Harry remained sitting in the living room after Rufus Scrimgeour had left him, Ron, and Hermione with the former possessions of Albus Dumbledore, to be left to them in the wake of his death, which had occurred just weeks previously. The bitterness in Harry's throat as he thought of what had happened on the final day of June had never faded completely, especially that Severus Snape was the murderer in question. The very fact that Draco Malfoy, his sworn enemy since he'd arrived at Hogwarts in September of 1991, was lowering his wand just moments before the execution, and that Snape, his potions professor, who had seemed to loath his very existence almost as long as he'd known Malfoy, had swept in and done the deed himself, just made Harry's skin crawl.

Harry had nodded absentmindedly when Ron and Hermione slipped outside to help the rest of Ron's family in setting up the beautiful country grounds of the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding, to take place the following day. Bill, who was Ron's eldest brother, was always cool to Harry, and he had met him in his fourth year during the time he had been a Triwizard champion, yet another time when he had escaped Lord Voldemort. Harry felt his skin crawl a second time at the notion that the school that he had once called home was now fully under the Dark Lord's control, given that Snape—the usurper, the murderer, the fiend—was now headmaster. The fact that he now held the position over so many young witches and wizards, which he had literally killed for, made Harry's blood boil.

"Harry."

The voice of Ginny Weasley would have normally calmed him down, but ever since the two had broken up after Dumbledore's funeral, just after Snape had killed him, he never felt the same towards the only sister of his best friend. He turned to face her then, her beautiful red hair framing that blazing look on her face that she always seemed to have around him, was lost on him as he got slowly to his feet.

"What is it, Gin?" he asked, pushing his glasses all the way up his nose; they tended to fall downwards whenever he was deep in thought. "Something wrong? Does your mum need me to do something in preparation for tomorrow?"

Ginny shook her head as she worried her bottom lip; her blue eyes shone as she hesitated ever so slightly. She had been a lot more careful, or so he'd heard from Ron, in the weeks since Dumbledore's death, and not nearly so impulsive. It seemed that Ginny, like many other members of the Wizarding World, wasn't going to be so tempestuous anymore, now that life had a way of fading out, for the most powerful sorcerer in the world had been enveloped in that green light on the Astronomy Tower, and if he could be killed, who was next?

"No, Mum doesn't need you for anything. Or Dad," she put in quickly, knowing that Harry was likely to ask about Arthur Weasley. "I was wondering if I might borrow you for a moment, please, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, nodding his head and watching her walk away from him for a moment before he forced his feet to move along after her. He assumed that she needed his help with something for the wedding, or that she was merely fetching him on someone else's behalf. Either way, whatever it was, he hoped, would be a good distraction from the weight of the Quidditch snitch in his pocket, or the unwavering doom that had settled over him for the past several weeks that he would be forgoing his final year at Hogwarts in pursuit of the Horcrux hunt that Dumbledore had been preparing him for.

"Just in here," Ginny said, her voice quiet as they came to a small door, which she opened almost effortlessly, and led him inside. She didn't flinch as the door shut automatically behind Harry, and as she turned to face him, all hesitation seemed to disappear from her face. "I know that it's your birthday today, Harry," she said, her voice quiet. "Mum gave you that watch, Ron gave you the book, Fred and George gave you a bunch of their products, and Hermione..."

"If this is leading up to you telling me you forgot to get me something, Gin, or that you've got something for me, really, it doesn't matter," Harry said quickly, a light chuckle escaping his lips at the notion of another gift for him. "Really. I likely won't be able to take much with me after Ron and Hermione and I get out of here."

Ginny nodded, stepping a bit closer to him. "I considered that," she told him, her voice soft. "I considered every possibility imaginable, and there was more to think about than before, because now you're of age, and certain things aren't off-limits like they were before. And yet, the notion that I also wanted you to remember me through the gift..."

Harry shook his head. "Gin, really, you don't..."

"Yes, I do," she told him, her voice slightly firmer than it had been. "I have to get you something to remember me by, Harry. I mean, who knows? Maybe you'll meet a cousin of Fleur's or something while you're going there. Veelas are very pretty..."

