Disclaimer: All the original Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I only own the story.

The Man in the Portrait

"Always."

The first time she remembered seeing him, she was four years old. She was crying.

Her brothers (the prats) had been teasing her mercilessly. In a moment of anger, she had picked up the closest thing she could find (which happened to be her mother's favourite vase) and flung it at them. Now Mom was angry and had scolded her and called her a spoilt child. So she had run up the stairs and hidden in the attic.

Tears welled and slipped down her plump cheeks. She drew a huge shuddering breath. She would never forgive them. Never. Never. She sniffed.

Someone cleared his throat.

'Go away,' she said.

Silence.

She gave another sob and chewed her lower lip.

'Ahemm.'

She snatched the broken hairbrush that lay beside her and flung it at the door. 'Go away,' she shrieked. The hairbrush connected with the wall and skittered across the floor. But no head had appeared from the trap door.

She turned around and searched for the source of noise. If it was one of her beastly brothers…

Cob webs hung everywhere. Dust covered every surface. A portrait sat propped against the opposite wall. Apart from that, broken and mouldy things lay dumped in the corner. The room was virtually empty except for her. Then who?

Her eyes swiveled back to the portrait. It was of a thin, pale man with a significant hooked nose. His raven tresses framed his thin face like curtains. He was dressed in black and sat in a high-backed chair. And he was looking at her with mild interest.

The man didn't say anything even though she had found him to be the culprit. He just sat there, staring at her in the inquisitive way as before. She stared back.

Then he spoke, 'Why were you crying?'

'I was not crying,' she answered, her voice slightly wobbly.

'Yes you were. Did someone hurt you?'

'No,' she shook her fiery locks.

'Then did someone scold you?'

She chewed her lips.

'Who was it?'

Her lips trembled and tears threatened to spill again at his kind words.

'Who was it?' he persisted in coaxing tones.

That did it. She burst into noisy sobs.

'It was all their fault. Jamie has been horrid to me – and Al broke my tea set – and they called me Gillyweed and teased me and teased me – and I threw a vase at them – and Mom scolded me and called me spoilt,' she recounted between huge sobs.

'That's unfair!' he sympathized.

'Yes,' she wailed, rubbing her chubby hands across her eyes.

'Boys can be beasts,' said the man in the portrait.

'They are,' she agreed. She felt better that someone understood her plight.

They sat in silence. Then he spoke again.

'What's your name?'

'Lily.'

'That's a lovely name.'

'No it isn't,' she pouted, 'They call me Gillyweed because of my name. I hate my name.'

'But it is such a beautiful name,' he argued, 'It suits you perfectly.'

She looked away.

'Do you know,' he continued, 'how many types of lily there are in the world? Numerous! There is the water lily, the tiger lily…and my very own favourite, lily of the valley…'

She couldn't help listening. He spoke of the lilies, where they were found; he told her of their meanings and uses; he told her of the countries they were found in and the people that lived in those countries. He kept talking and she kept listening with rapt attention.

By the time he stopped, she had clean forgotten why she had been crying. And she didn't hate her name anymore.

She wiped her tears and stood up dusting her crumpled frock.

'Thank you,—' she paused, realizing that she didn't know his name.

He smiled, 'Severus. Call me Sev. My friends did.'

'Thank you, Sev,' she gave him a flying kiss.

'You are welcome.'

And she skipped downstairs, unaware of the sad eyes that followed her to the trapdoor.

The second time she remembered seeing him, she was ten. She had been crying again.

She had run to the house and climbed up the stairs the moment the car stopped in their driveway. She had been hiding here and mopping ever since.

'Ok. Who scolded you this time?'

She looked up with her tear-smudged face. There he was, on the same place where she had found him before. He sat leaning towards her, a small frown creasing his brow.

'They left me,' she wailed.

'Who ?'

'Jamie and Al!'

'Isn't that a good thing?' he asked, puzzled.

'No! They're going to Hogwarts. Even Rose is going.'

'I see,' though he clearly didn't.

