Part V

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling, who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.

Heartfelt thanks to my betas and previewers: DementedLeaf, for her patience and thoroughness, Xoxphoenix, for her enthusiasm and encouragement, and Morgaine_Dulac for her friendly support.

And finally, many thanks to those who will join on the road. I hope you will like it.

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Part V

The meeting room was silent. The professors had just listened to an astonishing announcement, and they were now staring at the Headmistress with vaguely perplexed expressions. Minerva smiled ironically, tightening her lips in the determined expression her staff knew so well, and which meant that there was nothing else to say or to do: her decision was final.

Finally, an uneasy, thin man raised a hand, adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat and asked, somewhat incredulously, "So, if I understand well, Headmistress, from now on I am to share my duties with a... a painting?"

"That is exactly what I said. It is not a concept difficult to grasp, I believe. Any other useless questions?" Her tone made it clear that she was ready for an argument.

The man looked around for support, but his eyes met only the amused little grins of his colleagues. Understanding his unspoken question, Minerva curled her lips in a cold expression. The man had been a brilliant though arrogant student, but now he was only a mediocre professor. Hiring him had been an error, she sadly admitted to herself, but nobody else seemed available, and Malfoy's not so hidden manoeuvring of the Board had been the last nudge to an inevitable decision. However, the situation was going to change, and hopefully for the better. She stared back at the man, and all those present held their breaths in anticipation, hoping for the start of a good fight. But the man kept silent; so, after a meaningful glance, the Headmistress went on calmly.

"Very well. Tomorrow we will begin with two experimental classes that will involve only a restricted number of first and second year students. By doing so, we will be able to monitor the lessons and verify the progress."

She paused. "This will also allow us to interrupt the course at an early stage, should it prove ineffective, without causing too many difficulties to the students."

She paused again, then added with deliberate gravity, "It will be up to me and to our current Potions master to make the final decision. However, I trust that there won't be any problem, knowing -- as we both well know -- the high reputation of the... painting."

Her eyes narrowed intentionally as she looked at the man, who shifted uncomfortably.

Satisfied at his reaction, Minerva continued firmly, "If the test instead should prove successful, I think we could extend it to older students and maybe create two different subjects, Potions and Advanced Potions. In that case, I would reverse the ages and allow only sixth and seventh years to frequent the special course."

The Headmistress looked around. Nobody dared to speak, and she sighed inwardly in relief. She dismissed the gathering with a brief nod; at the same time, she raised a hand to stop the man, who was preparing to leave with an offended frown.

"Just one last word, Professor," she asked him, quickly checking that nobody was near enough to listen. The man couldn't hide a hopeful glimpse in his eyes and, finally, she graced him with the statement he desired so much to hear.

"I think you will be glad to know that the... painting," and a bitter irony vibrated in her voice, while she pronounced that definition again, "isn't, of course, in need of a salary; this means that you won't be requested to share yours with him. I hope this is the answer you needed to solve your remaining doubts."

The current Potions professor relaxed for a moment then stiffened again in offended pride. But it was too late for a comment. The Headmistress had already turned her back to him, heading for the door. The room was empty now, and the other professors were walking in the corridor, discussing the interesting news while glancing at the lonely man with covert derision.

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Minerva went up to her office. Thankfully, the meeting had been easier to manage than supposed. However, she was feeling exhausted. Her duty was becoming more and more demanding every year, yet she couldn't think of resigning. Her life would be empty without the school... What would she do, confined in a decaying family house of which she was the only occupant? Sip tea, eat biscuits and chat with... chat with whom? So many of her friends had left or retired, while others had died, and others simply had not been in touch with her for years.

Feeling tears well up in her eyes, the Headmistress crossed her arms on the table and leaned her head on them, ceding to the immense sadness filling her heart. That arrogant, brainless... idiot! How could he talk of Severus in that condescending way? How could he think to be just skilled enough to teach in the place that had featured Horace Slughorn as Potions master and Severus Snape as his even worthier successor?

Sniffling, Minerva raised her head a little to wipe her eyes. At the meeting, she had felt so old and alone! Practically all her previous colleagues had been succeeded by a younger generation of teachers.

Sprout, Sinistra, Vector, even Sybill... one by one they had left, somewhat overwhelmed after Dumbledore's death and Voldemort's defeat, as if Hogwarts wasn't the same place, as if it wasn't home anymore for them.

Well, she had remained. She, and old, frail, little professor Flitwick with her. Headmistress and Deputy, the ones the ex-students came to greet with a particular light in their eyes, and with a meaningful smile when presenting their children. But Flitwick was getting ever more old and tired. Actually, he had been practically living in St. Mungo's, as he was still laboriously recovering from a severe bout of flu caught from his youngest students. It had been necessary to hire a temporary Charms professor for his lessons... and, at this point, she could only hope that Flitwick's illness was just temporary.

Again, she felt terribly alone and wasted. In her devotion to duty, she had had no offspring of her own: only generations and generations of students, whose names and faces were now whirling in her memory just like in a carousel...

