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He could only get glimpses of Snape lying in the hospital bed as the adults hovered and fretted around him. Madam Pomfrey was delegating tasks with her usual brisk voice, but Harry could see, in the way her hands would tremble as she handed her colleagues cloths and liquids and bandages, that she was deeply concerned. 

Harry looked down at the crumpled photo in his hand. The two children looked so happy, lying under the sheltering arms of the willow tree. The photo must be over twenty years old, the corners rounded with wear, and the color faded with time. And yet it looked well-cared for. 

A muggle photo. The strongest evidence to Snape’s loyalty had been on his person, perhaps the whole time. Had it been tucked inside Snape’s breast pocket all those years, all those times they had spat hateful things at each other?  

Looking up, Harry saw Professor McGonagall whisper something to Mr. Weasley while eyeing the trio. Mr. Weasley nodded and patted her arm, then turned and walked over to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

“Come along, now." He wrapped his arms around Harry and Ron’s shoulders. “Let’s get you something to eat. You all have been on the run far too long and Molly can’t believe how dreadfully thin you’ve all become.”

Harry craned his neck to catch one last glimpse of the hospital wing as Mr. Weasley steered them out the door, and wondered if he would ever get to see Snape again. He had so many questions turning in his head.

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Walking into the Great Hall, Harry couldn’t believe a battle had taken place there only hours ago. The Death Eaters had been driven out, and the students and staff parted in search of their friends and families. If someone would’ve asked him what he’d have expected the battlegrounds to look like after the final fight against the most powerful dark wizard in modern history, he would have imagined great bloodshed and suffering. He looked at Hermione and Ron, who wore smiles rather than battle wounds, and felt immensely grateful for how things turned out.

The tables had all been banished, so Mr. Weasley pulled a few Muggle pencils out of his jacket pocket and transfigured them into a small round wooden table with some modest chairs. 

“Sit.” Mr. Weasley gestured to the chairs.  With a twirl of his wand, a plate of biscuits and a dark fizzy drink appeared in front of them. “Voilà, Cola-Cocoa!”

“Coke!” Harry and Hermione chorused. 

“From where did you summon a muggle fizzy drink?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve always wanted to try it—” Ron began.

Mr. Weasley smiled. “I promised Ron I’d obtain it for him once the war was over. It may not be elegant or grandiose, but I think it is quite fitting for a triumph over pureblood supremacy, don’t you? Cheers.” They raised their glasses and grinned. “To peace and understanding among Muggles and Wizards alike.”

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They sat in comfortable silence as they enjoyed sweets in peace for the first time in a long time. A question itching in his mind, Harry reached into his pocket and took out the worn picture.

“Mr. Weasley, would you know anything about this?” As Harry held out the picture, he didn’t know why his hand was trembling a bit.

Mr. Weasley took it in his hand. After a brief moment, his eyes widened. “Oh…”

“Is that—” 

“I didn’t know them as children, but this indeed looks like your mother, Harry, with those unmistakable eyes. Yes, it’s certainly her….and…young Severus.” Almost to himself, he added softly, “That does explain a lot.” Looking up at Harry, he asked, “And where, might I ask, did you get this?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed as he ducked his head.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He pulled it out of Snape’s robes.”

Mr. Weasley’s eyebrows shot up. 

“—after they were removed, of course,” Ron added.

“As if that makes it any better!” Hermione shook her head.

Harry looked between the photo and Ron’s dad. 

“Mr. Weasley, did they—I mean,” Harry started.

“Unfortunately, I have no personal knowledge of the subject, as I was quite bit older than Lily and Severus. But what I can say is this, your mother’s patronus was indeed a doe; she used it much to communicate to the Order.”

The four of them sat in quietude as they let this discovery sink in. Harry marveled at how all those years Snape never let on that he felt anything for his mother. How things could have been different! 

“Speaking of the patronus,” Ron spoke up. “Dad, do you know what happened, in the battle?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know that, too.” The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched. “All I remember is a bright flash of light when Voldemort cast the killing curse. What exactly happened?”

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure myself, either,” Mr. Weasly replied. 

“Snape’s patronus kind of leapt in front of Harry when Voldemort cast the curse, didn’t it?” Ron asked, looking at the others for confirmation.

“That’s what it looked like,” Mr. Weasley confirmed.

“But—” Hermione’s brows furrowed as she interjected, “That couldn’t be the reason Harry survived, right? It couldn’t have actually protected Harry from the killing curse. I mean, if patronuses had the power to do that, certainly we would have discovered that by now…Mr. Weasley?”

“An excellent question, Ms. Granger. I’ll bring it up with the Order. I don’t think any of us is sure what happened at this point.”

“Actually," Harry jumped in, "When I was--gone--I saw Dumbledore and spoke with him."

"Harry," Hermione looked softly at him. "Maybe that was...a dream or something? The dead can't possibly come back, I mean, in portraits we can capture their essence, but unless you're saying Dumbledore is a ghost--"

"No, it wasn't like that!" Harry was getting frustrated that they wouldn't believe him. "He told me things, about how I was able to survive the killing curse again. He said...there was a horcrux inside me--"

"Oh, Harry..." Hermione put a hand on Harry's back. Ron looked at his dad with wide eyes for confirmation. Mr. Weasley, looking equally shocked, gestured for Harry to continue. 

"But," Harry swallowed as he rememberd how he'd felt walking to his death. "When Voldemort cast the killing curse, he destroyed just the horcrux--obviously. Dumbledore said I was protected because Voldemort had used my blood to bring himself back in our fourth year. And because my mother sacrificed herself for me, and her blood runs through mine, her protection overpowered the killing curse, again. But I had to go willingly. I had to think I was making a sacrifice."

"So why did Snape cast the Patronus then?" 

 "I don't know, maybe...so I'd trust him? I don't think he knew Dumbledore's portrait had already told me to--told me what to do." Harry still couldn't admit that Dumbledore had asked him to die, even though it proved in the end he didn't die at all and that he'd just needed to have the intention of sacrificing himself.

"Or...did Snape not trust Dumbledore's plan enough and tried to come up with his own?" Ron asked.

"Did he even know about Dumbledore's plan?" Hermione proposed.

"It sounds like only Professor Snape might be the only one who can answer that question," Mr. Weasley said. The three followed in silence as they all knew that meant they may never know.

As Harry wondered again at how that man could hide so many truths, he heard the door to the Great Hall creak open. Professor McGonagall stepped in. 

“Mr. Potter, I do apologize for interrupting your time with your friends,” Professor McGonagall paused to eye the Muggle fizzy drink, “but you’re presence is requested in the hospital wing.”