Sticks & Stones

Hermione knocked lightly on Harry and Ginny’s door. She waited, but there was no answer, and after knocking again she pushed the door open carefully. “Hello?” she said softly. “Harry?” But there was no answer. Puzzled, Hermione walked to the stairs and headed down to the second floor.

Walked wasn’t exactly accurate, of course—Hermione was levitating. It was getting easier every time she did it, and she was able to do it completely unconsciously now, but it would never feel like walking. Her feet only touched the floor lightly, and her weight didn’t press down on the floor. Sometimes Hermione felt like she might be more comfortable not moving her feet at all and just gliding about. But she knew it would most likely make other members of the D.A. uncomfortable. Besides, she didn’t need anything else to separate her from the others. Being permanently Cursed was more than enough.

When Hermione reached the second floor she immediately noticed that the door to the first conference room was gone—someone had gone inside, activating the protections on the room. Since they’d sealed the room for the night so only Harry, Ginny, Ron and herself would be able to open it, and she knew that it hadn’t been Ron or Ginny, by process of elimination Hermione knew it was Harry. Rather than knocking, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast the Charm to open the room. She had a sneaking suspicion Harry wouldn’t have opened the door for her.

When the door swung open Harry didn’t even notice. He was seated at the table with the Pensieve in front of him, a hazy memory playing out above its bowl. A young boy—the black hair and hooked nose made it clear it was Snape—was throwing a stick for a huge, scruffy-looking dog, which was fetching it with great enthusiasm. Every time the dog brought the stick back it would plow into Snape, knocking him over, but he didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he laughed when the dog’s enormous tongue licked his cheek.

It went on for a good five minutes before a yell came from somewhere; the young Snape’s head snapped around warily, clearly afraid, and the memory disappeared, settling back into the Pensieve.

Hermione hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. “Harry,” she said softly.

Harry jumped and let out a very undignified yelp. He turned and stared wide-eyed at Hermione. “H-Hermione!” He gasped. “I—I didn’t hear you—”

“Obviously,” Hermione said ironically, stepping inside and shutting the door. She walked over and sat in the chair next to Harry’s. “I couldn’t sleep either,” she said to explain her presence… it was after two in the morning. “Have you been down here all night?”

“Since Ginny went to sleep,” Harry admitted guiltily. “I—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Snape.”

“Neither have I,” Hermione agreed. “And I suspect Ron and Ginny wouldn’t be able to either, if they weren’t so torn up about what happened with Percy. I left them alone—I think they wanted to be alone, to talk.”

“Ginny was in your room?” Harry asked, surprised. He’d thought she was asleep when he’d left their room.

“Yes. Don’t feel bad about it, Harry. I don’t think Ginny feels comfortable talking to you about Percy, just like Ron didn’t want to talk about it with me. It must be something they needed to deal with as a family.” She dropped her eyes. “I—I know I shouldn’t, because it’s completely unfair, but… I want Ron to talk to me about everything—we’re supposed to be family now!”

“You know Ron’s thought of you—of both of us—as family for a long time, Hermione,” Harry said. “It’s because we’re only children; the two of us won’t ever understand what the Weasleys are going through.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Hermione agreed sadly. “The best we can do is be there for them.” She caught Harry’s expression. “And don’t you dare feel guilty!” she ordered. “Ginny and Ron are talking, and I think that despite my feeling slightly hurt by it, it’s probably what’s best for them right now. They’ll ask for what they need from us when they’re ready to.”

Harry nodded glumly, his eyes focused on the Pensieve. Hermione wasn’t certain how to broach the subject of Snape, although it was clearly foremost in Harry’s mind.

“Do you think he was good, Hermione?” Harry asked, surprising Hermione. “Do you think Snape—” He swallowed. “Was he really on the side of the Light all along?”

“It’s possible,” Hermione answered quietly. “The memory of Snape’s sacrifice—it certainly suggests that he was truly helping our side.”

“That doesn’t prove anything!” Harry snapped. “You heard Snape, he had his own selfish reasons for doing what he did—keeping out of Azkaban, being on the winning side regardless of whether it was the right side or not, and who knows what else that he wouldn’t even tell Dumbledore! Nothing he did was good!”

“Like saving your life our first year?” Hermione replied wryly.

“Snape only did that because he owed my father—”

“Then what about willingly allowing Dumbledore to remove his memories a second time?” Hermione countered. “Even though he’d been cleared years earlier and had nothing over his head to force him?”

“Nothing that we know about—”

“Harry,” Hermione said impatiently, “there were many things that Snape did to aid our side over the years. Once or twice or even three times could be explained away, but eventually you just have to accept that he really was doing good, even if it was for his own purposes. And a great deal of what soured you on him and his actions was because of having given up his memories—he didn’t know if he was acting against his own intent!” She sighed. “I know you hated him, Harry, and he certainly gave you every reason to. Our first four years at Hogwarts he had all of his memories and still treated you unfairly. But at the very least Snape deserves to be recognized for how much he actually did for the side of the Light! Call him cruel, call him an evil git, say he was a horrible teacher, but also acknowledge that the work he did and the sacrifices he made changed the course of the war…the course of both wars.”

Harry put down his wand and rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “I just don’t want it to be true,” he said thickly. “I want to be able to go on hating him, so I don’t have to care that I killed him.”

“You didn’t kill him, Harry!” Hermione protested.

“Yes I did!” Harry shouted. “I’m the one who insisted—”

“-on the geas, yes, I know!” interrupted Hermione. “I was there, remember? I’m the one who cast the geas! You didn’t put Snape in that position, he did it himself!”

“What are you talking about? He didn’t have a choice, the geas forced him!”

“Snape may not have had a choice when he sacrificed himself to save you, or when he killed Dumbledore, but he was brought to those places in his life by the choices he did make!” Hermione insisted. “He sided with Voldemort initially—a mistake he spent the rest of his life paying for! He made enemies of your father, Sirius and Remus, and his prejudice against them also led him down the wrong path! He made a great many poor choices when he was young, when he was still a student… something you yourself have been guilty of, I might add. We all are—it’s part of growing up, learning and finding ourselves!”

“So you think Snape found himself and changed his tune?” Harry said darkly. “That he was a bloody saint once he realized what a fool he’d been?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” Hermione replied softly. “No one does, and no one ever will. You can hole up in this room for the rest of your life, watching his memories over and over, but you’ll never really be able to grasp Snape’s true motivations. He lived, died and will be remembered by the secrets which failed to define him to anyone… except himself.”

FIN

I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought,
but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.
- Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)


13th and final story in the series: http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600009442