An Interference of Portraits

Disaster in Dublin

'Clearly, I have my work cut out for me.'

'Okay, so what's the point, why bring me here?'

'Because it's relevant,' he suddenly snapped.

'Hey!' I was confused by the change in dynamic. I knew my panic attack had upset both of us but this seemed to be something else. And as I looked at him, in his black suit and with his white-blond hair and sharp features, I wanted the edges to soften; I wanted to be back at Grimmauld Place with him, in the garden or stood at the window with our arms comfortingly touching. That seemed a million miles away. Where, previously, his grey eyes had been unreadable, now they were hard and cold and reminded me of sixth year.

He took a deep breath as if to calm himself and I watched his shoulders drop. 'Because it's relevant,' he repeated sadly, shaking his head.

'Because I'm queer and so is he?' I said sarcastically.

'Merlin! Your so dense sometimes, Potter!' he turned away rapidly, his body language tense again, and walked away from me, leaving me alone in leafy park. I didn't feel like I could follow so I sat down on bench nearby, studying the sculptures but not really understanding because I had no knowledge of Oscar Wilde or his life or his work.

I suddenly felt very alone and small in a vast world. Despite my travelling and my experiences, I still felt that I had no knowledge about beyond what I'd been raised to do; beyond having to fight Dark Wizards and Dark Magic. That was still as far as my knowledge went, even after the last three years. What was I supposed to do with that? Where was I supposed to go from here? It seemed the only answer was to the job that Minerva had offered me or the Aurors because, honestly, there was nothing else I knew. Even my single N.E.W.T. in Defence Against the Dark Arts was merely a depressing legacy of the past twenty-one years. I had gone to Hogwarts the day before, I had sat the written paper, alone in the room off the Great Hall with some sycophantic buffoon from the Ministry's Department of Magical Education pacing the room and looking at me hopefully. He'd actually marked my paper as I took my Practical with another examiner. I knew I'd passed. It was a piece of piss after the four years. It was no surprise when they told me at the end of the day that I'd achieved an Outstanding with a Valedictorian Designation. Somehow, I felt disappointed. It felt forced, like they had to give it to me. Afterwards, I just went home and slept.

And I ignored The Portraits on the stairs and their calls to know how I got on, and I certainly didn't go into the Study where I'd hung Severus's portrait after taking what I deemed was the most sensible option in keeping him separate from three quarters of the Marauders. I didn't think any close proximity would do either party any good. There were some limits and that was one of them. As it was, my dad had a fair amount to say about the presence of Severus Snape's portrait in my house. And to think I'd told Severus he'd grown up...

Then, first thing on Thursday morning, Draco and I had taken a Portkey out to Dublin to have our meeting with Aisling and this had happened. And now I felt lost.

'You admire Oscar Wilde?' a stranger said with a soft enchanting accent. He sat down on the bench next to me with his Costa coffee in one hand. He was a lot older, maybe in his early sixties, but he was very dapper in the way he held himself and crossed his legs. He wore a slightly baggy, cream Muggle jacket with turquoise jeans and a t-shirt. He finished his look with a bright cerise-pink silk scarf and a cream fedora. He had a green carnation pinned to his jacket lapel. It seemed to me that he looked familiar but I couldn't place him. Probably just someone I'd met along the way. I wondered if he were a wizard or a Muggle.

I shrugged. 'I don't know anything about him. A friend brought me to see the sculptures but we had a disagreement... he's gone back to the hotel, I think...'