Part XXXI

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of J.K. 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 XXXI

For the second time in that longest of days, Albus Severus slipped out of the Gryffindor common room. Immersed in a haunting silence, the corridor opened its yawning mouth before him; hesitant, the boy looked nervously around, trying to detect possible threats. It wasn't as easy as he had thought, now that it was night and dark. He took a deep breath. Slowly, cautiously, he moved a step.

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

"It doesn't matter. I can't accept," Snape replied, trying to sound confident in spite of his growing panic. Perhaps Zabini would be deterred by such an unconcerned attitude. But the man waved his hand nonchalantly.

"I know, I know. Still stupidly clinging to loyalty. Well, in this case, I suppose you won't mind if I destroy her portrait first."

Lily shivered and instinctively backed away. Zabini glanced at her; then he turned to speak to Snape in his imperturbable tone.

"You see, Professor, Marcello told me that for a portrait, the worst way to... depart is to be burnt. It hurts, you know? Physically hurts. That's why he was so worried about you. The vapour, the heat, the flames, the children... So many possibilities of an accident, he complained. And you see, it seems that he was right. This night, if you insist on being so stubborn, an accident will, regrettably, happen."

He shot the horrified Snape a meaningful glance; then he turned to Lily. "Well, my dear lady, ready to go?"

"Severus..." she rasped, eyes fixed on the fireplace. "Severus, please help me. I... I am scared. I have always been afraid of fire. This is horrible."

"Yes! But consider that you won't have any memory of that afterwards," Zabini commented lightly. "Absolutely no memories. Now come with me."

He took the little frame in his hands and considered her with a sad smile. "Such a lovely girl... What a pity! But relax; I'm sure that Potter will have a new portrait made after this unfortunate event."

Reacting in desperation, Snape exclaimed, "Even if we wanted to help you, how do you think you could keep the thing secret? You won't let us free, once you have got the formula. We can't trust you. One way or another, we are doomed."

Zabini straightened himself. "In spite of what you may think, I keep my word when I give it. This is why I'm so reluctant to make promises.

The man had instinctively placed Lily's portrait on a desk while speaking, and Snape kept talking, hoping to distract him until... until when? Until morning came? Ah, what a hopeless presumption! Yet, he could only try, and he put his whole heart into the attempt.

"And how would I justify myself, should somebody discover what happened?"

"You are a portrait. Leave these troubles to us living beings. But nobody will ever discover anything. You are too clever for that. I'm sure you will figure out a solution."

There was a long and meditative pause. Zabini was waiting, and Snape was hoping – oh! so desperately hoping! – that something would happen. His soul silently cried to the infinity: whoever may be listening, please, answer my call.

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

The stairs had been a frightening obstacle to overcome, but the long corridors, lost in darkness, were even more terrifying.

A creak, and Al froze, heart beating furiously in his chest. He closed his eyes and considered going back to his room, to his bed.

The boy breathed deeply. He was invisible, he reminded himself. Not even Peeves would see him. And then he had a wand. Thankfully, he had taken it. Furthermore, Professor Snape had taught him many useful defensive spells...

Another frightening creak, just at his left, and Al felt his hair stand up in fear.

Then his eyes narrowed in determination. No. He had the cloak. He had his wand. This was his chance. He would go on and speak with Professor Snape that same night.

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

"Well?" Zabini asked with a menacing glare.

"I need more time," Snape almost begged. His tongue had suddenly dried, and words were difficult to pronounce.

"I'm sorry to inform you that you have run out of it," Zabini advised him coldly.

Lily raised her head. "Don't worry about me, Severus," she whispered, and her eyes blinked. "I have already lost my life, and the one I lead now is only a simulation. I will still love you in another existence."

Snape stiffened. Probably she hadn't realised what she had said, as she was focusing on the horrible trial that was ahead of her. But she had unconsciously voiced her feelings, and he trembled, filled by something immense.

"I think you have had enough time to decide," Zabini declared, visibly irritated at her reply. "I assume you both prefer ending in ashes."

