Part XXX

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.

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

Part XXX

Time went by with enervating slowness. Two times Finlay tried to enter the Potions room, and two times he was gently but firmly dissuaded by the Aurors surrounding him like a guard of honour.

The third time, he exchanged some heated words with Harry, but finally he seemed to give up and, muttering something like "I want a complete report as soon as possible", followed by a weary "you know where you can find me", he left for his office.

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

The first one to come back was Neville.

"It's working, Professor! Harry! It's working!" he exclaimed as soon as he entered.

"Great!" Harry replied with a big smile. "Tell us everything!"

Exuberant as always, Lily ran to welcome the happily tired man, immediately imitated by a more composed James. Neville swayed under the affectionate assault of the two siblings; then he disentangled himself from Lily's embrace, ruffled James' hair, and reached Harry under the portrait, closely followed by the children.

The prisoner of the frame tilted his head, hardly suppressing his agitation.

"Mr. Longbottom?" Snape greeted and asked at the same time, and Neville perceived the anxiety concealed in that question. Everybody was staring at him, and the man began to talk with quiet joy, savouring his impending revelations.

"Till yesterday, there were sixteen cases in the hospital, but more have arrived today after the owls and the announcement on the radio."

Neville smiled exultantly at Snape. "The less seriously ill patients experienced a significant improvement right after the first dose. Once the Mediwizards had overcome an initial understandable perplexity, they carefully studied the formula and prepared personalised treatments."

He glanced again at Snape and suddenly looked a bit embarrassed.

"Of course, the people at St. Mungo's were very interested in such a fortunate discovery, and I did my best to elude their questions. But Professor Slughorn was there, too. He was actively cooperating with the hospital's potioneers to find a cure and..."

Neville paused and bit his lower lip. "Well, you know, I think he understood something. When he told me to send you his best regards, he had a very peculiar smile."

He hesitated; then his eyes sparkled in warm admiration. "You have been... amazing! Once again, you have saved us all! Please let me convey the gratitude of all those you have helped to rescue from such a horrible death."

Always uncomfortable at those emotional declarations, Snape took shelter in his usual scowl and finally replied, "You are very kind, Mr. Longbottom, but personally I didn't do anything. If you must thank somebody, please address Mr. Bernardi. He surely deserves to be thanked. "

His eyes softened. "As well as you do."

Neville reacted immediately. "Nobody could do what you have done, Professor. We were only your instruments."

The children had listened to this exchange with great interest and, in the following silence, everybody could hear Lily whisper proudly to her brother, "See? I was right about him while you were always wrong!"

James reddened and elbowed the girl, who stuck out her tongue. Neville winked at the children, then looked at the portrait with an unexpectedly mischievous smile.

"Well, I think that now it's time for a surprise, Professor."

He raised a hand and the door opened again, revealing the soft shape of a beaming Minerva McGonagall.

"Severus!" she called, opening her arms while she advanced as if she wanted to hug him.

Snape felt a sweet, immense emotion pervade his fibres and, for a moment, his vision blurred. Then his eyes focused again, and he noticed that another visitor had followed Minerva, but his pace was much more hesitant and slow. Incredulous, Snape recognised Filius Flitwick and automatically remembered that the old Deputy and professor had been hospitalised in St. Mungo's because of a severe flu, the reason why Finlay had been called to substitute for him in those last months. The man had evidently recovered, though still looking very drained.

The new visitor reached the headmistress and raised his head at the portrait.

"I'm glad to see you, Severus," Flitwick said with a warm smile. "I wasn't exposed to the epidemic, but I want to join Minerva in thanking you. I'm so happy to have finally recovered and to be back at home right in time for this occasion. Thank you for saving us all again."

The children were stunned.

"Dad!" James tugged his father's sleeve and asked softly, "but what happened?"

Then, unexpectedly, the door opened for the last time and Narcissa Malfoy...pale, exhausted, trembling but radiating an immense joy...entered the room.

"Lucius can speak," she said with a wavering voice. "Lucius can speak again!"

