Archive of Our Own

Minerva stood in the entrance to the Great Hall, tired but satisfied, and surveyed the day's work. Apart from a few small final tasks, such as scattering krampus repellent along the walls, everything appeared to be in readiness for tomorrow evening's festivities.

Garlands of fresh-cut pine boughs looped along the walls, giving off their spicy, outdoorsy scent. Deep-green holly branches scattered with bright red berries adorned the mantelpiece, and in each corner of the room was a small altar honoring one of the Four Elements: Earth, Air, Fire and Water. The long dining tables had been moved to either side to make space for mingling and dancing, and now, draped in white cloths Charmed by Flitwick to repel stains, awaited the appearance of the feast that the house elves had been gleefully preparing since yesterday. The savory odors of roast beast and fruitcake tickled the nostrils. At the far end of the room the thirty-foot Yule Tree, lavishly decorated, sparkled and glittered in the dim light as if coated in pixie dust. High above her head, candles moved slowly through the air and a light snow fell from the enchanted sky of the Hall, mirroring the falling snow she could see through the tall windows.

"Mistress is pleased?" said a house elf with a yawn, as the great clock struck midnight.

"Yes, Mebby, it looks lovely," Minerva said. "Thank you for all your help. I believe there's nothing left to do..."

"Oh? And what are we, chopped Kneazle feed?" complained a sharp voice from low down on their left. "I do not wish to spend the entire party staring at people's feet." A chorus of agreement rose from either side of the arched doorway, near the floor, where two long rows of portraits were propped against the walls.

"Tsk. I am so sorry, Phineas," Minerva said contritely. "And the rest of you, of course." It had been her idea to have all of the former Heads of the school attend the annual Hogwarts Yule party (affectionately known as HoggyWartyXmas), by bringing their portraits down from her office and hanging them on the walls of the Great Hall for the duration of the festivities. She had hung Severus to the right of the great doors and Albus to the left, but the others still awaited placement. "Severus, would you mind working with Mebby to get everyone properly hung? I still need to talk with Hagrid about recapturing his illegally imported Hodags before the party tomorrow."

Severus gave a long-suffering sigh and rose from his chair to come to the edge of his frame. "Supervising the installation of a second-rate temporary art gallery," he muttered. "Rather a come-down for an Order of Merlin winner, isn't it?"

Minerva suppressed a smile. "As I've said before, for a portrait that never had the chance to spend time with its living counterpart, you are remarkably yourself, Severus."

"Hmph."

"Stykki is being very good at hanging portraits," Mebby said, as she was joined by a second house elf wearing a reindeer-patterned pillowcase of warm, heavy flannel.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Stykki?"

"Hallå!" the elf said with a bow. "It is being happy-making meeting you!"

"My cousin from Sweden," Mebby explained. "His real name is being Sigge, but we is all calling him Stykki because he is being very very good at sticking charms, all sorts."

Stykki grinned and stuck out a hand to Minerva. "Klibbighet!"

"Thank you, Stykki," Minerva said, accepting the proffered hand. "We appreciate your help." She reached up to adjust her hat, then stared bemusedly as the hat stuck fast to her fingers. She gave a brusque shake but it clung firmly. "Er...I'm sure Severus will be grateful for your assistance."

Severus folded his arms and looked away with a growl.

She laughed. "And a good Yule to you, too, my friend." She touched his painted cheek gently with the hand not stuck to her hat, and departed to find Hagrid.

Severus looked down from his frame on the two house elves. "And what is it you do when you're not visiting our remote corner of the world, Stykki?"

"I am working for the great Swedish wizard Harvi Manfredjenssonjensdottirsonsonson," Stykki said proudly. "I am helping him with his work."

"The famous Bryggmästare from Svalbard," Severus said, nodding. "Designer of TjockHud Brewing Gloves, made from the molted skins of Swedish Short-Snouts. I owned a pair; they saved me from burns more than once." He rubbed his hands together, remembering. "Well, let's get to it, shall we?"