The man took Lily's portrait in his hands again; the girl gave a soft cry and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Madam," Zabini commented. "Nothing personal. Put the blame on your stubborn friend here."

He turned to the fireplace. "Incendio!" he commanded, and the flames roared immediately.

Snape stared at the fire in horror. He couldn't sacrifice Lily for the second time. No! Not again!

But he had no power. He was only a picture, and trapped in his painted frame, his heart rebelled and cried against the misery of his fate and the renewed injustice of his existence. Frustration, anger, despair... Zabini seemed to guess all those unexpressed feelings and shook his head with a commiserating smile.

"Sometimes I think that you never belonged to Slytherin," he said. Then he watched Lily's portrait. "I'm sorry, Madam. Your time is over."

He lifted her picture, and Lily stiffened with a sharp gasp. Yet she stood still, and Snape couldn't but admire her courage. His strength crumbled.

"No! Wait! I have... I have a proposal," he offered, panting in cold sweat. How, how to gain time? How to reach another picture? How to save Lily without breaking his promise to Cornelia?

"You are a bit too cheeky, Professor." Zabini was clearly savouring his impending victory. "You are not in a position to trade. However, I'll indulge you. What is your proposal?"

He placed Lily's picture on a desk so that Snape could see her and crossed his arms with a slightly mocking smile. The girl raised her head to the portrait and, though evidently frightened, smiled at him, a touching, tremulous smile. Snape felt his heart melt in tenderness. Mutely, he returned her gaze, trying to express all his love.

Then he watched Zabini. How their roles had reversed! Now it was Snape's turn to beg, and he spoke, hoping to be convincing.

"There is something I can do. I will help you select a potion from the forbidden books in the Restricted Section. Some of them have been kept secret for centuries and..."

Zabini shook his head, and his smile became a sneer. "No. Every skilled potioneer could ask for an authorisation to consult those volumes. I need something unique. Sorry, Professor, but my request isn't negotiable."

A mortal pause followed. Lily was breathing slowly, following that crucial exchange, afraid to interrupt that battle of wills. And, stubbornly, Snape tried again.

"Mr Zabini, these are powerful formulae. You won't deceive anyone. As you said, you aren't particularly skilled. Who will believe you?"

But the portrait regretted immediately his question, as Zabini burst out in rage. "There is no escape according to you! My early existence has been spent in failure, my current existence isn't worth a try. What should I do, then? Enlighten me, Professor! Should I throw away my last chance in order to spare your conscience? You weren't so damn scrupulous when you were alive!"

Then his eyes widened in understanding. "You are trying to distract me," he said, and his features hardened. "This is not a game, I warn you. Open that book and obey my orders. Otherwise, she is lost."

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

The room was so very near now. It had been a long trip, and Al congratulated himself, preparing to take off his cover and imagining the scene. Professor Snape would be very surprised to see him there at that hour. But what if, on the contrary, he had got angry? Al swallowed. He hadn't thought of such possibility, and his determination wavered.

Then his mind automatically registered a noise. There was something strange going on in the room. Voices...angry voices...were speaking on the other side of the wall. The boy chewed his lip, torn between indecision and curiosity.

Better keep the cloak on, he finally decided, and put his hand on the doorknob.

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

The door opened with a startling creak, and Zabini reacted at surprising speed, whirling on his heels to face the unknown danger. But the dark rectangle under the doorframe was empty, and only the shadows cast by the tremulous light of the torches met his gaze, intertwining their shapes in a bizarre dance on the corridor's wall.

Stifling a curse, Zabini lifted his wand and muttered a sharp command. Obediently, the door closed again. Reassured, the man turned to look at Snape. For a moment, quite incongruously, he seemed to expect the portrait to share his relief.

"So, Professor, what have you decided?" The last interruption had definitely settled his determination, and once more, Lily shivered in her frame.

Snape hesitated, his expression showing the pain he was enduring. His eyes roamed the room, darting from object to object as if asking for help, and finally rested on Lily.

He had never thought that his love could turn against him also in this new existence. But this was a terrible consideration. He was still dangerous to the ones he loved. Lily was at risk because of him. She had asked him to help her, but he had failed her again. He wasn't worthy of her love. He wasn't worth the second chance life had presented him.

