Many of Voldemort’s victims were known to him, as acquaintance, colleague, friend, foe, student and, those who touched his life, he remembers. Names, dates of birth, dates and causes of death, the families they left behind.

“Frederick Weasley: born: April 1st 1978, died: May 2nd 1998 during the battle of Hogwarts. Always the jester, never the fool, Fred used his considerable creative talents and tactical ingenuity to undermine those who sought to abuse their authority. Member of the resistance, Co-founder of ‘Weasley Wizard Wheezes’, Beater for Gryffindor, dearly loved and missed son to Molly and Arthur Weasley, brother to William, Charles, Percival, Ronald and Ginerva and twin to George. Rest in Peace.”

During the day, Headmaster Snape aids the Hogwarts Governors and the Ministry in repairing the damage that Voldemort wrought. When I returned to Hogwarts this September, I expected, almost feared Snape’s baleful presence. Although I knew that the ‘Potions Monster’ persona was merely a mask designed to hide his true allegiance, Snape’s hatred of me had always been very real.

However, Snape is so busy that, but for the tide of owls streaming in and out of his office window and this melancholy evening ritual, we wouldn’t even know that he was alive.

Every evening, night after night, obituary after obituary. The memorial was his idea, his personal apology to everyone who died, it is rumoured. Not that he hasn’t already repaid his debt two-fold; Snape fought harder than anyone, myself included, to bring down Voldemort and almost died for his cause. If Hermione hadn’t had that bottle of murtlap…

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always remember how the bullying bastard made my life a misery for five years. However, as I watch that slender, almost fragile form, shrouded in widower’s weeds, carrying out his self-appointed duty, when I later read his succinct, candid descriptions of the dead, it’s difficult to hate Snape, himself.

Especially after seeing his memories of my mother.

oOoOo

Tonight, Halloween, there was a special memorial service by the tablet. Everyone, from Ministry bigwigs to Mundungus Fletcher, gathered around the tablet as Snape wrote in the last obituary, Myriam Zyntree. Everyone laid flowers and cried and thought of the dead, often doing all three at the same time. As I wrap Ginny in my arms, stroking her fiery hair and whispering condolences, I notice Snape, standing still and silent as a statue, gazing into the distance. His dark eyes, usually as soulless as a Dementor victim, flickering with a strange light.

Inexplicably disturbed, I avert my gaze and, when possible, usher my group away, into the bright, candle-lit hall, filled with the wholesome scents of casseroles, fresh breads and roast vegetables.

Later, as I lie in bed, staring at the rich, red velvet canopy of my four-poster, I cannot divert my mind from those bright, almost triumphant eyes, that tilted chin, the tiny, almost imperceptible upturn at the left corner of his mouth.

For the first time in God knows how long, Snape seems to have found peace, happiness even. And it chills me to the bone because he shouldn’t have either; not because he doesn’t deserve it but because, knowing what I know of his life and feelings, it seems impossible.

Something is seriously wrong.

I slip out of bed, thrusting my feet into my shoes, and swirling my invisibility cloak around my shoulders. I reach down for my holly wand but, struck by a sudden impulse, I grab the Elder Wand. Perhaps the cloak misses it’s ‘brother’ hallow. I don’t know.

Hogwarts is silent, cold as a morgue. As a pass through the corridors, I notice that ice is forming on the inside of the glass. Damn. Should have put on my dressing gown.

No ghosts pass me in the silent corridors, no students, sneaking off on shenanigans, no Filch or even Mrs Norris prowl the halls of Hogwarts. This castle is my first home- the first home I remember at least- but now… It’s actually kind of creepy. Strange, isn’t it? During my years here I have been hunted by an alleged mass-murderer (sorry Sirius), a basilisk, Voldemort and, last but not least, Snape- who to my adolescent mind was way scarier. Even during the battle of Hogwarts, when Death Eaters were out for our blood, I’ve never been uneasy in the castle. Possibly I was just too hepped up on adrenaline to notice how dangerous it all was.

