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Harry stood up so quickly that his chair toppled violently backwards, ricocheting loudly across the stone floor. “What did you just say!” He demanded, valiantly struggling not to scream with all his might.

The room’s occupants were silent for a moment, surprised, but understanding of Harry’s outburst. Minerva was the first to speak.

“Harry…” she said slowly, “We all know how you feel, but the letter…”
“Letter!” Harry cried, “How do you know the bastard didn’t just write it himself? It’s not that hard!”

“It was Albus’s handwriting. It had his seal on it-“

“So now he can’t copy a bloody seal!” Harry was on the verge of crying. He could believe they were all being so stupid.

“Not a magical seal. It’s impossible to forge them,” Remus interjected, “It’s a very powerful charm.”

“I don’t care about charms or seals or bloody letters!” Harry shouted, “He killed Dumbledore! How could you let him back here? How could you!” To Harry’s horror at his body’s betrayal, small tears began to leak out and ran traitorously down his anger-reddened cheeks.

Minerva flinched at this, still recovering from the loss of her dear friend. “I know Harry; but it was what had to be done. It was the only way.”

“Where is he? Tell me now!” Harry demanded.

“He’s in the dungeons, but… Harry! Come back!”

Harry sprinted down the empty hall with a maddening rage. That evil… that horrible…. He betrayed them. He betrayed him! He had finally started trusting the git, and then he does that… that…

“Snape!” Harry bellowed, throwing the door to the Potion Master’s office open with a bang.

Snape had his back to the door and was facing a blank, flickering stone wall. He turned as he heard his door bang shut and a spell muttered. By this point, Harry was already right before him. Before he had any time to react, Snape found himself slammed into the wall behind him, Harry’s right hand fisted deep within the black cloth of his robes.

Harry’s face was drowning in tears as he shook with over-boiling rage and sadness. Pressing Snape forcefully up against the wall, he glared into the older man’s deep, onyx eyes that were always such a mystery.
Harry couldn’t hold back a sob. “You!” He pushed Snape harder into the wall as he spoke, “You bastard! You… I can’t believe… How dare you come back here after what you did!”

Snape’s face did not carry his normal cold and calm façade. Instead, his brows were furrowed and his mouth turned into a painful frown. He looked at Harry as if he had never seen him before.

This angered Harry. Why wasn’t Snape fighting back? Where were the sharp retorts and sarcastic remarks? Harry felt his rage swelling and he fisted his other hand into the man’s robes, using the leverage to pull himself a bit upwards to face the silent Professor. Their faces only a foot apart, Harry growled with ire. “Answer me! Why the hell are you here, Snape! After all you’ve done! After all the shit you pulled! I… I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate you!” He shook as he spoke, his bottom lip quivering and his tears burned heavy wet trails down his face. He pulled harder against Snape’s robes and shoved the man harder into the wall, yet Snape did not say a word.

Harry was losing it. His emotions were in a turmoil. “Speak, damn you!” he shouted, shaking the robes encased in his fists, “Say something!”

He froze as he saw Snape’s lips part to speak. The man’s face contorted in an agonizing sorrow as he opened his mouth. For a moment, he just sat there, as if he had forgotten what he wanted to say. Then, he spoke softly. In a voice Harry had never heard uttered from the teacher’s lips, he heard the word that he had heard his entire school career. “Potter…”

Snape’s hands, which had been stagnant at his side during the entire episode, rose and place themselves on either of Harry’s arms. He squeezed them tightly, as if he was holding on for dear life.

Right then, Harry just broke. Losing all his composure, he shot up and rammed his lips forcefully against the Professor’s. He shut his eyes tightly as the last of his old tears seeped their way through his lashes and new ones began to flow. Snape’s hands squeezed Harry’s arms tighter as he pulled the young man closer to him, his eyes closed and his expression one of raw, utter emotion.

It was, by far, the most passionate exchange either of them had ever had, and would ever have again. They kissed fiercely, tongues and lips enraptured in an understanding and powerful bond that lasted an eternity. Rage, anguish, and bitter reality crushed them together. Years of torment, strife, and experience kept them there. It was something that, until that moment, they had never thought or dreamt of doing; but as they did it, it was no more odd or wrong than the breathing and living of every soul on the planet.

The latched onto each other, arms and legs grasping to never let go as they kissed. Tears drenched faces and collars and eyes were shut so tightly that the world no longer existed.

And then they were still. Their lips still pressed together, they froze, breathing heavily and caught in an eternal embrace. The moment would never end; not for them. Through all the hatred and the war, that moment would remain.

The kiss was one that no other person would ever understand; but in it was the soul of two wizards who had seen more pain than all of them combined. And as they stood, collapsed in each other’s arms, both knew that the world would never be the same.