"Lily..." he whispered and lowered his head, searching for her gaze. Their eyes locked in a last exchange, and he tried to convey all his horror and his desperation for the choice he was obliged to make. She seemed to perceive his unspoken message and nodded, as if encouraging him. He felt his heart annihilate in pain.

Yet, there was still something he could offer her. He looked at Zabini.

"Destroy me first," he asked hoarsely. "Destroy me first, because I'm not going to give you a formula in any case."

A long silence followed that statement. Zabini's face darkened in disappointment. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with himself.

"As you wish," he declared at last. "Good-bye, Professor!"

He lifted his wand with a deliberately slow movement. Snape clenched his fists, waiting to feel his fibres burn under a mortal curse. Lily bit her lips, restraining a cry of fear. The world stood still for an interminable moment. Then Zabini's control unexpectedly collapsed.

"I can't do this..." he breathed, widening his eyes in a sort of painful horror and lowering the wand that was still vibrating convulsively in his hand. His face altered, and for a moment, he looked vulnerable and scared.

Then he burst out in desperation. "What should I do to convince you? Those formulae were my last hope!"

Tears of frustration wetted his eyes. Surprised and ashamed, Zabini took away his glasses, rubbing his face ferociously. He was evidently shocked by the intensity of his reaction: the man, always so cold and reserved, was shaking under the force of those many contrasting emotions.

"Why don't you want to help me, damn you...why?" he accused.

Then, helpless and angry, he violently dropped his wand on the same desk where Lily's portrait was waiting in anxiety. Unable to see what was happening behind her, the girl stiffened at the loud thud. But Zabini, confused and distraught, collapsed onto a chair. Burying his face in his hands, he tried to recover his control. The man had obviously bluffed till that moment, and the portrait felt relieved and furious at the same time.

"Mr Zabini," Snape began and stopped, not really knowing how to handle the situation. The man shook his head, refusing to listen. Then his pride awakened again.

"I may be unable to destroy you," he panted, rising from the chair in evident turmoil, "but I can't let you reveal this story."

"Mr Zabini!" Snape exclaimed again. The two men stared at each other in challenge. Then something totally unexpected happened.

"Hey!" a piping voice interposed, coming from nowhere. "What's going on here?"

"Al!" Lily cried, recognising her grandson.

Reacting in panic, Zabini stretched to grab his wand and face the invisible intruder, but in doing so, he involuntarily hit Lily's portrait. The picture fell on the floor, and with a sharp crash, its frame divided into many irregular pieces. Snape felt a renewed energy run in his fibres: the locking spell had been broken, and he lifted his wand in exultation.

Al chose exactly that moment to unveil himself and attack. Two flashes of light filled the room, coming from both the portrait and the boy. The double magic was incredibly powerful and caught Zabini unprepared. The man was blasted mercilessly to the ground while his wand rolled on the floor.

Escaping from her broken frame, Lily entered Snape's picture and flung herself into his arms.

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

Now the room was quiet again. Snape hugged Lily tightly and murmured soothing words while she sobbed softly. Her closeness was simply intoxicating, and he lost himself in that delightful emotion.

Under the portrait, eyes widened in shock, Albus Severus was watching the motionless form lying at his feet.

"Is he dead? Did I kill him?" he asked, fear trembling in his voice. He hadn't realised what had really happened. Still entranced in the awesome sensation of holding Lily in the circle of his arms, Snape reassured him.

"No, Mr Potter. Soon he'll be well again."

Al seemed relieved. Then he glanced at the couple in the picture and immediately averted his eyes. Reddening in embarrassment, he bent to pick up Zabini's wand and glasses and put them carefully on a chair.

"How lucky! They are not broken," he commented lightly and turned his shoulders to Snape, pretending to be extremely interested in his shoes.

But the two adults were too absorbed to notice this tactful retreat.

