"Shadow!"

The name tumbled out of the younger man's mouth, instinctively, almost involuntarily. Then he froze. Hastily, he added,

"I'm sorry, I should've a-"

"None of your usual insolence, Potter?" The answer was smooth, silky, and, in an amused way, barely sharp enough to be described as teasing.

The young man blushed.

"Yes, you, and you alone, may call me Shadow," the portrait of a black-clad man continued, with a slight twitch of his lips, in an expression, that, on any other person, would have been interpreted as fond, indulgent.

They stared at one another for several long moments. Then, suddenly, tears pooled in the emerald pair of eyes, and Harry had to turn his gaze to the floor, ashamed.

"I'm sorry! This is my fault! I should have done more to save you - if I had known it was you - I never should have doubted -"

"Potter!"

Harry flinched.

"Harry," the portrait continued, in a softer voice, almost tenderly.

Emerald eyes snapped up, for Harry was not used to being spoken to like this by the professor in front of him.

"Get that notion out of your head. I knew the price of what I was doing, and I was more than willing to pay it if it meant your ongoing - "

Here, Snape flashed a glare at Dumbledore's portrait next to his.

"- survival and a future for you to live for."

"How can it not be my fault? I could have done more for you! Had we, I, not wasted so much time just staring at you -"

"Stop." The tone was authoritative, yet the floodgates were still open, and Harry prattled on.

"Maybe we could have stopped the bleeding - we had Essence of Dittany with us! And I could have called Kreacher to get a bezoar, or -"

"Harry." Snape sounded exasperated now. "How many times must I tell you, before it penetrates your sometimes incredibly thick skull, that my death is. Not. Your. Fault?"

It astounded Harry how similar, yet different, Snape sounded to how he had addressed Harry in Potions class when he had produced a rather less-than-perfect potion.

"Seeing you here, alive and healthy, is reward enough for me. I merely regret that I could not show you earlier how I truly feel about you, and that I did not have the chance to tell you in person how proud of you I am, my fledgling swan… Even though you are, at times, an incorrigible, rule-breaking menace."

The slightly teasing note made Harry's lips turn upwards through the tears that were now cascading down his face. For a while, both were lost in their memories.

"I miss you," Harry mumbled to his feet.

"Did I hear you right? Are you really talking about that ugly, sarcastic greasy git of a Potions Professor?"

Although, judging by their inflection, the words were clearly spoken in jest, Harry continued staring at his feet, ashamed that he had ever thought and said such things. A flush was creeping up the young, tear-stained face.

You are much more than that to me. "Yeah. I mean, yes, sir."

"Harry. Look at me."

The familiarity of the command, in wording and tone, sent Harry's mind reeling back to those moments in the Shrieking Shack where Snape had died before his eyes. The stale air, mingled with the metallic smell of blood, once again invaded his senses and choked him with tears until he found himself sitting at the Headmistress' desk, gasping and sobbing into his arms.

"Sorry, it's just… I still see it, before my eyes, oh God, how you…"

"I know, Harry, and I am sorry you had to witness it."

Snape waited until Harry's tears had reduced to hiccups before he continued.

"Can you look at me?"

Slowly, Harry raised his head from his arms, ashamed that he had broken down, and raised his eyes to the portrait in front of him. The gentle, compassionate look on Snape's face, especially the softness of these endless dark eyes, was something that Harry was not accustomed to, and yet felt so fitting, so incredibly, achingly familiar.

As if he had read Harry's thoughts - Can portraits perform Legilimency?, Harry wondered - Snape continued, in that same, soft voice.

"Listen to me, and listen well. There is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. Let yourself grieve, yes, but do not let it consume you - it will devour you from the inside. I have done my part in this war and you have done yours, to the best of your ability, survived, and succeeded. And most of all: Do. Not. Blame. Yourself. For anything that happened. It is not your responsibility to save everyone, and to assume you should or could do so is even more arrogant than I ever claimed you to be."

The slight upturn of Snape's lips confirmed that he did not really believe Harry to be arrogant. Then, seeing Harry was still unconvinced, Snape sighed and continued.

"Do you believe your friends owe you for defeating the Dark Lord?"

"Of course not! -" 

"Then, you do not owe me anything either, Harry."

"But - that's different! You - you died, for Merlin's sake!"

"Is it? When you went into the Forbidden Forest - yes, I was there, too, some distance behind your parents - what were you thinking, then?"

Harry remembered. I open at the close, the Snitch had said, and he had opened it with the announcement that he was about to die.

"I think you were fully prepared to die as well, even embracing it, if I may say so, because you felt you had to."

"But I didn't."

"Still, the whole Wizarding World technically owes you a Life Debt because you were willing to lay down your own life. Would you ever exact payment from them?"

"Um, no? Why should I?"

"Or from your friends, specifically?"

"I'd be happy enough if they can live in peace for the rest of our lifetime, even if I had died."

"And this is what I want for you as well, my fledgling swan."

Another long moment passed, where the young man and the portrait simply stared at one another, emerald eyes still guilt-ridden and unconvinced,  obsidian eyes stern but warm, the touch of tenderness still visible in their depths.

"Your life is yours now. Use your freedom well, Harry… If you must, consider this the way to repay me."

A moment's hesitation, then a nod.

"I will, sir."

"By the way, please stop spreading these ridiculous stories about me being a hero. No, don't you argue with me. I already told you I merely did what I could to atone for my past mistakes."

And before Harry could even start to protest that Snape had done much more than that, he was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Ron's voice floated through.

"Are you alright, mate? You have been in there for ages now!"

"Don't worry, Ron, I'm… okay."

"Go greet your friends then, Harry. Do show Mr Weasley I have not cut you up into Potions ingredients yet," Snape smirked.

When Snape raised an eyebrow, Harry reluctantly got up from his seat, smiling despite himself. "Yes, sir. Thank you… For everything." His eyes, bright from tears, sought out the portrait once more.

Snape was almost weary now of the honest admiration and gratitude that Harry showed him.

"Again, no need to thank me. Remember what I said."

"Yes, sir, I will."

Snape, seeing Harry's last, longing glance back, added:

"I will be here."

With a tearful nod, and a quiet click of the door, the Headmistress' office returned to silence again.