The package arrived on Christmas Eve by way of owl. Ginny came awake at the light tapping coming from the sitting room window. She stretched like a lazy cat and instinctively rubbed her swollen belly. She was pregnant with her third child who she was quite sure would be a girl finally. Of course, if she had another boy she wouldn't love him any less. Another series of taps on the window brought her fully awake. She shook her husband's arm lightly to wake him where he slept peacefully in front of the fire having fallen asleep there as the two of them reminisced over old adventures.
"Harry." She shook him again. "Harry! Wake up."
"What is it? It can't be morning already." Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses that he had forgotten to remove before he succumbed his slumber. His eyes were slowly focusing on his wife's beautiful face which was framed by glossy, red hair. He then looked around in confusion. "It's still night time. James and Albus haven't woken us up while it is still dark have they?"
"No, you git. There are owls at our window." Ginny said as she slowly pulled herself out of the comfort of the sofa and the warmth of Harry's closeness.
Looking toward the window he saw two pairs of bright orange eyes meet his gaze. "Oh yeah," Harry said suppressing a groan, " I forgot to leave the window open for the owls to deliver the presents tonight."
"It's no trouble," Ginny said waddling a bit to the window and opening it. The two handsome brown owls soared into the candlelit room with a large parcel wrapped in brown paper. Instead of going towards the Christmas tree or leaving the room to place the package at the foot of one of the Potter family's beds, the owls relinquished their burden at Harry's feet and flew back out the window without a second glance.
'Well," said Ginny as she returned to his side and placed a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder. "Open it then."
"Who would send a package this late at night if not a Christmas gift?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry tore the brown paper from the object within to reveal a large ornate, silver frame and a seemingly vacant portrait residing within. Harry and Ginny stared at it in silence for a few moments before Ginny finally broke the silence for him.
"Do you think it is another one of Dumbledore, then? Maybe he wants to be placed at another section of the house so he can travel to more places."
"I don't think so. Why wouldn't he let us know if he wanted that?" Professor McGonagall had commissioned a second portrait of Professor Dumbledore and had presented it to Harry after the Battle of Hogwarts claiming that Dumbledore would love to keep encouraging Harry on through the rest of life and so he had. Harry placed the portrait in his study and Dumbledore's portrait was always happy to answer any questions and encourage Harry's speculations regarding his job as an Auror. Harry, Ron, Hermione and the other seventh years of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry who had taken place in the fight against Voldemort were rewarded with various honors and awards, one of which is a free pass to their desired careers without taking their N.E.W.T.s.
Harry studied the mysterious portrait. The frame was very ornate, and appeared incredibly expensive and possibly goblin-made. The background of the painting was very dark, the only color being an emerald green curtain that had no markings on it whatsoever. Harry turned the painting around and Ginny exclaimed, " There's a note attached, Harry, look!"
There was indeed a piece of parchment tapped to the back of the frame. Harry pulled it loose and unfolded it to reveal very tidy handwriting that he didn't recognize.
You have no idea how it irks me to be sending you anything at all, but my mother insisted and therefore I agreed to cooperate. This comes a great deal later than it should have, but I am to thank you for getting me through that night alive even though I planned to prevent you from stopping him, and I felt no remorse in allowing my friends to attempt to murder yours. Furthermore, thank you for defeating him. It may not be a surprise to you, but my family was probably going to be murdered by his hand sometime soon after that night. My father of course sends you no sympathies from Azkaban, but my mother will never let us speak a word against you for testifying in her and my defense. It means a lot to her that you told the ministry that she helped you to defeat him and that everything that I had done I was being forced to do through the Dark Lord's blackmail. And it is because of these things that my mother had this portrait commissioned for you. She heard the whole story, about him, and I think she actually felt remorse for him. She believes a lot of words remain unsaid between the two of you, and though this is merely a representation of him, we all know portraits can remember and think the same as the living or dead counterparts. Therefore I ask that you do not trouble yourself to feel obligated to respond to this; I believe this ends our unpleasant form of acquaintanceship,
Draco Malfoy
"Draco Malfoy!" Harry and Ginny gasped at about the same time.
"It can't possibly be anything good if it comes from that ringworm. Get rid of it, Harry, what if it is a portrait of a basilisk? Can a representation of a basilisk kill you with its gaze? It could be a painting of Voldemort, or….oh, GOD! You don't think it is a self-portrait of Draco do you? I hear his hairline is receding dreadfully. Having a portrait of Malfoy lying around the house will frighten the children. I would rather have the portrait of Mrs. Black in my bedroom."