Everybody reacted in different ways at that announcement. Snape, Harry, Neville and Minerva brightened. The children looked startled. Flitwick exchanged a perplexed glance with Minerva, then his brows raised in sudden understanding.

But Narcissa didn't notice any of these reactions. She had eyes only for Snape, who was returning her gaze with desperate intensity, as if they were alone. She went under the picture and spoke to him, and to him only.

"His lips were paralysed since yesterday, and we feared it would be impossible to make him swallow the potion. We had to supply it drop by drop, and every drop could have choked him..." She stifled a sob. "But we succeeded, and after a while, his lips began to move again. It's... it's a miracle, and you made it!"

Impulsively, Narcissa knelt on the ground.

"Thank you, Severus, thank you," she said, and overwhelmed by feelings, she buried her face in her hands, sobbing softly. Minerva immediately bent to help her, but she couldn't lift the crying woman, so she knelt on the floor as well and embraced her tightly. Narcissa reclined her head on the Headmistress' shoulder and let her tears flow.

Snape closed his eyes and breathed slowly. The emotions he was experiencing were many and powerful, but there was one special thought that was shining in his mind over the others. He forced himself to speak.

"I think we are forgetting the true author of this happy ending," he said quietly. "The one to whom we are all indebted and myself more than the others."

Everybody looked at him in curiosity. Wiping their cheeks and eyes, the two women also laboriously got up and stared at the portrait. Snape let his gaze wander.

"Mr. Potter," he then said, and both Harry and James raised their eyes with a surprised look.

Snape frowned. "I mean young Mr. Potter... James Potter," he specified while a lopsided smile twisted his lips; he had pronounced that hateful name without a tremble.

"Mr. Potter," he repeated and bent his head to cast a meaningful look at the boy. "Would you be able to find a student without being detected by anyone of the staff...especially Professor Finlay?"

James smiled; then, very informally, he exclaimed, "No problem, Professor. I'll use this."

And he grabbed the Invisibility Cloak.

"Very well," Snape approved, and his voice took on a metallic, commanding timbre. "Please go and fetch Mr. Scorpius Malfoy."

Puzzled but proud of his mission, the boy hurried to the door, an expressive little smile dancing on his lips. A few, but incredibly long, minutes passed before a reluctant Scorpius entered the room, practically dragged by a triumphant James. The Slytherin looked wary but his eyes lit up as soon as he saw his grandmother.

"Scorpius!" Narcissa called and went to envelope him in a tight embrace, tears flowing again uncontrollably. Embarrassed, the boy disentangled himself, and Narcissa turned him to look at Snape.

"Your grandpa is safe now, Scorpius. He will recover soon. We must thank Professor Snape for this miracle."

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said solemnly, "your grandmother has forgotten the most important thing. Your grandfather is safe because of you. You brought me the message, you performed the Reducing Spell, you helped me leave these walls and reach the real world."

He paused as too many memories and emotions enfolded his heart and halted his tongue.

"Thank you," he concluded simply.

From that moment, a merry chaos reigned in the room.

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

Albus Severus was worried. Strange things were going on in the school. In the early morning, the castle had vibrated loudly, shaken by a powerful earthquake, and many of the students had reacted in panic. Then rumours had been spread of something terrible that had happened in the Potions classroom. Time had passed, and more and more alarming news had arrived about the involvement of Professor Snape in a dangerous, obscure experiment connected with Dark Arts. Had he wanted to kill them all?

Al was extremely worried. What was happening? Were those rumours true? And how was Professor Snape?

The children got very excited when they were told that Harry Potter and his special squad were amongst them. Professor Finlay declared that the Aurors had been called to restore order and punish the offender. Like his housemates, Albus Severus was asked to stay in the Gryffindor Tower by his father's men, many of whom he had known since he was a toddler. Though smiling at him, the Aurors had been very firm in their instructions, and Al's anguish increased even more.

James, of course, had immediately fled. Clever boy, his brother, while Al was too respectful to question the orders. Time kept going, a considerable amount of time for his impatient child's mind, but nothing new happened. Eventually, there were no more Aurors around, only his chatting housemates, happily enjoying that unexpected break from their studies. At that point, anxiety having reached an intolerable level, Al mustered his courage.

