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Memories of Deception	By : professorflo Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 20868 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters within. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Memories of Deception
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9.
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-58
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-63
- 64-64
- 65-65
- 66-66
- 67-67
- 68-68
- 69-69
- 70-70
- 71-71
- 72-72
- 73-73
- 74-74
- 75-75
- 76-76
- 77-77
- 78-78
- 79-79
- 80-80
- 81-81
- 82-82
- 83-83
- 84-84
- 85-85
- 86-86
- 87-87
- 88-88
- 89-89
- 90-90
- 91-91
- 92-92
- 93-93
- 94-94
- 95-95
- 96-96
- 97-97
- 98-98
- 99-99
- 100-100
- 101-101
- 102-102
- 103-103
- 104-104
- 105-105
- 106-106
- 107-107
- 108-108
- 109-109
- 110-110
- 111-111
- 112-112
- 113-113
- 114-114
- 115-115
- 116-116
- 117-117
- 118-118
- 119-119
- 120-120
- 121-121
- 122-122
- 123-123
- 124-124
- 125-125
- 126-126
- 127-127
- 128-128
- 129-129
- 130-130
- 116
- 117
- 118
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

She'd managed to persuade Harry that nothing was wrong, although she wasn't sure how she'd managed to keep her composure as they sat and ate. She'd wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and let out the tears that were building. Finally he left, and in her despondent stupor Hermione barely noticed his concerned words and his continued uneasiness at leaving her alone. Her replies were automatic, but eventually he seemed satisfied and suddenly she found herself alone in the darkening office, staring at the blue shimmering light of the pensieve.
Should she look? Did she really want to see the confirmation that he loved another person, had loved her enough that even after nearly twenty years just the memory of her dictated the way he lived his life. She couldn't compete with that. She wished it wasn't true, but she had no reason to doubt what Harry had said. Still, a small sadistic part of her wanted to see for herself, to flay her already fragile emotions even further.
She hovered over the shallow basin for long minutes, wracked with indecision. I need to see, to know for myself. Whatever I see, I'll still find a way to save him, I owe it to him to do so, but if there's no chance for us, I need to know now. I can't spend the next two years waiting and hoping. I have to know… Then, her mind made up, she lowered her face to the liquid and was pulled in.
The first few memories of Snape as a young boy made her heart ache. The obvious neglect of his parents, the misery of his formative years were unexpected, although they explained a lot about the man he'd become, holding everyone at arm's length and sneering at any hint of sentiment. Her blood began to boil upon seeing the way the marauders had treated him, and how Lily had abandoned him so easily. She suddenly recalled the time that Harry had come back from his last Occlumency lesson with Snape, ashen faced and closed mouthed about what had happened. Had he learned something about the parents that he had always looked up to and venerated that he hadn't liked.
The memories moved on, and now Snape was a young man, and she learned the truth of his defection, heard him begging Dumbledore to save Lily, and after, his pain and remorse at her death. The wrenching feeling in her chest as she watched him cradle the dead woman's body in his arms turned to anger as Dumbledore manipulated the grieving man into promising to protect the boy who carried her green eyes. No wonder Snape hated Harry all this time, he looks so like his father, who bullied and taunted him for so many years then married the woman he loves.
Snape was older now, and Hermione watched with disgust as Dumbledore continued to manipulate him into doing his dirty work, before finally persuading Snape to kill him when the time arose. There was no further mention of Lily as the memories shifted through her later years at Hogwarts, and she began to hope that Harry had exaggerated or misunderstood Snape's feelings. Surely after so long he was merely doing what was right, rather than putting himself at risk over the memory of a girl long dead. Perhaps she did have a chance.
The next scene was clearly set some time not long before the end of her sixth year, and Hermione watched breathlessly as Dumbledore revealed the secret of Harry's scar to a stunned Snape. She watched as the expression on his face changed from shock to anger as he realised just what he had been protecting Harry for. Hermione understood the significance of the silvery doe that materialised out of Snape's wand to bound around the office even before Dumbledore spoke her name. Lily... it was always about Lily...
But it was the longing in his eyes as he watched it disappear through the window that broke the last remnants of hope that she'd been clinging on to. The mist swirled around her one last time, but she barely noticed the brief glimpse of Snape lifting his hand to her own cheek, before pressing his lips to her forehead. She just wanted it all to be over, she didn't wantto see any more. A moment later she got her wish as the memories ended. She pulled her face from the silvery liquid and stood staring down at it for a minute, willing herself not to cry, before she leadenly trudged up to Snape's bedroom, and, carefully skirting the area where he had disappeared, climbed on the bed. Despite her weariness, it was a long time before she fell asleep.