It might make me a wuss but, I’ll admit it, I’m feeling rather spooked now.

Eventually, I reach the Headmaster’s tower and, to my surprise, the door is ajar. Snape is just as likely to streak through Diagon Alley as to leave the door to his quarters unwarded, let alone open.

Damn.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn!

Gryffindork that I am, I’m not going to go wake McGonagall, I’m going to push open that door and walk in and see whatever there is to be seen.

It’s so silent. No rattle of breath, no gasps of pain, no sounds of movement. If Snape’s been attacked, he must be dead.

The bastard is invincible. He’s the big, bad bogeyman. Not some fragile, killable mortal. Even Nagini couldn’t destroy him!

A willowy form in widowers weeds flashed into my minds eye and I suddenly realised: Snape had gotten thin, so thin that he looked like he could be snapped by a strong breeze. Suddenly, his absence at meals in the Great Hall appeared ominous. Perhaps it wasn’t that Snape hadn’t been eating with us, he hadn’t been eating- full stop.

The way he swayed in the wind as he wrote those obituaries. The old Snape would have stood firm, daring even a hurricane to wrong-foot him. The stubborn bastard was like that.

Why did no one realise how weak he’d gotten?

Gritting my teeth and girding my loins, I push open the door, stepping inside in terrified anticipation.

His hair drawn across his face like a veil, Snape slouches in the chair; an incongruously small bundle of fusty black. One long, pale hand grasps a crystal goblet, in which lurks a smoking violet liquid.

“Ah, Mr Potter” Snape says, straightening his back. He pushes his inky hair behind an ear, a strangely youthful gesture, and indicates to the chair in front of him.

“I was just reviewing some memories, perhaps you would like to join me?”

I stare at him, incredulous, my jaw hanging open almost to my knees.

“I’m not drunk, Potter” he sneers, a strange half-smile twisting his lips. “Ha! Work is the curse of the drinking classes.” He takes a long swig of the liquid “Pity alcohol fucks most potions. Bastard son of a bitch.”

“Me?” I ask, completely flummoxed. Okay, Snape might hate me but he’s never sworn like this; why use a crude hammer when you can craft innocuous words into daggers?

“No. You, Mr Potter, are a bitchy son of a bastard.” Snape giggles, actually giggles! “Lily would never be unfaithful, even if her husband was a knob-head like James Potter. Too much self-respect.”

Cautiously, I approach the desk. “Um, Sir… Er, I think you’ve had enough…” I hesitantly reach for the goblet.

“No. Not finished yet.” Snape throws back another swig “Got to finish it all.”

“You’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow” I plead, reaching again for the glass.

Snape sniggers and then downs the remaining droplets of purple potion “Fuck you, Potter. Here, you can have the bloody goblet” He throws the glass clumsily at me and I, surprised at its weight, fumble the catch, only snagging it at the last moment thanks to my Seeker reflexes.

“Diamond. It’ll buy you a house. A nice one, not a shit-heap like Black's den.”

“What?”

Snape raises an eyebrow “Always crap at potions, weren’t you Potter?” he laughs again and hauls the pensieve across the desk, leaving scratches in the ancient wood. “Are you coming or not?”

Shaking my head at the sheer bizarreness of the situation, I put my hand into the pensieve. In the next moment, I find myself at the Yule ball. I glance around, trying to catch my bearings, and see a pretty redhead- obviously Ginny- twirling in the arms of a dark haired boy. Oh, and there I am, dancing… no, I sat down after the first dance, didn’t I. It suddenly dawns on me. I spin around, wide eyed, to stare at the redhead. She’s wearing a gold filigree mask, enamelled with white and royal purple, but one glance at her emerald eyes is enough to confirm it.

She’s my mother, not my girlfriend.

I turn to Snape, only to find that he’s wondered off to stand closer to Lily, who now is accepting a fizzy, pink drink from her black-masked date. I’m such an idiot! Although the cleanliness of his dark hair was a bit of a red herring, how could I not recognise that dignified, slender figure, that cat-like grace?

