Visiting Memories

Disclaimer: I play with them as I like, but alas, they are not mine. Neither these characters nor this world in general belongs to me, or anyone not named J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: A great big bout of appreciation goes to my beta, VelvetMouse.

The anti-Apparition wards had failed long ago, but Severus still landed outside the gates. Perhaps it was to show respect for the once-great castle, or perhaps it was out of habit. He didn't know. His trek up the path brought back too many memories. Overwhelmed for a long moment, he paused, turning to his right to view the Black Lake; thankfully it, at least, was still there.

He remembered both faces and events, Quidditch matches that were lost and won, house points and cups, and students who lived and died. And then there was Hermione, who was somewhere in between.

He continued on now, deftly following the path so many feet had trampled. He knew this was still unplottable and that few ever ventured here to look upon the souls of both the damned and the saved. No one ever ventured inside.

The oak front doors were closed, and had been since Minerva herself had closed them that final time. It hadn't stopped him before, though, and it wouldn't stop him now. He stood just below the bottom step, facing the doors head-on, with his wand drawn. Within a second, they were blown open, banging against the entrance hall's walls.

Severus closed the doors again, lest any Hogsmeade resident had heard the blast, however unlikely. Nine years worth of dust had rendered the halls and classrooms dark as night, and he was forced to light his wand's tip. He knew exactly where he was going anyway.

Two flights up, and one long corridor later, and he was standing in front of a very disgruntled stone gargoyle. Like Hermione's magic, Hogwarts' own magic was suppressed. He could feel it seeping through the walls, staring back through the eyes of the portraits that remained. The gargoyle was responsive, looking for a password.

Severus knew the last password, of course, and hoped the gargoyle hadn't changed it.

"Golden Snitch." Good, it seemed to have worked.

The staircase seemed to grind against the wall more than he remembered, but years of no use would do that. It was a little slower than he remembered, too, but perhaps he was just in a hurry today. He stepped on and waited for the ascent to be completed.

He faced the door now, suddenly unsure of himself. Nine years had passed. He had already faced one ten year old demon today, could he really make it two?

He scowled. Severus Snape was no coward. He opened the door then, striding into the room as if it were his own office. He purposefully strode to the window, letting his back face the room itself. His eyes were firmly fixed on the Forbidden Forest when he heard the soft clearing of a throat. Not just any throat, though.

He hung his head. This was what he had come here for, but still, it was almost too much. He knew when he turned around that those piercing blue eyes would bore into him. He knew he couldn't hide from them.

After the castle was evacuated, the discussion of what to do with the portraits and suits of armor had ensued. So they asked the paintings themselves. Collectively, they wanted to stay. They offered the armor new homes, but those stayed as well. Everything had chosen to stay in its home.

Every headmaster and headmistress was now staring at Severus' back, watching his lank hair sway slightly. None pretended to sleep. For too many years now, all they had had was each other. And as interesting as each of them were, they were all out of stories to tell, even Dumbledore.

"It's daylight, Severus. There are no shadows to hide in, I'm afraid." Yes, there it was. He still possessed that same grandfatherly tone that issued both kindness and power.

It was time. Severus walked to the desk now, nearly throwing himself into the chair. Before he could stop himself, he turned, seeking the portrait he knew had already spoken to him. Half-moon spectacles and a gentle smile greeted him. Severus couldn't help but grimace at the sight of it.

"Albus." The man behind the paint looked neither surprised nor bored. He simply waited for the man before him to continue.

Severus launched into the whole tale, barely stopping for breath himself, ignoring the many gasps that went around the room from other occupants. He told Albus about seeing Hermione, finally recognising her, talking with her at his home, and all the despicable things she had done to escape. He even told Albus how he loved her still. He asked for advice, for understanding, for anything.

"You ask me for understanding, yet you refuse to give it yourself. I don't agree with the measures that Miss Granger took, but I can understand them all the same. I think you can, too."

He understood the measures she had taken. After all, hadn't he used extreme measures to protect himself as a spy? He was only following orders, but did he honestly think that made a difference in the end? Hadn't he killed to ensure his place? She hadn't actually killed Nymphadora Tonks, after all. He knew he would never forget what she had done; he never forgot what he had done. But could he forgive her?

He walked now to the gates of Hogwarts, taking care to seal the doors again. He would Apparate to Godric's Hollow to visit some old friends.

Before the final battle, the Order members all urged Harry to choose a final resting place. None could say for certain he would survive the war or not; but they all believed, unanimously, that he would not.

His first choice, of course, had been to be burried at Hogwarts. After considerable thought, however, he chose to be with his parents. The Order still owned the land his parents' home had stood on, and agreed to convert it into a memorial and graveyard for those lost in both the first and second wars. Hermione had chosen to lay there as well.

Witches and wizards were free to Apparate into the forest behind the site. Severus landed smoothly, having done so at least a couple dozen times over the years. Like at Hogwarts, he didn't need to look where he was going. It was dusk, and there were no others around the area.

Over the years, the Order had steadily built up the site, adding names and memorials. There were memorials for Harry's parents, of course, as well as the Longbottoms, who had finally perished three years ago. Harry's, Ron's, Hermione's, and Albus' statues all stood in the center, overlooking all others.

Despite having recently spoken with the portriat, Severus dutifully picked his way to Albus' memorial first. It was large, but simple and depicted a phoenix in flight. The inscription read:

'Both powerful and wise,

kindness and forgiveness.'

Simple and pure, the way he was. Severus had written it, wanting to somehow thank the man he owed his life to. The final battle left no secrets as to Severus' loyalty, and he had been forgiven of all charges. Many people thought they should list all of Albus' accomplishments, but Minerva agreed with him on simplicity.

He thanked the kind old man again, before moving on to his next memorial in sequence.

'James and Lily Potter

Thank you for the love of your son.'

He thought about James' arrogance as a schoolboy. He thought about the man James had grown into, as well. No, they would never have been friends, but he respected that man all the same.

Lily. She had been his first light, the one that had woken him from the the world of Death Eaters and Mudbloods. They could have been friends.

He asked for their forgiveness and thanked them, too. He moved to Ron.

'Ron, as a son, you were often too much,

Know that you were needed by us.'

These were the tougher memorials. These were the three that he would joyfully give his life to not see here, any one of them.

As always, he thanked Ron. He had hated the boy when he was just that, a boy; but as a man, Ron had been the driving force in the Order. He created the strategy, even the strategy of sacrificing himself. He knew that his death was just what Harry needed for motivation. Severus had stood there and, like Ron, let it happen, so the war would end. He was glad Hermione didn't know about his sacrifice.