Part XXII

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 beta AmyLouise. Many thanks to all my kind readers and reviewers.

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Part XXII

In the quietness of her room, in the warmth of her bed, a pensive Minerva McGonagall was preparing to face the dark hours of the night and the gloomy thoughts they usually raised in her heart.

The day had been saddened by depressing news: two of her dearest friends had suffered an extremely painful experience while an old foe would soon have to undergo the most fearsome of the events a human being could face. Destiny, which had pretended to offer all those people a second chance, had instead brutally pulled apart their hopes, leaving them with bare hands and, above all, with empty hearts.

The thought of those sufferings had filled Minerva with a deep sorrow and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Feeling lonely and vulnerable, the old witch lay awake in her bed for a while, fighting against the many emotions stirred in her heart. But soon the nervousness became unbearable. Her hand swung in indecision, then picked up a book from a small pile on her nightstand. It was a romance, and for a moment, the Headmistress felt a sudden wave of embarrassment redden her cheeks.

Yet she didn't put the volume down. With measured movements, she raised her pillow so that it could comfortably support her and magically enhanced the light of the candles in order to help her weary eyes. Then she opened the book and began to read, only to stop after a few pages and stare blankly at the wall. Disconcerting how she could be so easily hooked by those senseless stories oozing passion and sentiment! Was she beginning to lose her mind? Was she transforming into a pathetic old woman like the Muggle ones she had seen, lonely and desperate, feeding the cats in the alleys?

She massaged her temples to lessen the tension; anxiety was surely the cause of her fluctuating mood and of her bizarre choices. Yet the sensation of uneasiness increased, and she lost herself in meditation, chewing her lower lip like a child. Then she heard a well-known voice calling her.

"Minerva!" Severus Snape appeared in a frame at the side of her bed. "Minerva, are you there?"

Their eyes met, and he immediately blushed and turned his face.

"Sorry," he muttered, half embarrassed, half frustrated, "I didn't think you would be in bed."

Minerva placed the book on the sheets, carefully face down, and adjusted a shawl over her nightshirt. She had expected that visit from the very moment she had found a sobbing Lily waiting in her office and had listened to her broken explanations. Apprehension tightened her heart but she checked it determinedly.

"A man in my bedroom! I'm flattered," she commented lightly, trying to make him smile. But he didn't react, so she continued with her usual nice composure, "You are welcome, Severus. I'm glad you came to visit. You know I am always happy to see you."

She watched him closely, disguising her examination under a friendly tone. "Tell me, please. Did you come for a chat, or do you need something from the Headmistress?"

He was evidently in a sullen mood.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled, "Surely I didn't choose the right moment. You are tired and..."

"I'm not!" she protested, her kind expression changing to one of concern. The old witch braced herself. She knew what was troubling her friend, but this time she was afraid that her affection simply wouldn't be enough to soothe his pain. And how could she think to comfort him when she herself was wandering in a sea of anguish? Minerva hesitated, weighing her words. Then she watched his brooding face and decided to take the dare.

"Please, Severus," she whispered, "forgive Lily."

His reaction was alarming. He paled so much she couldn't believe it and replied with increasing rage, "You... you know what has happened! How do you know? Were you spying on me, or was it Albus?"

"Severus!" she interrupted him, raising her hands in a pacifying gesture. "Please do not get angry. I didn't see Albus. And Lily came to see me of her own accord."

"When?" he asked immediately, and she felt an immense compassion for his evident suffering.

"After she had met you. She was desperate for your reaction and needed to share her burden," Minerva replied and waited for her words to sink into him.

He lowered his head, and she continued firmly, "I know how much she must have hurt you. And I imagine how enraged you must be with her. Yet allow me to tell you: she doesn't deserve your anger."

She paused. "Nor your contempt," she finished in a whisper.

He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, his face altering in emotion.

"You know that these are not my feelings, Minerva," he murmured. "How could I ever despise Lily? She has always been the only sun in my life."

The confession broke the dam of his restraint, and words seemed to flow in desolate tenderness. "The small good I did, I did it for her. To her I devoted my existence, and for her I would happily sacrifice it again if that could bring her back to me. But this will never happen. Today she has definitely left, and I'll never see her again."

His voice trembled in defeat. "Perhaps I am the one who didn't deserve her."

"Severus!" Minerva instinctively raised a hand as if to reach him. "Please don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault if she had to go."