Harry swallowed then, knowing that he could easily lead in with a compliment right about now, about how pretty Ginny was. Of course she was pretty; anyone would be a fool to deny such a blatant fact. But the fact remained that everything was up in the air, now that Lord Voldemort was first on Harry's hit list, and the notion of keeping a girl—or anyone, for that matter—happy while he was hunting for death traps wasn't the first thing on his list.

"They are, sure," Harry said, shrugging ever so slightly, the air suddenly becoming rough between the two of them. "Guess it's not something I thought about..."

"No?" Ginny asked.

He shook his head. "No. Kind of a little too preoccupied with You-Know-Who than to really be thinking about dating..."

Ginny nodded. "There's the silver-lining I've been looking for," she whispered.

Harry blinked then, nearly staggering backwards as Ginny made for him then. "Ginny, what are you—?" he demanded then, the words barely getting out of his mouth as Ginny kissed him. He very nearly squirmed in her arms, although it was difficult to get away from her as she'd fully latched herself onto him. He kept his hands firmly at his sides, and although he wanted more than anything to shove her off and away from him, the notion of hurting her feelings crushed him because, at the end of the day, even if he no longer romantically cared for her, he didn't want any harm to come to her.

The sound of the door bursting open from behind them was enough for Ginny to pull herself back from Harry, who let out an audible sigh of relief once he turned around. However, the angry look in Ron's eyes was enough to make him nervous, and he said an awkward goodbye to Ginny as he made for the lopsided staircase. He didn't stop walking until he got up to the room he shared with Ron, and would've been all too happy to slam the door on his face, but Ron wasn't having any of it.

Ron commanded the room as he stamped inside, and Harry merely sat down on the edge of his bed, looking at the exasperated expression on his best friend's face, while Hermione sensibly closed the door in his wake, and looked terribly awkward. "Do you know what the hell you think you're doing?!" he demanded.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted.

"No, 'Mione, he needs to hear this!" Ron thundered, never taking his eyes from Harry. "Do you realize how torn up Ginny was after you ended things?"

Harry sighed. "She kissed me!" he said, his hands flying in the air. "Not the other way around, and certainly not encouraged by me."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "What were you doing in her room, then? I doubt you got lost in there on your way to a kip."

Harry muttered something unintelligible under his breath. "No. Ginny just asked me to help her with something..."

"There, now, you see?" Hermione said, allowing herself to step forward. "Harry wasn't doing anything wrong, Ron..."

"Not now, Hermione," Ron said, his glare never vanishing. "Did she imply that this thing she needed help with was in her bedroom?"

"No," Harry replied, fighting to keep his tone level as he crossed his arms, "she didn't. All she said was that she needed my help. Or that she'd like it, or something. I thought that maybe she was just fetching me on someone else's behalf. How was I to know that we were going into her bedroom, Ron? I've never been in there."

Ron's eyes widened. "Never?"

Harry shook his head. "No. No, of course I haven't."

Ron lowered his eyes then; his hands, meanwhile, which he had been using to jam an accusatory finger in Harry's general direction, had regulated themselves into the pockets of his jeans, so Ron appeared to be quite humbled by Harry sharing this information. "And she kissed you?" he asked then, just for clarification.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I didn't know what to make of it, to be honest."

Ron sighed. "Merlin, I'm sorry, mate," he said at last. "It's just that, she's my sister, and the only one of my siblings younger than me. I've always been protective of her, because she's the only girl, and I suppose I let it get into my head..."

Harry raised his hand, gently cutting Ron off. "I get it. Really," he assured him. "Don't worry about it. Let's just focus on the wedding tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, let's focus on that!" Hermione said, too enthusiastic for her own good, tucking a stray curl behind he ear. "What could be more beautiful than a witch and wizard becoming man and wife, even if the witch is Phlegm?" she asked.

Harry and Ron snickered.

"Don't let Bill hear you say that," Ron guffawed.

"'Mione always casts Silencing Charms whenever we're alone together, because your mum kept barging in one too many times," Harry put in.

Ron grinned. "Least she didn't mind when she caught me and 'Mione snogging these past few weeks since the funeral..."

"Probably was happy it finally happened," Harry put in.

Hermione blushed. "Boys," she hissed under her breath, before taking out her wand, and obviously doing away with the Silencing Charm before she huffed out of the room, and slammed the door behind her.