Slipping out of the common room was easy. After all, the Fat Lady was there to prevent unauthorised entrances, not illicit exits. The boy followed the corridors that led to the Potions room with the ease of long practice. Soon he reached it, but he kept prudently concealed. Better investigate before throwing himself into danger.

Yet it seemed that there was no need to worry. From his hiding place, the boy could see that there were people gathered under the portrait, and everybody looked euphoric...

Then, surprised, he noticed that not only was his father there but also his brother and his sister! Almost his whole family had been collected in that room, but nobody had thought to call him. He felt a sudden pang of jealousy and tried to fight it back, unsuccessfully. Then he saw James scurry away. Perhaps his brother had finally decided to go searching for him? Puzzled and hurt, Al decided to remain concealed. It would be fun to surprise James at his return...

But, eventually, he was the one who got surprised again when James came back dragging a reluctant Scorpius Malfoy.

Then, Al heard Snape's vibrating words of gratitude. Suddenly, he felt empty and useless. Nobody missed him. Nobody needed him there. Head down, he retreated to the Gryffindor Tower.

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

Nobody noticed the little shadow sadly going away. Everybody was simply overflowing with feelings and willing to share them.

Minerva was speaking to Narcissa while Neville was talking with Flitwick, informing the little man of the many events that had happened during his absence. After a few timid attempts, Scorpius had found the courage to approach Lily, and now the girl was leading the conversation with her witty remarks and her nice laughter. The boy was clearly subjugated by such a sparkling personality.

Unnoticed in that merry confusion, James backed up a few steps. After a quick glance around, he deftly took the Invisibility Cloak, rolled it into a tiny ball, and put it into his pocket. Then he smiled angelically to the world, pretending to be extremely interested in what Neville was saying.

He had been quick, but not quick enough for his father. Silent in a corner, Harry had noticed what his son was doing, and instinctively, he had raised his eyes at Snape. Unsurprisingly, the portrait had noticed it too, and his brows had furrowed. The two men crossed their gazes, and Harry smiled with a hint of nostalgia; then he addressed Snape with a slightly cryptic message.

"Perhaps a week, Professor?"

The portrait didn't pretend to have not understood.

"Two days," Snape replied firmly. "Two days is enough, Potter, or he is not your son."

Unexpectedly linked by that peculiar deal, Snape and Harry looked again at each other. The man seemed childishly happy, and Snape frowned. Then the portrait shook his head in resignation, and his frown turned into the tiniest of smiles. But still a smile.

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

"It has been a hard trial for me, Severus, but for you it must have been even worse," Minerva said. It was evening, and she was enjoying a chat before going to bed, just like she used to do before the recent terrible events.

"I had forgotten that real life could be so challenging," Snape admitted quietly, almost humbly. "I was scared. I had dared too much. After all, I am only a picture."

"Only a picture?" Minerva repeated slowly, a hint of incredulity in her tone. "Severus, how many people do you know who would be able to do what you have done, in spite of their being flesh and blood?"

"That's what Potter said, too," Snape confessed. It was so wonderful to have Minerva there again. He was dying to talk about his feelings, now that everything had ended, and ended so well. With her, he didn't feel embarrassed.

"I was glad to find Harry here," the old woman nodded. "Nobody knows how to handle a slippery situation like him."

"Yes." Snape's smile faded. "This reminds me, Minerva... What about Finlay?"

"Oh," she replied vaguely. "Everything is fine, now. Harry talked with him. And then, with Filius being back, Finlay's job as a deputy is over. Tomorrow, we will have a big party, and he will leave immediately after."

In spite of her words, the Headmistress looked saddened, and Snape sighed.

"This isn't exactly the truth, is it, Minerva?"

"Ah, Severus, you are too good at guessing..." She lowered her head. "No. Unfortunately, Finlay thinks he has been deceived. He is still convinced that you acted with a mean purpose. And, above all, he insists that you are a dark artefact. You must understand..."