He watched her with sudden hope. She sighed, acutely conscious of his tension.

"Should an old maid explain to you what you should have realised by now?" she finally murmured. "You don't need to tell me what you feel for her, Severus. I have understood your feelings since you were a child: your adoration for Lily was so evident! But even at that time, even when you and Lily were still friends...and such close friends...I thought that ..." She saw his eyes and gulped but continued softly, "Well, I knew she wasn't made for you."

She shook her head while memories flashed in her mind. "She never loved you the way you loved her."

His lips curled in a wounded expression. "You are so right, of course, Minerva," Snape replied bitterly. "But there is nothing I can do against my feelings. Whatever she might say or whatever she might do, I'll never be able to stop loving her. Neither will I be able to delete her from my heart. I simply can't. And I don't understand why."

His eyes desolately questioned the old witch. "Why has she got such power over me? Why am I so defenceless before her?"

"Oh, Severus!" Minerva exclaimed. "Millions of lovers have exulted in joy asking themselves this question. That's the magnificence of love, and blessed is the heart that can host such an immense feeling."

"But it's so hurtful when it is one sided," he whispered, his head lowering wearily on his crossed arms.

Minerva felt a deep wave of compassion at that quiet suffering. The old witch considered the crushed figure in front of her and again shook her head in disbelief; not even in death would Severus Snape find reprieve from his torment! Both his life and Lily's had been brutally interrupted by the same malignant power, and both Severus and Lily had been entitled to a second chance, in the magical world of pictures. Yet those new possibilities hadn't levelled the course of their existences, only accentuated the differences. And though the mere concept of such existence was hardly conceivable for a living being, the balance was totally in favour of the girl.

In spite of being a portrait, Lily had a family waiting for her and a loving husband with whom she could share her virtual life. In addition she had been allowed the blessing of a son and the joy of a handful of grandchildren... while even the consolation of her friendship was now denied to the man whose dedication had saved Lily's son, and who had never ceased to devote to her an unconditional love.

Minerva lingered in meditation, enfolding Snape in the tenderness of her gaze. How close she felt to him! Two desolate souls, prisoners of different universes, companions in solitude but no mates for anybody else in their worlds, therefore, condemned to a sorrowful loneliness.

The old witch frowned. Something obscure began to form in her mind, an odd sort of rebellion that made her eyes narrow in resolution. The love for Lily had been the key for Severus' redemption, but what had been a means of salvation in another life had become a curse in his actual existence. Severus needed to be free.

Her hands clenched in determination. She wanted Severus at her side, and she wanted him free from any other sentimental attachment. There was of course a big dose of self-interest in that decision because she craved the consolation of his presence, and she needed the comfort of his visits... even if he was only a portrait, even if she was only a centenarian maid, even if there would never be a fulfilment to such a peculiar bond.

But why not, her heart vehemently protested? Severus Snape might love Lily Evans desperately, but it was Minerva McGonagall that he searched for when he was in need of help. Why shouldn't destiny compensate Minerva's commitment by at least offering her that final modest solace? Young, impetuous Lily had refused a man she had always misjudged...and whose worthiness she had probably never understood, the witch thought bitterly...but the old and solitary Headmistress wasn't going to waste such an unexpected chance. With her help, Severus would find a more rewarding meaning to his existence, something that could lift his spirit and fortify his will, releasing him from a love that was only trapping him in hopeless misery.

Having everything settled in her mind, though her reason silently screamed against the risks implicit in such a decision, Minerva carefully proceeded to cut his remaining ties.

"Lily knows how you feel, and that's why she is pained as well. Her heart is divided, and now it's filled by regret and confusion," she gently declared; then her tone became firm. "But she is the only one who can interpret and decide about her feelings."

She placed her hand on his canvas, in a gesture that had become the expression of her deep affection. "Everyone has to make their own decisions, Severus. As much as I would like to spare you the pain of her choice, I know it's impossible. It's part of our being human and frail."

He was still curled in his frame, his head resting on his arms. Was he listening? Was he yielding to her argumentations as he had always done lately? Minerva's voice became a soft murmur.

"Love is its own reward, Severus, and the feeling you possess in such a large amount should be spread on those who surround you here and who will be happy to return the same affection to you."

She hesitated a moment, then decided to offer her final nudge. "I told Lily that she had done the right thing and that you will learn to live without her, as you did till now."