'I want to go to Hogwarts too,' she pouted.

'And you will.'

'No. I want to go now. Why can't I go now?'

He stayed quiet. She scowled at his lack of an answer and turned her back to him.

Some moments passed.

'Do you want to hear about Hogwarts?' he offered suddenly. It was met with silence.

'There is a huge lake beside the castle,' he began speaking, 'and in its depths reside the Giant Squid. He is very friendly. You can touch and tickle him if you like…then there is a weird tree planted a few yards away. The Whomping Willow, they call it. It thrashes its limbs whenever someone draws near. The trick is to press a special knot at the base of its trunk. Then it quietens downs and lets one pass unharmed…'

She shuffled at bit, trying very hard not to show that she was getting interested. She took a peek at him through the corner of her eyes. He seemed oblivious to her scrutiny.

'Then there is the castle itself, thousands of years old and majestic in its entirety…the ceiling of the Great Hall, which is enchanted to reflect the sky above it…the floating candles…gleaming suites of armour, standing guard…moving stairs…broad marble ones…old, rickety ones…some that lead to a different place on a Sunday…' he went on.

And she found herself creeping closer and closer, forgetting all her anger and heartache and listening wide-eyed to the wonderful tales he told of Hogwarts.

The third time she remembered seeing him she was eleven. She had come up to the attic to look for a piece of fabric.

She was rummaging through the jumble when he spoke.

'What are you looking for?'

She gasped and almost fell over.

'You scared me!' she said, clutching her racing heart.

'Pardon me. It was not my intention.'

She nodded, 'It's ok. I was just looking for a bit of a rag.'

'What do you intend to do with it?'

'I need to tie something under Vesper's cage,' she went back to rummaging, 'Owl droppings. They make a horrible mess.'

He chuckled, 'I won't argue with you on that point.'

She scrunched her nose and grinned.

'So,' he continued, 'finally going to Hogwarts, eh?'

'Yes! I'm so excited! I want to check all the places you told me about first chance I get!'

He shook his head, smiling sadly.

'What?' she asked.

'Nothing. You just remind me of someone I used to know long ago.'

But she was clearly not listening, for at that moment she exclaimed, 'Aha! Got it,' and held up a mouldy hanky, 'This will do perfectly.'

He kept quiet.

'Bye, Sev! See you at Christmas!' she yelled, climbing down the trapdoor.

But the portrait was silent.

The fourth time she remembered seeing him, it was Christmas. And she was in a spitting rage.

She had stomped up the stairs and proceeded to wear out her shoes.

'Boys are so horrible!' she grumbled into the general silence.

'What happened?'

She whirled around and faced the portrait. 'What do you think of my hair?'

He blinked in confusion, 'Your hair?'

'Yes. My bloody hair!' she ground out through her teeth.

'Watch your tongue, young lady. Swearing does not become you.'

'I don't care,' she flung back, 'And you are supposed to listen to me without interrupting,' she jabbed an accusing finger at him.

'Fine. I'm listening,' he laced his fingers together and leaned back in his chair.

'Why on earth did I have to inherit this shade of hair? Copper,' she snorted, 'I could have easily gotten the strawberry blonde locks like Dominique's, or the dark auburn of Rose's. But no. I just had to get the vividest shade of orange, like my head is on fire.'

'And why is that bad?'

'Why is that bad?! I'll tell you why. Because they are calling me Hell-fire now!' she shrieked, throwing her hands up in desperation.

He remained stoic, but his lips twitched slightly. Apparently it didn't go unnoticed.

'Yes. Go ahead and laugh. What would you know of being made the butt of jokes anyway,' she resumed pacing. 'Oh I do hate my hair!' she added in a vicious undertone.

The man had gone absolutely still. He gulped. Then he said in a barely audible voice, 'I think your hair is beautiful.'

'What?'

'Your hair. I think it's beautiful.'

She scoffed, 'And I think you are saying that just to console me.'

'No,' he protested, 'It is beautiful. Like the sunset.'

'Like what?!'