"I understand perfectly," Snape replied sharply. "There won't be peace in my life until people like him..."

The portrait didn't end his sentence, but looked piercingly at the worried Headmistress. "I want to talk to him. And explain."

"Severus!" Minerva sounded surprised. "You don't need to justify yourself. You saved him and his parents. He knows it."

"And you, how do you know?" he counteracted bitterly, feeling betrayed again.

"Albus told me the story, immediately after hiring Finlay."

"Albus?" Snape automatically asked though he wasn't really surprised. Of course. Ever-meddling Albus.

"Odd as it may seem to you, Albus has spoken in your defence to Finlay, and not only once but several times. Yet the man is stubborn and desperately clings to his rage," Minerva replied sadly.

The portrait frowned. "All the more reason then; I want to speak to him as soon as possible."

"As you like, Severus. But don't expect too much from this encounter," the old woman concluded with a sigh.

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

In the usual evening chaos of the Gryffindors' common room, a depressed Al was listening to the triumphant report of his brother James. Next to him, Arthur MacMillan was ogling the invisibility cloak, eyes glittering with desire.

"You'll let me try it, will you, James?" he asked hopefully, touching the fabric with reverent fingers.

"I don't know," James said, clearly enjoying his moment of glory. "You see, it works better with the Potter family. It's an heirloom."

He turned to his brother with a smug smile, as if asking for support. "Isn't it, Al?"

"Oh, shut up!" Al uncharacteristically reacted. Then, lips tightened and brows furrowed, he rose from his armchair and stormed to his dormitory, leaving Arthur and James agape.

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

Snape was alone. It was night, and so many things had happened! He was still savouring the different moments and the emotions they had caused in his chest when the door opened slowly and Zabini entered. Snape looked at him. The man had behaved well, and the portrait was happy to finally have the occasion to explain what had effectively happened that morning.

"Professor Snape," Zabini greeted politely. He seemed tired and tense, and there were black shadows under his eyes. "Tonight, it's my turn to patrol this wing of the castle, so I thought to stop by for a visit. I imagine you would like to know the latest news."

"Mr. Zabini," Snape replied. "I'm glad you came. It has been a long day. How's Lucius?"

Zabini took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Mr. Malfoy is slowly but continually recovering. When I left him, he had taken four doses of the potion, and the effects were amazing."

The man smiled his peculiar smile and readjusted the glasses on his nose. "Now that St. Mungo's has been informed, Madam Malfoy plans to call a Healer tomorrow to check Mr. Malfoy and define a treatment. Till now, we have... well, we have improvised."

"What did Draco say?" Snape urgently asked.

"Oh, he is angry, of course. He will be forced to explain everything to his father. Even worse, he will be forced to explain to the Healer why he kept the situation concealed. It's a hard decision for his pride to make. But perhaps, now that the Mediwizards have been offered a solution, the Aurors will turn a blind eye to this improper behaviour. At least Potter seemed to be unusually benevolent this morning."

Silence fell, then Snape looked at the man under the frame.

"Mr. Zabini," he said quietly, feeling very uncomfortable. "Regarding Potter... I was hoping to see you. I wanted to thank you for your support today. I... I have appreciated it."

Curiously, the uncomfortable feeling wasn't lessened by that declaration as he had hoped; on the contrary, it seemed to increase. Words were coming out surprisingly hesitantly, and Snape thought that he wasn't good at thanking people. He needed to improve.

Zabini smiled briefly and seemed to weigh his answer.

"I'm glad you changed your opinion about me. I, too, came here to talk with you... but about a very private matter."

He turned a suspicious eye on the other pictures. "I hope we are alone," he said meaningfully. "I would prefer to have no witnesses."

"I think we can reasonably assume that we're alone at this time of the night," Snape replied, feeling anxious and somewhat irritated. "And I am used to keeping secrets. In fact, there are some about you that I have never revealed to anybody else."

"About me?" Zabini looked wary but also strangely arrogant.

