Facing the Past

In some ways, he was the most important person in my life. I loathed him as much as he loathed me, but I never had anything to do with what he did.

From the time I was fourteen until I was seventeen, and Voldemort was dead, I worked for Albus Dumbledore. I was a part of the Order of the Phoenix. Everyone was united under Albus to fight the Dark that was Voldemort. I never knew everyone who was in it, but I did know some. I did know the two people of whom Albus had the highest expectations. Severus Snape and I were expected to do things of which no one else would be capable. The most was expected of us. From Albus, Snape was expected to lie to Voldemort. It's amazing that he lasted as long as he did. No one lied to the Dark Lord and got away with it. No one, that was, except Sev. He did it for Albus. He risked almost certain death, for Albus. Snape looked Voldemort in the eye and lied. He lied countless times to the Dark Lord, and every single time he got away with it. There was nothing that Sev wouldn't have done for Albus, nothing.

As for the second person, I knew him well. I knew everything that was possible to know about him. The second person was myself. Albus asked me to do things of which most people would be incapable. And, like Sev, I did them. No one questioned Dumbledore; he hadn't been wrong in anyone's memory. Albus, it seemed, held all the answers in the palm of his hand.

Out of love and respect for Albus, Severus and I gave up our lives. We did everything we could for him, and yet it was never enough. Often I have compared Albus Dumbledore to Mahatma Gandhi. Both men had exceptionally high expectations of those around him and both were severely disappointed when those expectations were not met. Once Gandhi's wife told him that the people around him could only try to be as good as he. She told him that no one could ever be as perfect as he wanted, but out of love for him many would try, and most would fail. Albus was the same way, he expected so much, too much it seemed at times. We tried, all of us. We all tried to do what he wanted, but in the end, we failed. We failed miserably. In his eyes we could see that we had failed him. He tried to make light of every mistake, but even he couldn't be that optimistic about everything. We all knew that we had failed him: Severus most of all.

It wasn't until recently that I learned about Sev's failure. Now I am ashamed. Ashamed of how I hated the man. Ashamed of how I was so blind. I didn't see deceit when it was standing right next to me. I saw betrayal where there was only loyalty. Just as I saw loyalty where I should have seen lies.

I have had eight years to think about what happened those years, and now, it is time for me to write them down. The time has come for me to explain what really happened. Why so many people died and who they were. Their names should be remembered always and their stories should be learned from. This world isn't one of happy endings. This world is one of great surprises. Great happiness is always counted by great sorrow. True loyalty is harder to come by then betrayal in this world. I have suffered them all, and survived. This is my story: the real story of truth and lies, past and present, betrayal and loyalty, and above all else, love and hate.

~*~*~*~*~

Harry set down his quill as Severus Snape walked in the room.

"Morning, Sev. Did you sleep well?"

Sev grunted as he stretched. "I was sleeping well until you got up. What were doing getting up at four anyway? The students won't be here until tonight and you, as always, have had your lesson plans written out for months now."

"Of course I have. That's not what I was doing." Harry put the cap on his inkwell and turned to face Sev. "You know all those years ago when I told you I was going to write down our story?"

"Yes..." was Sev's slow reply.

"Well, I decided last night that it was time."

As Sev choose a shirt from his drawer to pull on he responded. "Its about bloody time. I was starting to think that you'd forgotten about it. Though you did wait until the last minute."

"It's not the last minute until I'm about to die. Right now, I don't think there's any risk of me keeling over and falling dead."

Sev's eyes wandered slowly over Harry's body. "No," he drawled, "you don't look like you're about to keel over to me either."

Harry smiled and turned back around to continue putting all of his materials away.

"You eat yet?" Sev asked from near the fire.

"No, I got up and started writing. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, extremely. We missed dinner last night, or did you forget?"

"No, I didn't forget. I'm rather surprised that you remember, Old Man. On top of your age you were rather drunk last night." Harry smiled at his memory of Snape being so drunk he couldn't walk. It had been the first time that Sev had forgotten the password to their bedroom.

While Harry had still been a student, if anyone had told him that he would be sharing a room with his Professor Snape, he would have laughed and told them they were mad. Now, the idea of NOT being with Snape was terrifying. Sev was one of the few people in the world that Harry knew he could trust and knew would always understand him.

"Don't call me 'Old Man,'" Sev snapped at Harry. "And do talk softer, I've got a headache."

"Yes, food will help you take care of that headache and the stomachache as well. You'd think that such a respectable Potions master would have some kind of potion for a hangover..."

"This potions master does have a cure, as it so happens, but he also needs food to take it." Severus held up a tiny clear bottle filled with clear purple liquid. "Now, if you don't mind, I do NOT find headaches to be at all pleasing and I would like to eat."

