Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

A crazy idea
Surprisingly, that morning was one of the best Harry had had in a long time. The familiarity of sitting in Hagrid's hut with Ron and Hermione, catching up and chatting about unimportant things, helped him relax and stop thinking.

The time passed quickly and pleasantly until, when it was almost lunchtime, Hagrid asked them about their plans for the future.

“I'm going back to Hogwarts in September to finish my remaining year.” Hermione explained. “But first Ron and I are going to Australia to bring my parents back. I erased their memories of me so that they would be safe from the Death Eaters.” She added, meeting Hagrid's questioning gaze.

The half-giant's eyes widened in surprise at that information, but he made no comment.

“What about you, Harry?” He asked then, looking at the boy.

“I hadn't given it much thought, to be honest.” That was a lie, of course. Harry had thought a lot about his future, but the truth was that he wasn't sure what to do with it. “For now, I'm going to stay at Hogwarts until most of the wounded recover and things settle down a bit at the Ministry. I don't want to leave and have to go back to talk to some politician or give my version of what happened during the Battle.” He shook his head tiredly. “And after that... maybe I could go back to Grimauld Place to tidy it up a bit. Or come back next year like Hermione, too. I don't know, really.”

Hagrid nodded.

“Don't worry about that, you've still got time.” He smiled. “And you know that, whatever happens, you'll always have a place in my hut. You could be my assistant if I ever teach Care of Magical Creatures again. You were good at it.”

Harry couldn't help smiling at him.

“We'll see what happens, but I appreciate it. By the way, is Buckbeak all right? I saw him fighting Voldemort's giants.”

After wincing at the name, Hagrid nodded.

“Yes, he's fine. I've left him free to come and go from the Forbidden Forest as he pleases. He's a clever Hippogriff and knows how to stay out of trouble. Besides, he and Grawp have become friends, it seems, and he visits him in his cave from time to time” He smiled warmly. “Poor Grawp suffered some injuries during the fight, but he's strong and has almost recovered. I've been to see him a couple of times since then and he is doing alright.”

“I was going to ask you about him too.” Said Harry, remembering Hagrid's huge half-brother. “I'm glad he's okay.”

“Yeah, we've been very lucky. More than most…” He muttered, then realized Ron was there and shut up immediately. “Anyway,” he said quickly, awkwardly changing the subject, “those are very good plans you've got going on. I hope everything goes well and that you enjoy your summer. You've earned it.”

The three friends thanked him for his words, but the reminder of Fred's loss lingered in the air. Harry couldn't help but notice that there was one part of their plans that none of them had mentioned. The reason why Ron and Hermione hadn't left for Australia yet, despite the girl wanting to join her parents as soon as possible. The reason the three of them were still at Hogwarts instead of back at the Burrow. That reason was that Fred's funeral had not yet taken place.

Only a week had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, since that night when the young Weasley had been killed along with so many others like Remus and Tonks, but for Harry it had been much longer. In fact, it wasn't that much time had passed, but that somehow it had come to a standstill for the boy. Harry had built a small fortress in the infirmary, next to Snape's bed, and had taken refuge in it. There, focusing his energy on the concern he felt for the Professor's health and spending his time reading library books, it had been easy not to think about what had happened. However, now that Snape had woken up and Fred's funeral was closer than ever, Harry couldn't ignore it.

He was aware that both Ron and Hermione had been through something similar. Perhaps that was why Ron had decided not to return to the Burrow with the rest of his family. It was easier to be at Hogwarts, searching for a long-lost normality. Harry knew that, while he had clung to Snape like a lifeline to keep his mind off everything that had happened; Ron and Hermione were focusing on their new relationship, on those feelings of joy and affection that were so different from the wrenching pain of loss. But those shelters were slowly cracking, and reality was on the other side of them.

Lost on these thoughts, Harry was vaguely aware that Hagrid was still talking, and suddenly he couldn't stand it any longer.

“I have to go see Snape.” He said, rising to his feet.

The others stared at him in surprise.

“I told him yesterday that I'd stop by around lunchtime and finish explaining everything. I'm sorry...”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance but nodded.

“Don't worry, Harry; we'll stay here a bit longer. When you're done, let us know.” Hermione said, pointing to the D.A. coin.

Hagrid, who was still looking at him with some surprise, reassured him as well.

“It's all right.” He said genuinely. “I understand you have other responsibilities. It was good to see you, Harry.”