Though I never really considered Snape had anything going for him, I knew, in my hindbrain, that he was poised: I’d have to be a total dunderhead not to notice that, given all the times he’s snuck up on me. Snape must have been Lily’s date for the Yule ball that year. Yeah, they’d have been invited to the ball in the winter of their OWL year and, as they’d only fallen out the following summer, they must have still been friends.

“Thanks, Sev” she smiles, taking a sip from her glass. “Mmm… didn’t know they served anything other than pumpkin juice.”

Young Severus blushes “I know you like grapefruit juice, Lily, so I suggested that the elves source some.”

“You’re so thoughtful, Sev.” she smiles “Pumpkin juice is too sweet for me.”

“Most things are, Lily. I’ve never known anyone who drinks vinegar from the bottle.”

“Just because I’m sweet enough already!” she laughs, green eyes glittering. “Besides, you drink maraschino cherry juice.”

“As the opposite of ‘sweet’ is ‘tart’, I fear you’re casting aspersions on my morals, madam?” he replies, dark eyes twinkling.

“Maybe” She throws an arm around Snape’s narrow waist. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

I step to follow them, only to catch a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye. Snape has slumped on the floor. A thin trickle of blood seeps from the corner of his mouth.

“Sir!” I gasp, running over.

“Don’t! Leave me be.”

“I need to get Madam Pomfrey! How do I get out of this?”

“Surely your experiences thus far have taught you, Mr Potter, not to get into a situation if you don’t know how to get out.” Snape sneers, a shadow off his old vindictiveness darkening his expression. “I don’t want or need Madam Pomfrey’s services.”

“But, Sir, you’re bleeding!”

“Perfectly normal side effect of Heartsease Potion.” He smiles groggily “The un-milked Boomslang fangs cause internal bleeding, the Black-Mamba venom induces euphoria, thus loosening the tongue, ditto the heartsease flowers. Lovely little potion: slow as poisons go but not painful.”

“What!” I gasp, a cold sweat prickling my forehead. Oh God! No!

“Has it ever occurred to you, Potter, that allowing me to die might have been kinder?” Snape mumbles, staring into the distance. “Lily was the other half of my soul; she was my nonpareil. No one ever came close and when she left me, she broke my heart.” Snape finishes in a trembling whisper.

I gaze at Snape, bane and terror of my childhood almost without seeing him; the Potions Master always seemed so strong, so controlled. Now, however, he’s falling apart in front of my eyes.

“Have you ever been in love, Potter?” he asks, shaking me out of my reverie.

“Um, yeah, Ginny…” I find myself replying.

“The Weasley bint?” Snape laughs harshly “That’s not love, Potter. You couldn’t have lasted a day without her if it was. Did you know Lily and I had this little set of two-way mirrors? We talked every waking moment, c’ept during lessons and at the table of course. Mrs Evans wouldn’t have liked that. I liked Mrs Evans.” He stares into space, dark eyes dulled “Sic transit Gloria mundi. When she left, all the beauty drained out of my world and I wanted to die. Didn’t have the courage, though, not then.”

Snape’s head snaps up and he fixes me with a beady eye “And when she died, I had the courage to top myself but, by then, I couldn’t follow her. She made me your Godfather, not that Dumbledore would give you to me.”

“Huh?”

Snape smiles sardonically, his dark eyes like black-holes against his snow pale face “Lily named me as your Godfather. James chose one, she chose the other, only the old bastard didn’t tell me until it was too late.”

I look at Snape in horror; at the time, I first heard that Sirius was my godfather, I didn’t think I could ever be more shocked or horrified. Now, I realised, a mere anonymous Azkaban escapee was small fry in comparison to the man who had hated me for several years.

