"Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art.
All art is at once surface and symbol.
Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and not life, that are really mirrors."

~ from The Preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray
by Oscar Wilde.

Have you ever made a wish?

Sure, there are all types of wishes - from the six-year-old wanting a pony for her birthday to an all-pervading death wish. But as a society, we tend to take every wish lightly, as the saying "If wishes were fishes…" suggests. This is a mistake.

When a wish is made in a moment of strong emotion, it is a danger. It is these wishes that haunt us, because they are so often granted. Directly or indirectly, naturally or supernaturally, they come true.

It is a truth we regret the rest of our lives.

What if you made a wish in a fit of anger; an impossible wish? What if it came true? What if you were suddenly able to do anything you wanted, no matter how evil, with no one the wiser?

The call of Satan is strong. Could you resist?

What would you do?

The Picture of Severus Snape

The room was filled with the acrid smell of sulfur and the haze of smoke. Occasionally colorful sparks and various shapes could be perceived through the grey curtain.

For the average person, this would seem rather strange, perhaps even frightening. But for Tom Riddle, definitely not your average man, this didn't even verge on his definition of odd. In fact, this could be called a normal afternoon visit with Albus Dumbledore, if such a thing as normal existed.

Soon, the tall shape of a man emerged from the smoke.

"Tom!" The man, clothed in robes of sky blue, greeted the other warmly. "So glad you dropped by!"

Riddle seemed to regard the white-bearded man with disdain. "The pleasure is mutual, I'm sure." He gestured to the haze that filled the room. "Dare I ask what all this commotion is about, Albus?"

Brushing the dust off his hands, Dumbledore smiled. "Just cleaning out the old office. Obviously, it needs it a bit more often than every now and then."

"Obviously." The dust was beginning to settle and Riddle could see the ramshackle state of the room. Something among the mess caught his eye: a portrait of a dark young wizard on an easel by the far wall.

The man in the portrait was moving, but here in Hogwarts School, this was the norm rather than the oddity. What had grabbed Riddle's attention was the aura that surrounded the young man - one of great potential. "Where in the world did you get such a treasure, Albus? I should like one myself."

Dumbledore noticed Riddle studying the painting intently. "I did it myself. I've always enjoyed the Arts during my sparse free time. You know the Fat Lady, I'm sure - she's one of mine as well."

"Really? I would urge you to either sell or display this one. It is extraordinary."

Dumbledore came up behind Riddle, staring critically at his work. "You think so? Perhaps…but I don't think I will, all the same."

Riddle looked at Dumbledore, haughtily incredulous. "And why, pray tell, would you not?"

"The painting belongs to…its' subject."

"Who is this marvelous youth?" inquired Riddle.

Dumbledore hesitated. "A friend…an acquaintance."

Riddle arched an eyebrow. "A friend? He looks a bit young to be merely an acquaintance. A student, perhaps?"

"A former student, yes. He graduated this past year." Dumbledore seemed hesitant to share any more.

"And the name?" pressed Riddle.

Dumbledore paused once more, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I won't tell you…no, I don't believe I will."

Sounding slightly more interested, Riddle asked, "And why not?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Tom, you have a strange influence over your friend. Everyone except myself, it seems. I won't have you corrupting this youth as you have so many others."

Riddle laughed. "Oh come now, Albus. Surely you jest!"

"No, I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "I would hate to entrust the fate of so fine a young man to you."

"I'm flattered, Albus, I really am. But you needn't worry." Riddle paused to inspect a slip of paper on Dumbledore's desk. "It's Severus Snape, is it?"

"Why, yes…how did you- I mean, no. No," said Dumbledore quickly.

"Ah-ha! Don't lie, Albus. You are a terrible liar. Snape is the youth's name, is it not?" Riddle circled the desk to confront Dumbledore, who sighed, defeated.

"Yes, Tom. It is. But I would appreciate it if you would not pursue him. He could stand to avoid your influence."

Riddle studied the painting thoughtfully. "Yes, yes…I'm sure…" he mused. Something about the name, coupled with the portrait, struck his fancy. There was something about the name - he had heard it before, he was sure.

"Ah, yes! That is where I know the name Severus Snape from!"

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore looked decidedly perplexed.