The Hermione that emerged from the Headmaster's office the following day was quiet but determined and she quickly set about helping with the clean-up of the castle. The higher you climbed in the castle the less evidence you could find of the battle and some rooms and corridors were wholly untouched. The lower parts were the more heavily damaged, most particularly in the area around the Great Hall and the courtyard outside the main doors.
Hermione was surprised at how many people had stayed to help. The Great Hall had been cleared of rubble although the repairs had barely been started, although the tables that the students usually used had been set up for people to eat. They were filled with Order members, students and many others that Hermione faintly recognised from the battle. Despite the number of people in the hall, there were very few talking, and the few conversations that she could hear were quiet and subdued. The top table was also surrounded by people, all of whom seemed to be taking instructions from McGonagall, who was gesturing at what Hermione could only assume was a map of the castle.
Hermione stood and took in the scene from the small doorway near the dais that was usually used only by the staff. People seemed to be disappearing out of the main doors in small groups, presumably under orders to repair certain parts of the castle. She wasn't in any mood to speak to anyone, let alone spend time working side by side with another all day, so before she was noticed she slipped away quietly.
It was almost a week before McGonagall was able to corner her for the promised chat, and in the meantime she drifted around the castle, doing whatever she felt was needed. She buried her emotions as deeply as possible, suppressing them beneath thoughts of the next job that needed doing, working late into the night before retiring to the headmaster's rooms, and getting up early when she could no longer stand lying in bed unable to sleep. And if she never graced any of the castle's other occupants with a smile, or if she referred to spend most of her time in solitude, either repairing the more isolated areas of the castle, or brewing simple potions for the infirmary in the solitude of the untouched potion's classroom, no one questioned it. For as the celebrations over Voldemort's demise had died down, grim reality had set in. It wasn't just the castle that was in need of repair, but the wider wizarding community in Britain that was in shambles.
All the faces that she passed in the hallway were tired, their eyes either wary or hollow. The other students seemed to be faring particularly badly and were, like Hermione, quiet and devoid of the general merriment you would expect to find amongst groups of teenagers. They had all seen too much. Many people had stayed to help because they had nowhere else to go, or perhaps because they had loved ones who were still recovering in the infirmary. Others stayed only to keep themselves busy, and to stave off returning to empty homes. But after a few days even Hermione noticed that the numbers in the castle were steadily dwindling, despite the fact that the repairs were still barely begun.
She'd spent a small amount of time with Harry and Ron, and had listened to their stories of what had happened after she had been captured, although neither of them had pressed her to talk about her own experiences. Harry had obviously said something to Ron, and she could tell from the shared looks that she was clearly not meant to notice, that they were both worried about her. She was grateful for their concern, but what she wanted most was to be left alone.
Eventually even Harry and Ron had left the castle, both returning to stay at the Burrow with the rest of the Weaselys. Hermione had been invited to stay, but had been unwilling to go. She knew there was still some discussion over where Fred was to be buried, but she had agreed to attend the funeral as soon as it was arranged. Quite a few relatives of those that had died had decided to take the offer of having them buried at Hogwarts, close to where Dumbledore was already interred. The funerals had started two days after the battle.
Hermione had only attended when it was someone she had known particularly well, but had stood well back from the rest of the mourners, hidden from the view of most people among the trees, her eyes dry. She'd not even shed a tear when Tonks and Remus had been buried side by side, although she'd stayed long after everyone else had gone, crippled with grief. Eventually the cold and damp had roused her and she'd made her way back into castle under the cover of darkness.
She'd almost made it back to the phoenix statue when she heard her voice being called. A cold feeling washed through her. She really wasn't ready to speak to anyone just yet, but she knew there would be no more putting off the older witch that was approaching her from the other end of the corridor. McGonagall had been busy organising the volunteers, but now that many of them were leaving and the infirmary was starting to empty she'd obviously had time enough to remember their planned meeting.
Before she knew it she was being swept along the halls towards McGonagall's rooms, and within minutes she was settled into an armchair on one side of a warm fire with a cup of tea in her hands. McGonagall took a sip from her own cup before sighing and leaning back in her chair, her eyes closing for a moment. She suddenly looked old and tired to Hermione. It wasn't just the last week that taken its toll on her, the whole year must have been immensely difficult for her, especially considering how protective she usually was over her students. For her to have stood by while the student's had been mistreated must have been more than she could bear.
Suddenly McGonagall's eyes flicked open and landed on Hermione. They were as sharp as ever, and Hermione could tell she would find it hard to pull the wool over the old witch's eyes. She might be ready to talk yet, but that wasn't going to stop McGonagall from finding out everything she wanted to know. She swallowed nervously and took a sip of her own tea to give her an excuse to look away for a second.
"Now, girl. Tell me everything you wouldn't say in front of Potter. You can start with what happened after I found you in his office. And don't miss anything out…"
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Memories of Deception