something harsh to you? That I didn't care?"

"Well, it's not exactly a nice way of showing you care, Snape."

"Since when have I ever done things the nice way, Potter?'

Harry shrugged. He supposed the man had a point there. Snape rarely did. He sighed. He was losing this argument again.

"Do you recall when you screamed every spell you knew at me after Dumbledore's death?" Harry nodded slowly. "What did I say to you?"

"Don't call me a coward," Harry replied, frowning.

"No. Before that." He sighed, running a hand through his hair when Harry only stared at him blankly. "Fine. I'll enlighten you." Snape recited from memory, 'Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter."

"Yeah, you were being a git."

"No."

"What do you mean 'No?' That was you annoyed at me for trying to hex you."

"Oh dear Merlin. It's like talking to a wall," Snape muttered. "My four-year-old can comprehend things better than you, Potter."

Harry glared at him before his eyes narrowed as the words sunk in. His four-year-old? He stared at the man with his mouth gaped. Snape had kids?

"Potter, what had I taught you the prior year?"

"Potions." Harry watched Snape facepalm instantly. "What?"

"Besides, Potions, Potters. What was I teaching you on Dumbledore's behalf?"

"Occlumency," Harry answered.

"Correct. And what is vital to any good Occlumens?"

"The ability to close your mind." He watched Snape incline his head slowly before the man stared at him with a 'Well, come on, Potter. Figure it out' look. Harry frowned, but thought on it for a bit. He could see the annoyance slowly crossing Snape's features before he sighed. "Oh."

"For my benefit, please, do say it out loud, Potter."

Harry sighed. "You were telling me how you knew which spells I was using at the time."

"And?"

"And you were instructing me to close my mind so it'd not be so obvious what spells I was using, stop being so emotional in other words. You were helping me."

"Precisely."

"What about my first Potions class, though? You were a snarky git. What were you trying to teach me then?"

"That was me being a git," Snape admitted. "I had preconceived notions about you, and there was still clear bitterness for your father. However, I grew out of that as the year progressed. Frankly, after the Forbidden Forest incident, you were merely an annoyance to me."

"You didn't hate me?"

"No. You were clearly not your father. You had moments where you emulated him, but you took after your mother mostly with your kind heart."

Harry stared at Snape for a long time. Had Snape just complimented him?

"What's happening here?"

"We're having a conversation, Potter. Adults tend to do that, you see," Snape drawled.

"Must you always do that?"

"Honestly, yes. It's quite amusing to see you get your feathers all ruffled."

Harry frowned. "Okay, so after my parents' death, Snape, then what happened?"

"I carried on as a Hogwarts professor, promising to protect you if there was any danger. It, however, remained quiet so I attempted to make a life for myself." He glanced away then towards the unlit fireplace. "I hadn't noticed Aurora when we were students. I frankly was too enamored with your mother to do so. However, when Aurora joined the staff a year after I had, I was forced to work closely with her since she was the only other Slytherin on staff besides me."

Harry nodded slowly. Something in Snape's voice had changed now. The familiar annoyance Harry was accustomed to hearing in the man's voice had disappeared. Calmness had replaced it. A sense of peace possibly—Harry couldn't be certain. Snape always guarded his emotions after all.

"She was the only one in most cases to sit beside me willingly at the staff table. It annoyed me greatly at first. She should have been like the others and feared me. However, I soon grew to appreciate her presence beside me. She was the only one who treated me normally. Not as the Death Eater, Dark Arts lover, murderous bastard the others treated me as. We became friends. Or as close to friends as I would let her be."

"Because of Mum?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes. Everyone I was close to had a habit of either dying or turning out to be another person in my life who wanted to use me. I was tired of both options. So I kept her at bay as long as I could. I had thought I would protect her by doing this."

Harry nodded slowly, recalling doing the same to Ginny once.

"Only Aurora doesn't know the meaning of the word no." Snape shook his head, snorting as he remembered something as well. "I pushed her away time after time. Every day that I pushed her away, she'd come back the next, telling me she wasn't taking no as an answer."

"Pushy," Harry remarked quietly.

"Stubborn as hell," corrected Snape, shaking his head. "A year before you arrived to Hogwarts, I finally gave up telling her no. I thought she'd lose her interest if I showed her just what a relationship with me would be like—the bastard she wanted to be with in other words. She accepted my faults and embraced my mistakes no matter how horrible they were. She returned it all with love and forgiveness and kindness."