"Lily," Snape whispered, kissing her on her hair. She relaxed in his arms, and he felt an overwhelming happiness immediately followed by an immense desolation. Their time was running out so quickly! Soon Zabini would recover, and Snape didn't want her to witness that encounter. He caressed her hair, trying to find the words to express his feelings and the strength to accept their impending separation. But she anticipated him.

"I am sorry," she murmured with a trembling voice. "I have been cruel to you."

"No, you have been sincere," he replied softly. His heart was beating madly, savouring every instant of her closeness. But she wasn't for him, and he knew that she would never be. Even though they had met again, their lives would never and could never join as he had hoped when they were both living. He had changed. She had remained unaltered. And unaltered she would remain, as long as her new painted form would allow her.

A memory. A living memory. And nothing more.

Something detached from his soul. The pain was unbearable, and he gritted his teeth to resist. Unaware of his thoughts, she smiled at him before resting her head on his chest. "I'm glad we are friends again," she whispered. Her cheek was warm against his heartbeats, and he trembled in desire.

No. She was forbidden.

"Lily, I must ask you to go home and forget what has happened this night," he asked, disentangling himself from her embrace with an immense effort. "Please. I need to talk to Zabini and to Al."

"But why can't I stay?" She looked at him in utter surprise. Then her eyes met his adoring eyes, and she perceived the uselessness of her words. Neither of them belonged to the other. And though he loved her with such incredible, unceasing devotion, the immensity of his love was itself condemning them to separation. She sighed softly.

"I understand. Farewell, then, Severus," she said quietly.

She went away, and he watched her go, feeling a part of his soul leave forever with her.

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

Snape inhaled deeply, trying to recover his composure. In a way, he was oddly grateful to Zabini for having allowed a reconciliation with Lily. In another way, he was extremely angry for such a filthy betrayal coming from one of his ex-students and House fellows. His pride asked for compensation.

"Albus Severus," the portrait ordered. "You must help me now. Professor Zabini needs to recover, so that I can talk to him before somebody else comes."

Al nodded. His eyes had continued to anxiously scrutinize the lifeless body at his feet while the two adults were talking and bidding each other goodbye. But, though he had tried to spare them his curiosity, he had seen his grandmother going away without a smile and had noticed Professor Snape's sad, exhausted face. His heart had twisted in sympathy; young as he was, he had nevertheless understood the oddity of that painful link. But now he was feeling nervous and worried for a different reason. What had Professor Zabini been doing before? What would Professor Zabini do as soon as he awakened? Would he harm Professor Snape? Would he punish the insolent boy who had blasted him?

Snape's voice put him out of his misery. The portrait seemed to understand his worries perfectly. And, suddenly, Al remembered... many years before, Professor Snape too had been hit by a spell performed by three students, and the boy knew their names very well. But that had been the beginning of something horrible. Was that perhaps the case? Al felt guilty and spoke in a tiny voice.

"I am very sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to..."

"Mr Potter!" Snape cut him off. "You have done your best. Don't worry, nobody will punish you. Now lift your wand and say Enervate!"

The boy repeated the spell. Then, fascinated and frightened, he watched Zabini shiver, blink, and moan, and finally try to get up. Gingerly, Albus Severus helped him to sit on the floor. Zabini massaged his head, sighing softly, and the boy understood that it wasn't the spell that hurt the man, but mostly his wounded pride.

Zabini looked around as if searching for something, and Al returned his glasses to him. Impatiently, Zabini grabbed them and put them on his nose. Then he glared at the boy, who was also hesitantly offering him the wand.

"Keep it, Potter. Your father is going to confiscate it, anyway," he said bitterly. Then he got up, dusted his robes, and straightened to face the portrait.

"I suppose you called the Aurors," he said with forced calm and lifted his glasses again to massage the bridge of his nose. Snape didn't reply, but tilted his head and cast the man a piercing look.

"I hope you feel better now," he said deliberately. Zabini took a deep breath.

"Yes, better indeed," he said sulkily. "Come on, Professor, don't toy with me. Where is Headmistress McGonagall? I think it's better if I resign before being arrested. You know, saving the good name of the school..."

He trailed off. "This is really my last failure," he whispered.

