Title: Insight
By: Bridget McKennitt
Summary: When Harry tries to apologize to Snape for seeing his worst memory, the Boy-Who-Lived voluntarily allows Snape to see his own. Sometimes all you need is to walk in another man's shoes.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company are owned by J.K. Rowling and other companies. They are used here without permission, and for entertainment purposes only. No challenge or infringement upon the copyright is intended, nor should any be inferred.
"I'm sorry."
Professor Snape looked up from his cauldron and snarled. "I thought I told you to never come in here again." Not a question, but a statement.
Harry shuffled his foot before completely entering Snape's office and closing the door behind him. "I know, sir, but I wanted to tell you that I was sorry for looking into your Pensieve."
Quicker then the eye could follow, Snape had moved and clutched Harry by the neck. He pushed him against the wall and growled. Harry tried to speak, to yell, but he couldn't. "Come to taunt over me?" He loosened his choke hold, but not by much.
"No! I - apology - know - father - wrong."
Snape stared into Harry's green eyes. They were the exact color and shape of the boy's mother's eyes. Despite the fact that James was a complete bastard, at least Lily had protested and helped Snape. Then he mucked it up by calling her a filthy little Mudblood, but she was a good person. Harry may look like his father, but surely some of his mother resided in him, besides her eyes. Snape released his hold and Harry stumbled. "Speak."
Harry rubbed his raw throat and glared at Snape, hating him. What in the world ever made him want to go into the dungeons to apologize to Snape? The greasy git nearly killed him! "You heard me before. Goodbye."
Before Harry could leave, Snape grabbed his upper arm and squeezed. "Tell me now," he hissed.
"Let go of me! I was going to apologize for looking into your Pensieve and seeing that memory where my father and godfather were horrible idiots to you. They were idiots and my father was arrogant, and I apologize for that, too. But for you to keep punishing me because of my father, it's stupid! I know how it feels to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers. I know exactly how you had felt when my father taunted you. You keep thinking I'm my father, but I'm not."
Snape sneered. "You, know about humiliation? The Wizarding World's Golden Boy? I doubt it."
Harry's temper blazed. "During the Occulmency lessons, you saw my memories--"
"Ah, you mean those deliciously wonderful memories of you with your cousin? I remember them."
"Then why are you deliberately being obtuse?"
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Professor Snape said easily. "If you are thinking to consider those memories as your examples of an embarrassment equal to my own, then you are sadly mistaken."
This was getting nowhere. Why wasn't Snape getting the bigger picture? "What will it take for you to understand?" Then Harry got an idea. "Do you have your Pensieve around? I'll place my memories in there and you'll see what I'm talking about. And," Harry added. "It'll sort of balance out that I looked at your memories."
"Fine." Snape stalked over to his drawer and pulled out a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols; the Pensieve. "I assume you know how to use this?"
"I think so." He had seen Dumbledore and Snape use it enough times to understand how to use it. After drawing his memories into the Pensieve using his wand, he looked up at Snape. "Go ahead. Take a look." See it and weep.
Snape moved forward and stood over it, gazing into the silvery depths. Taking in a gulp of air, he plunged his face into the surface and went headfirst into the Pensieve...
The first memory he encountered was when Harry was about eight years old, or somewhere around that age. He wore raggedy clothes that were way too big for him. But even they could not hide how skinny the boy was. Harry was cleaning the windows in the living room. His Aunt Petunia had brought out cookies and milk for her son Dudley and his friends. They were watching the telly in the room with Harry. As soon as Aunt Petunia turned her back, Dudley and his friends moved towards Harry and shoved him against the glass. Harry yelped, but they wasn't done yet. Dudley used his pudgy fists and slammed them into Harry's lean frame while the other boys held him down.
"Dudley! What's that noise?" The boys ran back in front of the telly as Aunt Petunia came out and saw the bruised Harry. "Why did you stop cleaning! You're useless. Be glad I won't tell Vernon about this, or he'd beat you good." She grabbed Harry by the ear, twisting it until it turned red, and dragged him to his cupboard under the stairs. She threw him in, slammed the door, and locked it behind her. Snape stared at the younger Harry. He had not moved since his aunt had thrown him in.
The memory slowly faded away as another came to take its place. It was Harry's first year by the looks of it, his first Potions class to be exact. Snape watched as his then self call upon the young wizard and demanded him to answer his questions. He remembered that day. Seeing Harry in his class, looking for all the world like his father, he wanted to make him pay. And that he did, in spades.
Soon he found himself in another memory, Harry's second year. Harry was working in the library when he heard the whispers. The horrid whispers that he was the Heir of Slytherin and was setting the monster on all the Muggleborns. He stood up to leave, and Snape watched as all eyes were on him. Then the whispers started up again.
Harry's third year appeared and Harry was blushing red as Draco taunted the fact that Harry fainted when the Dementors appeared. Lupin reassured him that it was because Harry had been through more than the others that he fainted, but Harry still could not get over it. Then the memory shimmered into later that year when the Gryffindors were playing against the Hufflepuffs. Harry and Cedric were racing on their brooms towards the Snitch when suddenly the Dementors appeared and Harry started to jerk. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell off his broom, the Dementors' spell taking hold of him.
Cedric didn't notice Harry's fall and grabbed the Snitch, winning the game for Hufflepuff. A crushing blow when Harry woke up hours later.
Mist covered the Quidditch pitch and Snape recognized the year as Harry's fourth year. It was the Triwizard Tournament and the Hogwarts Champions, Harry and Cedric, were both reaching for the trophy together. Suddenly the two were taken as the trophy activated itself as a portkey. Snape was also taken along for the ride.
It was there that a green flash killed Cedric before Harry's very own eyes, that Wormtail used Harry's blood to bring Voldemort back to life, that the Dark Lord called his Death Eaters to him and fought a duel against Harry. Harry escaped with Cedric's body, but not before he lost a part of himself. Who wouldn't when facing such horrors?
Professor Snape came out of the Pensieve slightly shaken. He didn't even realize where he was until he saw Harry's expectant green eyes. "Well?" he asked.
Snape tried to go back to his usual cold mask, but found that he couldn't. By experiencing Harry's memories, he could no longer look at him the same way before. His feelings had changed. He had changed. Harry nodded as if he understood and used his wand to take back his memories. "I'll see you in class then, Professor."
The Potions Master just watched him go. He suddenly felt the urge to make up for all those years of pain the boy went through. Snape smirked, which faded into a grimace. Who knew that they would both have something in common in something so tragic?
He looked at the stone basin and ran his fingers over the rim. "I'll be seeing you then, Harry."
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