His head jerked up ferociously, and she immediately realised that her feelings had betrayed her: those last words had been a huge error.

"It's easy for you, isn't it, Minerva?" Snape hissed. "Dispensing wise words and good advices, playing the part of the affectionate friend and enjoying your being superior..."

His voice had lost its trusting edge and was now cold and rather aggressive. She paled and tears blurred her eyes, but he went on mercilessly. "Who gave you the right to decide in our places? What does a spinster know about love? I wonder if you have ever been kissed!"

She stiffened in pain, watching him with a pleading look.

"I'm sorry, Severus, I...," she stammered, but his eyes were icy.

"It's too late for an apology." He cut her off harshly, and with a quick movement, he left the frame. Terrified, Minerva extended her arm in a useless attempt to stop his leaving. Then the enormity of her mistake hit her, and she let her arm drop in despair while slow, burning drops once more dimmed her sight.

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

For the rest of the night, Snape paced in his picture like a lion in a cage. Rage, frustration and a myriad different feelings...all extremely vivid...stormed in his heart, torturing the fibres of his being. But when the darkest hours of the night faded away, more rational considerations came to disperse the tempest, as if the light of the sun had enlightened his conscience as well as the shadowy room in which he was hanging.

Once more he relived his conversation with Minerva, and his head lowered in shame. How could he have been so merciless, so inconsiderate, so harsh with a friend who had only tried to help him? Minerva was right, he had to admit it... even if his heart was aching so much for that admission! There was no hope in his love for Lily, and there had never been. Though the Headmistress' words had been awkward, her intentions were certainly good. She wanted the best for him. And he had offended her so cruelly! Had he really pushed away one of the few people who sincerely cared for him?

He sighed in desolation. He ought to find Minerva and ask for her forgiveness. But he didn't dare invade the privacy of her room at that early hour, and breakfast in the Great Hall didn't offer any occasion to a portrait for a private talk. So, for the moment, he could only hope that later she would come and visit him before the beginning of his lessons.

But, of course, she didn't.

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

The first years were very undisciplined that morning, lively and noisy like all kids of their age. Snape watched Albus Severus enter with the other Gryffindors. The boy was chatting with his cousin Rose, and when he lifted his head to greet his professor, his eyes had a sudden spark of complicity, and a smile brightened his features.

Rose too watched Snape, then turned to consider her cousin with a perplexed look. The wizard felt nervous. Life was going to become difficult for that boy if his schoolmates had begun to think that he was favoured. But perhaps they already knew? Oh, better not investigate! He had too many troubles to manage that morning to add a new one.

But a new one quickly added itself as soon as Scorpius Malfoy attracted Snape's attention with his unusual behaviour. In the previous lessons, Snape had identified him as a quiet, respectful child, though Malfoy's pride had already imprinted him with its mark. But today the boy was curiously absent-minded, and all his movements were strangely awkward. Snape tilted his head to watch him closely.

Suddenly aware of his professor's gaze, Scorpius seemed to force himself to react and focused again on his potion. One of his schoolmates...Frederick Abbot, a Hufflepuff with more enthusiasm than wits...rolled his eyes in scorn at that activity and made a quick comment in a low voice. The distance was too great for Snape to hear it, but he could see Scorpius disdainfully tighten his lips and continue with his work.

Frederick kept stirring his potion with a twisted smile; then, when nobody was looking, he bent again and hurriedly whispered something to Scorpius, who had been forced to pass near him to go and take ingredients from the cupboard. Some of the children around them caught the words as well and raised their heads, looking either perplexed or amused. Once more, Scorpius shot Abbot a warning glance...his pale eyes so similar to Lucius'...then he turned his shoulders with a shrug and went back to his cauldron.

Frederick put his hands on his hips with a challenging look; he waited for Scorpius to turn again and mimicked the action of locking a door and throwing away the key. At that sight, Scorpius went unexpectedly mad. With a sudden movement he took out the ladle with which he was mixing his boiling potion and threw it at his tormentor. Frederick ducked, but some burning drops hit him all the same, and he cried in pain.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Abbot!" Snape instantly called, feeling a wave of panic. How could he divide the boys? The students were already gathering to face the Slytherins, who had surrounded Scorpius protectively.