"I haven't called anybody, Mr Zabini," Snape replied sharply, irritated at that emotional display. "You didn't actually do anything irreparable; you just broke a frame... damage that you can easily repair, I suppose."

With a sigh, Zabini took his wand from Al. "Reparo," he ordered, and the pieces of the frame instantly joined. He turned to watch Snape.

"I'll unlock you now," Zabini offered.

"Thank you, but the locking spell vanished as soon as you broke the frame," Snape said and added meaningfully, "And you should have noticed it before."

Zabini gulped and replied nervously, "So, what's the sentence you reserve for me? Expulsion? Arrest? Or are you going to personally handle my punishment and hex me now? I suppose you..."

"Mr Zabini!" Snape cut him off warningly, and Zabini shifted under that gaze.

"Sorry," he muttered and lowered his head.

Snape crossed his arms. "Now, let's speak seriously. Mr Potter, please sit. I need a witness, and you are the only one available at the moment."

The boy backed a few steps, then took a seat and curled on it, eyes widened in anxiety and curiosity. Evidently uneasy, Zabini crossed his arms as well and glanced nervously at the boy.

"Do you think that his presence is really necessary?" he asked the portrait and immediately flinched under Snape's sharp glance.

The portrait bent to look at him. "Mr Zabini, I assumed you were a reasonable man. Even more, I assumed you were an intelligent man. I remember you as a gifted student with a quick brain. How could you possibly end up with such an idiotic plan?"

Zabini shrugged like a sulky child.

"What does it matter now? Let's call the Aurors and put an end to this story!"

"I'm not going to do anything like that, Mr Zabini... if I can avoid it."

The man widened his eyes. "You... you are not..." he stammered with an incredulous expression.

"I said if I can. Please pay attention. I believe in second chances, though it seems to me that you have wasted all those you have been given till now. You said that you would like to join your family."

Zabini licked his lips, looking definitely confused. "It's true. But without those formulae..." His voice became hopeful. "Have you perhaps changed your mind?"

"Mr Zabini! Do I look demented? Let's examine what your mind hasn't found yet. I'm sure there is a solution that you still haven't considered. What exactly did your grandfather ask?"

"But how could you..."

"Mr Zabini! Do answer my question."

The man shrugged. "It's not difficult. I have listened to his words so many times that I have learned them by heart." His lips curled in a bitter smile. "I'm going to have them printed on my grave."

He straightened and began to recite. "What was stolen must be returned. What was broken must be mended. What was stained must be cleaned. Life for life, knowledge for knowledge, trust for trust. Treasures are hidden in unexpected places, but there is a treasure that you alone can find. Let it be the proof that my trust hasn't been misplaced. From your choice, I will know if you are worthy to carry our name."

Snape frowned. "A riddle, I would say. What made you think that a potion could be the answer?"

"Because he spoke of treasures. I don't have any treasure except my knowledge." He shrugged again. "Though I wouldn't define it as a treasure."

"Perhaps you grandfather was speaking of your father. Do you have any of his belongings?"

"No. I had thought of such a possibility as well, but my father left Italy with just his wand and his robes. I have nothing of his, not even a picture. I have also asked my mother."

He swallowed in uneasiness. "Though she is not... she is not completely herself lately," he concluded.

Snape inclined his head at those words, watching Zabini pointedly. Unexpectedly, another piece joined the visual puzzle that was whirling chaotically in his mind: An old, shattered, grey-haired woman was lying in a bed, eyes half-open and head swaying in a drunken stupor, a bottle of champagne on her nightstand... In spite of their current financial troubles, Zabini's mother seemed to have not renounced the expensive habits of her past golden days.

The portrait took a deep breath; Zabini stiffened, and his face hardened. Yet, the man didn't avert his eyes, but kept staring at Snape and continued to speak with a challenging look.

"My mother told me that she had married my father because she loved him. But he was poor and couldn't raise me properly. This is why she chose to separate. Then my father was murdered, so she decided to marry again. I had several stepfathers. My mother always chose wealthy but very aged husbands. She didn't want to be involved sentimentally anymore."