He leaned over to give him a hug and Harry hugged him back, feeling guilty.

“Say hi to Snape for me.” Added the half-giant. “Tell him I'm glad to hear he's awake.”

“I will.” Harry promised, opening the door and stepping out of the hut.

When he was at a considerable distance, he began to run.


And he didn't stop running, trying to outrun the pain and the thoughts that threatened to drown him, until he reached the infirmary. As soon as he entered, he felt a little better, although his heart was still pounding too hard. Almost without thinking, his legs carried him straight to the room where Snape was.

“Potter?”

Madam Pomfrey, standing by Snape's gurney, was looking at him with confusion. Next to her, reclining on a pair of cushions and holding a bowl in his hands, was Snape himself.

“Potter, I said you could come after lunch.” The healer told him. “That means in the afternoon.”

Harry took a closer look and saw that Madam Pomfrey had a spoon in her hand and that the bowl Snape was holding was filled with what appeared to be pumpkin soup. One part of his mind wondered if the Professor was too weak to eat on his own. The other part was suddenly aware that he had entered the room without even knocking, that he was breathing heavily, and that his face was red with the effort of having run all the way from Hagrid's house.

“Poppy,” said Snape suddenly, “you can go. Potter will feed me in your place.”

Harry, still pinned in place, looked at Snape in panic but said nothing.

“Severus...”

“You said I needed help to eat and, lo and behold, a volunteer has turned up.” Snape cut her off. “I am sure you have more important duties than watching me eat. I assure you Potter is fully capable of lifting a spoon. It's not that difficult.”

Madam Pomfrey watched him for a few moments, but in the end, she sighed with defeat.

“As you wish, Severus... But you'd better finish that whole bowl. Or I'll get really angry.”

“Of course.” He lied.

Madam Pomfrey set the spoon down on the bedside table and, with a final exasperated sigh, left the room.

“Potter, sit down.”

Harry stared at him, a little confused.

“Sit down.” Snape repeated, though his tone had softened slightly.

Still breathing heavily, Harry did as he was told. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Snape placed the bowl of soup on the small table, next to the spoon, but his head was spinning so he had to close his eyes.

“Breathe, Potter. I don't want you to pass out on me.”

Harry felt he was about to do so, and he forced himself to focus on the feeling of the chair under his palms and Snape's deep voice as he continued to speak to him, even if he couldn't understand every word.

“...like this. Good. Take a deep breath.”

Seconds passed, until Harry's heart steadied, and he could finally open his eyes.

“Okay, I'm better now.” He said. “I'm sorry, I don't know what..”

His face turned red again, though this time in embarrassment.

“No, Potter. I don't want to hear an excuse. I'm not interested in that.”

Harry swallowed, not quite sure what to say.

“What I want to know is what the hell happened.”

“I don't know...”

“You don't know?”

“No... I mean, yes. But...”

“Potter.”

Harry fiddled with his fingers, not quite sure what to say.

“I know what happened. But... but it's not something you need to worry about, sir.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Considering you turned up on my doorstep, red and sweaty, I'd say it is something I need to worry about.”

Harry wanted to keep quiet, but he knew Snape required an explanation. One look at him was enough to understand that he wouldn’t stop until he got an answer. So, against his own wishes, he took a deep breath and said:

“We were in Hagrid's hut. Ron, Hermione and I. We were talking...”

He looked at Snape, unsure.

“Go on.”

Harry swallowed.

“I don't know what happened.” He confessed. “But I suddenly started thinking about things I didn't want to think about and... And, I don't know, I had to get out of there.”

“Did you run all the way from Hagrid's hut to here?”

Harry thought it was odd that Snape was asking him about that part of the story and not 'the things he didn't want to think about', but he nodded.

“No wonder you were about to faint.”

“I wasn't going to faint.”

“Of course not, Potter.” Snape cut him off. “Now tell me: why here?”

“Uh?”

“The infirmary. My room. Why? Were you looking for Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry avoided his eyes.

“No... Actually… I was looking for you.”

Snape was speechless.

“Me?”

“Yes...”

“Why?”

Harry kept his gaze on the floor.

“I don't know.”

“Why, Potter?” Snape insisted.

“I don't know!” Almost screamed Harry. “I know it's strange, but... I don't know, I feel safe here.” He admitted.