Hanging the portraits took considerably longer than Severus had anticipated, as the former Heads squabbled continually over precedence. Apparently being hung closer to the door was considered more prestigious, though Severus utterly failed to see why, and several of them were perfectly willing to use a Repello to launch themselves off the wall when displeased with their placement. Fortunately Stykki lived up to his nickname: he knew a number of remarkably powerful sticking charms which the Heads were unable to counter, so at last they began to make progress.

While struggling with the cantankerous portraits, Severus and Stykki discovered a good deal of common ground. Stykki was more than willing to talk at length about his master's work, and Severus was intrigued at some of the Swedish wizard's more complicated projects.

"You is needing to meet Master Harvi," Stykki declared as he stuck Eupraxia Mole at the far end of Albus's row, ignoring her sputtered protestations that she deserved a more central location. "He is talking often about your work."

"Really?" Severus said, flattered.

"Oh yes." Stykki stepped back to check Eupraxia's alignment with the other portraits. Satisfied, he trotted back to Severus. "He is especially liking your improvements to Frostbite Philters. Also your hex for growing the...how are you saying, tånaglar?"

"Toenails," supplied Severus, remembering his satisfaction at inventing it years ago.

"Yes, toenails. Very useful in long journeyings. Better than crampons, he is saying!"

Severus was visited for a fleeting moment by the mental image of a hulking Norseman with eight-inch toenails stalking across a glacier. Still, it was rather nice to be known for something other than murder and espionage.

"He says, and Stykki agrees, that you are having what in Sweden we call is i magen," the elf went on in a tone of deepest respect and admiration.

"And that is...?"

"Ice in the stomach. Always being cool in the nerves and the feelings."

"I am not sure I deserve credit for that," Severus said with a grim smile. "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be easily provoked — they did not last long around the Dark Lord. Nevertheless, please give him my thanks for the compliment."

"He is saying, too..." Stykki's glance slid from Severus to the opposite side of the arched doorway, where gentle snores rose from Dumbledore's portrait, then he went on in a low voice, "that the great Albus Dumbledore is being not so great in how he was treating you."

Severus snorted. "Not so great indeed. That is an understatement. He was deceptive, manipulative, brutal, and cruel. And that was on his good days."

"What is he saying when you are telling him this?" Stykki inquired, his baseball-sized eyes fixed on Severus.

"Alas, I never had the chance."

Stykki's mouth fell open. "No!"

Severus shrugged. "I was willing to murder him. One would think that was a fairly cogent statement of my feelings."

"But you are being portraits together, hanging in the office of the Headmistress of Hogwarts, yes? You are having the chance now!"

"Oh, don't think I haven't wanted to," Severus said bitterly. "In her office Minerva has us hanging on opposite ends of the wall behind her desk. She says it was her idea, but I suspect Albus insisted on it, so that we can neither see nor hear one another. Were we by chance hung facing one another, no doubt at my first word he'd slip off to one of his other portraits and leave me talking to an empty chair." He grimaced. "Which was how I felt most of the time with him anyway."

The elf nodded sagely. "Wizards are being tricksy, Stykki knows this. Still, you could be telling other people."

Severus shook his head. "It doesn't matter. No one wants to hear what I would have to say. He was always the one they listened to."

Stykki frowned. "This is not being right." Then his face cleared. "Ha, yes! Stykki must go back to Svalbard, but first he is giving you what you wish. They will hear you, oh yes, and the not-so-great Dumbledore, he will listen!"

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Dumbledore's snores ceased, replaced by querulous protestations, and in a moment his portrait floated up to Stykki and into Severus' line of sight. "Merlin's beard, young elf, what do you mean by this? I—"

The elf snapped his fingers again. "Tyst!" he said firmly, and Albus' voice dropped abruptly to the faintest of whispers. Severus raised an eyebrow. House elf magic was known to be both unique and powerful, but shushing Albus Dumbledore was quite a feat.

