The Portrait

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all its characters belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. This is for nonprofit entertainment purposes only.

Wonderful Beta: AlexisBlackSnape

Warnings: Mild language and suggestive themes.

This is a fic that will be eventually completed but on the back board behind my other story, The Unexpected Journey.

To those who anticipate a weekly/monthly update, I ask that you refrain from reading the following chapter and wait until it's finished in its entirety.

To those who understand that an author doesn't live to write free fan fiction and has other obligations, you are the real MVPs and I adore you.

So, enjoy now or enjoy in time. Thank you! xo

Ch.1

Severus

Harry was the first to spot the lone portrait in the dark hall.

His desolate green eyes behind thin round glasses flicked to the frame for a brief moment, then back to the vacant corridor that led to the dungeons they were headed for. Ron had also become aware its presence and gone quiet, evading looking at it as well in fear of the man looking back. Hermione on the other hand, had her keen, curious brown eyes set directly toward it, without any fear of the guilt that formed between the three of them after that fatal night.

While Harry and Ron quickened their pace at the sight, Hermione hindered her step, unsure as to why this portrait was so intriguing, yet every bit set to understand why.

Ron quickly noticed her interest first when he felt the pull of their entwined hands. Turning to meet her gaze, he bequeathed a look that plainly showed his confusion and shaken nerves. Yet she decided to ignore his silent plea and let go of his fingers gingerly, replacing them with the inner lining of her knit coat pockets.

"You two go on, I'll meet up with you in a minute," she said softly.

Knowing Ron, he didn't want to stick around to argue when he was trying to avoid his old professor, which Hermione for once was appreciative of since she wanted to speak with him alone. Without needing a confirmation from the retreating pair, she turned away and took in a breath, ready to finally face the man in the matte black frame.

Former Professor Severus Snape was slumped forward in an emerald green chair; his dark locks covering pallid features. Slender fingers were entwined between his knees, hardly hanging together. His usual black robes fit tightly against his form, and the only spot of white in his attire peeked out from the edge of his sleeve near a lengthy row of buttons.

Altogether, he looked like a miserable heap of black inside one of the most exquisite paintings Hogwarts presently had on its walls. And while her awful past with him should have made her think otherwise, it was difficult to see the once tall and stout man looking so defeated.

Biting her lip hard, she felt her nerves beginning to spike, yet came to the conclusion that she was standing there far too long to simply walk away without saying something.

"Professor?" Her voice came out in a timid whisper as she twiddled her fingers behind her back and took in an uneven breath.

His posture remained slumped and still, as if she was either too quiet, or he just didn't care to pay her any recognition. It nearly appeared be an ordinary Muggle painting if it weren't for the faint flutter of his long, dark lashes.

"Professor Snape?" She tried again after a minute that felt like a decade of waiting, while her heart thumped in her chest like a drum. He had always intimidated her in one manner or another just by being in the same room. Even in her later years she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling she had around his menacing aura. No student could ever get away with even the slightest thing while he was in the same general area.

Of course, she had never fathomed his abilities to notice the small things were directly related to his ties with both the Order and the Dark Lord's bidding. Yet how awful it must have been for the brooding man to function with abundant classes while juggling risky tasks for both parties.

His silence made her heart hurt for him. After all the suffering he endeavored... without one person who truly cared for his well being... or whether or not he made it back to the school in one piece, not just for the sake of the information, but also for his health and security...

He needed someone to care, even if it was too late.

She built up as much courage as she possibly could before even considering her next choice word.

Clasping her hands so tightly that they ran white behind her back, she spoke before she could back out.

"Severus."

Never in her life had she seen anything so quick as when his eyes snapped up from under his cascading black hair to meet hers.

Her breathing stopped and her stomach plummeted as his dark eyes glared directly at her, as if seeing through her soul.

"S-sir," she stammered out when his eyes remained strong on hers.

"Miss Granger." His deep velvet voice replied through the painting, menacing yet smooth to the ear. "What could possibly bring you to these corridors? Surely you're not here to speak with the young Slytherins. Quickly say what you need to relieve your guilty conscious then kindly remove your person from my sight."

She found herself at a loss as he sneered with a hidden hatred, though she wasn't sure if it was completely directed at her.

"I didn't stop to apologize, sir. Although I can't say I don't have a guilty conscious since I didn't do all I could to save you..."

He rolled his eyes and muttered "bleeding Gryffindor heart" under his breath as she continued.

"I..." she started, unsure where she was even going with this. She had only come with the intention of understanding her own curiosity. "I... just wanted to see if you're even fond of this spot. I remembered seeing you in the clock tower courtyard on more than one occasion and I know of a hall that's just as quiet that has a window looking out to it..." Her voice trailed away.

His sneer fell for the very first time since she laid her eyes on him in potions on her first day, causing her breath to hitch.

The wheels in Severus' head begun spinning as to why she might want him in that location. Was she and the other golden twats wanting to conspire here in this hall? This was directly where one could wait for unsuspecting Slytherins to emerge from the dungeons. You'd think boy wonder would learn to live in a world with Slytherins if he really was in favor of non prejudice. Or was his views just as one sided like the Dark Lords had been?

He eyed her wearily.

Yet... she remembered the spot he went to when he needed air. The place that looked over the woods, the lake, and the calming sound of the antique clock, helping him forget his constant orders and dead end deeds. A place that reminded him he was worth something, though he never truly knew what.