"Auxilium!" the wizard called or, rather, pleaded. One of the gigantic armours obediently awakened, and at that impressive sight, the children backed in fear. In what seemed a caricature of human behaviour, the giant interposed its massive figure between the boys and crossed its arms with a threatening effect. Frederick immediately took a step backwards, but Scorpius stared at his opponent with a challenging glare. Surprised, Snape saw tears in his eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume you have an explanation," the wizard questioned darkly.

"Sorry, sir, but I don't have anything to say," the boy replied.

"Perhaps Mr. Abbot can help you?" Snape's voice was definitely intimidating.

The Hufflepuff reddened. Snape could easily see that the boy was torn between embarrassment and fear, but there was also a secret smugness in his eyes while he looked at Malfoy. The Slytherin, on the other hand, seemed to be extremely agitated, as if he wanted to prevent any admission from his adversary. Before Frederick could say a word, Scorpius confessed, "It was my fault, Professor."

Snape was decidedly concerned now: an inner part of his mind was urging him to talk with the boy in private.

"Very well," he growled. "Five points from Slytherin."

Then he turned to the other boy with a sarcastic scowl. "Anything to add, Mr. Abbot? I have noticed that you have had no problems in expressing your thoughts to Mr. Malfoy during your work."

Snape watched the boy pointedly. The children shouldn't think that their teacher was deaf and blind just because he was a portrait. Frederick paled, but lowered his eyes in silence.

"Five points also from Hufflepuff, then," Snape replied coldly. He looked at the two boys and added sharply, "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Abbot, you will stay after the lesson so that we can decide your punishment. Now, everybody back to work. Don't forget that you have a potion to prepare and that I will check your result in a few minutes."

The suit of armour that had been waiting between the boys bowed its head respectfully and went noisily to its place. The children hurried to their potions. Scorpius reached his cauldron, his face white as chalk and eyes blinking furiously to stop the tears. Neither he nor Abbot completed their task, but Snape didn't say anything. His thoughts were full of bitterness. Portrait. He was only a portrait in a world full of living beings with unpredictable reactions...

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

Soon the lesson was over, and the children left while the two guilty students waited in silence. Snape crossed his arms.

"Mr. Abbot, I'm sure you still haven't visited the owlery properly. I suggest you make a complete tour this evening, including filling the mangers and scrubbing the floor. Nothing like cleaning a place to know it in detail and be thoroughly impressed. Therefore, please present yourself to..."

For a moment, the name of Argus Filch was on his lips, and then Snape remembered. Filch wasn't there anymore. The new caretaker was a tall, silent, bony man with a stolid expression and very few teeth left in his mouth. The children were deeply scared of him because he was practically mute and his smile looked like a ghostly grimace.

Frederick paled in anguish and then turned to Scorpius, hoping to have at least the satisfaction of a similar punishment for his antagonist. But Snape ordered imperiously, "Dismissed!" and though reluctant, the boy was forced to leave.

As soon as the door closed after Abbot, Scorpius watched Snape with that new, unexpectedly defiant gaze and crossed his arms.

"I'm not going to punish you, Scorpius," Snape said slowly. "I have seen you were provoked, and I understand that there must be something serious if you decided to keep silent. But perhaps you will tell me what really happened, now that we are alone in the secrecy of this room."

"I have nothing to say, sir," the boy replied coldly.

"Are you sure?" Snape asked quietly. "Not even in the name of my friendship with your grandfather?"

Scorpius hesitated. "Nothing you could be interested in," he finally and rudely replied.

Snape felt helpless; then his many years of experience came to his rescue.

"Your father will be informed of your punishment, I must advise you," he declared imperturbably. "You will have to explain the matter directly to him."

The boy's face shrunk in panic. "Please, don't," he pleaded. "I will tell you everything, but please don't let him know about this."

Snape nodded, and Scorpius began uncertainly, "Abbot was... taunting me. He said that my grandfather had been a close friend of his uncle."

The wizard frowned. "So?"

Tears welled in Scorpius' eyes. "His uncle is a warder in Azkaban..."

Minerva McGonagall chose exactly that moment to enter.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," she greeted with detached courtesy; then she turned to the boy.

"Ah, here you are, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "Come with me, child. I have opened a connection in the Floo. Your family is waiting."

Scorpius widened his eyes and ran towards the old witch. Snape was confused. What was happening? Why was Minerva there? Why was Scorpius going home? And then he tried to grab the occasion.