Stykki pointed his other hand towards Severus and snapped his fingers once more, and Severus felt his own portrait detach from the wall and float towards the elf. He lost sight of Albus as their frames came into line with one another once again. Another snap towards himself: "Högt!"

"NOW JUST ONE MOMENT —" Severus began, then broke off in shock at the sound of his own voice, hugely magnified, thundering through the room. Odin's bloody eye-socket, they had probably heard that in Hogsmeade.

Stykki grinned. He made a twirling gesture with his fingers, and slowly the portraits rotated in the air until they were facing one another directly. Severus noted that Albus was looking a tad alarmed. Was the old wizard actually afraid of what Severus might say to him? Hm. Perhaps he should begin formulating a few opening remarks...

And then the portraits began to float towards one another.

"STYKKI..." Severus boomed, edging as far back in his frame as he could get.

Dumbledore's mouth moved frantically but nothing came out but a sighing sound, like waves hissing on the sand.

"Väldigt klibbiga ansikten!" With a sizzling crack like the arcing of a high-voltage wire, the two portraits smacked together, stuck fast face to face. "Happy Christmas, Severus – adjö så länge!!" and there was a pop! as Stykki vanished.

A Silence fell, the sort of Silence that was, in fact, rather loud. Candles drifted. Tiny snowflakes fell.

And then at last, in a tone of great satisfaction, the entire castle, from the dungeons to the top of the Astronomy Tower, heard the mighty voice of Severus Snape: "WELL, ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE. NOW THAT I HAVE YOUR FULL ATTENTION, I HAVE A THING OR TWO TO SAY TO YOU..."

Hermione arrived at Hogwarts at two o'clock in the afternoon, a mere thirty minutes after receiving a very ruffled-looking owl. An agitated Professor McGonagall met her just inside the castle's entrance.

‘Oh, Miss Granger," she said in a distracted tone. "Thank you for coming, particularly when I'm sure you were intending to spend the afternoon preparing for tonight's festivities. Oh – how clever of you to bring your things," she added, as Hermione handed her dress for the party, neatly bagged along with matching shoes and jewelry, to a house elf to put aside until later.

Hermione gave her a quick hug. "I wasn't sure how long this would take, and I didn't want to have to rush off."

"Indeed. I do hope your escort is not too upset that—"

"LET'S REVIEW A LITTLE MARAUDER HISTORY NOW, SHALL WE, ALBUS?" thundered a sudden voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "I DON'T THINK YOU FULLY APPRECIATE THE LEVEL OF BULLYING I EXPERIENCED HERE DURING MY STUDENT YEARS..."

Hermione flinched. "My goodness," she shouted.

"Yes!" Minerva shouted back, somehow managing to be tight-lipped even when speaking at the top of her voice. "It isn't precisely conducive to holiday spirits, is it?" She waved her wand and Hermione saw her lips move in a spell. "Can you hear me now?" she said in her normal voice.

"I can," Hermione said in surprise. "What did you do?"

"Voces coniunctum," Minerva said. "Pomona came up with it. It creates a sort of series of invisible tubes that connect our voices so we can hear one another—"

"...AND DON'T YOU DARE TWINKLE AT ME OVER THOSE SODDING HALF-MOON GLASSES!" Snape roared, the vibrations making the tip of Minerva's pointed hat quiver. "YOU'LL NOT GET ROUND ME THAT WAY, YOU OLD SCHEMER."

"—although, as you can see, it does nothing to mute him," she finished.

Hermione bit her lip to suppress a giggle. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since three o'clock this morning," the Headmistress said in a weary tone. "We've tried all the standard approaches -- Muffliato and Quietus to silence him, or at least lower the volume. Also Coni silentii. Various separation spells to pry them apart. Oh, and Mr Filch made valiant efforts with a crowbar."

"And?"