. . .

Harry straightened his silk tie on his dress robes in front of the mirror in his shared bedroom with Ron, who had gone to Hermione's shared room with Ginny to help her get ready. The room was vacant except for the two of them, as Ginny had been asked by Fleur to do a few last-minute things with her younger sister and other bridesmaid, Gabriella. Harry yanked at the deep purple tie again with a miserable expression on his face; Ron and Hermione would likely be dancing the night away as much as the bride and groom. Harry wished that, for once, things could've been easier, and he didn't have a mass murderer to kill at some point in the next several months. He wished that he could just... Well, be. Be a normal teenage boy and dance the night away with someone of his choosing. Didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't spin Ginny around the floor a few obligatory times, but he still wondered if he'd be forced to admit that he no longer had feelings for the girl that everyone thought he'd eventually end up with.

Giving up on the correct adjustment of the tie—and knowing full well that Hermione or Molly would rush towards him to fix it if he'd done it wrong—he left his bedroom and went down the winding staircase, his dress robes pluming out behind him. Once he got to the bottom, he saw the impressive, bright orange, gold, and purple tent stationed in the yard, just outside the window of the kitchen, and smiled to himself. He crossed over and into the kitchen to get a better look, his eyes straying momentarily to The Daily Profit, the front page article written by Elphias Doge peering up at him from just beside the sink, which surprisingly, Molly Weasley was not using to do household dishes.

Harry stared down at The Daily Profit, taking in the moving photo of Elphias Doge in his younger years, and his eyebrows raised when he noticed that it was Albus Dumbledore himself that he was standing with. As Harry read the paragraphs in the article on the front page, he gleaned that Doge and Dumbledore had been friends since entering Hogwarts, and, since Doge was stricken with Dragon Pox, was pleased that someone as charismatic as Dumbledore would even want to be his friend. Both wanted to travel the world together but, since Dumbledore's father was imprisoned and his mother had died, it fell to Dumbledore to care for his younger siblings, brother Aberforth, and sister Ariana.

The notion that Dumbledore had a family briefly threw Harry for a moment; of course, he must have had a family, for everyone seemed to. Even though Harry's parents were dead and the Dursley's were less-than-pleased to be obliged to raise him, he'd had Sirius for a time, and Lupin and Tonks had always been there, not to mention Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley's, who had begun having Harry over to their house since his second year. They had easily become his surrogate family, and Harry had fit right in with the massive mess of boys that they'd had, and things had been looking up, when Harry and Ginny had become a couple just two months before Severus Snape had used the Killing Curse against Albus Dumbledore.

Harry finished reading the article and set it aside, swallowing slightly at the overwhelming amount of knowledge about one of his strongest advocates coming to light. Dumbledore had, of course, asked him fleeting questions here and there about his personal life, and had seemed delighted when Harry and Ginny began a relationship in the wake of winning a rather important Quidditch match, and he always asked after Ron and Hermione... The conversations about his summers with the Dursley's had been few and far between, other than the cursory comments that the former headmaster had made about Harry's obvious slender girth at the beginning of each new term, which, of course, came with the territory of being unwanted, so going underfed for three months at a time was something Harry was used to. Of course, it had been round-the-clock before he reached the age of eleven, and now he was thankful that he could spend his school term months gaining weight and strength back for whatever lay ahead.

Venturing outside and beneath the warm, summer sunshine, Harry made his way into the tent, watching as many members of the extended Weasley and Delacour families made their ways inside of the colorful fabric. He also saw many friends of the family lurking inside, newly married Remus Lupin and Tonks standing together, Remus's head tilted downwards to hear every word his new wife said. The sun was just beginning to set over the hills around the Burrow, and Harry knew that this meant the ceremony was set to begin soon. He went to his seat in the front row, saying a quick hello to Luna Lovegood, and nodded to her father, who looked especially pleased to be acknowledged by Harry Potter himself.

"Blimey, Hermione," Harry muttered as he took his assigned seat beside her. "How many generations do you think are here?"

Hermione flushed pink as she turned to look at Harry; she'd done her hair expertly that day, and Harry didn't recall seeing it that lovely since the Yule Ball during their fourth year. "Um, let me think," she said, her eyes moving around the tent, but stopped short when she saw Ron, at the back of the tent, with Arthur, Charlie, Fred, and George, all waiting to join Bill at his place beside the wizard justice of the peace.