"Yes, Mr. Zabini. I saw right through you before my first lesson in this room, don't you remember?" Snape replied with a weary tone. In spite of his good intentions, the conversation wasn't going as he had hoped, and his anxiety was growing.

"So, my sensation was right that day. You tried to pry," the man concluded darkening.

"No," Snape replied quietly. "But your soul disclosed itself to me like an open book."

As if you wanted me to know, he was tempted to add; yet, strangely again, those words died on his lips before being voiced.

"Well, then you don't need explanations," Zabini said coldly. "I'll be short, Professor. I need one of the formulae contained in the Hobnook diary."

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

Albus Severus turned under the sheets. He couldn't sleep. The scene in the Potions Room was still tormenting him. Neither Professor Snape nor his father had thought to invite him to what seemed a celebration. Instead, Professor Snape had asked for Scorpius and thanked him and, though many of those present had tears in their eyes, everybody had looked so happy!

How was that? What had happened?

Headmistress McGonagall hadn't explained anything at dinner. She had just reassured the students that the morning earthquake had been the result of a very important experiment, and then she had re-introduced Deputy Flitwick: the older students had whooped and acclaimed, but the first year had remained indifferent at the news, though dutifully applauding. That tired old man was a stranger to them, although the majority knew his name.

In all that joy, Professor Finlay and Albus Severus had been the only ones who had looked very serious, if not definitely sad. The atmosphere was strange. Something was going to happen, something mysterious; and he, Albus Severus Potter, was going to be definitely cut out. Not even Professor Snape had wanted him around.

That was annoying.

And frustrating.

And very painful...

Suddenly, the boy decided that he couldn't wait a minute more. He rose and carefully...very carefully...he slipped out of his room.

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

The anxiety dormant in Snape's soul suddenly awakened into cold fear, and the portrait understood that he had always known what Zabini would ask. How terribly right Cornelia had been! Those formulae were a huge temptation for too many and a crushing responsibility for their guardian. And yet, Snape still hoped that his former student, now an adult and a colleague, would reconsider his actions and understand the foolishness of his request. So, he shaped his face in disdainful incredulity.

"You need what?"

"Please let me explain," Zabini crossed his arms, abandoning every pretence of cordiality. "I want to go to Italy. I want to meet my relatives and possibly be accepted by them. But my grandfather said that I must come back bringing something special with me, or I won't be admitted. My father was born into a very ancient and important family, but he left his parents before my birth and, by doing so, he denied his origins; therefore, he and his heirs were excluded from the family line. I must redress my father's faults, according to their tradition."

The man was panting slightly, and his hands kept clenching and unclenching in the effort of finding the words. "Well, as you know, I don't have any particular skill. Though Potions is the only knowledge I can manage, I have no special ability to create something valuable... But you have a whole book of formulae. I'm sure that there is one I can borrow."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Zabini, but you can't," Snape said firmly. "I'm very surprised by your request. You know very well that..."

"No, Professor!" Zabini burst out in cold fury. "I know that you are dead, and I am alive. And I know that I have been offered the chance of building myself a reputation again, but I will never reach this goal unless you give me just one of these formulae."

The man clenched his fists. "You have contributed to ruining my life, and now you deny me a solution? I don't think so, Professor."

There was a pause, and Zabini seemed to realise how the tension had risen uncontrollably; he inhaled deeply to regain control and forced his tone to switch from angry to rational.

"I'm not asking for fabulous secrets. Just one formula. Something that somebody else could discover, sooner or later. Or do you think that innovation was Hobnook's exclusively?"

Snape averted his eyes as if he were pondering that question. But in his heart, he was desperately wishing for somebody to interrupt their conversation, though he knew it was a vain hope. Zabini had pointed out that it was his turn to be on duty, therefore it was highly improbable that somebody else could be roaming the corridors at that hour. The portrait sighed silently. Too bad! That would have been a quick way to put an end to this disagreeable situation.

Zabini was speaking passionately now, piling reason on reason in the effort of being convincing.

"I ask you: what's the value in keeping those formulae concealed? Did you take a glance at them? I bet you didn't, and this makes the difference between you and me. You don't consider them the way a living being would do!"

