Part X

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.

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Part X

Neville Longbottom had left, leaving professor and pupil alone. Snape watched the little one smiling so confidently at him and wondered if that boy could ever evoke a Boggart. What could the worst fear of such a tender, trustful heart be? That soothing consideration was soon followed by a renewed wave of joy and gratitude for Minerva, who had offered them both a perfect solution by recommending private lessons in her official capacity.

He hardened his voice in his usual severe tone and asked, "So, Mr. Potter, do you still want to take lessons from me?"

The boy looked offended. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "Now that you are teaching James, I must find a way to beat him. He is boasting all the time about the new course!"

Snape darkened. He was sure that James Potter was a vain and pathetic bully, and Albus Severus' words once more confirmed this opinion; however, the dark wizard investigated. "Didn't you tell me that your brother wasn't happy with me?"

"Well, that was because of the points," Albus Severus explained. "But he is very proud of having been selected, and he has already written to tell Mum and Dad that I wasn't."

Albus Severus curled his lips down in discomfort, then exclaimed passionately, "I did my best, Professor! Really! Yet Professor Zabini said I wasn't good enough. I am so sorry!"

The little face wrinkled in comic desperation, then lightened in hope. "But today Professor McGonagall called me and said that I could try again, with a little help from you..."

Shining in renewed joy, the boy declared with his beautiful smile, "You see, James and I must fight on equal terms. Honourably. Like you did with my grandpa."

Snape inhaled sharply in surprise. "Why do you say so? Who told you this?"

"Nobody, Sir." The boy was surprised. "I know you, so I just imagine it."

The wizard felt lost before such an immense candour. How could he deserve that touching admiration? For the very first time in so many years, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and smiled sadly at the thought. A crying portrait! Would the paint liquefy and drip with his tears, destroying his renewed life? And yet, what an awesome way to dissolve in the void, comforted by such pure, healing emotions, knowing that this time somebody would sincerely miss him...

The boy hadn't understood those feelings, of course. He was admiring the place, sparkling with energy as every normal healthy child. Curious, he asked to Snape with his charming confidence, "May I see the cauldrons, Professor?"

Snape nodded, still incapable to articulate a word, and the boy made a cautious tour of the room. Then, unable to contain himself, he asked hopefully, "May I touch them?"

Snape smiled, and Albus Severus reverently placed a hand on the metallic belly of a big cauldron. The boy whistled softly in admiration, then he returned under the frame.

"Surely James is lucky!" he declared, furrowing his brows. "When do we begin, Professor? I need to show him who is the best!"

You will, Albus Severus, Snape thought. With my help, you will.

Then he cleared his throat and announced sharply, "Tomorrow at five, Mr, Potter. And please be punctual, otherwise these lessons will be ended before they start."

"I have never been late before!" the boy protested in his acute tone.

"Manners, young man! I'm not professor Longbottom!" Snape replied frowning. But a smile immediately came to mitigate the harshness of his voice, and the boy smiled back in kind.

*************

The moon was shining high in a velvety black sky when Snape interrupted his reflections and decided that it could be the right time to return to his place in the Headmistress' office. Night was advanced enough to hopefully spare him unwanted visits or conversations while he was in that meditative mood. But, as soon as he reached the frame, he had the unexpected surprise of finding Minerva still sitting at her table.

The day had been evidently too exhausting for her, and she was placidly sleeping, spectacles resting lopsidedly on her nose and arms crossed under her head, just like one of the children she used to teach. He understood that she had been waiting for him until that late hour, and her affection made even more painful the weight he was carrying in his heart.

"Minerva," he called softly. But her sleep was too deep, and he had to repeat his call.

"Minerva!" he insisted with a worried tone, hating to disturb her, but knowing that he was whom she had been waiting for.

Reacting at his voice, she woke up and smiled at him, eyes slightly hazy in sleepiness.

"Severus, are you back?" she greeted him, rubbing her face and rearranging the spectacles on her nose. Then she asked anxiously, "How was the meeting with Zabini? You must excuse me for leaving you alone at the end of the lesson, but I thought that it could be a good occasion for you both..."

She was expecting to be reassured, and Snape hesitated. How could he announce her that the meeting with Zabini had filled him with the desire of abandoning his newly found role? How could he confess that he had been wallowing in sadness for the whole afternoon, and that only Albus Severus' visit had lit up a day that was miserably sinking into despair? How could he admit that his heart was aching in bitterness, and that his mind was still wondering in doubt?

Minerva watched him closely, and a crease formed on her forehead.

"You have something unpleasant to tell me," she declared, suddenly grave.

Snape crossed his arms in his typical defensive pose.

"What would you say if I decided to renounce teaching?" he asked cautiously.

The old witch widened her eyes.

"You what?" she exclaimed. "I thought we had already discussed this option! How can you do this to the children, Severus?"

"Let's say that for instance I cannot be considered a luminous example for some of them..." he replied vaguely.

"What are you saying?" Minerva cried in anger. "I personally explained to the few of them who didn't know you which is the man they will have the honour of being taught by!"