“But… But if you’re my Godfather…”

“I was the only teacher who ever treated you like a child; I gave you boundaries and punished you when you crossed them and you hated me for it. You were an arrogant, blind little twerp and it frustrated me no end. How you didn’t ever realize that Dumbledore was setting you up… Did you actually even notice the way he always buggered off when you needed him?”

I open my mouth to defend my mentor but Snape impatiently waves me to silence “He knew it was a ruse, Potter, that message that called him to the Ministry on the night that the Dark Lord tried to take the Stone. And Dumbledore was holed up in Hogwarts during the summer term of your Second and Fifth year. He could have stepped in at any time but he wanted you to try your strength, to mould yourself into a hero. You worshipped him for always taking your side but you didn’t ever guess, did you, that ‘your side’ was where he’d placed you. That, all along, he was raising you like a lamb to the slaughter.”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“No? Why did he put you with the Dursleys then?”

“He didn’t know how they’d be to me!”

“Dumbledore told me that you were with Rosie and Dave Evans, your grandparents, Potter. Do you think me such a dunderhead to believe that you, Lily’s mage son, would be spoilt by that prejudiced, sour, bitch Petunia?”

Snape shook his head “I disliked you, Potter, especially when you proved yourself your father’s son. Your mother was so much better; such a sweet, just, noble person and to see your damned father looking out from her eyes…” Snape shuddered.

“Wait!” I cried “I’m not like that. I might have been a bit arrogant, okay, but I’m not a bully!”

“No?” Snape sneers, his eyes icy “Why, then, did you allow Black and Lupin to beat me whilst I was unconscious?”

“What?!” I gasp.

“When I woke up outside the shrieking shack, Potter, my head was covered with abrasions and I had a bruise the size of your foot in my side. A fine way of repaying my risking life and limb to save you from a werewolf and a man I knew capable of murderer.”

The image of Sirius scraping Snape’s head against the stairs as he levitated him out of the Shrieking Shack floods into my mind and I cringe with guilt. Pity I didn’t remember that Snape was a legilimens.

“I see, you were merely callous.” Snape smirks darkly. “For all my dislike, I would never have treated you thus, Potter.”

“I’m sorry, okay. I was angry with you. You didn’t give Sirius a chance to explain! You were going to hand him to the dementors!”

“I thought he killed the woman I loved, Potter!”

“No more than you did!” I snap, my temper flaring. Snape’s expression falls and I immediately feel heel and an idiot besides: he’s already suicidal for God's sake. “Look, I shouldn’t have said that…”

“It is no more than the truth, Potter, which is why I forced myself to endure this existence. Socrates said that, when a man has lost all his happiness, he is nought but a living corpse. I have lived the life of an inferi these past seventeen years and, now that my debt is repaid, I can give up the ghost, so to speak.”

I swallow, trying to dislodge the lump that has lodged itself in my throat “Please, Sir, let me get Madam Pomfrey.”

“Have you not been listening to me, Potter. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Live. I do not wish to struggle through another day, let alone the next seventy years.”

“But Sir…”

“If you churn out the ‘you have so much to live for’ line, Potter, I will curse you bald.” Snape snaps, his dark eyes flashing “She broke my heart. Such a commonplace phrase, I know, but it is true. My psyche is damaged beyond repair; I cannot feel any but the most base of emotions, I have no tolerance, let alone appreciation for mankind, I find no pleasure in anything, not even my brewing. No one, not even James Potter, would wish this life on me.”

“Mum wouldn’t want you to just give up like this.”

“I doubt she would care.” Snape replies tartly “Now, I want to be alone and you want to go so, if you promise not to alert anyone, I’ll let you out.”

I swallow, plunging my hands into my pockets. My hand brushes against the Elder wand and it twitches. The memory of my mother’s pearlescent form, as summoned by the Resurrection Stone, bursts into my conscious. Suddenly I know what to do.

“Okay” I say, hoping against hope he buys it. “I promise not to tell a living soul.”

Usually, Snape would be too sharp to trust such careful wording but, under the influence of Heartsease, it seems he’s lost his customary paranoid suspicion. The next thing I know, I’m standing beside Snape’s desk, looking at his slumped form- one hand still in the pensieve.