His voice became insinuating. "How many of those potions could be used to heal humankind? After all, Cornelia didn't say that they should be kept secret, only that you are their guardian, the only one allowed to disclose them if necessary. And in fact, you have just returned to the world a potion that, if it had depended on her, would still hang in oblivion."

His voice became somewhat imploring. "Don't you think that something has already changed?"

"Mr. Zabini!" Snape interrupted him sharply. Time to stop that embarrassing plea. "You are wasting your time. I need a stronger reason. The recipes included in this book can develop into something extremely dangerous in the wrong hands."

"Ah! But you hadn't such scruples when you had to protect Lucius."

That was a wounding truth. The portrait felt his latent sense of guilt awaken and lowered his head.

"Perhaps I could help you create something that would be yours," he offered.

"Thank you, but I can't waste my time any longer. Furthermore, why toy with experiments when we have a complete range of options to choose from? In that diary, there is a potion that can extend life, one that induces metals' transmutation, one that can produce unlimited energy...."

Snape paled. "How do you know?"

"I have read the acts of the process against Hobnook. They were in Slughorn's archives. I consulted them for years while I worked for him. I hoped to find something that could help me and my mother. We were in desperate need of money at the time, but nobody was willing to lend us a Knut. So, I tried to find an escape. But, of course, I failed."

"This is why you stole rare ingredients in Horace's cupboards and sold them?" Snape couldn't refrain from asking in spite of the odd compassion pervading his heart. The glimpses he had been able to catch about Zabini's life had been tormenting him since the day they had met again. Many times he had thought to speak to his former student, but he hadn't been able to find a way. The subject was too painful and embarrassing, and at last, the portrait had given up.

Zabini raised his chin. "You saw it in my mind, I presume. Well, I will repay what I've taken as soon as I am back in my family."

Snape shook his head. "What you ask me is still too much power for just one man."

"But I will offer it to my family, I'm not going to keep it for me!"

"That would be unjust anyway."

"Unjust? Unjust?!" Zabini was growing furious. "Do you think that life is fair? Do you think that those who are born rich inherited their wealth because of merit? Do you think that all those who did something great acted fairly? And what about you, Professor? Did you always act correctly?"

Snape stiffened at that accusation. "I can't deny that I made wrong choices. But I paid for them my whole life. I don't want to put such a burden on anybody else's shoulders."

"I'm willing to take the risk, Professor. And you can't refuse your help. You owe me too much."

In another time, in his previous life, never had Zabini dared use such a tone with him. Feeling compassion turn into irritation, Snape crossed his arms. "No. I can't accept."

The man tilted his head and crossed his arms as well.

"Perhaps we can make a deal," he said slowly. "Would you believe me if I said that there is a spell that can bring back a spirit? I can offer you a new existence. Wouldn't you like to get out of that frame, Professor? Think before rejecting my offer."

Stunned, Snape looked at Zabini, and the man looked back at him with a meaningful smile.

"Ah, I see that now you are interested."

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

The second years' dormitory was dark and silent at that hour of the night. Al's heart was beating madly, but James was snoring quietly. Reassured, the boy checked the space around him. James' robes were negligently hung on a chair near his bed. Cautiously, Albus Severus put a hand in the pockets and found a wrinkled ball of fabric stuffed inside. Trust James to keep his toys always at hand, he thought with a knowing smile as he stared at the precious object.

Could he borrow it for that night? Would he be caught if he dared? And what would his father say if...

Suddenly, a wave of exasperation seemed to fill him, pushing him forward. Well, he too was a Potter, and that night, the heirloom was to be his and his only! With a quick move, Al opened the cloak and determinedly wrapped himself into it, instantly disappearing from the world of visible beings.

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

Snape closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, lost in a whirl of emotions. Had he really been offered life...real life...again? Was Zabini sincere? The amazing thing was that, incredibly, he was. The portrait could still recognise when a man was telling the truth, and the chance he had been presented with was something unbelievable and unexpected. He lost himself in that astounding possibility.

