"Good afternoon, Harry!" Dumbledore's portrait exclaimed.
Harry, looking every bit as boyish as he did when Snape had last seen him (he tried not to think about that too often), smiled sheepishly. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore."
Then, after a moment of silence, he looked at Snape's portrait as well. "Good afternoon, Professor Snape."
Snape's mouth fell open. "It was...it was..."
Harry scratched the back of his neck, looking at his impossibly clean shoes.
"You're the one who put me up here!" Snape screeched.
"I-- I talked to some people," Harry said quietly.
Snape sputtered angrily for several moments, before disappearing from his frame entirely.
Harry looked at Dumbledore, unsure whether to be surprised or frightened.
"Don't worry about him, dear boy. He was terribly melodramatic in life, and death hasn't mellowed him a single bit. He's probably on the fourth floor, sulking in the trees. He'll come back down eventually." Dumbledore became serious, folding his hands and leaning forward. "How may I help you, dear boy?"
Harry looked around helplessly. "I, err, I actually need to talk to Professor McGonagall..."
Snape stomped through the woods, more out of habit than anything. Normally he could send at least one or two students fleeing in shock as he passed through the fourth floor landscape, but all the students had departed for the summer. He glowered at the hallway, but not even a ghost passed to acknowledge him. One of the suits of armor shuffled awkwardly away from the portrait.
Why Potter?
He settled against one of the trees, grumbling when his robes got caught on the bark. Even as a portrait, he was confined to the rules of nature and memory.
Why Potter?
Sometimes he wished he had simply forgotten everything when he became a portrait. Death had been neither swift nor kind to him, and the circumstances surrounding his death had been even more painful.
Why...
Why couldn't Potter just mind his own business? Why did he have to go and put himself where he didn't belong, and give Snape a portrait? He could have finally whispered away to oblivion, to his final rest, maybe even-- maybe even to Lily--
Why Potter?
Snape cupped his face in his hands, clenching his eyes shut. He'd never been allowed to his own business, why would such a thing be permitted after his death? Of course his fate would be meddled with, whether by Dumbledore or Voldemort or Potter made no difference.
He's about twenty, now. Same as Lily was when she bore him.
Snape sighed deeply. Being a portrait was much more difficult than it seemed.
When Snape finally returned to his frame, Dumbledore was having tea with the Fat Lady ("My name is Belinda!") and Violet, gossiping in whispered voices, as if the other portraits would have woken up if they'd spoken in normal tones. Snape rolled his eyes, but (seeing that Harry had vacated the premises) settled comfortably in his portrait.
"And to think he'd be back here, oh, dear goodness, I'm so terribly excited!"
Snape felt a pit of dread welling in his stomach. He peered into Dumbledore's frame, around the monstrous girth of the Fat Lady ("BELINDA!").
Dumbledore smiled at him gently. "Back from your sulk, Severus?"
Snape frowned. "I wasn't sulking, Albus." He no longer felt the need to refer to him as headmaster, but Dumbledore didn't seem to mind this.
"Well, you've made it just in time to hear the magnificent news," Dumbledore beamed.
"Harry Potter's returning to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Violet shrieked in excitement.
For the second time that day, Snape's mouth dropped open. "Oh...oh no..."
"Oh yes, Severus," McGonagall said, the door slamming behind her as she entered the Headmaster's Office. She crossed her arms, frowning testily at his portrait. "And I won't have you harassing him every waking moment, do you understand?"
Snape scowled. "Perfectly, Minerva. I was simply under the pretense that Our Glorious Leader--" that earned him a nasty glare from McGonagall, "--was working with the Aurors."
McGonagall rolled her eyes, prowling to her desk and sinking into her chair. "Harry said he needed a break. Professor Kinneas said he didn't mind taking the year off so Harry could teach for a little while."
"A born teacher!" The Fat Lady ("BELINDA.") proclaimed, raising her teacup. Dumbledore and Violet raised theirs as well, and McGonagall nodded her approval.
"He did very well when he was leading the D.A., all those years ago."
Snape snorted, then laughed.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Severus, what now?"
"Will he be living on the premises?"
McGonagall blinked. "Of course, why wouldn't he?"
"Don't you see? Remember how he married that Weasley--"
"Ginevra," both McGonagall and Dumbledore said sternly.
"That Weasley only days after she graduated? Why on Earth would he leave his spouse of-- two years?-- two years in order to teach nasty little brats, when he could have a cush job at the Ministry paying far more?" Snape gave a nasty smile.
McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Surely, you're not implying--"
"Oh, yes I am. Black! Wake UP, BLACK! I know you visited them--"
"Oh, shut up, Snape," Phineas growled, adjusting himself in his frame. "You already know the answer to that, I told you."
Snape smirked smugly at McGonagall, who looked absolutely aghast.
"But-- marital problems? They're so young!"
Snape rolled his eyes. "Exactly, Minerva. They're young and restless. I'm certain that one of them has gone and found a side relationship, if you understand my meaning."
"That's enough, Severus!" Dumbledore's voice boomed unexpectedly. Violet and the Fat Lady ("SEVERUS, MY NAME IS BELINDA.") both chattered their agreement quietly.
"Now, Severus. Whether they are or are not having marital issues is none of your concern, and you will not press the issue. And, Minnie, I know you have their best interests at hearts, but I would ask that you let the matter be as well. If he is having a problem with Ginevra, then he will have to work it out with her himself."
He sighed deeply, then took a long sip of tea. "This blend is simply impeccable, Belinda."
A/N: Please review. Critique is always welcome.
Edit-- thank you for correcting me, Duj. XD Kudos.