116. Harry had been putting off talking to Snape for a very long while, but he knew it needed to be done. On the anniversary of Snape's death, he took Luna to the Headmaster's office. Snape's portrait was there, next to Dumbledore's, but it was empty. Perfect, thought Harry. "What do I do?" Luna cooed. "If you just paint a vase of lilies on that table, please, Luna?" And she did. Ten minutes later, Snape's dark portrait was no longer just a dull armchair with a drab table - a lovely, full, sparkling white vase of lilies was taking pride of place. Harry hung around, waiting for Snape to return. When at last he saw the shadows move in the frame, he inched closer. "Professor Snape." he said. The stringy figure of Snape hobbled into view. His brows were not furrowed as they had been in life, nor were his lips pressed into a permenant scowl. He looked somewhat peaceful. "Potter," he sighed. It was not a dissapointed or annoyed sigh - merely one of content. "What are these?" Snape said, slouching down low in his armchair. "Lilies-?" He stopped. For half a second he had forgotten everything - he was still the smirking, dark, Potter-loathing Potions master. But only he wasn't. Snape looked at Harry, and carressed the lilies with his fingers. Both men opened their mouths to form the same words in sync: "Thank you for everything."

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