“You feel safe here.” Snape repeated, causing Harry to instantly regret saying it.

“Forget it, it was a mistake to come.” He said, standing up. “I'll get Madam Pomfrey so she can help you with the soup. Have a good meal, Professor.”

Snape looked at him with obvious confusion on his face.

“Potter, wait. Hold on a second.”

Harry turned to face him.

“Look, Potter. I'm... I'm a bit lost.” He confessed.

The boy stared at him in surprise. It wasn't like Snape to show his feelings like that.

“Sit down again.” He said. “We need to talk.”

Harry did as he was told and waited, while Snape sorted out his thoughts.

“All right,” the man began, choosing his words carefully, “it's clear that a lot has happened since I passed out. I'm not talking about the end of the war or the Dark Lord's defeat, though I am interested to know exactly what happened, and I hope you will finish explaining what you started yesterday.”

“I will.” Harry promised, not quite sure what Snape was getting at.

The Professor nodded and continued speaking.

“Well. What I want to say is that, obviously, a lot has changed since the Dark Lord... attacked me. And from what I've seen since I woke up, you've been assimilating the new information I gave you in the Shrieking Shack during that time, haven't you?”

“You mean your memories?”

Snape nodded.

“Yes, precisely.”

That caused Harry to frown.

“You regret giving them to me, don't you?” He said, with pain in his voice.

“What? How on earth did you come to that conclusion, Potter? No. If I gave you my memories at the time, it was because I had to. And I don't regret giving them to you. It was crucial that you knew the truth about Dumbledore's plan.”

“But it wasn't just that truth that I needed to know.” Said Harry, still upset.

“What do you mean?”

“You gave me more than just the information I needed to defeat Voldemort. You also taught me about your own life. Because you wanted me to see the kind of person you really are.”

“Potter...”

“Don't deny it.”

Snape closed his eyes tightly.

“I...” He sighed and opened his eyes again. “Damn it, Potter. I'm not good at this sort of thing.”

“I know. I've seen your memories, remember?” teased Harry, trying to help the professor relax. “But I didn't think you'd hate the idea of me knowing the truth so much. After all, it was you who gave them to me.”

Snape glared at him with his black eyes.

“It's not that I hate that you know the truth about me. It's just that...” He sighed, trying to find a way to explain himself. “The last time we saw each other before the Battle, do you remember when that was? About a year ago.”

Harry's mind took him back to one of the worst nights of his life: a bolt of green light striking Dumbledore right in his chest, the Dark Mark above the Astronomy Tower, hatred pounding in his temples as he screamed spells that were deflected again and again.

“Yes, I remember. The night Dumbledore died.”

“The night I killed Dumbledore.” Snape corrected him. “The night you chased me around Hogwarts and tried to hit me with the Cruciatus Curse. As well as using my own spells on me.”

Harry bit his lip, remembering Snape's demented, furious face as he called him a coward. The horror of discovering he was the Half-Blood Prince. It all seemed so far away.

“I'm sorry.” He apologized. “But in my defense, I hated you even more than I hated Voldemort that night.”

Snape tried to hide a grimace.

“I understand, Potter, but that brings us to my point. That was the last time we met. At least before the Battle. By the way,” he said with curiosity on his face, “tell me what you and your friends were doing in the Shrieking Shack.”

“What does this have to do with...?”

“Patience, Potter. I'm trying to explain my thought process. Or is it being too complicated for you?”

“No.” Harry sighed. “Alright. We went looking for Nagini because it was the last remaining Horcrux. As I told you yesterday, Voldemort created seven, but at that point only the snake remained.”

“And you.” Said Snape softly.

“And me…” Muttered Harry, somewhat uncomfortably. “The thing is, I could see where Voldemort was through our mental connection, so we went looking for him. Him and the snake.”

“That was completely stupid.” Snape reprimanded him, but with less malice than usual.

“I know. But Fred… It had just happened. And neither of us wanted to think about it too much.”

Snape said nothing, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Anyway,” continued Harry, “we went all the way to the Shrieking Shack and got there just in time to...”

“To see it all.”

It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded.

“It was one of the most horrible things I've ever seen in my life.” the boy admitted, shuddering. “I'm really sorry that happened to you.”

Snape swallowed and brought a hand to his neck, brushing at the scars the fangs had left behind. He didn’t want to think too much about it, but he appreciated Harry’s words.