"Minerva!" a low, rich voice called her, interrupting her thoughts. Startled, she raised her head again, massaging her wet eyes behind the spectacles.

"Severus?" she stammered, blushing in confusion. Watching her gravely from a framed picture, a black clad man nodded in reply.

"Minerva..." His tone was softer now, almost a caress. Never had she heard such a touching tenderness in that voice when its owner was alive! Tears forced their way out, and she blinked repeatedly to fight them back. Trying to hide her emotion, the old witch got up from her seat and rushed into an explanation.

"Sorry, I didn't notice you were here," she said, blushing even more and avoiding his gaze. "Really, I am so tired and... and my eyes don't work properly, lately. I suppose I'll have to owl Poppy and ask for a remedy... or perhaps a visit to St. Mungo's, you know, they are always so---"

"Minerva!" This time, the voice sounded affectionately reproaching. "Don't try to deceive me. I see that you are upset. Even though I am a painting now, I can easily detect your emotions. I know you too well."

Snape had crossed his arms and was now looking at her with his characteristic scowl. She felt guilty, like a small girl caught in wrongdoing, and clasped her hands in embarrassment; but, immediately after, she couldn't help a tremulous smile despite the tears prickling in her eyes. To be scolded by Severus Snape! Wasn't the situation absurd? She had taught that man when he was a child, and she had even given him detentions!

Studying her carefully with inquiring eyes, Snape continued in a low voice, "I knew the meeting wouldn't be easy to handle. It wasn't difficult to imagine the reactions you'd raise! However, you can always take back your offer. I can't oppose and I won't complain..." A slight hesitation. "After all, I'm only a painting."

Shocked and pained, the Headmistress protested, "Who told you what happened? Did Albus visit you before me? I had asked him not to meddle, but I didn't think to effectively examine each picture in the room." She sighed wearily. "I suppose he was there incognito, as he always is..."

Then, in a sudden outburst, she exclaimed angrily, "However, if he is honest, he should have told you what I replied to that silly man!"

"No, Minerva, this time you are being unfair to Albus. I don't know if he was at the meeting. However, he didn't come here to speak with me; your words have just revealed me what happened. So, there was effectively opposition?" Strangely, he looked rather amused at her anger.

"Only a foolish comment from a foolish man. But I showed him his place!" she replied fiercely, irritated for having entered Snape's trap, and for being consequently forced to admit that there hadn't been a complete agreement. Snape tilted his head.

"Thank you very much then, for being such a valiant fighter," he replied gravely.

"Oh, come now, Severus! I'm just an old lady..." she declared, confused and pleased at the same time.

Snape's lips curled into a smile. "The most daring and endearing old lady I have ever known," he declared, the solemnity of his words softened by an uncharacteristically affectionate expression.

She raised two reddened, incredulous eyes to stare at him. How young he had looked while pronouncing those words! And, with a painful twinge, she thought that he would forever be that young: nobody would ever see Severus' face wrinkle and his hair turn white. There he was, eternally condemned to live the appearance of a life, while he deserved so much to enjoy the real one a wicked fate had subtracted him!

Impulsively, Minerva raised a hand as if she wanted to reach him. But immediately after, with an apologetic expression, she stopped her gesture, feeling her lips twitch in emotion. A tear escaped her eyelids, ran along the bridge of her nose and finally fell down. Snape was now looking at her in a concerned way, his dark eyes waiting with a mute question. Minerva lowered her head, trying to dominate the trembling of her lips.

"I'm sorry," she said painfully. "I'm so very sorry, Severus. I wish I had known. I wish I hadn't been so ready to judge you. I wish I could do something different than merely offering you my apologies. You have been the true hero, while I just-"

"No, Minerva!" he interrupted her with a bitter smile, "Don't blame yourself for having always been loyal and trustworthy; what comes naturally to you is something I have had to learn the hard way."

He hesitated, as if embarrassed for his own impetuous words. Then, slowly, almost timidly, he replicated her action, stretching out a hand and raising its palm towards her.

Minerva stared at him in confusion, trying to guess what he was expecting her to do. Then, suddenly understanding, she too raised her hand and gently placed her palm against his. The canvas felt rough under her fingers, and she hoped that at least a part of her emotions could reach the man imprisoned in that frame, and soothe him.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, enjoying the touching of their hands and spirits. Finally, Snape accentuated his smile and said briefly, "I'll see you tomorrow, Minerva. Thank you again. Have a good night."

Before she could stop him, he left the picture with a quick movement.

Slowly, she drew back her hand, her gaze still painfully fixed on the sudden void on the wall. How empty her office seemed now, without his presence!

With a graceless movement, she sat heavily on her chair and lost herself in meditation. Yes, she was old and tired, and the past couldn't be changed; but the present could be elaborated in a happier future, and this was going to be her commitment for the days to come.

Especially tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Severus would start his lessons. A healing hope sweetly bloomed in her heart, and gentle tears finally flew unrestrained on her cheeks.