Harry stiffle his laughter. " I highly doubt Malfoy would send us a portrait of himself. He is pompous, but not stu… not entirely stupid."
Ginny shrugged. Well we can't do much until whoever it is reveals himself, put it up on the mantle and maybe he'll show himself in the morning. Lets get to bed.
The next morning found the portrait as empty as the night before. Harry was slightly annoyed, but couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione about it and the letter from Draco when they all met for Christmas dinner at The Burrow. The morning was eventful as the four Potters were getting things in order to leave. Uncle George has sent James and Albus gift boxes of all the latest products that he and his new partner, Lee Jordon, had created along with some of the classics.
James came flying into the back yard reeking. "Albus ambushed me with dungbombs!"
"Not inside the house I hope?" Ginny said as she picked cat hair off her brand new knitted sweater from her mother.
"I was in the KITCHEN!" Wailed James.
"I'll get him to clean it up." He told Ginny, and went back inside the house. Sirius' old house had cleaned up really well. Kreacher was still alive and serving them with a smile on his ugly face. Hermione still tried to free him from time to time, which offended him, but he brushed it off knowing that she really meant well. The smell of the dungbombs in the kitchen reached Harry as soon as he had entered the house. "Albus Severus!" Harry called out, but no one responded. Harry poked his head into Albus' bedroom but he wasn't in there. Harry was coming back down the stairs when he heard the voices. Someone mumbling and Albus responding to it. Who had come in the house?
The door to the sitting room was partially closed leaving only a creak in which one could see in. Harry could see Albus standing in the middle of the room looking upward toward the mantle, where the portrait sat. Then he heard the one voice he never expected to hear in side his house ever again.
"You're parents made your middle name 'Severus'?" said the portrait.
"Yuh, huh. My Dad says it was the name of one of the bravest men he ever knew and even if it might sound a bit funny I should be proud to have the name."
Harry opened the door causing both faces to turn toward him. Severus Snape's portrait was remarkably lifelike. He had to give the painter credit, however, for making his hair appear as greasy as it had been in life. The portrait-Snape wore a grim expression, but his eyes (and it could be a trick of the light, Harry wasn't for sure) appeared to glisten slightly.
"Ah, Mr. Potter. The Chosen One. To what pleasure do I have to find my portrait placed upon the mantle of your home?"
"I don't know. The Malfoy's sent it to me."
"The Malfoy's?" Snape asked, truly shocked. "Where they the family that had this duplicate commissioned? That is certainly unexpected. It doesn't matter though… Why on earth would they send me to you?" He sneered.
"D-Dad?" Albus looked back and forth between the painting and his father, looking alarmed.
"Go clean the dungbombs out of the kitchen, please, and then go find your mother and James and apologize for throwing the dungbombs."
Albus nodded and ran out the room, briefly looking back at Snape with curiosity gleaming in his furrowed brow.
Harry turned back to Snape who regarded him with a mixture of dislike and curiosity of his own. "Is this a portrait that you can visit from the one at Hogwarts?" Harry asked to break the silence, sitting down in a cushy chair near the mantel.
"No, this one I can visit from the one at Beauxbatons. What do you think?" Snape rolled his eyes dramatically.
Harry was not surprised that his portrait retained the same dark sarcasm of his former self. Harry sat quietly and studied the portrait who was beginning to become agitated under the observation. Harry had visited the Headmaster's Office after the battle, but never after Snape's portrait was added to those of the former headmasters of Hogwarts. The last time he had actually heard his voice was before he had died and passed on all the information he had withheld.
Everything was revealed that night, including Snape's greatest secret of all: that he had been madly in love with Lily Evans, who had been Harry's mother. If only Harry had known those secrets about Snape's past things may have been different. The resentment and hatred that Snape always displayed toward him would have made sense. Dumbledore's trust in Snape would have been shared by many. Snape may have been saved that night if someone had only known those secrets.
"What are you staring at, Potter?" Snape growled from under the layer of black hair he had let slide in front of his eyes, perhaps to shield his pale, crooked nose from Harry's intense gaze.
Harry realized he had been staring and apologized. "I forgive you, you know?" Harry said some time later.
"What was that?" Snape asked, clearly believing he had misheard.
"That you told Voldemort about the prophecy, that you only intended to save my mom. I forgive you. I know you loved her. Very much. I don't even think she knew how you really felt about her. You hid yourself even from her."
"Thank you for that touching recap, Potter. What is this a forgiveness group?"
