Part IX

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling, who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.

All my gratitude to my betas and previewers DementedLeaf, Xoxphoenix and Morgaine_Dulac.

Many thanks to all my kind readers and reviewers.

Part IX

The classroom was empty and silent. Passing through the glasses of the window, the soft afternoon light created coloured patterns that danced joyfully on the floor and the walls. Severus Snape sat motionless in his frame, lost in contemplation of the happy sight… yet there was no joy in his eyes. His gaze relentlessly roamed past the many objects disseminated under his portrait: the ones that should have been the symbols of his rebirth, and that now a secret anguish was slowly transforming into creepy caricatures.

Closing his eyes in despair, Snape thought at what had happened in the last two days. That morning, Zabini's revelations had left a deep mark on his imagination. The horror of discovering that the consequences of his actions still affected the life of those surrounding him had been immense. And yet, there was nothing that he could do.

Paint. He was only paint. Though magically imbued with unusual stubbornness and ferocious determination, he was only a portrait, condemned for the rest of his days to watch from a wall, eternally contemplating those who were contemplating him, in a weird game of mirrors.

Painful considerations emerged and exploded like bubbles in his mind, dripping along the fibres of his canvas and condensing in stinging questions. How many other accusers would he meet that would remind him of his misdeeds? How many of his students would despise him for having betrayed their parents or relatives? How could he face those gazes and find the words to answer those mute accusations? He remembered little Malfoy's diffident eyes: was the child silently condemning him?

Nineteen years had seemed such a long gap to forget the past! Had his seclusion in the office anaesthetised his conscience and covered his feelings with dust? His determination began to vacillate. Who was Severus Snape? An impostor dressed up as a teacher. What hopes, what dreams, what aspirations had Severus Snape? None… or better, none left. So, why should Severus Snape still be allowed to perform his task?

A kind old voice unexpectedly interrupted these dark reflections.

"A Knut for your thoughts, Severus…"

Awakened from his anguishing daydream, Snape rubbed his eyes, answering in irritation, "How could I possibly believe that you would remain in Minerva's office forever? I should have asked her to lock you there with an Incarcerous spell!"

He sighed in resignation then looked around, searching for his unwelcome companion.

"Where are you hiding, Albus? You seem to forget that we are both two-dimensional. I can't see you if you are at my side."

"I am always on your side when you look for me, Severus. But today, you only need to raise your eyes… and your spirit."

Severus lifted his head until he meet a smiling Dumbledore, watching from a beautiful panorama, higher on the opposite wall.

"These pictures are so relaxing, don't you think?" the great wizard declared nonchalantly, his piercing eyes never abandoning the younger man. "I must admit that Minerva had a splendid idea when preparing this room."

Severus shrugged. "Why don't you simply admit that you always find a way to meddle?" he asked, closing himself again in his bitter contemplation.

"I will be glad to admit whatever you prefer, if this makes you answer my first question."

"There is nothing to say…" Severus replied sullenly, "except that I'm going to resign this same evening."

"This is an unexpected and saddening decision, my boy. May I ask you why?"

The old wizard wasn't evidently intentioned to let him go, and Snape reacted in anger, "Don't be irritating, Albus. I have just discovered that… that…"

But he could not continue, so Dumbledore sighed in his turn.

"Don't let the words of an embittered little man obscure your courage and your loyalty, Severus."

"You have listened to our conversation!!!" Snape reacted indignantly and, after a little pause, Dumbledore nodded in silence.

Enraged by this quiet admission, the younger wizard raised his voice. "That embittered little man – as you like to call him – once was one of my students. He used to trust me then, while today he accused me of betrayal!"

"Still, you have justifications that he doesn't have," Albus replied meekly. "Don't burden your shoulders with the wrong choices that others have made, Severus."

Snape considered his old mentor with unsympathetic eyes, then he shook his head in stubbornness.

"The past can't be changed. It has been foolish to hope."

"It's never foolish to hope, my son", the old voice whispered, and a vigorous knock at the door seemed to reply to this assertion, making both wizards startle in surprise.

"Come in," Snape invited grudgingly, expecting to see Minerva and bracing himself for a discussion. But this time his intuition was wrong. The door opened, and an unknown man entered the room, walking with an energetic pace and displaying a nice, sincere smile on his round face.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape!" the stranger greeted politely, and for a moment, only silence answered his voice.

"Mr. Longbottom!" Snape finally breathed, suddenly realising whom his visitor was; then he added in astonishment, "Well, this… this is most unexpected!"

"I'm glad you remember me, Professor," Neville Longbottom happily replied. "Headmistress McGonagall told us that you have been fully reinstated in your role today, so I came to congratulate you."