"You fell in love with her."

"Obviously," Snape said with a snort. He sighed, shaking his head. "We agreed that we'd keep our relationship a secret from everyone. I didn't want her to deal with idiots making smartarse remarks to her about being with me. She didn't deserve that. So, we'd sneak around to be with each other. She'd go on the occasional dates to keep up appearances. I'd spend the weekend brewing to keep from punching the hell out of whichever loser she was with this time."

Harry smiled faintly. He recalled that jealousy too easily. He still had issues with it whenever Ginny would be meeting with Dean or Seamus. He hadn't thought he was that similar to Snape.

"It wasn't easy. But it was necessary. To keep her safe." Snape frowned. "When the Dark Mark started to grow darker each day, I knew I had made the right decision by keeping our relationship a secret. Too many times, men had been destroyed by the loss of a woman. I had thought frequently that year of ending our relationship, but I had grown to care for her too deeply by that time. When Mr. Diggory died, I returned several hours later to the Dark Lord as per Dumbledore's orders. Since I was one of the last to arrive, the Dark Lord was not in a good mood. He punished me for my tardiness. I don't need to go into detail with that I'm sure."

Harry nodded slowly. He could imagine how the man was tortured for that.

"When I returned to Hogwarts, I could barely move. Aurora was in my rooms. She had waited for me to return. She healed me to the best of her abilities. Shoved numerous potions down my throat to soothe my pain. Not once did she tell me that I was an idiot for going back to the Dark Lord. For letting Dumbledore manipulate me once more by bringing up my promise to protect you for Lily. Not once. Instead, she just held me and stayed by my side."

Harry remained silent as Snape was quiet for a bit. He could not even imagine the pain the man had gone through for him. He wanted to tell Snape that was brave of him to return, but he knew the man would argue fiercely.

"You were correct in your thinking that my legacy would only be that of bitterness and anger. I didn't want that to be all that was left behind if I died. So, when I woke up later with her in my arms, I asked her to marry me. She would be my one good thing in the world. Even if no one knew it." Snape paused again for a few moments before he continued. "We married in a small church in Cokeworth a little past three that following morning. She flatly told the priest that we were non-believers and asked him if his God would allow him to marry us. The priest likely thought we were drunk, but he married us straight away after Aurora promised a large donation for his God." Snape chuckled, shaking his head. "Since we eloped in the Muggle world, there would be no chance that anyone would know. We gave each other no rings. And you'd not have known we were married if you watched us closely. We wore our masks perfectly. Rooming separately most nights except for the rare occasional date nights when one of us would check into a hotel and the other would Apparate in later when it was clear."

"Did you two ever think about coming clean? Telling the others that you were married?"

"No. I'd have put her in danger, Potter. And she'd have faced scorn from the others."

"Did she care—"

"Of course not. She would have shouted how much she loved me from her tower if given the chance. She accepted all of me, Potter. The good and the bad." Snape frowned. "When Umbridge arrived, though, it became extremely difficult. Umbridge knew the staff was hiding something so she was always trying to catch us in a lie she could extort for her pleasure. That year I rarely saw Aurora."

Harry didn't know why he cared. It was Snape's business. Not his. Still, the question remained.

"Did you tell her that you were going to kill Dumbledore, Snape?"

"No. I couldn't risk her trying to stop me. She may embrace the bad, but she has an annoying habit of trying to save me as well." Snape sighed. "The first thing she did when she returned here for the summer after she saw me was hex me. Well, that and punch me."

"Ouch." Harry winced in sympathy.

"You have no idea." He shook his head. "She knew there was more to the story unlike you and the others," he pointed out. "She felt betrayed and hurt by my not trusting her. By my not letting her in."

"She forgave you, though."

"Eventually. I didn't tell her the whole story. Like you, I only gave her pieces. She could see the signs as clear as I could, though, as the year progressed. That war was coming. I made the plans about the hereafter in secret. I kept her in the dark again. I had told her that if anything happened, though, I wanted her to return to the house. It was mostly so I knew where she'd be afterwards."

Harry nodded. He could understand that.