"Even your portrait uses venomous barbs in defense. I understand though, why you had to be distanced. Not only the pain of the reminder of my mother and the harassment of my father - words cannot describe how terrible I felt when I first saw into your thoughts in my fifth year- but you knew Volemort would return, and you had to remain cold and distanced. If anyone knew the man you were you would be killed. You had to remain cold, and for that I am truly sorry. I wish it could have been different, that you could have let everyone know about your love for Lily, and that you were really on our side. A lot of people died that night that should not have, and despite how we could never be in the same room without angering one another, I wish there had been a way to save you that night. Even though I am the splitting image or your worst enemy, I would have tried to make it up to you if I could have."
Snape gawked at Harry as though he could not believe the words he had heard. After a long, awkward silence he finally replied. "Well, Potter, I do believe you inherited more from Lily than her eye color. I will admit that I was completely awful to you, as you said, because of the striking resemblance to James. I hated him, and Lily at first couldn't stand him. Then I called her…I called her…that word…."
Snape broke off and looked away, taking heavy, gasping breaths even though he was a painting. Harry had the feeling that Snape had started crying. He was about to get up and leave when Snape turned back around.
"Things could have came out different, you know. Dumbledore once said that the hat sorted to soon. Perhaps the hat put me in Slytherin because I had been raised to believe Slytherin was the best house. It was for the ambitious, and I must admit I was overly so. The separation of houses was one of many errors that ruined any chances of my winning over your mother. If I had not called her that dreaded word, maybe she would have grown to love me. I don't believe she ever thought of me in that way, no more than a friend. But there is always that hope… that dream… What the world could be like if."
Snape sighed and continued on, staring at the ceiling. "If I had married Lily, you could have been the result of that union. I often thought of how different you would have been if all you inherited from James had come from me. How much better you could have been…. I think it only made me angrier with you as I came to realize you were the better man. Better than your father, even better, as a person, than myself. You have become a fine wizard, Harry Potter. Your mother would have been so proud of you."
Harry felt his eyes starting to mist. He was opening his mouth to speak when Ginny came into the room.
"What's this then? Albus says the man from the portrait showed….. Professor Snape!" Ginny's hand covered her heart in shock. It never even occurred to me that Draco was referring to you. Sorry, I was just a little surprised."
Snape wasn't looking at Ginny's face, but to her protruding stomach. "Another?" He asked Harry, turning back.
"Our third. We hope this one is a girl."
"If it is a girl, will you name her 'Lily'?" Snape asked, his voice soft.
"Of course we will." Ginny said joining her husband by the mantle.
"The little boy, your son I met, he had her eyes. Precisely her eyes. You gave him my name as his second, why?"
Harry grinned, " I think Albus answered that question already… Are you trying to prod us in to praising you?"
Snape looked appalled. "What? Why would I want praise from you?"
Harry shrugged. Ginny cleared her throat with an emphasized "hem hem."
Harry glared at her, instinctively scratching his scared hand that still read "I must not tell lies."
"Sorry," Ginny said with a bright smile, "but we are late. We need to go over and help set up the tables before the rest of the guests arrive.
'Who all are coming?" Harry asked.
"Just about everyone. Dean and Seamus and their families, Luna is coming and Neville is too. My whole lot, Hagrid, Teddy, I think Fleur invited Krum just to aggravate Ron, so I definitely don't want to miss the look on his face when he tells Krum he married Hermione!"
"I always knew those two would marry each other." Harry and Ginny glanced in shock at Snape's portrait. "What? It was so obvious."
Harry and Ginny bid Snape a farewell and gathered their children to apparate, each holding a child. They arrived in the front yard of The Burrow to see Ron and Hermione waving enthusiastically to them.
"I can't wait to tell them about Draco sending the Snape portrait." Ginny muttered to Harry setting down Albus who was eager to hug his Auntie Hermione.
"You have to admit though," Harry said setting James down as well, "At least now we don't have to entertain unwanted guests. Snape will just dish out his bitter sarcasim and chase them out the house. We should put him next to Mrs. Black and let them argue."
"You are so BAD, Harry. No one deserves that torment. Mrs. Black will pull all her hair out." She grinned. Where are you gonna put his portrait anyway?"
"In my study."
"Dumbledore's in your study."
"Exactly and now Dumbledore will have someone to talk to when I am not there, and when he doesn't want all the other portraits of Hogwarts to know his business. Snape was only truly open with Dumbledore anyway so it will be the best place for him. Besides, seeing our children and us happy all the time may not improve his wonderful disposition."
They laughed and followed after their children to join the fray and see the many familiar faces that rushed out to great them.