"I knew I'd heard of the lad before. Tyrus Malfoy mentioned him in passing once, in regard to his son's friends. A Potions whiz, if I remember correctly. Of course, from the intellectually flattering description I received, I imagined he looked more of a prude than your picture suggests. Intellect does ruin a face."

Then Dumbledore asked, as if it had suddenly come to him, "How did you know his name, Tom? Surely not a wild guess."

Riddle shook his head ever so slightly. "Of course not, Albus. You overestimate me." He held up the scrap of parchment he'd seen earlier. "If you're going to live a secretive life, then you really should refrain from leaving notes of your appointments lying about."

Dumbledore looked slightly abashed when he saw what he had written.

Severus Snape, pick up portrait
3:00

As if on cue, the small mantel clock chimed three o'clock.

"Well," said Riddle, a smug smile creeping onto his face, "We shall see if your young Adonis keeps his appointments." He turned to look at the office door, which opened momentarily.

An extremely short being dress in a pillowcase stepped into the room. "Winky is hoping you'll be excusing us, sirs, but Professor Dumbledore Sir is having a guest waiting," said the creature in a painfully high-pitched voice.

Riddle stared at it with disgusted superiority but Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Thank you, Winky. Show him in, please."

As soon as Winky left, Dumbledore's smile thinned. "Remember not to meddle, Tom."

"Of course not," Riddle responded. "I have a feeling that I won't have to."

Before Dumbledore could answer, another being entered the room. He was rather tall and fit, with shoulder-length glossy black hair. He had sharp features and a roguish twinkle shone in his green eyes. He had a rather prideful aura about him and he didn't walk - he strode.

"Good afternoon, Professor," the youth began in a deep, clear voice. "I trust I'm not too late?"

"Not at all, Severus," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine," he added, remembering Riddle's presence. "Severus Snape - meet Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"An honor," said Snape, taking Riddle's hand. "I have heard much about you."

"Oh?" Riddle said, shaking Snape's hand firmly. "I'm surprised. Not many people recognize me as quickly as you have. Pray tell, how did you come by my name?"

"Many of the professors know you. The name comes up every so often," Snape replied with a wave of his hand.

"I see," Riddle said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Severus," Dumbledore interjected. "Your painting is this way." He pointed to the opposite end of the room. Snape strode over, took a thoughtful stance, and examined the intricate portrait.

"Oh, how lucky to be the inhabitant of a portrait," mused Riddle, just loud enough for Snape to hear.

The youth turned, a look of exquisite curiosity on his face. "Why would that be?"

"Because, my boy," explained Riddle, smirking delightedly, "this painting is immortal in the sense that it shall always remain as it is this very moment. A tribute to your past and youth in general."

A look of perplexion crossed Snape's countenance.

"What is troubling you, Severus?" asked Dumbledore, throwing Riddle a warning look. "Is it not to your liking?"

"No, no… That's not it at all," Snape replied in a somber tone. "It's just…" He turned to face his comrades.

"This painting is me at this very moment," he began. "It will never change. I, on the other hand, will age. I will grow wrinkled and irritable. This portrait has the gift of eternal youth, eternal beauty." He ran his hand across the canvas. "I wish that I had that gift…the gift of eternal youth! That the painting should age instead of myself! That I remain young and flawless, as in the picture, for all eternity!"

A/N: This was a collaboration between Rei Shizuka Kasen and myself, Gaia Ravyn Myles - yet another one of my crazy ideas. I have been studying the book in my CCWL class, and somehow found myself comparing Dorian to our beloved Sevvie Snape (who would kill me if I called him that to his face.). From thence, I came up with the basic story idea. Rei, also a fan of Oscar Wilde, graciously volunteered to co-write this with me, and you are seeing the end result.

We do realize that no one is truly "in character." We think it horrible ourselves, but necessary to make the story work. Please don't kill us for this. We rather like everyone as they are in the books.

Thanks to Hester for being our gracious beta reader, though you haven't stooped to actually reading the book or anything. Yet. (Yes, Hester. That IS a hint.)

Anyway, we hoped you have enjoyed this, and that you remember to review! Please critique our work - we will keep posting only as long as we are getting reviews.

~ Gaia Ravyn Myles and Rei Shizuka Kasen