"Headmistress, please!" he called. She was already leaving after the boy but turned to look at him. Her eyes were inexpressive, and he felt extremely uneasy.

"May... May I ask you the honour of a private talk?"

"I will be glad to speak with you, Professor," she replied impassively. Then, unexpected, a quiet smile curled her lips and reached her eyes. "But not today, Severus. Let's see you tomorrow."

She left, and Snape felt a tremulous hope warm his heart.

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

Albus Severus entered the room. Lily's eyes watched Snape again, and she smiled to him through her grandson.

"Hello, Professor, just thought I'd come to visit."

The words sounded cordial, but the boy looked a bit worried. Snape watched him enquiringly; the child took it as an invitation because he sat and began to talk. As always, Albus Severus went straight to the point, but the similarity in the genders of the people involved in his explanation made it a bit confused.

"My sister wrote me that grandma is back at home. She says that grandma looks very sad and that she has talked a lot with grandpa... and not very pleasantly. She says that grandpa has asked her... I mean my sister...to go out and leave them alone. My sister suspects that you and grandma might have quarrelled. She is a bit angry with grandma because she was hoping that you would come to visit, but now it seems impossible, of course. You know how commanding my sister is... she is a girl."

And with that last assertion, the boy seemed to have justified his sister's behaviour before the world. Yet he still seemed strangely anxious.

"Did you quarrel with grandma?" he finally asked.

Snape sighed. Though he felt an odd sensation at the idea that Lily and James Sr. might have argued about him, the thought didn't give him any joy.

"Your grandma has left, but we didn't quarrel," he declared quietly.

"But you are sad," the boy hazarded.

"Of course."

What else could be said? His eyes met Albus Severus'. How could the child understand the immense power his grandmother had on Snape's soul? The boy considered him in silence, embracing his knees and swinging unsteadily on his seat. He meditated for a while, then raised his head.

"Love is a tough matter, isn't it?" he asked timidly.

Snape should have felt irritated but he knew the little one in front of him too well not to grasp the affection under the words. So he nodded and crossed his arms silently. The boy considered him again.

"You know, I was thinking that if my grandma had married you, now YOU would be my grandfather."

The first thought that came immediately to Snape's mind after that declaration was the flimsiness of such a premise. No James Potter, therefore, no Harry Potter... and consequently no Albus Severus Potter. The second thought was that he should feel annoyed at such an informal approach; instead something forced him to ask, "Would you have liked it?"

"Well, my grandpa is so young!" Albus Severus replied thoughtfully. "He doesn't look like a grandpa. He is so similar to my cousin Teddy, Teddy Lupin. When they meet, they always laugh and joke."

Teddy Lupin... another name that brought indefinite emotions in Snape's heart. Yes, even Remus Lupin, his old enemy and ally, had left a trace of himself in the real world. Snape shook his head, dispersing his thoughts, and watched the boy who, unaware of those gloomy considerations, was happily continuing his reasoning.

"So, you would certainly look more appropriate. Though you don't seem a grandpa either... Perhaps an uncle?" Albus Severus asked hopefully.

Snape had a wry smile, but that didn't stop the boy, who considered him again.

"I think I prefer to have you as a friend," Albus Severus declared gravely. "Of course," the boy hurried to add, "only when I am grown up. My brother always says that... Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I forgot! Thank you for speaking with James, Professor."

Snape wanted to be superior, but curiosity was too strong.

"Did your brother tell you anything?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Well, he said... May I use his words?" Albus Severus timidly offered.

"Certainly, Potter!" Snape replied, and the boy took a deep breath.

"Well, he said, 'The man is mental, but he's better than I thought.'"

Albus Severus smiled proudly. "I think he is beginning to appreciate you," he added confidentially.

For a moment Snape felt a deep indignation, but something in the boy's words suddenly struck him.

The man is mental...

So, James Potter was considering him like a human being, not only like a layer of paint! A strange satisfaction filled Snape's heart, and for the very first time since his rebirth, he burst into quiet laughter.

"So, I'm mental, eh?"

"Are you angry, Professor?" Albus Severus asked, immediately worried.

"No, Potter," Snape replied merrily. "I think that your brother deserves a reward, and I will personally award it to him tomorrow."

The boy lifted his head in curiosity, but though his teacher seemed strangely elated, no other explanation came; therefore, he didn't dare ask for details. So, when he left after a few minutes, Albus Severus was still pondering Snape's words with great perplexity.