Chapter 6 - Her Portrait Awakens

The book he was holding made a soft thud as it slipped out of his hand and onto the floor as he stood up. The portrait of his late wife looked down on him with her eyes, the eyes he missed looking into every night. Her smile on the lips of her likeness, the smile she had graced him with every morning. The portrait spoke with her sweet voice, the voice he almost forgot the sound of.

"Are you feeling well, Severus?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just…I didn't expect you to awaken just yet."

"Awaken? What do you mean?" her portrait self asked as she looked around and touched the side of the canvas. "I assume since I am in this frame that I am…" she trailed off with a sad look upon her face.

"Yes."

"How long ago?"

"Over a month ago, now."

"I'm sorry, love."

"You said that before you…before you died."

"Was I in pain, or did I pass on peacefully, as I had hoped to?"

"It was serene. I held you in my arms, you closed your eyes, and it was over."

Severus stood there, lost in his thoughts as the likeness of his late wife looked on. "What is that you were reading?"

"I found your journals and the letter you left in the first one," he said as he bent down retrieving the book. "Some of these entries have been eye opening, to say the least."

"How many have you read?"

"I'm only on the first one. I was reading the last entry before our wedding."

"Read it out loud, please, Severus."

He sighed, he knew it really wasn't his wife talking to him, but still he found it hard to deny her this simple request.

"Very well," he said as he sat down, opened the book to the appropriate page, and began to read aloud.

Dear Friend,

I know I said I would write more but I've been so busy with last minute arrangements I haven't had the time.

Tomorrow is the big day, I'm so nervous, is this normal? I wonder if Severus is nervous too.

The next time I write in this journal I'll be Mrs Severus Snape, it still seems so surreal to me. I wonder what the future holds for us. Will we be happy together? Will we have children? Will they be happy? I have such butterflies in my stomach tonight. I hope I can make it though the ceremony tomorrow without cocking it up!

Yes, I know, I'm rambling and my thoughts are willy-nilly. Maybe one day when I look back through this I'll laugh at how silly I was back then.

I would love for Ron and Harry to be there tomorrow, but I doubt they will show up. They never even replied to their invitations. Their absence will be the only shadow on tomorrow's proceedings. Why can't they grow up and just accept my choices for my life? I know I said I wouldn't let this bother me, and I am trying, but it's hard when they were a part of my life for so many years and we shared so much together.

I know my parent's will be watching from wherever they are.

"Why did you never tell me about Potter and Weasley?"

"What good would it have done, Severus? You would have just snarked at them and to those two, in their minds, that would have proven that they were right about you. They showed me what kind of friends they really were, and I could live without friends like that."

"You could have told me about Molly Weasley, that sanctimonious, judgemental, old cow."

The likeness of his late wife laughed, "Molly was always that way. I remember when she thought that article Rita Skeeter wrote about me in my fourth year was true. The only reason I didn't tell you about Molly was because of Arthur, he would have been caught in the middle, and he didn't deserve that. He actually wished us both well and apologized to me for his wife's behaviour."

"Arthur is a good man."

"Yes, he is, too bad the majority of his son's are more like their mother."

As Severus went to close the journal, he noticed one more entry. "What's this," he said mainly to himself. On the last page, in Hermione's handwriting was a poem. It was one of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese and one of Hermione's favourites.

"You did write one more entry in this journal."

"I did? I don't remember writing anything else in that one."

"It's a poem, written on the day of our wedding."

"A poem?" the portrait asked with a quizzical look upon her face. "OH! Yes, now I remember! Sonnet twenty-seven, it reminded me of you. Let me see if I can remember how it went…"

My own Beloved, who hast lifted me

From this drear flat of earth where I was thrown,

And, in betwixt the languid ringlets, blown

A life-breath, till the forehead hopefully

Shines out again, as all the angels see,

Before thy saving kiss ! My own, my own,

Who camest to me when the world was gone,

And I who looked for only God, found thee!

I find thee; I am safe, and strong, and glad.

As one who stands in dewless asphodel

Looks backward on the tedious time he had

In the upper life,--so I, with bosom-swell,

Make witness, here, between the good and bad,

That Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well.

"It still reminds me of you."

Severus felt emotions welling up within him and had to remind himself that it wasn't really his wife up there in that frame…just a painting of her. There was something though that he needed to do in memory of his late wife, something he should have done ninety-five years ago.

"I have a few things I must attend to, I'll be back this evening and we can talk some more."

"What things, Severus?"

"Business," he said as he walked out of the room, "Personal business."

A/N: Yes, I haven't abandoned this story. I'm sorry it has been so long between updates but now with the holidays over I'll be able to give more time to my writing. Thanks to all who have reviewed and those who are still reading this story! Please let me know what you think of this chapter!

This chapter has been edited since I posted it with the beta version...thanks to Mamacita for all her help and advice!

The poem is from Sonnets of the Portuguese, Sonnet XXVII by Elizabeth Barrett Browning 1806-1861 and one of my favourites.