"Nothing. We even tried Sectumsempra." She closed her eyes and shuddered. "Severus was...most displeased that we would attempt to employ his own spell against him."

"I can imagine," Hermione said dryly. "Do we know how it happened?"

"Not for certain, but I suspect a visiting house elf named Stykki. His speciality is sticking charms. We've sent an owl to his master, but there's been no reply as of yet."

"Mm. House elf magic can be difficult to counter. Well, show me where they are and I'll see what I can do."

"Here we are, here we are," and Pomona came bustling up. "These should do the trick. Oh – are you connected? Can you hear me?" At Hermione's nod, she handed Hermione and Minerva each a pair of thick, fluffy earmuffs. "If they can keep out mandrake shrieks, they ought to be able to damp down this hullabaloo."

"...SURE ANY SANE WIZARD WOULD AGREE THAT HARBORING WEREWOLVES AND NEARLY GETTING AT LEAST ONE FELLOW STUDENT KILLED DO NOT QUALIFY AS HARMLESS SCHOOLBOY PRANKS!"

With the last three words, Severus' rant reached a new level of deafening. Minerva and Hermione gratefully donned the protective earwear, and together the three of them entered the Great Hall.

Stuck together, the portraits were wide enough to stand unsupported, but someone had moved them to the side so that they were no longer blocking the arched doorway. A thin gap showed between the two frames, due to the ornate carving on all four sides. Hermione bent to examine them carefully, trying not to become distracted by the dark, silky voice that sent tingles down her spine even through the earmuffs.

***

Hermione sat back on her heels and blew out an irritated huff. Only an hour left before guests would begin to arrive, and between the three of them they'd accomplished exactly nothing.

"...NOW, LET US DISCUSS YOUR REPEATED ABHORRENT ENCOURAGEMENT OF THE INSTITUTIONALIZED PREJUDICE AGAINST SLYTHERIN HOUSE..."

"Hear, hear!" Phineas Nigellus Black called out from somewhere down the row of portraits.

"He's got a point, you know," Pomona said, her round face flushed with exertion. "Even you've said so occasionally, Minerva. Granted Salazar was an elitist bastard, but you'd think after a thousand years we'd have gotten past blaming the whole House for the sins of its founder."

"Yes, I never felt right about Gryffindor getting the House Cup during our first year," Hermione said. "Having it simply...handed to us like that, when Slytherin had done all the work to win it."

"It did seem rather arbitrary," Minerva conceded. "Not to detract from Mr Potter's achievements, or your own and Mr Weasley's, of course. But they weren't exactly, er, school-related."

"It wasn't just arbitrary, it was unfair," Hermione said with some heat. "After all, not everyone had the chance to battle a staff member possessed by a sociopathic Dark Lord."

"If you're suggesting that that should be added to the standard First Year curriculum, Miss Granger, I fear I would have to disagree," Minerva said, the gleam in her eye belying the prim words.

As if he had overhead their conversation, Severus boomed, "I THINK IT WOULD ALSO BE APPROPRIATE AT THIS POINT, ALBUS, TO EXAMINE THE MULTIPLE COUNTS OF ENDANGERING THE WELFARE OF A CHILD. JUST WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WAS IT THAT POSSESSED YOU TO..."

Hernione giggled. "It's remarkably like him, isn't it? The portrait, I mean. I know you've often said so. And it knows so much about his life, even as a student. So many small details."

"Oh yes, it's almost like having him back with us. He's quite good company," Minerva said.

"Usually," Pomona added glumly.

"I had feared that his portrait would be a pale imitation," the Headmistress went on. "As you know, to fully bring a portrait to life the subject must spend a good deal of time with it. Visit it regularly, show it how to act and behave, share with it whatever useful memories and pieces of knowledge one wants it to have."

"And being painted after his death, Severus had no such opportunity," Hermione nodded. "I can see why you'd have been concerned. I expect having a pale imitation of Severus would be worse than having no Severus at all."

