"Snape!" Harry cried, looking around the room wildly. For some reason, Harry found himself in the master suite, staring unexpectedly at the mobile and now fully self-aware portrait of Professor Severus Snape. He wasn't aware of how he got there, nor removing the plain white sheet he had hung over the painting when last inspecting it. But there he was, face to canvas face.

"Potter," the portrait replied.

"You're moving!" he choked out at last. What had just happened?

The portrait raised an eyebrow after briefly sweeping the room with his gaze. "How very observant of you. Should I congratulate you that after over seven years in the wizarding world you've managed to come to the conclusion that portraits, indeed, move?"

Harry could only gape. "But you weren't before," he sputtered while shaking his head. "You weren't, I got a letter and everything."

"What am I doing here, Potter?"

"There was a mistake, Kreature, he…"

The man cut him off impatiently. "How long till I'm removed to Hogwarts?"

"A few months, at most," Harry replied.

"You imbecile," Snape scowled. "Can't even hang a portrait right. How you managed to survive the Dark Lord-" He paused. "You were supposed to die."

At this, Harry's expression brightened. "I know, I mean I did… in a sense. But I came back." He then smiled cheerfully at the portrait.

Snape's expression remained impassive. "Back?"

"Yeah! You see when—"

"Ah yes, the prophesied chosen one," Snape interrupted. "Only fitting that the wizarding world's savoir should return, to give inspiration to the common folk in the face of adversity."

Harry's expression dropped, suddenly remembering just to whom it was he was talking. Snape. The man who had sacrificed his life for the cause, the man whom he, at last meeting had called a cowered and tried to curse. By the glowering look on the portraits face, it didn't seem like his impression of the boy had much improved. Well if this was how things were meant to be, so be it, he thought to himself. Snape was always going to be Snape, and Harry would be damned if he let that stop him from doing what he had to do.

"I came back because of what you gave me," Harry replied with a wry sort of half smile on his face. "You showed me the way to defeat Lord Voldemort. None of this would have happened if it weren't for you."

"Ah yes, be sure to put that on my tombstone, will you? Though I'm sure plans for the construction of my monument are well under way."

"I'm trying to thank you," he continued darkly.

Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Harry replied with impatiens. "I mean yes, thank you. And I do mean that. For everything… the memories…"

"I see." Snape squinted and drew a finger across his thin lips. "Taking the higher ground, are we? Feeling pity? Need to prove your benevolence, and honor the infamous Professor Snape with a useless portrait to commiserate his sad existence."

Harry could feel the words practically spat at him. He supposed he should have expected this, but still, he had to make the man see. "No, look, that's not it at all. You deserve a headmaster's portrait."

"You seem to have forgotten the location of Hogwarts as well in your haste to bring me to life. Perhaps death has addled your brain a bit more than usual," he hissed.

Harry let out a long breath and looked up at the angry portrait. "And no one deserves to die like that," he continued in a manner he hoped would convey the full of his regret over the past seven years.

If it was possible, Severus's face darkened even more so than before. "The truth at last," he replied in an almost whisper. "Guilt, Mr. Potter. You don't even know what you're sorry for do you?"

Harry's brow furled, trying desperately to find the right words to explain.

"Get out," Severus spat.

"But..." Harry took a hesitant step back, confusion clearly evident. His head swam; this was not how it was supposed to go at all. He had to thank him, just had to, for him mom at least. Surely Snape could be made to see that he got it now, he understood why he acted as he did, and he was sorry.

"Get out," Snape shouted, raising his voice angrily. "You as good as killed me, at least let me have my peace when I want it. Leave. Get out now, you foolish child!"

Swallowing hard, Harry turned on his heal. Tomorrow, he'd come back tomorrow, when they were both calmer. He wasn't sure what he would've said, had he stayed, but he doubted it was something he could take back later and many choice words were coming to mind revolving around his mum.

"Look, I'm telling you Hermione, he was alive!"

"Alive?" Hermione replied flatly, now staring at the inanimate Muggle portrait. Her hands briefly examined the frame, its sides, and surface. It certainly didn't look any different from the day before, though there was a bit of a hand print smudge to the left.

"Moving, whatever," answered Harry. "You know what I mean. The portrait worked."

She then turned to look directly at the agitated boy motioning dramatically to the picture. "He looks exactly the same as he did yesterday."

Harry came to stand beside her and looked straight at the portrait, the very portrait he had seen fully mobile the night before. Nothing made sense, but he knew what he had seen, what he had heard. Last night it was alive and not just alive, it was Snape. He knew it. "I know, but last night--"

"You must have had a dream."

"It wasn't a dream," he replied, this time unable to keep the anger out of his voice. Did she think he was lying? Surely she realized he'd been through enough to know the difference between a dream and reality.

"Harry, even the artists admitted the magic didn't take," she answered in an attempt at a calming voice.

"Well they were wrong."

"I know you're upset about everything but don't you think…"

"I wasn't dreaming, Hermione." He left her side and walked up to the portrait, giving a mock examination. "I know the difference between a dream and reality, ok?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and took on a distinctly skeptical stance. "Fine, you say it wasn't a dream, it wasn't a dream. Then what was it?"

"I don't know."

Hermione gave a jerky nod. "Harry, take some dreamless sleep potion and have a decent nights sleep for once."

"It's not a dream," he bit out in a steely voice.

"Just do it for me," she pleaded.

Harry turned and looked at her. The look on her face was enough to make him regret his harsh tone. She was, after all, only trying to help. She just didn't understand.

"Fine," he answered at last. "But only because you asked, not because I think you're right though."

She smiled at once, her face instantly brightening, and gave him a hug. "It'll be alright Harry. The wars over and you've done more than your part. You just need to move on now, we all do."

R&R please