"So, once I was finished setting everything up to make all of you believe I had died, I returned to our house. Here. I didn't contact her. Didn't even try. I needed her to believe I was dead so she'd act accordingly. So everyone would truly believe it. I knew she'd not be able to stay at Hogwarts after my 'funeral.' So I waited here for her to arrive." Snape frowned, picking at a loose thread on the armchair. "We didn't play house, though, Potter. Certainly we've had a better life away from the Wizarding World, but don't think we've had all fun and games now."

Harry frowned. Snape's life sounded good now. It was loads better than what the man had lived through in the Wizarding World. Going through hell for them and secretly being apart from his wife.

"She cut all ties to her family, her friends for this. For this one little slice of normalcy for us. So we could for once just be husband and wife. Not have to give a damn about anyone else but ourselves."

"We've been at peace for a decade now," Harry stated. "You both could come back. I've seen to it that you're seen as a hero by the public, Snape. Hell, we both know if it hadn't been for you, I'd never have made it past my first year."

"Do you think I've not thought about it, Potter? That I enjoy hiding her away from her family and friends because of me?" Snape shook his head. "I've never met my in-laws or even my sister-in-law. So, I hardly believe we'd be welcomed back with open arms with the amount of lies we've told."

Harry glanced down, frowning.

"You said you have a four-year-old," he said quietly. "How many kids do you have?

"Three. Two daughters and a son," Snape answered. "With another child on the way."

Harry chuckled before he glanced at him. "Sounds like you and the professor are becoming the next Weasley family, Snape," the younger wizard joked. He caught Snape's snort instantly.

"Hardly."

"I have three kids, too. Two sons and a daughter." He watched Snape nod once. "My sons love to hear me tell them stories about Hogwarts. My youngest son most especially. He enjoys hearing about the man he's named after." He caught a flicker of something in Snape's eyes before it vanished. "You, sir."

"Naming your son after me is rather foolish, Potter," Snape quietly said. "It's a wretched name."

"Well, Ginny only let me give it as a middle name to him. Not a first name. She didn't think it was right to name him after you."

"Bit of a controlling woman, isn't she?" he remarked before shaking his head. "You named him as to pay tribute to me?" He exhaled loudly when Harry nodded. "How . . . nice."

"He inherited my mum's eyes." Harry watched Snape nod stiffly. "He goes by the name of 'Al' mostly, though. For Albus Severus Potter." Snape nodded again. "He loves hearing about you."

"You have romanticized views of me that are incorrect, Potter. I'm not a hero."

"But, Snape, you—"

"I told you, Potter. Everything I did was either me following Albus's orders or was due to me attempting to redeem myself. I did nothing heroic. Nothing truly for the Greater Good."

Harry frowned. He wasn't going to win this argument with the man. He rarely won an argument with Snape ever actually. He shook his head.

"Fine, but you can still come back. We already know you're alive. Maybe it won't be that bad."

"Perhaps."

Harry's eyes narrowed. Did that mean Snape agreed? Or that he disagreed with Harry? The man's neutral look didn't help either. He frowned. He was never going to understand this man.

"I mean, who knows? Her parents could be really happy to find out their grandparents."

"After being lied to and kept in the dark for years? I sincerely doubt it, Potter."

"Yeah, but it's been years since they even heard from her, not to mention seen the professor. They might just be glad to see her, Snape."

"Perhaps."

Harry glared at him. He was getting rather tired of the man's 'perhaps.' Snape sounded like—well, Harry actually. That made the younger man pause for a moment.

"Why do you keep saying that?" He watched Snape glance at him.

"Because it upsets you, and I have nothing better to entertain me anymore."

Harry frowned. He'd say it again. That git. The silence settled around them for a while. It wasn't awkward anymore. Not after learning so much about one another. Harry wouldn't be an idiot and say they were friends, but they were like old comrades now. Or something. He didn't really know what.

"Snape?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Are you happy now?" Harry turned his head to glance at Snape, whom he owed so much.

"Yes, Potter." Snape nodded slowly. "I think I finally am."

"Good." Harry smiled before he stood up. He held his hand out to Snape, noticing the man's brows furrow again. They shook a moment later. "Thank you, sir. For everything." Harry then glanced towards the kitchen before looking back at Snape. "If you ever think about coming back, you and your family are always welcome at my house, Snape."

"Call me Severus, Harry," the man quietly spoke as he caught Harry's green eyes.

"Good night, Severus," Harry said with a grin, nodding before he left. All was finally well.