“It's all right, Potter. Continue. Tell me why you approached me. There was no rational reason for it. Though I’ll admit that it was lucky that you did.”

“I... I don't know why, really. I guess no one deserved to have that done to them. I hated you a lot this year, but I didn't want you to die like that.”

Snape blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure. Remembering those moments was affecting him more than he wanted to admit.

“Well,” he said, changing the topic, “I suppose then you took my memories to Dumbledore's Pensieve and from there you knew what you had to do, didn't you?”

Harry nodded, thinking about what had happened that night.

“Yes, Voldemort gave me an hour to give myself up. That's how I had time to look at the memories and go meet him.”

“Did you?”

Something in Snape’s voice made Harry stare at him with curiosity. He couldn’t quite make it out but, if it wasn’t impossible, he would have said that there had been a trace of appreciation in his tone.

“There was no point in not doing it. I had to die either way. And if I gave myself up, I could save the others. So… I did.”

Snape stared at him with a new respect. Potter had mentioned something similar the day before, but his mind had only just woken up, so it hadn't quite sunk in.

“I'm sure it wasn't easy, Potter. You did well.”

Harry stared at him in surprise. That was the first time Snape had ever given him a compliment.

“Thank you, sir. No, it wasn't easy.” He admitted. His heart, which had been filled with dread and beating faster than normal from thinking about that night, slowed down after listening to Snape’s words. If anyone could comprehend the weight of the sacrifice that he had been willing to make, it was him. “Although, you also did something like this.” He told him, trying to show him that he also understood. “When Voldemort called, you went without hesitation, knowing that he was probably going to kill you. And all so as not to arouse suspicion. And all so Dumbledore’s plan could end its course. That must have been extremely hard too.”

Snape looked at him in a strange way that made Harry feel slightly uncomfortable.

“What?”

“This is why I said I was a bit lost.”

“What do you mean?”

He was still looking at him in that way that made him feel so exposed, like he was trying to solve a very complicated riddle or put together the pieces of a puzzle.

“Think about everything we've talked about, Potter.”

“I am, sir.”

“Well, unfortunately, it seems like I will have to explain it to you step by step” Snape said irritably, though Harry noticed a hint of nervousness in his voice. He knew that the professor wasn’t used to explaining his feelings to anyone. “Do not interrupt me and listen carefully. I won't repeat myself.”

Harry remained silent, waiting.

“The last time we met, you hated me and thought I was a coward. So that was going to be the way you would remember me in case I died. Which, being a double spy, was more than likely.” He said calmly. “In the Shrieking Shack, I thought I was going to die. And that's why I gave you my memories.”

Harry nodded; he knew all of that.

“But yes, you're right. I showed you more memories than absolutely necessary.” Snape admitted. “I wanted you to see me as I am, Potter. If I was going to die then, I needed to know that at least one person would know the truth. But” he added, “the plan was never to survive. I was convinced I was going to die there. I didn't think that I would see you again. And suddenly, I open my eyes and find you waiting in my room. And I discover that you don't hate me, but that you feel safe here? It's a strange situation for me, Potter. I have to admit it.” He confessed, with visible discomfort.

Harry was silent for a few moments, assimilating everything that he had said and choosing his words carefully.

“I understand.” He finally said. “The problem is that you haven't had time to come to terms with everything that's happened, right? And it seems strange to you that I don't hate you anymore.”

“Yes. And no.” Said Snape, for a moment sounding exactly like Dumbledore. “It's not just that, Potter. It's also that I don't understand you anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Snape sighed, getting ready to expose his thoughts again. He was not used to it, and he didn’t think that it would get easier with time, but he needed Potter to understand what he was saying. He looked at him, stared into those green eyes to remind himself why he was doing it, and said:

“Look, Potter. My problem is that, for years, I have been able to foresee your actions, to know how you were going to react. Obviously, sometimes you acted so stupidly and recklessly that it was impossible to predict...” Snape added with irritation, letting go some of his frustration. “But, overall, I knew what kind of person you were and why you did one thing or the other. Now, however, I don't know what to expect from you.

Harry looked at him, unsure what to say.

“I've had a lot of time to think during this year.” Snape continued. “To reflect. I've gone over my memories hundreds of times, looking for something that Dumbledore or I might have missed. Trying to find a mistake in the plan or some miracle that would allow you to survive. And all of that has made me realize that maybe I didn't judge you as I should have.” He admitted. “I've seen so many situations where you acted in a way I never anticipated. So many moments where you didn't do what an arrogant, pampered kid was supposed to do... That I started to realize that I was probably wrong. And that I never really understood you at all.”

