Hello, my lovlies! How are we all.

I know, I haven't updated in aaagggeeess. I'm sorry. Really. I just... have lacked inspiration. Also, I got a Tumlbr account. Those of you who have Tumblr will understand exactly where I'm coming from.

Anyhoo, what I'm basically saying is that please please please send me prompts or requests, or ideas via PM. PLEASE!

So, no that that's out of the way, on with the chapter.

It's about Albus Potter, and I hope you enjoy!

Characters: Albus Potter, Severus Snape

Prompt: Portrait

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter... now I'm sad, you guys had better review to cheer me up!

, Albus walked through the corridor, trying to be as quiet as he possibly could. The castle was silent, so different from how it was during the day, when you could hardly think for all of the noise.

During the day, there was the hundreds of chattering, talking, giggling, laughing, gossiping, yelling, squawking, shrieking students. The students alone were enough to nearly deafen Albus, but there were still the ghosts, the suits of armour, the portraits and Merlin knows what else making a ruckus. Then, when you went outside, there were the animals that Hagrid was using for lessons, the centaurs that entered the grounds as they pleased and, once again, students who just wouldn't be quiet.

Albus loved Hogwarts from the second he set foot in the place, of course, but he really wished that sometimes it would just be quiet. He liked quiet, it was easier to think in.

His friends liked to stay up til all hours, talking in the common room, or in the dormitories. They were great friends, but maybe a bit too loud sometimes. This never bothered Albus, after all, chatty people were a quiet person's best friends, but he knew they never understood that sometimes, it was nice to just stay still, stay silent and let your mind wander.

Albus always wondered why he wasn't put in Ravenclaw, like Lily. He was smart, one of the best in his year. He wasn't just "book-smart", too, he has the sort of cunning and common sense that James lacked.

Which was probably why he was put in Slytherin.

He'd been as shocked as anyone else. Harry Potter's son, in Slytherin.

Oh, he had to deal with whispers and gossip for weeks.

As much as he'd feared being sorted into Slytherin, he'd immediately felt at home, sitting at the table in the Great Hall, in the common room, in the dormitories with his friends.

He was glad to be put into Slytherin house. Gryffindor table was easily the loudest (And James was probably responsible for about half of that noise). They were always yelling, excited about something. They were loud, they were boisterous, they were attention-seeking and attention-grabbing. They were Gryffindors. He respected the house, of course he did, and he knew that they were noble and brave and they had so many great, wonderful qualities, but it just wasn't for him.

Hufflepuff was next. They were all so nice to each other. They were like one huge family. They talked and chattered and were constantly laughing. They were such a nice house, they couldn't bear for anyone to be left out of a conversation, so every single person at the table was talking. He liked Hufflepuff, too. They were just so good. That was probably why he wasn't in Hufflepuff, if he had to smile as much as anyone in there, his face would seize up.

And Ravenclaw, while quieter than the other two tables, was constantly buzzing. Buzzing with cool, intelligent conversation about something important and topical. Any new article Transfiguration Today and they talked about it for hours. And every so often, a debate would break out and then the yelling would start. They were passionate about knowledge, Ravenclaws, so Albus understood why he wasn't in that house either. He usually kept his opinion to himself. He liked Ravenclaws, too, they were great to have a conversation with, and nine times out of ten, he left knowing something he hadn't before.

But Slytherin, Slytherin was quiet, cunning, sneaky, sly. The amazing thing was that Slytherins probably spent the most time thinking. They were smart, and they never told anyone their plans, not even their friends. They were conniving, watchful, taking in information, deducing. They were smart, in a way no other house was. It suited him.

He got on surprisingly well with just about everyone, and why wouldn't he? He was Albus Potter, a shoulder to cry on, a great listener. He listened to everyone, and they trusted him not to tell anyone what they'd said. He was probably the most trusted Slytherin that ever lived. Except, of course, for Severus Snape.

So, Albus was wandering the corridors, late at night. Breaking the rules, just like James, who he'd nicked the invisibility cloak from weeks ago. James was too busy with Quidditch to sneak out and explore every night.

He walked down a familiar corridor, the one that his charms classroom was on. He liked watching the portraits, half of whom were asleep, the other half awake. He liked to see which frames were empty and tried to figure out which people belonged in the frames.

He continued to walk, basking in the silence. He can't believe he hadn't been doing this since day one. During his first year, he'd just tried to stay out of trouble and fade into the background- why did everyone have to stare at him? So, after first year, he was finally comfortable enough to be himself, knowing that people had finally stopped seeing him just as Harry Potter's son. He'd started wandering about the place halfway through third year, because James had joined the Quidditch team then, so he could use the Cloak.

There were some places he never ventured to. He never went to the dungeons, he never went outside, because they were too far from the common room. He wasn't stupid about it, he didn't want to get caught, he just wanted some peace and quiet. The guys in his dormitory were loud, even when they were asleep; they snored and Goyle talked in his sleep, so he honestly never shut up.

Albus continued on through the corridors, walking absentmindedly until he reached a familiar set of stairs. The ones to the dungeons. Without really thinking about it, he quickly descended into the dark depths of the dungeons.

That's where he had potions class. His dad had told him a whole bunch of stories about things he'd done in the dungeons. He'd been to a deathday party and everything.

The dungeons were icy cold. And each step Albus took echoed so loudly, it made him wince at each step. He tried to tread as lightly as possible. After taking the first right turn, deeper into the dungeons, he felt comfortable to take off the Cloak. It had been making his shoulders cramp.

He'd always taken the first left in the dungeon corridor, to his potions room, so this was a new place to explore for him.

He'd always liked the dungeons, mainly because everyone was quiet in the dungeons, maybe because the dungeons creeped them out a bit, but whatever the reason, Albus appreciated it. He liked potions a lot, too, so, unlike most of the other students, the dungeons were one of his favourite places.

He continued to explore the dungeon, until he turned a corner and was met with a dead end.

He thought he saw a frame hanging on the end wall, and crept closer to try and see.

As he got closer, he saw that there was, in fact, a portrait hanging on the far wall. He couldn't help but wonder why anyone would want to hang a portrait there of all places. It was dark, he could barely see the portrait from his spot, not two feet away and from the thick layer of dust that his feet had disturbed, he could tell that no one had been down this corridor in quite some time.

He stepped cautiously closer, trying to be quiet, as, from the sound of the portrait's breathing, whoever occupied the frame was asleep.

He took a few more steps, disturbing the dust again, and began to sneeze. Loudly.

He was close enough to see the portrait then. Close enough to see it -him- wake up.

The portrait was of a greasy haired, hook nosed, sallow skinned man. His black hair hung in greasy curtains, framing his face, his mouth curled into a sneer.

'Just who are you?' he asked, his voice slightly snide.

'Al-Albus Potter,' Albus stuttered, then, looking at the small, gold plate underneath, which read Severus Snape, added, 'Albus Severus Potter,'

Albus looked up at the portrait in interest, looking at the man he'd been named after.

Severus Snape regarded the boy standing before him. He looked exactly like his father, down to the one detail that, even then made his heart clench.

Lily Evans' eyes.

'And I,' he said, smiling for the first time in years, 'am Severus Snape.'