He paused and crossed his arms again. "Well, she was wise. We never lacked anything this way." He raised his chin in a bold attitude. "I had a wonderful life before coming to Hogwarts."

Snape snorted. The gloomy vision of a small child waiting in a ballroom while his mother laughed and danced had suddenly entered his mind, followed by an even gloomier sequence of images: the same child, now older, sitting lonely and sad in his room; a boy dining in a great hall full of lights, sharing his meal with only a house-elf as a companion; an embittered teenager greeting an old man who smiled sarcastically in return; a beautiful woman crying and yelling while the Aurors searched her house; and finally, the same woman, her face now a pathetic reminder of her previous beauty, hitting her fists against a door and sobbing under the indifferent gazes of those passing by.

"I see," Snape said coldly and glanced at Albus Severus. The child was sitting quietly on his chair, hands clasped in his lap, probably too far to hear what the two men were saying. The portrait breathed slowly. Those images had a disagreeable effect on him.

"Why didn't you ask me to help you in this search?" he finally asked Zabini.

"Because you have been blatantly favouring Gryffindors since the first day you returned. How could I trust you?"

Snape sighed. His previous anger and compassion had slowly turned into an intense bitterness. The man under his frame was even more pitiable than Lucius Malfoy. Life and sorrows hadn't taught him anything except mistrust, anger, and slyness. And perhaps Snape, too, had played a part in creating such a miserable result.

The portrait spoke quietly. "I have learned to see people instead of their Houses in my new existence."

"But you never said this to me," Zabini retorted. "You only seemed ready to criticise, each time I spoke."

Snape hardened his voice too. "And you lied to me from the beginning."

The two men glared at each other. Then Snape sighed again. "But this discussion is useless now. Think, Mr Zabini. What does your grandfather know about you?"

Wrong-footed at that unexpected change in conversation, the man replied pensively, "I don't believe he personally knows anything. But he said that one of my uncles kept an eye on me during these years."

"Ah! Then perhaps your uncle noticed something. Do you have any special skill in something that doesn't regard your studies?"

Zabini looked at him agape.

"I have received a formal education... I can dance; I can speak two foreign languages besides English, though unfortunately not Italian; I can select a wine... But I don't think that these can be considered treasures!"

"Yet you must have something special! Your grandfather said there is a treasure that you alone can find."

"Well, perhaps he was only trying to delude me..."

"Nonsense, Mr Zabini. Why would he waste his time in sending you such a complicated message?"

"Perhaps he just wanted to tease me." Zabini was beginning to get angry, and his voice rose. "Perhaps he hates me because of my father."

"Perhaps he wanted you to find something you didn't know you have yet!" Snape replied sharply, and Zabini reacted in fury.

"Well, then, perhaps he asked for something impossible!"

"Perhaps he just meant you," the gentle voice of Albus Severus interposed calmly. The two adversaries turned to stare at him with a stunned expression. Zabini let his anger explode.

"Mr Potter, this is none of your business!" he burst out in exasperation and looked at Snape.

"I hope you will Obliviate him, Professor," he asked, clenching his fists. "These are personal, private matters! We cannot trust a mere boy to keep a secret!"

But Snape knew better. He had experienced the astounding resources of his little friend too many times. So he silenced Zabini with a severe look and asked, "Please explain, Mr Potter. What did you mean with these words?"

The boy looked embarrassed. "Well, I was only thinking of a story...."

His eyes seemed to ask for permission, and Snape nodded while Zabini snorted in irritation.

"It's... it's just a novel, you know. An old king had three sons and wanted to choose his heir from among them, so he asked them to bring him treasures to prove their worth; the one who would bring him the most precious gift would become king after him."

In spite of their nervousness, the men were listening, and Albus Severus felt encouraged by their attention. "So the first son came back bringing gold and jewels, the second son found rare books and fabrics, and finally the youngest son brought back nothing but himself."

Zabini rolled his eyes. "So?" he urged in impatience.

"The king asked his youngest son why he had come back with empty hands, and the boy said that he had only his love to offer, the most precious gift he was able to find. His brothers laughed at him, but the king was happy and said that that was the most important treasure indeed. So the third son became king after him..."

