Snape meanwhile tried to grasp the notion of his being dead for over a year. Yet here he was, part of him at least, acutely conscious that he was supposed to be a vague energy and mere imprint (why did he feel so human?!) while the rest of him had gone to whatever fate awaited. He hoped it would at least be a restful one, and a distinct lack of Potter would be nice.
ooo
"Can I ask you a question?" said Harry, interrupting the former Headmaster's imaginings of a Potter-free paradise.
"What?"
"Can I ask you a question – sir?" tried Harry, mistaking Snape's lapse in concentration for a petty concern over what he should be addressed as. But then, he always misjudged my actions, thought Snape. Little wonder they hated each other so much in life.
"First I ask my own, Potter. That snake – Nagini – is she…?"
"Nagini was a horcrux – so yes, it's dead."
Snape nodded slowly. Horcruxes – he thought – I suspected as much. I am going to have a word with Dumbledore…but first...
"Did you do it, Potter?" He fervently hoped not.
"No."
"So another performed the deed." A nasty smile began to work its way into Snape's sallow face.
"I didn't say someone killed it, did I?"
"I am assuming, of course, that Nagini was not flattened by the Whomping Willow or accidentally impaled on one of the Dark Lord's fingernails," he said silkily.
"Well, then? Which infinitely more talented student - or professor - avenged me, Potter?" Snape smirked, in the full, satisfying knowledge that he owed nothing more to Harry Potter. He could deal with it if it had been Miss Granger or Mr Weasley - barely, but he could deal with it.
Harry, meanwhile, did not have to think long to remember. The sorting hat bursting into flame, the sword gleaming before slicing into the snake's neck, the relief that the job was almost done - all had been fixed in Harry's mind. He grinned slowly.
"Neville, Neville Longbottom."
Clearly, I spoke too soon. Snape groaned softly. Of all the wizards...
"Yes - Neville," Harry prodded.
"Longbottom and his friends - at your behest, no doubt - made the final year of my life somewhat more troublesome than it should have been. So forgive me," he sneered, "if I refuse to comment."
Harry shrugged. Wish he'd refuse to comment on me more often. "Okay. It was an extremely brave thing, though. He survived, by the way."
"Ah, that is what I have waited a year to hear," Snape said sarcastically, with only a touch of malice. "Well, Potter? Do you wish to tell me any more similarly enthralling news?"
"Ummm - they awarded you the Order of Merlin," Harry casually revealed.
"Wonderful," Snape said, in a stiff manner that suggested that he thought it was a tad late. "I can boast about it to my fellow, dead, Headmasters."
Harry laughed. "Actually, you haven't got it made until you're on a Chocolate Frog card, according to Dumbledore. Or," he began in a sly tone, "The Daily Prophet does a front page on you."
"I see - made the final line, did I, Potter? And the newly identified body of Severus Snape was discovered, bloodless, in the Shrieking Shack. It is rumoured that the ghosts of disgruntled former pupils did the happy deed. THE END."
"Not quite," said Harry. Moving into the doorway to aim his wand at the bag he left in the hall, he yelled, "Accio Prophet!" Snape raised an eyebrow at the dramatic flourish, half-expecting a sherry-drunk Trelawney to come zooming into the room. Instead, a newspaper was summoned into Harry's hand.
"Take a look for yourself," smirked Harry. Snape leaned ever so slightly forwards in his Spinner's End-styled armchair, black eyes suspicious as they looked down at the proffered page.
"SEVERUS SNAPE: The Stalwart Spy And His Secret Sorrows" screamed the headline, above a picture of a wizard who was most definitely not Severus Snape. Perhaps it was the pearly white teeth, or the soft black hair which dramatically swirled around in an unseen wind, or the brooding, heroic pose that gave it away.
"What is this, Potter?" Snape whispered, his hands gripping at the sides of his armchair. Harry marvelled that the stuffing had not come out of it.
"It's your front page. Here, if you don't want to, I'll read it," Harry turned the paper around and began to read aloud. "Man of the moment Severus Snape, revealed to have played a pivotal role in the defeat of You-Know-Who, harboured heartbreaking secrets that Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent, can now exclusively divulge. From the..."
"Enough!" Snape furiously stood up. "Not - a - word more." He almost wrenched the silver-and-green hangings to the floor in his effort to move out of the frame. Snape appeared almost immediately in an empty canvas to Harry's right.
"There's a bookcase behind the hangings if you look carefully enough," Harry volunteered helpfully, but this well-meaning advice was somewhat ruined by Harry's failed attempts not to laugh.
"Alright, I won't read the rest of it," he said, as Snape grudgingly slid back into his own frame, though he left the paper sitting invitingly just in front of the portrait. I don't imagine he'd like the Quibbler piece much better.
"For your sake you had better not," said Snape, "If your name somehow came up in that exclusive piece I would be considerably even - less - amused." Harry thought it was no use trying to tell Snape about the beetle that had attached itself to the top of his shoe on Harry's way to the Pensieve.