His smile grew wider. "Perhaps you don't know it, but now we are colleagues."

Confused, Snape considered the man, trying to recover this piece of information from the mass accumulated in his brain during those long, somnolent years in Minerva's office.

"Colleagues?" he repeated cautiously.

"I teach Herbology, Professor," Longbottom eagerly explained. "Madam Sprout was so kind as to recommend my name when she decided to resign, some time ago. So, you see, now I have passed on the other side and, I must say, it hasn't been easy. During these few years of teaching, I have been able to reflect about my school days, and, if you allow me, I would like to apologise for my utter stupidity. Really, you had to use all your perseverance."

"Which doesn't mean patience…" and Snape smiled darkly.

"Well, no!" the man confessed with a laugh. "I must admit that you have never been renowned for your patience amongst us students. But I bet you knew it very well and enjoyed the idea."

"Mr. Long… I mean, Professor Longbottom, how is it that you speak to me so easily now?" Snape asked impatiently, trying to understand the real meaning of that visit. Surely Neville Longbottom couldn't be considered an affectionate friend, neither a nostalgic House fellow. "I had the strong conviction that you simply hated even the sound of my voice."

"That time has passed, Professor," Neville answered quietly, and his eyes sparkled. "We have grown up, and we've got to know what you have done for the magical world. I never thanked you properly for that. Neither have I thanked you for the detentions with Hagrid in your last months as a Headmaster. Now I know that you were trying to protect us."

Snape felt a sudden pang. The sinister faces of Alecto and Amycus Carrow had appeared to his mind, and with them a flood of unpleasant, horrid memories. Real life could be so… so hurtful. He had forgotten it.

But Longbottom was already going on, a mischievous grin opening again on his face. "You see, Professor, you don't scare me anymore. I've placed myself in the very path of Voldemort himself, and I hate to break the news, but you don't really compare in the intimidating stakes*."

Snape considered that answer with a scowl. There was something more he needed to know… But before he could ask, the door opened again, and a boy entered, almost running.

"Professor Snape! Oh! Finally I have found the place!" Albus Severus Potter exclaimed in exultation.

Then the child stopped in embarrassment, realising that there were more people than he expected to see in the room. But, suddenly recognising a familiar face, he relaxed and reached Neville under the frame.

"Good afternoon!" he said with his charming tiny voice, smiling cheerfully to both man and portrait.

Snape shot a quick glance at the eldest of his visitors. If Longbottom had been surprised to see a student -- even more, "a Potter" -- greeting with such warmth a teacher as formidable as Snape, he had been able to disguise it without difficulty. But perhaps he had already been informed of this recent friendship. After all, he was an old friend of Harry Potter … or had it been Albus with his good intentions?

Albus Severus instead, in his great innocence, simply wasn't surprised to find Neville there. And why should he? Snape considered. What could there be more natural for a student than his two professors talking like friends? Oh, how the boy would have been shocked if he had know the truth…

Feeling a bit tense, Snape inclined his head in a welcome. His heart had been filled with joy, but reserved as he was about his feelings, he struggled to keep them under control in front of Longbottom.

"Mr. Potter. I'm glad to see you again," he therefore declared with great composure, while Neville showed his long-standing familiarity exclaiming cordially, "Hello, young man! What a nice surprise!"

"Hello, Professor Longbottom," the child replied a bit awkwardly.

"Hey! You can call me Neville in this room. Professor Snape won't mind. We were just remembering the old days."

Snape frowned at that informal behaviour, but he was still too uneasy to react in front of the child; so Neville continued, "Are you enjoying Hogwarts?"

"Oh yes!" the boy answered enthusiastically. "Everything is fantastic here!" And he began to describe a list of wonders that had impressed his imagination. Snape watched the scene, and a bitter sensation of sorrow invaded his heart. Was he really going to renounce to all this and bury himself forever in an office?

He sighed deeply, and Albus Severus immediately interrupted his description. The child turned to the portrait, anxious to justify his delay. "I'm sorry I arrived so late, Professor, but James didn't want to tell me where the classroom was… He is a bit angry with you."

Snape furrowed his brows, and the boy realised in horror to have betrayed his brother's not precisely respectful feelings. So, he tried to correct, "Well, he… he is disappointed for the points, you see."

Neville smiled at the unintentional pun, but Snape growled darkly, "Your brother should learn how to behave, before complaining uselessly."

Trying to help both children, Neville declared gently, "I'm sure that James will improve very fast with such a teacher. And what about you, Al: are you attending the new Potions course?"