'The sunset. It is like all the myriad shades of the sunset have been woven into your hair.'

She scowled, but try as she might, she couldn't resist melting just a bit at those quiet words.

'You don't mean them. You're just trying to sweeten my mood.'

'Is it working?'

'A bit,' she gave a small smile.

'Good.'

They stayed there, the young girl and the man in the portrait, each lost in thought, till she broke the silence, 'You know, Sev. You are a good man.'

'And now I think you are trying to sweeten my mood.'

'No. I'm serious.'

'Thank you.'

'You are welcome.'

'Lily?'

'Hmm?'

'About your hair.'

'What about it?' she turned to him.

'I meant what I said.'

The fifth time she remembered seeing him, she was thirteen. She had purposefully climbed up the steps to talk to him.

'Back from school?' he gave her a smile.

'Yes,' she said cautiously.

He nodded and kept quiet. She sat cross-legged on the dusty floor and fiddled with her hair, stealing glances at him from time to time. He wore an amused look on his face.

'I know about you,' she said suddenly.

'Really?! And how did you know about me?'

'From our history book. It said you acted under Albus Dumbledore but made others believe you were on Voldemort's side.'

'Is that what it said?' his lips curled into something she had never seen before. It was an almost cruel expression. His face had gone grave and stony and his eyes glittered like ice chips. 'What more did it say?'

'Well. Not much actually. It said you gave up your life for a greater cause. That you were a martyr.'

He gave an ugly snort and looked away.

'Is that true?' she asked quietly.

'If I say no? What would you do then? Where will your precious martyr be?'

She chewed her lips for sometime before replying in a quieter tone, 'I'll believe you. And I'll not judge you.'

'What do you want to know?' he asked sharply.

'Is it true that you sacrificed your life so that Voldemort could be defeated?'

He gave a short bark of laughter and shook his head, 'No. I never wanted to die. But once the Dark Lord decides to kill you, you'd have no place to hide. So no,' he rasped, 'I did not lay down my life willingly. I was murdered in cold blood.'

She gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. He sat there, hard and unbending. But underneath all the hauteur and irritation, she detected vulnerability and sadness.

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered.

'Yes. Me too.'

She tried to smile but failed. At last she said, 'I wish you had lived.'

'Why?' he gave her a piercing gaze.

'Because you need not have died,' she hesitated before adding quietly, 'and because I like you.'

The sixth time she remembered seeing him, she was fourteen. And she had climbed up to the attic to finish her homework.

She stomped up the steps and deposited all the parchments and books and quills in a heap near his portrait. Then she flopped down on the floor and drew out her Potions book.

'Sev, help me out.'

He raised an imperial eyebrow.

'Please!' she pleaded, making puppy eyes.

'Alright alright. I'll help you. Just don't make that ridiculous face.'

She laughed, 'It's not ridiculous!'

'Yes it is.'

'Ok Grumpy. As you say. Now help me with the essay.'

They went on quietly for some time, he murmuring suggestions and naming various potion ingredients and she scratching away furiously.

When she was finished with the Potions article, she pulled out her runes table and sat down to copy the runes with care. Ten minutes passed before she became aware of his steady scrutiny. She looked up only to find him avert his eyes.

'What?' she asked.

'What what?' he asked back, evading her question.

'You've been staring.'

'Yeah..well,' he twiddled his thumbs together and looked away.

'C'mon Grumpy. Spit it out.'

He cleared his throat, 'I was just wondering why you are still here?'

'You don't want me to be here?!'

'No no no. That's not what I meant. It's just that you had completed your Potions essay and you still stayed.'

She smiled, 'Oh that. First of all, my brothers can be really noisy and it's very difficult to study when they are.' She bent down to trace another rune, 'And secondly, I like it up here, with you for company.'

He beamed at that. She beamed back.

The seventh time she remembered seeing him, it was Christmas again. She had simply wanted to wish him.

She burst into the attic, all laughter and joy and awoke him with a loud, 'Merry Christmas, Sev!'

He was not pleased. 'Did you have to shout it in my ear?'