"Looks like Percy's not going to make it," Harry muttered darkly, and this was enough to break Hermione's captivated glance upon her boyfriend.

"No, he isn't," Hermione said quietly. "And I'm sure you've been wondering why Molly hasn't been as diligent at keeping us apart. That's why. She's mourning the loss of a son, too into his work with the ministry to care about something as trivial as a wedding. In his eyes, not mine, of course," she added quickly.

Harry nodded. "Ever since he hauled me into Dumbledore's office during fifth year, after Cho ratted the army out, I haven't spoken to him. Ron told me he wouldn't have minded if I clobbered him good, but..."

"It never was your style," she said quietly to him, gently putting her shoulder against his. "I suppose that's what so many people like about you."

"So many?" Harry asked, the chuckle coming unbidden from his lips. "Doubt it. Remember, I might be the Chosen One, 'Mione, but I'm certainly not as well-liked by a lot of the Wizarding World. Remember how many people are still loyal to You-Know-Who."

Hermione sighed, lowering her eyes. "Pity they cannot be persuaded to see reason. These are dark times, Harry," she said, cutting herself off as Ron and the rest of them stepped forward, before Bill revealed himself from one of the front flaps of the tent.

Harry and Hermione watched as the rest of the company quickly found their seats as the back of the tent opened, and Ginny and Gabriella came up the aisle together, each holding beautiful bouquets of purple irises. Fleur stepped inside a moment later, on her father's arm, and Harry took note of Bill's breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. Ginny winked at Harry as she came down the aisle, and he smiled nervously at her, noting that the awkwardness of the day before seemed to be forgotten. Fleur stepped closer to Bill, and Mr. Delacour handed her off to him before going to the opposite side of the tent to sit beside his wife. Fleur and Bill joined hands, and the ceremony was off without a hitch.

. . .

Severus Snape Apparated into the murky depths of the small swamp located just beside the Burrow, the music from the wedding tent filling his ears as he automatically cursed at the notion of his black robes secreting in the muck around him. Stepping out of the shallow water and going into the tall grass, he completed a Cleaning and Drying Spell and peered through the reeds. His years of spying had taken a toll on him, yes, but the fact was that he was very good at playing a double agent; another thing he was good at was hiding in plain sight.

His target was walking by himself—an idiotic move in these times—and Snape knew that he had to get his attention, and quickly. "Potter," he hissed through his teeth when the boy came close, and he watched as he automatically drew his wand. Snape sighed inwardly; he would have to stun the boy to keep his whereabouts unknown, and did so, before levitating him into the tall grass so that he stood across from him.

Once the spell wore off, Harry glared at his former Potions Professor, his green eyes blazing with anger at the notion that the very last time he'd seen him, he'd stunned him as well, after he'd called him a coward. I'm the Half-Blood Prince, came the words readily to his mind, the notion that the man he'd been desperately thinking about for the past year, as well as his Potions Professor, who he already had a complicated relationship with, were one in the same. He'd then remembered how Snape had caught him snooping in on his conversation with Draco Malfoy after Christmas of his sixth year, and, after giving him an earful about not eavesdropping, had done something that even Harry could not comprehend.

"Idiot boy," Snape had hissed at him, dragging him behind a stone pillar beside a window, so as the pair of them were alone. "The Dark Lord is coming to take us all eventually, and you waste time standing in the shadows of corridors. You were invited to Slughorn's Christmas party for the sole purpose of having fun," he went on, his tone bitter. "Why can you not simply keep your nose out of where it doesn't belong, and just...have...fun?" the man demanded, pulling each word slowly through his lips, as if he'd wanted to make a point.

"Having fun has never been my forte, sir," Harry replied yanking back and away from him, his tone snappy, for he'd never gotten along with Snape since his first year, when the professor seemed to make it his mission to drag him down at every turn. "What were you discussing with Malfoy?" he asked, and the dark eyes snapped to meet his green ones. "I've never heard of an Unbreakable Vow..."