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He would never have thought that Snape would admit something like that.

“That's another reason why I gave you my memories.” The Potions Master added. “But if you're not that insolent, spoiled brat, who are you?”

“I'm Harry. Just Harry.” Replied the boy, remembering a time seven years ago when he had said something similar.

Snape, to his surprise, smiled at him. And it wasn't a sarcastic or sinister smile, the kind Harry was used to seeing on the man's face, but one that reminded him of the boy he had seen in his memories. Harry returned it without noticing.

“But yes, I understand what you are saying, sir.” He continued. “You also weren't the person I thought you were. The difference is that I learned that watching your memories. That’s why I haven't found this situation so strange.” Those words began to form an idea in his head, and his eyes lighted up with excitement. “So, it's only fair that I should do the same for you.”

“What do you mean?

Harry stood up, too focused on his thoughts to be able to explain himself.

“Wait here a second.”

“Potter? What are you...?”

“It will only take a second, I promise. I'll be right back.”


Snape wanted to reply, but before he could, the boy had left the room.

He stayed for a few seconds in silence, staring at the door, still not understanding what had just happened. Finally, he looked around and saw the bowl of soup on the small table next to his bed. After hesitating for a few moments, he decided that he was going to need all his energy to deal with whatever Potter had planned. So, with an effort, he bent down to pick up the bowl and spoon, cursing under his breath as the movement strained his neck muscles, causing a sharp pain in the area.

Finally, breathing with some difficulty and gritting his teeth, he settled back on the pillows with the plate in his hands.

“Small victories, Severus.” He said to himself, lifting the spoon to his lips.

It wasn't the easiest process of his life, but Snape had been through worse, and he wasn't about to let a bowl of soup defeat him. He continued to eat, slowly and carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements, until he reached the end. He would not admit it in front of anyone, but at the sight of the empty plate he felt a strange sense of pride in his chest.

He put the bowl back on the table, with the resulting pain in his wound, and lay back down on the cushions. He noticed that at least ten minutes had passed, and Potter still hadn't turned up.

“Where the hell are you?” Snape muttered to himself.


Harry went up the stairs two steps at a time, anxious to reach his destination. The events at Hagrid's hut no longer troubled him in the same way: he felt much better after talking to Snape and was focused on carrying out the plan that had just occurred to him. He was so deep in thought that he almost didn't see the flight of stairs in front of him move and nearly fell through the gap it had left.

“Guess I'll have to wait.” He sighed to himself, as he saw the ladder move away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin from the D.A. He turned it over a couple of times, unsure, before sending a message to Ron and Hermione.

"I'm fine, sorry I left so quickly."

He wrote, feeling guilty again.

"I'll stay here for a bit. Don't expect me for lunch. H."

The stairs were already back, so Harry climbed on them. When he did, the coin vibrated between his fingers.

"Don't worry. We're fine too, we're still at Hagrid's hut. We'll talk later. Take care of yourself. R & H."

Those words made him smile, even though he still regretted his actions.

"Thank you. You too."

He was aware that his friends deserved an explanation, but he knew they would wait for him to bring the topic up when he was ready. That was something he was grateful for.

In the meantime, the staircase had taken him where he wanted to go, so he hurried to get off before it changed direction again. He continued walking through the corridors of Hogwarts until he found himself in front of a door guarded by a gargoyle. A door he knew all too well.

“Dumbledore.” He said, hoping the password hadn't changed. Luckily, it hadn't, as the gargoyle moved aside, revealing the stairs that led to the Headmaster's old office. When he stood in front of the large wooden door that led to the entrance, he knocked and waited.

“Come in.” Said a voice from inside the room.

Harry opened the door to find Professor McGonagall sitting at the desk, a mountain of papers in front of her and a quill in her hand.

“Potter?”

“Professor McGonagall, sorry to interrupt.”

“Don't worry, I appreciate it.” She smiled, getting up. “I needed a break from all this paperwork. Did something happen?”

“No. Well, yes. It's about Snape.”

“Severus?” Concern filled the teacher's face. “I went to see him this morning and he seemed fine.”

“He is! He is fine.” Harry hurried to clarify.

