Watercolour Prison

Albus Dumbledore's portrait watches as his two closest friends tear their alliance apart, and know that inside this watercolour prison, there is little he can do about it.

Dedicated to skypeeper, for picking out the one line in 'Forsaken' that led to the creation of this.

A knock at the door. I know it well, because it has been a sound that accompanied me throughout my years as Headmaster. I watch him, the new Headmaster, as he walks back from the window and stands behind the desk. He will never sit behind the desk, not once in the month he has been here has he sat on the chair, that is rightfully is. Perhaps he feels it is not his chair, it is still mine. He has not been able to escape my memory, after all, and I blame this portrait for that. His back is to me. I do not remember the last time we spoke.

"Enter." He commands, his voice firm and harsh, wrapping around the two syllables. I always thought he would be a good Headmaster; he has the presence, but he cannot be himself in this world. Not at the moment, not when there are eyes watching him from every corner. Only the people in this room, in this moment, know the truth. One day, I shall ensure the whole world knows the truth.

The door opens and Minerva McGonagall stands before him. "Headmaster Snape."

"Minerva."

This should be interesting, for I know that Severus and Minerva have not spoken since that night upon the Astronomy Tower. Maybe their paths have not crossed; maybe one of them is avoiding the other. Her eyes flicker to me, on the wall, and I smile in welcome. I miss Minerva. She always managed to speak some sense into the barmy old fool that I am. Before me are the two people I considered my closest counsel. Once upon a time, they were close too. Now one has committed the ultimate betrayal.

Silence. Tense silence.

"Did you want something in particular, Minerva?"

She stares at him, seemingly unable to speak. I wonder what she sees. Minerva always spoke so very highly of Severus, despite their many arguments and disagreements over time. She was fond of him, believed that he had truly changed, and when I said I trusted him, she agreed. Now she is staring at the man who killed me, and I know it is difficult for her to comprehend.

As for Severus, I know who he is staring at. Someone who was there when he needed her — especially when I was not. When he returned to me and to us as a teacher, scarred and defeated and deadened by the first war, she had offered him advice. How to be a good professor (and yes, he does emulate her, in his own unique way) for the most part, but he began to open up to her, seeing her as…a mother figure, perchance? All Severus really needed at that point was parents, two people who could direct him and push him back onto the narrow yet fulfilling path that he wanted to walk. And she did that. Does he see the hatred in her eyes?

"Are you happy, now, Severus?" She asks, suddenly, and I wince at the venom in that soft, Scottish voice. I cannot see Severus' reaction, so I move into one of the other portraits, asking the occupant to leave with a mere glance in his direction. They understand, the portraits, that sometimes, I still need to be proactive. Especially where Severus is concerned. I do not think Severus sees me move. His eyes are fixed on hers, and I can see the personal dilemma. He wants to tell her the truth. Merlin, I want to tell her the truth. But he cannot, and I cannot, not yet.

"Happy, Minerva?"

"You seem to have everything you want. From what I hear, You-Know-Who panders to your every need. You have power and you have Hogwarts." She folds her arms and shakes her head, "I must be honest. I never thought you had it in you. To do such a thing."

And so here is the crux of the matter, and I see Severus swallow. I do not think Severus knew he could kill someone, either. Not until he was presented with the moment — no, the moment straight after. I did tamper with the actual moment, forcing him to carry out my command, so it could only be afterward, perhaps when he was fleeing Hogwarts, that he realised what he had done.

I have heard him cry out in the night, and I can imagine what he did to himself after he realised.

"To do what?" Severus answers. His voice remains steady.

"How could you?" Minerva continues, shaking her head, "How could you…how could you kill him, Severus? Help me to understand."

Still he does not move, even though the ferocity of her gaze could terrify any other living creature. "I was following my orders." Such a dead voice. I close my eyes because it is difficult for me to see Severus in such a way.

"That was all it was? Someone had to order you?" Minerva is in as much torment as my Severus. "He meant that little to you?"

Something in her words seems to disrupt Severus' concentration, and he flinches. I see the mask slip, and I wonder if Minerva has too. "Get out, Minerva."

"I cannot understand how you could do this!" She cries back, and her voice is trembling. She has come with something to say, and true to her nature, she will finish it. "He was always talking about you! How brave you were! How much he cared for you, how no one should speak ill of you, how much you meant to him! And you killed him."

"Yes. Yes, I did. I killed him. I looked him in the eye, raised my wand, and shouted the Killing Curse. Is that what you wanted to hear, Minerva?" Severus has somehow regained control of his emotions, and I wish he would not try to intentionally wound Minerva, because these words will hurt her. "I was following my command."

"I cannot stand to look at you."

"You do not have to stay. Leave. You are pure-blooded, the Dark Lord will not harm you, he needs you to continue his plans." Severus replies, voice lighter now. "You are free to leave, I can find someone to replace you, that would be easy."

She stares at him. "I would very much like to leave, Severus, as would much of the staff. However, if you think that I will leave Hogwarts in the hands of a murdering Death-Eater, you are very wrong. If you think I, and the rest of Dumbledore's staff, will leave the students at your mercy, then you must think again. We are all that remains of Dumbledore's Army. What would you do, Severus? Kill us all?"

"I do not have to warn you of the consequences of rebelling against the Dark Lord's will, Minerva." He looks away. "Is that all?"

"Almost." She walks forward, so they are closer. "You are no Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. And as for you, Albus. You placed your trust in the wrong person." With that final censure, she whirls, slams the door, and leaves Severus alone.

He is looking down at his desk, tracing the wooden pattern with his fingernail. I watch him for a moment, wishing I could break through the wall that separates us and touch him. That is what I miss most. I used to be able to comfort him, to comfort Minerva, to comfort anyone and everyone who needed my help. Now I am just a portrait, unable to do any of that, a suspended state.

He turns, and suddenly he is looking at me. "Is this what you wanted?"

I look into his eyes and shake my head, "No. I never wanted this. But I know it could not have been any other way. They will understand before the end."

Severus nods, and I can tell my words do not convince him. He crosses to the portrait I am stood in, staring at me, his black gaze scrutinising my painted self. This is the first time, I think, that he has done this. "I'm still here." I murmur.

He reaches out and touches the surface of the painting, close to where my once blackened hand rests against my side. I react to that, raising my fingers so it could be like we were touching if there was not an impassable void between us. "Am I doing this right?" He asks me.

"Of course you are. We'll get there, Severus, I promise we will get there." I smile at him, but he does not reflect the expression. "You are a fine Headmaster, Severus, and one day you will do it without the pressures of the Death-Eaters. You just need to keep going, just for now. Things will change. I know it."

He turns from me and stares at my desk. His desk. He pulls back the chair and contemplates it.

"You are Headmaster, Severus." I prompt him. "I would not have had it any other way."

And he sits down in my chair — now his chair — and he straightens his back, narrowing his eyes as he pulls the paperwork toward him and reads it, a frown crossing his forehead. I stand in the portrait and watch him. For the first time, Minerva is wrong. I did not place my trust in the wrong person. I could not have picked a more right person. My mood sobers because I know Severus will not survive the end of this war. But why should I let him know that? Surely that would destroy him further than I have done so, to know that he will not be alive at the end of this war to be redeemed in person? I cannot bear to tell him that. So I will not. I have hurt Severus enough.

"I'm proud of you, Severus." Such simple sentiment. But whether or not he hears, I do not know, because he does not react. "I'm so very proud of you, Headmaster Snape."