The Potion Master's eyes flared at the notion that Potter had heard their conversation more clearly; for all his sneaking around, playing for both the Darkness and the Light, he realized he would have to be more careful around the boy. "That is none of your concern, or your business, Potter," he sneered. "Our conversation in the celebration in Slughorn's rooms just now was the only obligation I had to speak with you..."

"I'm surprised you even delivered the message to me at all, professor, were it not for Professor Dumbledore making it so," he said, his tone steady, which made Snape's teeth clench. "Is this perhaps because of the holiday spirit?" he went on. "Are you willing to bury the hatchet you've put between us after so long?"

"As I've said, Potter, those were the only words I intended to share with you..."

"Where is Professor Dumbledore traveling?" Harry asked.

"That is also none of your business or concern," Snape replied.

Harry narrowed his green eyes. "Is that so?" he asked, stepping forward. "What then, pray tell, is my business, sir? Don't tell me that every whispered conversation I hear cannot be explained by a few words. It seems to me, professor, that there is a choice for you to make. Either tell me where Professor Dumbledore is traveling, or tell me what an Unbreakable Vow is."

"I shall do neither, for neither concern you," Snape said, growing annoyed. "Now, you are getting on my last nerve, Potter, and so help me, I'll..."

"You'll what?" Harry demanded. "Take House points? What's a few points to me? We don't know where I'll be at the end of the year, nor do you. I may not even come back. One the blood wards are broken, I'll be free."

The notion of Harry not returning to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year jarred something within Severus Snape in that moment that he never expected to feel in his entire life. The notion that he had to continue at this play-acting, at literally pretending to hate him, was growing old, and, since the boy, young man, was sixteen, he would likely see through it soon. No, no, he mustn't allow himself to lose control, but...

"Potter, you don't mean that," Snape said.

He shrugged. "Why not? I've no parents holding me here, demanding me to stay on more than necessary. Hermione may be upset about it, but she's a friend to me, like a sister. Sure, Ron's parents might care, but they've no claim on my education. Nobody would care if I simply disappeared and went looking for the Dark Lord alone..."

"No!" Snape shouted then, pushing himself forward.

"Professor, what are you—?" Harry demanded, his voice cut off then.

Snape made a grab for the dress robes that Harry wore, yanking the young man towards him and molding his mouth to his. He noted the hesitation from his captor then, which quickly seemed to melt away, as quickly as the snow was falling behind him. Snape stiffened slightly as Potter—Harry—wrapped his arms around him, opening his mouth beneath his, a small moan escaping from his lips as he tasted his professor. Snape stepped forwards then, pushing Harry up against the stone wall, and Harry braced himself up against Snape's shoulders, wrapping his legs around his waist and molding himself against him...

"Sir," he whispered, his tone breaking slightly as Snape's senses finally returned to him, and he stared into the younger man's eyes, dark green with desire. "Sir, please..." His voice came out as a desperate whisper; he wanted him, he could see that, but this wasn't right, he knew that—none of this was right.

Snape wordlessly took out his wand, and watched as Harry trembled as he lifted it and aimed it at the younger man's temple. "Obliviate," he said softly.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Harry demanded of Snape through his teeth. His thoughts were suddenly back at the Burrow, and he could hear the wedding music coming out of the tent beyond and filling his ears.

"I've come to warn you," he said, knowing that he deserved every negative word or thought from him at this point, given what he'd done to Dumbledore, and how he'd treated him on the last time they'd seen one another, and all his life, really, save last Christmas... "It's not safe here," he went on, and Harry's eyes flashed in warning.

"I don't have the Trace on me anymore," he said flatly, crossing his arms. "Trace breaks at seventeen. I turned seventeen yesterday."

"I'm well aware of that, Potter," Snape said with a sneer. "However, I should warn you that Death Eaters will swarm this place shortly—"

"What?" Harry asked. "You mean, besides you?"

Snape's lip curled at that; yes, he knew he deserved all that and more, but actually hearing it from someone as pure and perfect as Harry... "Yes, besides me, Potter," he said, his tone soft. "I know I'm likely the last person you want to see right now..."

"You're right," Harry said, and moved to leave.

"Harry, just please listen..."

"Don't call me that!" Harry said through his teeth. "You haven't called me that before, so you sure as hell shouldn't now!"

Snape hesitated. "I'm sorry..."