"Yes, yes I'm coming." With that Harry stood up and walked over to his lover and friend. "Let's go then."

"While I would simply love to take you to breakfast in what you're wearing, I'm afraid that the rest of the faculty may not take so kindly to you being in your boxers. Cute as they are with their little golden snitches." Even after all these years, Severus knew that Harry still loved Quidditch. Often he wondered if Harry would have gone pro had it not been for the "accident" as some called it. The man was still every bit as good of a flyer as he'd ever been, as Sev well knew.

Harry walked to his dresser and Sev watched him closely. He'd lost the glasses when he disappeared after Voldemort fell. Sev had never found out why, or how, but he had done it. There were other minor changes in his appearance. The once unruly hair was now tamed. Sev knew that he used Muggle hair gel, and plenty of it at that. It always gave his head a wet look, which suited Harry just fine in Sev's opinion.

Harry came out of the bedroom, dressed neatly in a green sweater and pair of khakis. That was another thing that had changed about his former student, fashion sense. Gone were the over sized pants and the holey sweaters. Now only clean, perfectly matched clothing adorned the well-sculpted body. Sev knew from first hand experience that muscles covered Harry's slender, but not thin, body. Those muscles were hard earned and Harry worked to keep them. He spent at least an hour every day working out.

Aside from those physical improvements, Harry had learned other things. He was now considered one of the world's top three specialists in Dark Arts. "How did he do it?" Sev wondered for the umpteenth time. "How did he become so good at the Dark Arts in such a short amount of time? Why did he do it at all for that matter? It's not as if he was awful at them before."

Harry clearing his throat brought Snape back to his senses. "Am I presentable now, love?"

"Yes, you're ready and we can go eat. You took such a long time I thought I was going to faint from hunger."

Harry was accustomed to Sev's sarcastic remarks, and took them as part of the person that was Snape. There was nothing that Harry would choose to change about his lover. The man just wouldn't be who he was if there were even one minor change in his personality. Changing Sev was the last thing that Harry wanted to do, Sev was the only one that truly understood what he felt.

Together Harry and Sev made their way through the deserted dungeon and empty hallways to the great hall for breakfast. Each man took their customary seat at the table, toward the end of the hall that the Slytherin house table was at. Most of the other teachers had taken their places along the head table. The faces were all familiar, but most weren't the same teachers that Harry had had as a student. Starting at the far end of the table he looked down the row of teachers.

Cho Chang sat at the end of the table, furthest away from him. When Professor Flitwick had died at Voldemort's hand, the Ravenclaw had taken his place as both head of house and charms mistress. Seated next to her was Blaise Zabini, the new Arithmancy teacher. Professor Vector was one of the few who hadn't been killed during the final battle. He had been killed by something the Muggles called cancer. Vector had never liked magical cures. Continuing down the row brought him to Professor Sprout. She had survived, but barely. The battle had left her with hearing in only one ear. Charlie Weasley had come to take Harry's old friend Hagrid's place. The peaceful, loving giant had been given the dementors kiss. Charlie, he heard, was a good teacher. Everyone loved him, including the Slytherin's, which was saying something. Professor Bin's was floating in front of Charlie; it sounded as if they were having a discussion about the goblin rebellions of 53 BC. Oliver Wood had replaced Madam Hooch as flying instructor and Quidditch referee, once his flying days with the Bald Basilisks were over. Harry had never been told what happened to Xiomara Hooch. Professor McGonagall, the old Transfiguration mistress and head of Gryffindor house, had been sliced in half by a wayward spell from Voldemort. Colin Creevy had been the one to take her place at the table. He wasn't the deputy head master, but he was the new Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor house. To Harry's left was Sibyll Trelawney. The woman had vanished the night before the battle, and turned up again, unharmed, three weeks after it.

The only chair along the whole table that was empty was the one in which Dumbledore used to sit. Harry looked away, feeling ashamed of how he had let the man down. The next time he looked, the seat was taken. Hermione Granger had taken her seat at the table. She was now the Headmistress of Hogwarts. While she wasn't an old teacher, she had been one of the few willing to take Albus' place. None grudged her the place; Hermione was one of the few who could even hope to fill in where Albus had left off.

Harry sighed with contentment. This was his home, the people who lived here his family. He'd always felt that way. Resting a hand on Sev's knee only proved to make him smile, and remind him that the people he loved were here.

Sev smiled down at Harry for a moment before motioning towards the untouched plate in front of Harry, "You'd better eat. Your eggs are getting cold."

"Yes, father."

Severus only shook his head. "I sure hope that you never fell asleep in Blacks arms nor that he woke you with kisses when you were running late. If he did, I'd really reconsider calling him a father, even a just a God father."