"I'll tell Rita Skeeter you didn't like her article, then," said Harry, imagining what the result would be. Possibly a new article entitled: Snape: Saint - or Scoundrel? He sniggered at the thought. Then he remembered.
"Can I ask my question now?"
Snape bared his teeth. "Very well. But the slightest hint of impudence and I will do something we may both regret. What is it, Potter?" He dreaded the inevitable questions about Lily, Dumbledore, or (Merlin forbid!) Severus Snape's feelings over the years as he took dangerous spy missions alone, hated and mistrusted by most, reluctantly regarded as a powerful wizard - just short of a Dumbledore or Voldemort - yet arguably more dangerous than both. He prepared for himself a stinging reply, a cold none-of-your-business glare. "Spit it out."
But Harry, who had been struck with a strange, boyish curiosity, had nothing like that in mind.
"Can you tell me how you - flew? Out of the window at Hogwarts?"
"No," Snape said smoothly, "I believe superior mortals like yourself have devices called brooms for such frivolities. Dear me, I'm amazed you remained on the Quidditch team without such knowledge."
He hasn't changed much, really. Too much to ask for, to have Snape let death get in the way of his personality.
Harry thought he might persist, however, just this once. "Riddle could fly too - did he teach you that, or did you-"
"Really, use whatever sense remains in that overblown head of yours," Snape cut him off, sidestepping the question. "Can you imagine what the Dark Lord would look like astride a broom? What - striking fear into wizards' hearts by cackling atop a stick like a Muggle's witch in front of the full moon?"
The two avoided each other's eyes for a moment, both savouring the guilty pleasure of picturing the ridiculous image. This time, it was Harry who broke the silence.
"You're being taken to Hogwarts tomorrow," he said, by way of finishing.
Harry decided against telling him any more on the war's aftermath. Snape would find those things out soon enough, from people more – preferable - for learning these things from than Harry Potter. The news could wait. Harry shook his head, ignoring Snape's "Then what are you still doing here, Potter?" as he recalled the familiar, warm feeling of the doe patronus and the almost-companionable tutelage of the Half-Blood Prince. He struggled to reconcile them with the derisive Snape. No, even in light of what he knew, it was difficult. Maybe in time he would. Just maybe.
Then, all that was left was the only thing Harry had really planned to say today but was never quite sure how: a small, soft-murmured, "Thank you."
Though it was barely two words, they both knew that it meant more.
Thank you for protecting me even though you could barely stand the sight of me, for being Dumbledore's man all along, for enduring your trials and teaching me even when I didn't wish to learn. Thank you for being loyal to your heart, and giving your life without the assurance that your soul would ever be remembered.
And, I guess, thanks for refraining from killing me, despite the thought crossing your mind a million times.
He stood for a moment, and when it became clear that the portrait had no more words for him, made to leave.
"Wait." Harry and Snape shared another look.
Then Snape dismissed him like the teacher always had in life: after an Occlumency lesson, after a detention.
At first Harry thought he had heard wrong, but though it was curt and short it was unmistakable.
Inside, Snape cursed himself for that uncharacteristic blunder. Here we go; now the boy will suffer from the misapprehension that it was an olive branch. He barely resisted the urge to call Potter back and rain more insults upon his head for good measure, deciding grudgingly to let it slide and instead blame his condition (is that what one called being dead for a year?) for the otherwise inexcusable slip. He looked down at the photograph once again. Oh, if it were not for you...
Hurrying out of the gallery corridor, Harry could not help but grin as he recalled Snape's final words.
"You have still not mastered Occlumency, I see. Do not - even - think of naming a future child after me."
In Snape's mind, the idea of someone gurgling, "coochie coo, Severus!" was downright sickening. That was the first part of the dismissal, Snape's cold eyes glittering, deadly serious, as the boy entertained those exact (and very deliberate, snorted Harry,) thoughts.
It was what came after that had the boy wondering whether he dared go against the man's wishes anyway. Even though, Harry conceded, the look on his face immediately afterwards was akin to a Hippogriff who had swallowed far too many ferrets at the same time.
"Very well - that is all, Harry."
From anyone else it would have meant nothing, but it was a rarer thing than a Fawkes' feather wand coming from Severus Snape.
THE END
Author's Note: Well, I'm not sure what to say. Hope you liked reading my story, thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad it's been able to alleviate the feelings of those who, like me, have been saddened by Snape's death - the man is still alive and kicking out there, guys! Not in the most literal sense in any way, but like JK has said he's a gift of a character who just transcends fictional/deathly boundaries. I imagine that even at this moment Harry is planning his second visit, the first having gone so well ; ). With any luck that final line was not too out of character for Snape - it was a slip, of course, nothing more. Harry will take all he can get ; ).
Well, that's all from me. Greatest of thanks to all you readers again - reading the reviews were an absolute joy, and if I can I'll try and reply personally to some of those comments or questions - as I return JKR's characters back to her possession. As Harry said, thank you and goodbye (for now)!