I pull the elder wand from my pocket “Point me: Resurrection Stone.”

oOoOo

Brambles tear at my legs and branches, hard as skeletal fingers, scrape my skin as I fight through the forest to the clearing where I should have died last May. The place where Voldemort sealed his fate.

As I approach, I realise, to my horrified shock, that, within the withered circle of grass stands a tall, thin, black robed figure. I’d never even considered that Voldemort would become a ghost; every one of his soul-shard seemed to weak, too thin to stand alone in the world of spirit. Suddenly, the figure turns, staring at me with eyeless sockets, in which cyan flames glow.

HARRY JAMES POTTER?

“Yes!?” I squeak. It’s a skeleton- an honest to God skeleton! And one holding a small, silver tabby at that.

YOU HAVE COME TO REPAY YOUR DEBT? He asks kindly, his finger-bones delicately stroking the kitten’s head.

“N…no. I’ve just come for the Resurrection Stone.”

TO REPAY YOUR LIFE DEBT TO ONE SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE. The skeleton replies softly. YES. UNFORTUNATELY, HOWEVER, YOU ARE A LITTLE TOO LATE.

Setting the kitten gently at his bony feet, the skeleton reaches into his pocket and pulls out something which looks like a large egg-timer. Although, half of the sand remains in the top, it seems stuck in a solid lump, unable to drain through. The last of the loose grains dribble into the bottom section of the timer and, as I, spellbound, watch them fall, my gaze drifts to the gold nameplate.

Severus Tobias Snape.

“He’s dead then?” I ask, a strange tightness in my chest.

BEFORE HIS TIME. Death answers sadly.

Something flies from the skeleton’s hand, Metal glinting like a shooting star in the light of the Elder wand as it zips through the midnight air. Reflexively, I throw my hand out, catching the small, heavy object. When I open my hand, I find the Resurrection stone.

I glare at Death, furious at this cruel mockery of my efforts; the ring is worthless to me now. As I open my mouth to bitch him out, the skeleton says quietly I OFFER YOU A DEAL, HARRY JAMES POTTER. IF YOU CAN CONVINCE SEVERUS TO LEAVE THE AFTERLIFE, I WILL ALLOW YOU AN EXCHANGE: HIS LIFE FOR THE HALLOWS.

Slowly, I pull the invisibility cloak from my shoulders; as much as I love it, as much as I’ll miss it, in my heart, I know that there is really no choice. Even if there was not a life debt to be repaid, I would never be able to square it with myself if I sacrificed anyone, even Snape, to save my Dad’s cloak.

“Why do you want the Hallows?” I ask, folding the cloak and sadly laying it at my feet.

HISTORY IS WRITTEN BY THOSE WHO HAVE A VOICE, HARRY. Death replies, steepling his fingers. I GRANTED THE HALLOWS, NOT AS A PLOY TO GAIN VICTIMS, BUT AS RENUMERATION FOR A SERVICE RENDERED ONTO ME BY THE PEVERELLS. I PROMISED THEM EACH A GIFT OF THEIR OWN CHOOSING AND, AFTER WARNING THEM AGAINST THEIR CHOICES, I GRANTED THEIR REQUESTS OF THE WAND AND STONE.

I frown, considering this strange revelation “So you want the Hallows because they’re dangerous?”

INDEED. HUMANITY SEEMS TO LUST AFTER THE VERY THINGS WHICH ARE WORST FOR THEM. Death pauses; it’s strange but, even though his face is static bone, it seems to change expression and, right now, he looks almost kind. YOU MAY KEEP THE CLOAK, HOWEVER. THERE IS LITTLE HARM IN INVISIBILITY UNLESS, he says sternly, ONE BELIEVES THAT INVISIBILITY EQUATES TO INVULNERABILITY.

I nod and slip the ring onto my finger. Two spectral forms condense out of the wandlight; one of them, the female figure, is almost solid whereas the male form flickers, like a failing lightbulb.