Al trailed off and watched the two adults in concern. Zabini was smiling with a scornful expression.

"Thank you for your suggestion, Mr Potter," he said sarcastically. "But unfortunately we don't live in fairy tales!"

Snape spoke sternly. "I don't think that Mr Potter's intuition is wrong."

"Don't tell me that you really believe this nonsense!" Zabini was shocked. "Why should my grandfather put me to such a test, if the answer is so easy?"

"It isn't so easy," Snape replied. "Neither of us had even thought of such a solution. I think that your grandfather has been very clever. He probably doesn't want to be disappointed again. Don't forget that he said that your answer would show him who you really are."

Silence fell while Zabini mulled over those words, and Snape smiled bitterly. It was such an astounding solution, but too peculiar for a man who had been raised in indifference and distrust. How could he perceive such simple, loving truths?

And, in fact, Zabini seemed deeply surprised.

"So, you do really believe this rubbish?" he asked incredulously.

"I believe that you are missing your chance again, Mr Zabini. And I'm afraid you won't be granted another."

"I will think about this," Zabini said, looking suddenly exhausted. He hesitated. "May I leave now? Am I free?"

"Yes, but I expect you to make a decision by tomorrow. Either you go to Italy, or you resign and find a new job. In any case, you must leave Hogwarts."

"Your conditions are harsh, but I can't oppose them. I'll talk to you in a few hours then," the man agreed in a resigned tone.

He turned and went to the door; then he stopped and reluctantly came back.

"Thank you for saving my reputation, Professor," he said gruffly. "I only hope that Potter here won't..."

He didn't conclude, because Snape had furrowed his brows in one of his best scowls.

"Good night," Zabini said and left immediately.

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

"Do you think that Professor Zabini will go to Italy?" Al asked the portrait as soon as they were alone. Then, exhausted by the late hour and the many emotions, he yawned a gigantic yawn.

"Sorry, sir," he apologised, rubbing his eyes.

"You should go to bed now," Snape replied gently. "Better if I guide you back, so you won't fall asleep in a corridor."

Al smiled gratefully. The boy and the portrait walked silently side by side, Snape passing fluidly from picture to picture and Al struggling to stay awake. Finally, they reached the Fat Lady, who was snoring quietly in her frame. There, Snape stopped and inclined his head in a greeting.

"Good night, Mr Potter," he said. "And thank you again."

"Good night, Professor," Al said, swaying in haziness. "It has been... interesting."

Snape smiled and lifted his wand, murmuring something.

"Mr Potter?" he asked then. "Why, exactly, did you come to see me this night?"

"Oh!" The boy struggled to remember. Strangely, all his memories seemed to have vanished. Al blinked repeatedly and finally found an answer. He smiled warmly. "Because I thought you might like a visit."

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

It was dawn. The night had left, and the first rosy rays were colouring the walls. A soft knock broke the silence of the Potions room, and Snape raised his head.

"Come in!" he said and smiled bitterly at that odd situation. Who had ever cared to ask for permission to a portrait?

Then he felt worried again. Who could it be at that early hour? Perhaps Zabini, already coming with an answer?

No, it was... it looked like...

"Professor Finlay!" the portrait exclaimed in surprise.

"Professor Snape," was the polite reply.

The older man went to stand under the frame and clasped his hands. He looked uneasy, and his words came out with uncharacteristic awkwardness.

"I talked with Headmistress McGonagall this night. And with Albus Dumbledore. He was my Headmaster almost sixty years ago. I have always respected him. More...admired him."

Snape didn't comment, and after a quick glance, Finlay continued tensely.

"Well, as I said, I had a chat with both of them. Then I thought. I spent the whole night thinking. It took me a long time to decide, but finally I am here. I would like to speak with you, too, now."

Snape felt a flicker of hope.

"I'm very glad for your decision, Professor Finlay," he said.

"Gerald," the man quietly interrupted him, and an uncertain smile opened on his face. "The name is Gerald, Severus."