Was the promise Snape had made to Cornelia worth a renunciation of such an opportunity? Would Cornelia blame him if he acceded to such offer? After all, wasn't disclosing a single formula an act of due justice to a man he had contributed to ruin?

For many minutes, Snape stood still, eyes closed, vibrating under the assault of the innumerable emotions that were tearing his soul and his mind. Then he saw the answer, and his head lowered.

"I can't," he whispered, bowing to his oath and feeling his heart lacerate under the pain of that decision.

Zabini curled his lips in contempt. "I knew you would refuse. As always, you only offer words that you can twist and bend at your wish. Very well! You don't leave me any other choice."

He took out his wand and lifted it.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Zabini," Snape said ironically. "Would you like to duel with me?"

"Confino!" Zabini replied with a cold smile.

The spell washed over the portrait, and Snape widened his eyes under its force; then, realising that something terrible had happened, he tentatively tried the frame around him and ended by hitting it frantically with his hands.

"Don't try too hard," Zabini sneered. "You are locked, Professor, with a very useful spell that my friend Marcello taught me. Of course, he didn't know why I asked him. So naïve, that man...."

Snape felt his anger grow. "I see. You deceived him, just like you did me now. So, what dirty trick have you planned next?"

Zabini looked incongruously offended. "Don't forget that you are forcing me. I knew that, foolishly loyal as you are, you would not talk. But I think I have a way to untie your tongue."

He raised his wand again. Understanding that something even more terrible was going to happen, Snape cried "No!"

"Appello", Zabini ordered, and Lily suddenly appeared in the little frame that Bernardi had painted for her. The girl looked confused and dizzy, as if she had been awakened abruptly.

"Severus?" she blinked and asked uncertainly, "What did...?"

"Lily! Run away! It's a trap!" Snape exclaimed, trying to warn her, but with another swift movement of his wand, Zabini also blocked her frame.

The portrait clenched his fists and faced the man.

"Let her go!" he roared.

Smiling, Zabini shook his head at that frustration. "No way, Professor. I saw you two cooing together in this room the night of Hogwarts' anniversary. It wasn't difficult to understand what was happening. Everybody knows the sad story of your unlucky love. You should have taken precautions but, of course, you didn't care."

He paused meaningfully. "Ah, love, love, what wouldn't we do for you?" he declaimed lightly, but his eyes had a cold glitter.

"Severus! What's happening?" Lily asked, looking at Zabini with a frown. "Why can't I leave this frame?"

"Because you are locked in, Madam Potter," Zabini said triumphantly. "But don't worry. I need a little help from Professor Snape, and he loves you too much to refuse. If he chooses to cooperate, then I will do you no harm."

"And how do you think to convince us?" Snape replied firmly, though feeling a cold fear pervade his fibres. "You seem to forget that we are pictures."

"Yes, you are pictures," Zabini agreed. His smile was growing more and more exultant. "But there are many ways to harm a portrait. My dear friend Marcello explained them to me. He was worried about your security, isn't it funny?"

"Well, as you said, we are pictures! Destroy us, and we will be painted again," Lily declared vehemently, entering the skirmish and openly defying him.

"Ah, that's exactly the problem." Zabini inclined his head in a bow, as if acknowledging her courage. "Did you know that, in the case of your being destroyed, your new picture would keep only memories of your earlier life? I mean, of course, the life you spent as a human being? All that happened in the middle, all your previous memories as a portrait, would be cancelled. Erased. Vanished."

Snape felt panic tighten his heart. No more memories meant that all that he had experienced, endured, and enjoyed in the last weeks would be removed from his mind. No more memories meant no more Albus Severus and no more Lily. But also no more Minerva, no more Neville, no more Lucius....

And finally, odd as it seemed, no more memories meant also no more Harry Potter and the soothing comfort of his words. Everything would be deleted as if it had never existed. The prospect was terrifying, and Snape paled, revealing his deep emotion.

Who would he be, once he had been recreated? What kind of life would be waiting for him in a new painted form?

"I see you begin to understand," Zabini said coldly.