“Oh, thank goodness. Don't give me these scares, Potter.” She reprimanded gently, putting a hand on her chest. “So, what's the matter?”

“I need to borrow the Pensieve, Professor. If it's not too much trouble.”

“The Pensieve? Severus needs the Pensieve? He woke up yesterday and he's already doing Merlin knows what...” She shook her head.

“Actually, it was my idea.” Harry said, rather sheepishly. “I have a debt to settle with him.”

She didn’t ask what he meant, and he was grateful for that. He trusted Professor McGonagall but there were some things that only concerned Snape and him. She did watch him for a few seconds, though, in silence and, when she was finished, she seemed to have understood a lot of things.

“All right.” She finally said. “It's over there, in that cupboard.”

Harry opened the cabinet she was pointing to. Inside was the Pensieve that he had used to look at Snape's memories. Harry guessed that someone had put it there after he had used it during the Battle. Next to it was also a vial with a white substance inside.

“Are those...?”

“They were inside the Pensive when I entered the office.” Professor McGonagall replied to his unfinished question. “I can assure you that no one has seen them. Not even me.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Snape would have killed him if anyone else had seen his memories.

“Thank you, Professor.” He said, holding the vial against his chest. “As for the Pensive... I'll get it back to you right away.”

“Don't worry about that, Harry.” She said with a tired smile. “You can use it for as long as you need.”

Harry nodded, tucking the little flask of memories into the pocket of his trousers. Then, he bent down to pick up the Pensieve as well. He was surprised to find that it weighed less than it seemed.

“Do you need anything else, Potter?”

“No, that was all. Thank you.”

McGonagall nodded, sitting back down in front of the desk. Harry couldn't help but think of Dumbledore and how many times the old Headmaster had watched him from that very spot, with his half-moon spectacles and sparkling eyes.

“You know, Professor.” He said suddenly. “You are the only one who could fill his shoes.”

He didn't say Dumbledore's name, but she knew who he meant. She looked at him and swallowed; and Harry could see that there were unshed tears behind the glass of her spectacles.

“Thank you, Potter.” She said, with a sad smile. “He would be so proud of you. Of the man you've become.”

‘You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man.’ The words Dumbledore had said to him came to his mind, causing Harry to swallow, moved. He looked up at his Portrait but there was nobody there, he must have left to visit other paintings around the Castle.

“I want to believe he'd be proud of all of us” he said, his voice trembling.

“I'm sure he is.” She whispered. “After all, we achieved what he had worked so hard for. The end of the war.”

Harry nodded, a little overwhelmed.

“I wish he could have seen it.”

“Me too, Harry.” The teacher sighed. “Me too.”

They spent a few moments in silence, remembering. After a while, McGonagall straightened up in her chair and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.

“Anyway.... I'd better get back to work, Potter...”

“Yes, you are right.” Harry said, still holding the Pensieve. “Sorry to have distracted you.”

“Not at all, it's always a pleasure to see you.” McGonagall smiled at him sincerely. “You're welcome to come again whenever you like.”

“Thank you, I'll keep that in mind.” Harry replied. “Have a good day, Professor.”

She thanked him for his words with a nod, though her attention was already back on the pile of papers.

“You too, Potter.”

After a final glance around the room, Harry left the office.

Once outside, he held the Pensieve up to his face and looked at it carefully. Memories were something very important, personal, and intimate. Harry knew that, and that was why he appreciated the gift Snape had given him so much. The professor had shown him the key moments of his life, the ones that had transformed him into the man he was today. The happiest days, but also the darkest and most terrible. Harry understood how vulnerable he must have felt knowing that he had seen it all.

By giving him his memories, Snape was saying goodbye to him. He didn't think he would survive and that was why he had been able to show him all that. Now, however, that he was still alive and Harry knew the truth, Snape was in an awkward position. Too exposed for the reserved and surly Potions Master.

And that was why Harry had decided to show him his own memories. He wasn't quite sure if Snape would be willing to see them, but he felt an obligation to offer the same thing that the professor had given him. That way, Harry could repay his debt and Snape would be able to get to know him better and understand the man he had become.

“It's only fair.” He said to himself, running a finger over the magical runes on the Pensieve. “I just hope he doesn't loathe the idea.”

Wanting to find out, he grabbed the Pensieve with both hands, careful not to drop it, and started making his way back to the infirmary.

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