And how did she know? Clearly no one watched him unless it was to run from punishment. Had someone put her up to this?

She chewed her delicate lip before opening her mouth.

"I don't want to bother you, sir, it's just since we're finishing remodeling, this spot isn't permanent. I was appointed to the third floor and can easily move you."

He continued mulling over her words. Did they need me to watch over the courtyard? Did they go to Dumbledore's portrait to ask advice on the best ways to continue manipulating my efforts for him and his bloody castle? He probably knew of my admiration for the courtyard, and now the old bastard was trying to use someone like Hermione Granger, with her annoyingly soft eyes and innocent smile, to position me in the spot without questioning it. His face turned back into a loathing sneer.

"Lucky for you, I'm no longer able to deduct House points since spying on me would've cost you 50." Blasted Minerva wouldn't even let me have that... "But you are correct Miss Granger, I'm quite fond of the courtyard. Even so, I'm still content in this space and do not desire to move from this spot," he finished regretfully. This would just continue to sit on his conscious as well as the other thousands of regrets that were clouding his mind each day with no escape from them. If only his ruddy portrait had contained a bottle of whiskey.

Hermione sighed, feeling defeated, but nodded anyway.

"Alright, sir. Just... let me know if you need anything."

Severus then watched her leave. Each step she took, the curls that cascaded down her back swayed. Since when had her hair looked so put together, he suddenly wondered.

And... bloody hell what happened to that girl's boyish figure?

Just as quickly, he thrust those thoughts away. Bollocks, she's your student, you old prick. Or at least she used to be. Now she's nothing but a view from the outside world while he suffers in a cramped picture frame.

Or was it that the real him peacefully resided inside a coffin, while this empty shell of his former self was on display like a caged animal for the rest of his miserable existance?

His only pleasure was thinking of meeting the artist who put this version of him into his own personal nightmare. His thin lips turned into a smirk as he envisioned intimidating the man before tossing him out the window by his ankles.

And why couldn't the slithering horse-shit of a "lord" have burned this hall down? The castle had been practically destroyed, but this exact spot remained intact and depressing as ever.

Severus slumped into his portrait, uncaring of what the Slytherin students thought of him since most would continue respecting him out of fear, even if he had showed up sporting a pink tutu and duck slippers.

Though pink was definitely not his color. And he did not care for ducks.

Suddenly his thoughts shifted at the sound of a clumsy, young third year running down the hall.

The first Hufflepuff before the new school year. Severus felt a new hope spreading through his black heart. After a malicious sneer, he timed it so the boy would be in the perfect position.

Just as the Hufflepuff was running full speed, Severus ducked as far down into the painting that would allow and put on his best ghostly impression of his former self.

"Mr. Welsh!" he called out, hoping the dim witted boy wouldn't see the portrait.

As hoped for, the boy stopped dead in his tracks, widened his eyes, and looked everywhere for any sign of his former professor.

He finally laid wide eyes on a drape by the window and shakily approached it with a hesitant, outstretched hand.

"T-Terry? If that's you it-t's not f-funny," the boy stuttered out.

Severus muffled a chuckle as Aaron Welsh slowly pulled back the curtain, only to find no one there.

His face paled perfectly.

Severus grinned.

"One hundred points from Hufflepuff for running in the halls. Let me catch you again and I'll be sure to haunt you for the rest of your miserable life. Is that clear Mr. Welsh?" he said with a grave tone.

Aaron gulped, still shifting his eyes about the room, unaware of the portrait only two feet away.

"Y-yes s-sir. I won't do it a-again."

"Then be off with you!" Severus's booming voice demanded.

Aaron didn't hesitate to walk out of the hall like a startled puppy as he almost tripped over his own feet with the speed he was attempting. He even nearly lost one of his books when he rounded a corridor.

Severus let out a hearty laugh, a very rare, genuine one. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

His last fleeing chuckle was on the thought of how his newfound madness came after death rather than when he was actually teaching. Hell, he even stayed sane while working for the Dark Lord- the most insane wizard of all.

After feeling the end of the exhilaration the laugh had given him, he went back to his slumps.

He could go back to his original frame in the Headmaster's office, but after the first few days he was hung there, Minerva had all but had her apprentice portrait coddle him.

Honestly, if he'd known the woman would have cared so much for his death, he would have never become friends with her. If that was what they were. Honestly he saw her more as a skilled rival since they both were, after all, Head of rival housing. Yet she was the only colleague he could ever stand to sit in the same room with. She had even gotten him a Christmas present every year. It was always something insulting such as shampoo or a beginner's book on potions, but he took pleasure in her humor and witty insults. It had reminded him that he wasn't the only one who didn't have the same sickening cheer that Albus had.

He and Albus once were on good terms, back when he could stand the twinkle in his eyes and his sugar coated smile. After Severus discovered the manipulative man behind the whimsical mask, he couldn't quite stomach him or his precious lemon drops. Which was a shame since it used to be one of the few treats his mother ever gave him as a child. Severus rubbed his face with one hand before letting it drop limply at his side.

Now wasn't the time to reminisce on his pathetic childhood. He'd done enough of that already.

Instead, he sat back into the intricate green and silver arm chair, one that could've been made for Salazar Slytherin when he was still alive, and let his mind go blank.

It was his favorite thing to do since he was placed in the hallway, which was coming up to be a full and agonizing year.

What a life... he thought miserably.

And yet he had never even lived.

Big thank you to Alexis who helped tremendously and to those who took the time to read The Portraits first chapter!