She rose, passionate in her indignation.

"I don't want to hear this nonsense anymore!" she warned him, pointing a finger in a menacing gesture. Then her composure collapsed.

"What has happened, Severus? Why have you changed your mind?"

She considered his brooding features, then her eyes sparkled in understanding.

"It was Zabini, wasn't it?" she bitterly asked. "That man has created troubles since the first day he arrived here. You were right, Severus. I shouldn't have hired him. He is arrogant, uncooperative and always ready to complain."

Minerva lowered her head in defeat.

"I was so happy..." she murmured, as if speaking to herself. "A new opportunity for you. An excellent teacher for the school. And... and my personal occasion to make amends. But it hasn't worked. I should have known."

She sighed deeply and waited in a painful silence.

For the very first time after his awakening in the corridor, Snape considered Minerva with critical eyes, comparing the woman in the room with the woman he used to know so many years before: Dumbledore's right arm, the severe teacher, the reliable colleague, the inflexible educator, the one who always followed the rules even when that meant taking points from her own House. Loyal, sincere, honest...

Yet these outstanding qualities were exactly the reason why Minerva had always been so vulnerable, and time hadn't improved the situation. Before his eyes there was now an old, frail witch, whose hands were wrinkled and stained by age, and whose trembling lips were pressed in a thin line while she struggled to recover her control.

Snape's heart was suddenly filled with an immense regret. What was he doing? It was to Minerva that he owed this new opportunity. How could he disappoint her and, with her, those who believed in him?

Sacrificing his true friends, his noblest aspirations, throwing away the last chance that life had offered him... That meant surrender, and Severus Snape didn't want to. Now, surely Zabini was right in his accusations: his former professor had hurt people in many different ways. But that had been during a war. Another place. Another time. Another life.

Snape met Minerva's anxious gaze and curled his lips in his typical bizarre smile, searching for an answer that could disperse her doubts and anguish.

"Stubborn. That's what all you Gryffindors are. I cannot but subscribe to this judgement and, of course, bow to your decision."

The change in her features was almost astonishing. As soon as she grasped the real meaning of his declaration, an immense, relieved smile widened upon her face. She scolded him affectionately.

"Ah, Severus! Thank Merlin, you were only joking! Did you want to be praised by me, then? Is that your roundabout way to ask for compliments?"

Embarrassed, Snape lowered his eyes while she looked at him with touching joy.

"I'm so glad to have you back on the Board of Professors," she confessed in simplicity. "I am getting old, and old people like to have youth around. Especially when they are such long-lasting good friends."

"You are not old, Minerva," he protested automatically, but she shook her head and a mischievous smile formed on her lips, making her look like the lively slender teenager she had been.

"I AM old, Severus. Not as old as Albus yet, of course, but in October, I will be centenarian," she answered with a little chuckle.

Her cheeks blushed with the lovely rosy shade so typical of aged people, and she said with a sort of timid pride, "A hundred years! Can you imagine? So many things happened, so many things witnessed. Some happy, some sad, some bad, some beautiful..."

She smiled at him again, and a myriad of little sparks lit in her eyes while she added in emotion, "And from now on, you will be a part of my life again. What a wonderful present!"

Tears finally trickled down on her cheeks, and Snape watched them flow, not daring to speak, unable to express the emotions that were chasing in his mind, and feeling a warm wave of affection invading his heart.

Then a startling idea abruptly flashed in his brain, and he widened his eyes at the intensity of that perception.

*************

The fresh light of the early morning illuminated the new Potions classroom. A man entered hurriedly and went straight under the big picture where Snape was waiting impatiently, arms crossed and brows furrowed in his usual frown.

"Professor Snape," the man greeted, panting as if he had run. "Did you ask for me?"

"Mr. Longbottom," Snape acknowledged with a nod. "Yes, I did. Thank you for coming so quickly after such a short notice."

A pause followed, and the portrait examined carefully the man, who was steadying his breath while waiting to know more.

"I have a plan, but I need you to put it to work."

"What do you want me to do?" Neville simply replied, and Snape appreciated the trust implicit in his words.

"It's not difficult, you'll see. Not for the man who has slaughtered 'Voldemort's monster serpent'," the dark wizard declared with a meaningful smile, and many other words immediately followed in a concise but exhaustive explanation.

Neville listened with great attention, then smiled and considered, "It's a challenging task. There is not too much time left."

"This is why I asked for you."

"I suppose I should be honoured by your preference," Neville replied intentionally. Snape crossed again his arms and spoke slowly, as if sealing a solemn promise.

"Only a few hours ago, you claimed that I had never trusted you... and perhaps you were right. Now I have the opportunity to redress the balance. I'm relying on you, Mr. Longbottom. I'm sure you won't disappoint me."

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NA:

In one of her interviews, JKR states that Minerva was around 75 and Albus 150 at the beginning of HP: now, if you add the few years needed to conclude the saga plus the 19 years after, you arrive more or less at 100.

However, blame me if I'm wrong. I never was a good mathematician ;)