'Don't be grumpy,' she giggled, 'It's Christmas!'

'A fact that you made sure I was aware of. And Merry Christmas to you too.'

She gave him her best dazzling smile and sent him a flying kiss on her way down the stairs.

The eighth time she remembered seeing him, she was fifteen. She had simply come upstairs to spend some time with him.

'Hello, Sev,' she said quietly.

'Hello, Lily,' he smiled.

'Mom and Dad has gone for a date,' she wrinkled her nose, 'Jamie is polishing his broom and Al is busy tinkering with a broken sneakoscope Dad gave him. I was alone, so I thought…' she sat down and tucked a fiery curl behind her ear, 'I haven't seen you in a long time.'

'Yes. I did wonder.'

'Did you miss me?'

'Did you?'

She nodded her head and looked around. 'It's quite a mess in here,' she murmured.

'I'm used to it.' That made her turn to him abruptly. She frowned.

'Sev?'

'Hmmm?'

'Why were you dumped here? You should be in Dad's study.'

He laughed at that. 'I wasn't dumped here. I assure you I was handled with due respect. I just didn't fit in your father's study.'

'But that's impossible. Why, the walls are almost bare!'

'No, you silly girl,' he laughed derisively, 'I meant that your father and I had never had a great relation. We couldn't stand each other's presence without trading insults. Don't worry. It's better this way.'

'B-but you're so lonely. Nobody comes here…'

'You do.'

She blushed and chewed her lips.

The ninth time she remembered seeing him, she was sixteen. And she was crying. Again.

The portrait was empty when she came up. She had taken the time to sweep the place and clear away the cobweb. Then she took a cushion and curled up in a corner, gazing into the distance and sniffling from time to time. The fact was she felt lonely. With Sev gone, she had nobody to talk to. And for one with a broken heart, it spelt tears. Lots of it.

She was wiping away one such tear when he walked into the frame. And immediately noticed her red nose and watery lashes.

'What happened, Lily?' he asked, bewildered.

She tried hard to wipe away the stray tears and shake her head.

'You can't just shake your head. I know you've been crying. Why? What has upset you?'

She still kept mum.

'Ok. Do I have to kill anyone?'

She gasped a surprised laugh and smiled weakly, 'No thanks, Sev.'

'C'mon. Tell me what happened. Please.'

It was then she looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and told him of her heartbreak.

'I love him, 'she wept, 'and he doesn't even know I exist.'

He scowled. 'Is that all?'

'You don't know, Sev,' she shook her head, 'He is fun, and gentle and goodlooking. His smile is so beautiful. But he doesn't even think of me other than a friend,' she started sniffling again.

'And that's all?'

She gave him a surprised look, 'Isn't that enough?'

'No. I thought somebody had died.'

She scowled.

'You are an idiot,' he said suddenly. When she gasped in outrage, he went on, 'You don't know your worth. Well, let me tell you something, Lily Potter. You are ten times more worthy than the boy you talked about. And he is an idiot not to realise it.'

He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting, 'I once told you that you reminded me of someone I used to know long ago. She was my friend…' he gazed into the distance, lost in his thoughts, a smile playing on his thin lips.

She listened quietly.

'She had hair just like yours…long, fiery…and a smile that lit up her entire face,' he turned to her, 'And she had a temper. And spirit. She never bothered about what others thought about her. As a result, the boys flocked around her.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

'Because you remind me so much of her. And because I want you to be like her. Proud and sure of who she was. She knew her worth and didn't bend to others' wills. She was called many names, but she ignored them. Because she knew that she was above all those scum.'

'What happened to her?' she asked eagerly.

He sighed, 'Nothing much. She went on to marry the most popular boy in the school.'

She pondered this bit of information as he remained lost in his world.

'Sev, who was she?'

He looked up and smiled sadly, 'My best friend.'

The tenth time she remembered seeing him, she was seventeen. She wanted to visit her old friend once again before going abroad for further studies.