Harry shook his head. "Save it," he said, and finally looked up into Snape's black eyes. "Guess I wish the spell did work..."

"Spell?" he asked.

Harry scoffed. "Christmas," he said, the word feeling heavy on his tongue as Snape looked shocked at the word. "I remember everything."

"But...your memories," Snape sputtered then, shaking his head. "I took your memories... I know I did..."

"You attempted to take them," Harry corrected, moving to leave. "But I suppose you taught me blocking in Occlumency pretty well. Guess I can turn it on and off at will. Sometimes I forget, and sometimes I remember," he said, before turning around and hurrying away from him, before Snape could safely call him back.

Snape slipped deeper into the tall reeds of grass, digging his hands into his shoulder-length, black hair, as he considered Christmas. No wonder Harry was angry at him; not only had he killed his trusted mentor and advisor, but he had kissed him, and he remembered it. He'd remembered it, and likely resented him for taking advantage... Snape let the thoughts settle for a moment, before he saw the ball of a Patronus falling from the sky. He stiffened then, feeling his arm burning, and sighed.

Knowing that there was no way out, at least not yet, Snape drew out his wand in case he needed it, and Disapparated.

. . .

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, her voice cutting through the August darkness as she spotted him, before she ran towards him and threw her arms around him, Ron just at her heels. "Where have you been?"

"Yeah, mate, we were worried," Ron said quickly.

"Later," Harry replied, the Patronus suddenly crashing into the center of the tent, rendering the wedding guests shocked.

The Ministry has fallen, said the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, obviously torn up with emotion, for even though Scrimgeour had been different than Fudge, it was still an overwhelming thing to consider. The Minister of Magic...is dead. They are coming...they are coming.

Harry felt something in his throat then, and he immediately felt Ron and Hermione's hands gripping onto his own. Suddenly, the screeches of Death Eaters filled their ears, and they all but zoomed into their domain. Wands were drawn, and different colored spells whizzed past them all and filled the air with the curses and charms alike. Taking in a breath, the trio's eyes met, just as Remus Lupin darted past them all.

"You've got to get out of here!" he shouted, amidst him, Tonks, the bride and groom, and the rest of the wedding party and guests running around the tent, casting spells. "Go, all of you! Go now! Get somewhere safe!" Remus hurled a slew of curses at a Death Eater, who was barely incapacitated for a moment, before launching himself to his feet, and proceeded to continue battling with him.

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand; it was truly time to leave the safety—or lack thereof—of Ron's childhood home. He fleetingly remembered all the good times he'd spent there, minus the ones with him and Ginny in a romantic sense, and knew that they had to go. He met his best friend's eyes again, and the three of them Disapparated.

They landed at a familiar black iron gate, and, once they'd stepped through onto the cobblestones, the house seemed to appear automatically to the three of them. They stepped through the wards, only to be silenced immediately by the ghostly figure of Albus Dumbledore reaching for them, but he only resembled the consistency of sand. This caused Hermione to scream and Harry and Ron to plaster themselves temporarily against the front door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Homenum Revelio," Hermione said softly, her wand already drawn. In the moment of silence that followed, the trio knew, deep down, what this meant. "We're alone," Hermione went on, her voice filled with a quiet determination, that both Harry and Ron knew would come to be beneficial on whatever they found on their journey.

Stepping deeper into the house, Ron and Hermione made for a couch in the living room. Harry stood off to the side, watching his two best friends cuddle up together; he knew that there wasn't much they could do with the remainder of the evening, and besides, they likely had to come down from the shock of what had transpired at the wedding. Harry gave them a cursory glance before he said he would check out the house; his house, he reminded himself as he made his way towards the staircase, the matriarch of the Black family sneering down at him, reminding him of a certain Potions Professor.

"Slippery git," Harry muttered through his teeth. "You likely led the Death Eaters to the Burrow, because you're You-Know-Who's servant. I should've never let you in," he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the end, for he'd wanted more than anything to do just that. "Revenge is almost too good for you," he continued, walking up the rest of the staircase. "Almost," he said, his voice firm at the end, as he made his way to Sirius's childhood bedroom, knowing that he would need rest to clear his head and permit himself to forget about Severus Snape and what could have been, had their lives been different.