"No, unfortunately I have not been selected… at least, not yet," the boy replied in regret, a bit ashamed. But then, brightening again, he announced the very primary reason of his visit and of his joy. "However, Professor McGonagall says that I can still take private lessons from Professor Snape… if he agrees, of course."

Surprised at the evident hope in the child's voice, Neville turned to look at Snape with questioning eyes. Embarrassed, the dark wizard tried to disguise his sudden emotion by asking with a menacing glare, "What did she say, Mr. Potter?"

Albus Severus hurried to report, "Well, she said that there is no need to spread the news, but if I keep the thing reserved, and I manage to ask you in the proper way… Oh!"

The boy was suddenly horrified. "I shouldn't have told this to you! I mean, she said that I shouldn't…"

Realising that every sentence was leading him more and more to disaster, the boy blushed intensely. Moved by his evident desolation, Neville went to the rescue, speaking as if Al's words were intended for him.

"I'm not going to talk, promise. Also because I am very afraid of Professor Snape."

"Really?" Albus Severus was amazed.

"Well, as a student, I was a complete failure at Potions. So Professor Snape gave me detentions and called me a dunderhead. He was very rigid, you see."

A mischievous smile forming on his lips, Neville looked at Snape again, then lowered his tone in a promising whisper, saying to the child, "I'll reveal a secret to you… though I suppose Professor Snape knows it already. But you must promise you won't tell it to anyone."

Forgetting his anguish, the boy nodded in expectation, while the sudden memory of a stuffed vulture on a hat made Snape freeze in horror.

"Mr. Longbottom!" he snapped harshly. But, ignoring the portrait's menacing gaze, Neville continued with a conspiring wink, "He was my Boggart. You know what a Boggart is, don't you?"

"Something scary…" murmured the boy, clearly fascinated at the idea, and considered the relieved but still fuming Snape with new admiration… and absolutely no fear. A meditative pause followed and, encouraged by that confession, Al declared proudly, "I have never been afraid of him."

"Well, then you are much braver than I was," commented Neville with a smile.

"But you ARE brave!" the boy protested. "Dad said that you cut off the head of Voldemort's monster serpent. Why didn't you ever tell me THAT story before?"

Searching a support to his declaration, Albus Severus turned to look at Snape. But the portrait had visibly paled, and his eyes were void, lost in reminiscences. Lowering his head, the boy apologised, "I'm sorry. I didn't think… I know what the snake did to you…"

Snape breathed slowly. Memories, so unexpectedly recalled, had produced a devastating emotion. But the boy's revelations had raised also another reaction, even more shocking than the previous one. Nobody had ever cared to inform the portrait of the many other events that had lead to the Dark Lord's destruction… or had it been Snape himself who had declined to listen, indifferent as he had become about the world and his living inhabitants? There was a blank space in his knowledge that was urging to be filled, so he commanded sharply, "Mr. Longbottom! What does this mean? Explain yourself!"

Neville looked as embarrassed as when he was a student.

"How could you possibly not know?" he murmured. Then he answered, "Yes, I killed the snake. Harry had asked me to do it, before leaving for his last meeting with Voldemort."

Snape's astonishment was complete, and he repeated slowly, "You did it? You! Neville Longbottom!"

"With my hands and the sword of Gryffindor…" Neville replied firmly. Then, misunderstanding Snape's reaction, he added with a bitter tone, "I suppose you don't trust me. You never did. Why should have you changed?"

Snape contemplated Neville's still incongruously childish face with new eyes, trying to manage his many confused emotions. He wanted to speak, but his voice refused to exit. At the same time, Neville had crossed his arms, watching Snape with a defiant yet wounded gaze.

Then Albus Severus found the right words, the ones that only a child could say.

"You see? You ARE brave! You've vindicated Professor Snape, even though he scolded you all the time and called you a dunderhead!"

Neville watched the boy and couldn't help a smile. "Well, I didn't think of that, at the time. But you are right, and now I'm happy."

He stroked affectionately the dark hair of the child, then he raised two serene eyes at the portrait.

"I hope you will go on teaching dunderheads for many and many years to come."

Snape felt disarmed, and strangely in peace.

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom," he gruffly said.

Then his gaze went up and anxiously looked for Dumbledore. There was no sign of him in any of the paintings around, so Snape hoped that Albus hadn't tried to meddle. Sometimes joy was much more difficult to share than pain…

--- --- ---

NA:

*"You don't scare me anymore. I've placed myself in the very path of Voldemort himself, and I hate to break the news, but you don't really compare in the intimidating stakes."

I've taken this sentence from a story I've enjoyed very much, "The Lady Loves her Will" by Whatapotter. Thanks for writing it, Whatapotter. I hope you won't mind my little theft, but will consider it a tribute to your work.