Harry laughed. He had never gotten over how nice it felt to have Sev tease him lovingly rather then with words meant to hurt or provoke. "Planning on torturing your students on the first day, again?"

"Always!" was the prompt reply. "It's been a tradition for a rather long time, I couldn't break it now." Snape unstoppered the bottle and downed the contents. A long swallow of sugar-sweetened coffee quickly followed the potion. "Disgusting, but it works so well."

Smiling Harry finished his meal. "I've got a few last minute things to take care of. I'll see you at lunch." With that said Harry got up and made his way out of the Great Hall and to his office just off of his classroom.

After starting a fire and putting water on to boil, Harry sat down at his desk. A stack of parchment was removed from one drawer. Selecting the sharpest quill he could find Harry dipped the tip into the crystal ink well on his desk and began to write.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I'm not sure where to start now. Perhaps, I should start at the beginning--but then what is the beginning? Is it when Voldemort killed my parents? What about when I found out the truth about what had happened to them? Maybe the beginning is when the Order of the Phoenix was created, and when I joined. Yes, I believe I shall start there. Everything else is already in textbooks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry read what he had written and decided that it was good enough for him. He could always go back and make changes later.

The water had begun to boil. Harry poured a mug full and added a tea bag. He settled himself once again in his office chair and picked up the quill. Dipping the nib into the ink and he commenced writing, his mind wandered to a time eleven years ago.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was such a confusing time for me. The first casualty of this new war had been lost already. Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff. I hadn't meant for it to happen. It wasn't intentional, I swear. How was I to know that the cup had been made into a Portkey? There's no indicator, no way to tell. We both won. We were both the champions.

What happened is already written. You know the facts. What you don't know are the feelings. You've no idea what was running through my mind. I killed someone. It was entirely my fault that this boy had died. I'd meant to do the right thing, but that didn't work out.

Nothing with Voldemort ever went right. He always knew the best moment to strike. And his strikes were always hard. He could afford to wait, you see, he was immortal. No mortal weapon could harm him. Magic? Magic could control him, but never kill him. A sword, a volley of arrows, a gun shot, they would all cause him to stumble for a moment, but in the end, he'd always pick up right where he'd left off. You could deprive him of his hand, but it would grow back stronger then it had been before. His limbs grew like those of a starfish. Even if they were broken off, they would grow back, always grow back.

The night he returned was the most terrifying night of my life. This was the man, thing, which had killed my parents. It was my blood that brought him back. So many things happened that night. Things I didn't, couldn't, wouldn't, understand for some time to come. I had only prayed that I would be safe if I got back to Hogwarts. I couldn't know if I would be or not. Someone had gotten to the cup, but who? How?

Confused and guilty I made my way back to Hogwarts and to Professor Dumbledore. If anyone could help me, it was he. I made it there, I made my confessions but it wasn't enough. Mad Eye Moody, who I would soon learn was actually Barty Crouch Jr., tried to take me away. He nearly killed me.

I survived, somehow. That night is a blur, for facts you'll have to look it up. I just remember the confusion and the questions. I wanted to curl up and die. I never wanted to face what I had done, or what I had seen. Why? Why was the man who had thought my parents to be useless alive again?!

Dumbledore came. He made me explain everything. I didn't want to but he said it was for my own good. I look back now, and realize that he was right. If I hadn't been forced to tell then I probably never would have been able to.

Everything hurt and I was tired but afraid to sleep. Shortly after the end of tournament Dumbledore explained the Order of the Phoenix to me. It consisted of people that Dumbledore knew and trusted to help for the side of Light. Immediately I accepted, "Anything to get the bastard" was my thought at the time. Of course, I didn't fully understand what being in the Order would mean. I didn't understand anything at the time.

I hated, still do, Voldemort with all of my soul. He was nothing; he didn't even have a soul. At first, being in the order wasn't hard. Voldemort didn't have strength yet, didn't have a full circle of supporters.

I only knew a few of us in the circle at the time. There was Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Dumbledore and myself. Those were the only people I knew to be loyal to the light side then. Someone in that list would become a traitor. At the time, I thought we were loyal, but I was wrong. Someone would betray us and nearly cost the light side the war.

The reasons for the betrayal were stupid, but it's not my place to judge. Only God, if there is one, can do that. What makes me so angry about this betrayal was that it hit so close to home and the reasons were so selfish. It made me wonder, would I ever be able to trust again?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry looked down at the parchment in front of him and blinked away tears. Remembering this was hard enough. Putting it down in to words seemed an impossibility. "For Sev," Harry thought. "He's put so much trust in me for the past three years, now its time to explain what happened to me, and why I am who I am."