The last talk with Sev had been life-changing. She had changed the way she carried herself and got amazed by the ways others looked at her. She had become Head Girl. She was deemed the most beautiful and popular girl in school. Other girls looked upto her for inspiration. And she enjoyed every minute of it. She had grown into herself and found that she liked who she was actually. And so she had come up to the attic to thank him for the advice.

'Sev?' she called out into the quiet.

'Hello Lily.'

She walked upto the familiar place and looked at the familiar face. She smiled.

'You've changed,' he said quietly.

'Yes I have,' she agreed, sprawling on the floor and hugging one of the cushions left behind by her. 'In fact, I came up to thank you for giving me such good advice.'

He nodded and but kept quiet. She frowned.

'You don't like the new me?'

'No! It's not that.'

'Well, then what is it?'

He looked away, avoiding her gaze.

'Sev?'

'Yes?'

'What is it?'

'Nothing.'

'I'm not leaving until you tell me what's bothering you.'

He took a deep breath and finally looked at her.

'You look exactly like her.'

'Like your best friend?'

He nodded and swallowed.

'Then why are you sad?'

'I'm not sad.'

'Yes you are.'

'I'm not.'

She huffed out an annoyed sigh, 'Please don't insult my intelligence. You are sad, how much you deny it.'

He gave a pained laugh, 'God! You even sound like her.'

And she finally understood. 'You loved her,' she said in wonder.

'What?'

'You loved her,' she repeated, 'didn't you?'

He swallowed again and sat there, silent.

'Who was she?' she peered into his anguished face.

But he did not respond. She sat there miserable, unable to make him smile, or open up to her. And she felt hurt that he didn't trust her enough to tell her. At last she scrambled up to go.

'I'm sorry for causing you distress. I didn't mean to. I only came up to say goodbye.'

He still kept silent. She sighed miserably and walked away quietly. It was then she heard the faintest whisper.

'It was Lily. Lily Evans.'

She froze on the steps, a gasp working its way up her throat.

When she did turn around, the frame was empty.

The last time she remembered seeing him, she was in her wedding dress. She hadn't been able to sleep the previous night. So she had come up. Sev could always calm her.

She took a tentative step towards the frame. It stood empty. She was disappointed.

'Sev?' she called, 'Are you there?'

Silence.

'Sev please. I want to speak with you.'

Still no answer.

'Sev!' she called a little louder, 'I need you. Please, can you help me?'

And he walked into the frame. She heaved a sigh of relief. And tried to smile.

'Hello, Sev.'

'Hello Lily.'

'I missed you.'

'No you didn't,' he scowled.

'Won't you be nice to me today?'

'Why?'

She laughed quietly, 'Because it's my wedding and I don't want to see you in a bad mood.'

He stared at her.

She started fumbling with ribbon on her bodice, 'And also because I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend.'

He dismissed it with a wave of his hand, 'It was nothing.'

They stood looking at each other. Finally he spoke again.

'So you're getting married.'

'Yes.'

'Does he love you?' he asked, his voice a little wobbly.

'Yes.'

He swallowed and nodded.

'A-and do you love him?'

'Yes,' she gave a smile that lit up her entire face.

He gave a jerky nod and looked away, 'Well, good luck then.'

'Sev?'

He looked at her. Her eyes were sad. 'I wish you could come to my wedding.'

'I believe you and I both know it's not possible,' he said.

'I wish I could take you with me.'

He shook his head, 'No. It's fine this way.'

'I know.'

'Only-'

'Yes?'

He swallowed, ' Only promise me you'd come visit me from time to time.'

She nodded.

'I promise,' she said quietly, blinking back tears. 'Goodbye Severus.'

'Goodbye, Lily,' he whispered.

She glided down the stairs, sending one last pained gaze his way. Then she was gone.

And for the first time in many years Severus Snape wept.

fin

Ok. This is the first time I have attempted to write a one-shot. I don't know if I did it right. If you liked it, please leave your valuable reviews. And thank you for reading!

By the way, I'm also writing a story about Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy. If anyone is interested, it's called 'And Then You Were There'. Much love!