Harry Potter entered the Headmaster's Office shaking from head to toe.
This was not a general occurrence. Severus Snape watched sharply from his portrait - the sole one that never moved. He was dead, certainly; it was sheer discipline that kept him frozen and quiet.
While people were watching, at least.
Snape knew the rumors, that he was still alive. He nourished them with his silent vigilance, and was quietly amused. Let them fear him even past the grave, he thought.
Still, it was not within him to quench his own curiosity, and so he watched as Harry Potter, Headmaster of Hogwarts, flung his head against the desk.
Were those tears?
Silent sobs wracked the young man's frame.
Lily, your son is softer than you.
Harry Potter's hands fisted, and then started to pound the large Headmaster's Desk. It was only then that Snape noticed the blood on Potter's knuckles. It was a rare thing, indeed, for a Gryffindor to cry after a fight.
Perhaps it wasn't a fight, then. There were few alive that could give the young Gryffindor a fair match anyway.
Even as a portrait, Snape had a few tricks left to his disposal.
"Worried you're turning into me, Potter?" Snape sneered, throwing his voice to the opposite side of the room. Albus had loved the trick, and had selected these offices for that deliberately. It certainly made Minerva jump more than once. Cats were always wary creatures.
Potter didn't react, so much as he paused, hands still curled into fists on the table.
At least he'd stopped weeping.
"I'd rather that, sir." Harry Potter said, lifting his eyes and staring straight ahead.
"You'd rather turn into a child-killer? A murderer par excellence?" Snape's baritone rapped out the words, colder than before he'd died.
"Under orders," Harry Potter responded, and Snape found himself briefly without words. He hadn't come here for Potter's brat to defend him.
"Mostly," Snape said churlishly. "At least a dozen weren't, you know. My orders," Snape said, the word twisting in his mouth, "were to kill the parents. The children were an unexpected complication."
Harry Potter nodded, his face falling, "Malfoy would have called them an unexpected bonus..."
"He always did have a way with words." Snape said with a trace of a sneer.
There was a moment of silence, that extended far past normal.
Snape finally asked, almost carefully, "What are you so afraid of?"
"Turning into my Uncle Vernon." Harry Potter said, still sitting stock still and ramrod straight, staring dead ahead. "Hermione told me once, about the cycle of abuse. About how abused children abuse children themselves."
There were many things Snape could talk about, but this was one that he didn't feel qualified to address seriously.
So, he sneered, and then he laughed, a booming sound that shook the portraits on the walls. "Potter, those children dissect young rabbits before they hit majority." Snape jeered, "I should know, there's been enough in House Slytherin."
Harry Potter's jaw dropped, and, at last, he looked toward Severus Snape. As was typical for Potter, he didn't have a damn thing to say.
Anything to stop those ridiculous tears.
[a/n: Just a one-shot. It would be just like Snape to pretend not to be dead. Please Review!]