My mother’s spirit turns to me, smiling sadly “Hello Harry.”

“Hi Mum.” I reply, my mouth suddenly dry.

“Lily…”

“Hello, Severus. I had not expected to see you again so soon” she replies sadly.

Even in death, Snape’s steely mastery of his face would have disguised his distress, if not for the single, shining tear that trickles slowly down his cheek.

“Oh, Sev.” My mother steps forward and carefully wraps her arms around him, lowering her head until it seems to be resting on his shoulder “What have I done to you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I sense movement. I look up; Death has turned his back. It dawns on me that I should not be witnessing this; it’s too personal and too private. I slip away as unobtrusively as I can, walking to the opposite side of the clearing from my mother and teacher and turning away from their conversation.

However, although I can prevent myself from seeing, blocking my ears requires a spell unknown to me.

“Lily, I…”

“I’m so sorry.” My mother cries, sounding distraught “When I knew you’d left Voldemort, I should have plucked up the courage to tell you.” Lily straightens up, gazing at Snape’s pale shade with tear-filled eyes “I never stopped caring about you, you know; I just couldn’t see how we could remain friends with opposite loyalties.”

When he finally speaks, Snape’s voice is heavy with pain “You were always my first priority, Lily! Why didn’t you give me an ultimatum: if I’d been given the choice, I would have chosen you.”

“I thought you’d made your choice already” Mum says quietly. “I should have had more faith in you, Sev.”

“It was my fault, Lily. My fault entirely.”

“No, Severus. I should have helped you. I was just too weak. I couldn’t bear to see what you seemed to be changing into. I thought a clean break… but, you know, it hurt all the more. Watching you at a distance, seeing you becoming more and more withdrawn... I missed you.”

“Why didn’t you return, Lily?”

“I was afraid that you’d reject me. I couldn’t have borne that.”

After a long, painful pause, Mum says “When I heard that you’d returned to the light, I made you Harry’s Godfather.”

“I know, Dumbledore told me.” Snape says, in a bitter tone.

“But only after I’d died.” Lily replies, her voice angry “He promised me. He said he’d show you the memory in his pensieve; I’ve never been any good with letters so I just told Dumbledore what I wanted to say.”

“I expect that he wished to prevent trouble for Potter. Dumbledore always favoured James.”

Mum snorts, a sound I’d never really considered she might make “Oh, don’t worry, Dumbledore got an earful and a half when I got hold of him!”

Another long silence then “You died before your time, Severus.”

“I cannot see how, Lily.” Snape sighs “I have prayed every night not to see the morning for over twenty years now.”

“You have a loving heart, Severus. It may feel like it’s broken but it isn’t. If it was, you would no longer care for me.”

“Lily…”

“Give life a chance, Severus. Leave Hogwarts, go to Alexandria and do that Doctorate you were planning. Go to galleries, take up dancing lessons again. You’ve been punishing yourself for so long that you’ve forgotten what life can be.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough, Lily.”

“You are, Severus, you’re the strongest person I know.”

There is another long pause, then a soft, pearlescient hand touches my shoulder and I turn around.

“He has returned to his body, Harry” my mother whispers, her eyes soft. “It is time for you to repay our debt.”

I catch Death’s eye- so to speak- and he approaches, slowly.

“Bye Mum.”

“Goodbye Harry. And thank you; I’m so proud of you.”

As I tug off the ring, my mother stands on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss on my cheek which lingers as she fades from my sight.

ALL WILL BE WELL, HARRY. Death says kindly NOW, THE RING AND WAND, IF YOU PLEASE.

I hand him the two Hallows without rancour; as much as it hurts to think I’ll never see mum again in this life, I know that the Resurrection Stone carries a curse far more dangerous than any Voldemort could have placed upon it. Better by far that it leaves the mortal realm now, before it can do any more damage.

I never did want the Elder Wand.

