Al was wandering through a corridor on the seventh floor, trying to find Gryffindor common room. He was hopelessly lost, having just left detention with McGonagall, and it was late – almost eleven thirty. Al knew he was in the right area, but during supper the portrait guarding Gryffindor Tower had been replaced with a saner occupant, (as the Fat Lady had recently gone a bit senile) and he didn't know who it was.

Turning left into a narrow corridor, Al found himself facing a large portrait with a gilded silver frame, containing a sleeping man. The man was pale, with sallow skin and a large hooked nose, and his black hair was stringy and greasy. He was wearing black robes, and as the backdrop was also black, it was hard to distinguish how large he was.

"Er – excuse me," Al said timidly. The man shook his head and snorted a little, so Al raised his voice. "Excuse me, Mr. – um – " he peered at the bottom of the frame. There was an engraving on it; it read Professor Snape.

"Mr. Snape?" He asked. Snape opened one eye and glared at Al.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, um – I was just wondering if you could point me towards the Gryffindor Portrait hole. I'm a little bit lost, you see, and –" Snape sneered, and Al faltered.

"Why weren't you looking earlier? I'm trying to sleep; you'll have to wait 'til morning." Snape turned away.

"No – wait! Please, I need your help. I'm Al Potter, and –" Snape snorted again, loudly this time.

"Harry Potter's son? I've had enough of you lot, with your brother and his little friends always playing pranks on me. Go find another portrait to bother." He closed his eye again, and Al felt his heartbeat quicken.

"I'm terribly sorry if James has been bothering you, sir. But –" He looked at the engraving on the frame again. "Wait, you wouldn't happen to be Professor Severus Snape, would you?" Snape looked sourly at him.

"Yes. Why? Has your father been telling you what a crusty old git I was? Telling you stories of mean, old Snivellus?" He spat out the last word, looking bitter.

"No, in fact, it's just the opposite. He's always telling us that you were the bravest man he ever knew. He looks up to you." Al looked earnestly into Snape's cold, black eyes and beamed. "I'm even named after you." Snape blinked, confused.

"I thought your name was Al." He said, seemingly contemplating this latest piece of information.

"Oh, well yes, but it's short for Albus. I'm Albus Severus Potter."

"What?" Snape shook his head slightly as if to clear it. "Harry Potter – named his son – after me?" The corner of his mouth twitched, and before he could stop it, he began to smile. It was the first genuine smile he had produced since Lily Evans had been alive, and it felt warm, like the sun rising over the tips of snow-capped mountains.

"It's nice to meet you, Al." He said genuinely. "I'm Severus Snape."

And as he said his name, he swung forwards, revealing a hole in the wall that led into a large room decorated in red and gold. It was Gryffindor common room.