Death pockets the Hallows and removes Severus’ Life-Timer and a crystal vial. He reaches through the glass as if it was air and squeezes the water from the sand and into the vial.

TAKE THIS TO SEVERUS; IT IS THE TRUE HEARTSEASE POTION, THE METAPHORICAL WATER FROM ‘THE FOUNTAIN OF FAIR FORTUNE’. TEARS, SWEAT AND MEMORIES, CATALYSED BY LOVE: IT CANNOT CURE SEVERUS OF HIS GRIEF, BUT IT WILL GIVE HIM THE STRENGTH TO ACCEPT THE PAST AND CREATE A FUTURE WORTH LIVING.

“Thanks” I whisper “Um, can you tell me…”

WHEN YOU WILL DIE? NO, HARRY: IF I TOLD YOU WHEN YOU WILL DIE, YOU WOULD FORGET TO LIVE.

OoOoO

Professor Snape took Mum’s advice. At the end of Christmas term, he announced that he was going to Alexandria to complete a Doctorate and, therefore, would be handing the headship of Hogwarts to Professor McGonagall.

Much to his apparent surprise, the students were all very upset to see him go, even the Sixth and Seventh Years, who remembered the ‘old’ Snape all too well. We clubbed together and gave him a substantial bag of Galleons, to fund his research, and, at his leaving feast, Professor McGonagall gave a speech thanking him for his ‘incomparable services to Hogwarts’.

On Christmas day, I owled him a Yule card with a few photographs I’d discovered amongst my Mum’s possessions (Dudley found her trunk in the attic of Four Privet Drive. Although it took him a while, he’s becoming a well decent guy.) Snape, to my surprise, sent Hedwig back with a box: he’d given me the diamond goblet, with a note that said “Please consider this seventeen years worth of Yule presents from your Godfather, you leech”!

We’ve stayed in contact, on and off, ever since. I don’t know who it was, but someone once said "When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years". Well, now I’ve grown up, I’ve come to appreciate all the things I’d hated about Snape.

Being subjected to brutal honesty, for example, is absolutely the pits when you’re a know-it-all little busybody of an adolescent, who leaps into danger at every possible opportunity, whilst spending a minimum amount of time on schoolwork. However, now I’m an adult, its actually quite refreshing to be told I’m acting like a total dunderhead, not to mention useful. Although I love Molly and Arthur like parents, they’re not my parents and, in certain circumstances, like my relationship with Ginny, I can’t ask for, let alone expect, impartial advice. Snape’s invariably tart answers help me get a bit of perspective on things: sometimes one has to be cruel to be kind and no one is better at that then Snape.

On sort of the same point, I’ve also learnt to appreciate what Snape did for me in the past; looking back I now realise that I was an arrogant little toe-rag: I might not have thought myself better than everyone else but I did think that my point of view was right and anyone who stopped me doing what I wanted was wrong. And, given what I wanted to do is put my and my friends lives on the line by fighting some of the most dangerous dark wizards of the twentieth century, what I’d really needed was a parent, someone who’d give me boundaries. I definitely did not need praising and rewarding for crossing them.

All things considered, I’d probably have been better off in Slytherin after all; Snape may have been a bullying bastard but he treated me (almost) the same as any other child in his care, not like a savour in training. Mum obviously knew what she was doing when she’d chosen him as my guardian.

On the whole, I’d like to think that, through our rather casual correspondence, Snape and I are, slowly but surely, fulfilling my Mum’s hopes for us. Okay, we’ll probably never be as close as Sirius and I were but there’s something very solid and real about my friendship with my new Godfather.

And, as I read through his letters, I can see that Snape’s slowly becoming, if not happier then, at least, more content. He’s met a nice lady called Judy at his tango class (apparently him and Mum always meant to learn but they could never afford it) and, although he wouldn’t exactly tell me if it was anything more, they seem like good friends.

Perhaps, this summer, I’ll head over to Alexandria (with a big jar of maraschino cherries) and ask to meet her ;)