Pomona made an impressed face. "Can't say I ever gave it much thought. Now you mention it, though, it is quite a good bit of work. However did you manage it, Minerva?"

"I wish I could take credit for it, but I cannot. It was Lucius Malfoy's doing. The picture arrived in the post the summer after Voldemort's defeat, addressed to me, with Malfoy Manor as the return address. Naturally I was a little suspicious, but when I opened it and saw the quality of the workmanship I was quite frankly astonished. I wrote him a note to thank him, but he pretended he'd had nothing to do with it. I can't imagine why."

Hermione coughed. "Well, I expect he didn't want to be thanked. Or perhaps he was concerned people might suspect his motives."

"...IF THE WIZENGAMOT HADN'T UTTERLY LOST ITS COLLECTIVE SPINE YEARS AGO, THEY'D HAVE CONSIDERED LYING TO THE MINISTER OF MAGIC MORE THAN SUFFICIENT GROUNDS FOR RELIEVING YOU OF YOUR SEAT..." The words rolled around the walls like boulders.

"Funny Albus hasn't taken himself off somewhere," Pomona mused, scratching her grizzled curls. "He's got other portraits, lots of ‘em, including a nice cozy one at the Ministry. Why not just leave?"

"Yes...why not?" Hermione said, jumping to her feet. She went round to the back of Dumbledore's portrait. "Ostende mihi!" A fine network of golden lines glowed into life, covering the entire back of the portrait like thick spiderweb. "There!" she said with satisfaction. "That's why he hasn't left. Somebody wanted Dumbledore to have to stay there and listen."

Pomona eyed it suspiciously. "What is it?"

Hermione shook her head. "No idea. The question is, can it be broken or removed? If we can get Dumbledore out, Severus will have no one to shout at and we'll be able to have the party in peace."

But all their attempts proved vain. The golden web, fragile as it appeared, defeated all their efforts. The clock struck quarter to six.

"NOW, AS TO WITHHOLDING VITAL INFORMATION, NOT ONLY FROM MYSELF BUT FROM FELLOW MEMBERS OF THE ORDER..."

Pomona scratched her nose with her wand thoughtfully. "Well, what about Snape then?"

"What about him?"

"If Albus can't get out, maybe we can winkle Snape out the back of his. That is, unless he's got a similar thungummy keeping him in." Pomona pointed her wand at the back of Snape's portrait and repeated Hermione's spell. Nothing happened. She tried several times, thinking she had not got it right, but in the end it was clear to all three of them: there was no golden net keeping Severus from leaving his own portrait.

"Strange," Hermione murmured, brows furrowed in thought.

"Oh, not really," Pomona said, misunderstanding. "He's probably enjoying the hell out of this, why should he leave?" She laughed loudly. "I must say, it's rather fun to hear someone give the old bugger what for!"

"No, I meant it's strange that..." Hermione shook her head. "Never mind."

"I'll get him out." Pomona took a deep breath, inflating her lungs to their fullest, then bent over so her face was nearly touching the back of Snape's frame. "Snape!" she bellowed.

"...WHICH YOU'D KNOW IF YOU WEREN'T SO BLOODY ARROGANT -- POMONA? IS THAT YOU?"

"Yes, it's me!"

"THERE IS NO NEED TO SHOUT. I CAN HEAR YOU PERFECTLY WELL."

"Ah. Well, how about coming out of there?"

"I AM NOT CURRENTLY ABLE TO DO SO."

Pomona frowned. "Well then, how about at least shutting up for a bit then, there's a good chap?"

There was a thoughtful silence. "I THINK NOT. I DO NOT YET FEEL I HAVE SAID ALL I WISH TO SAY."

"But the party, man—" She flinched and gave up as Snape resumed his harangue.

"WHERE WERE WE? OH YES, ARROGANCE. ON THAT SUBJECT..."

Minerva glanced nervously at the pocket-watch pinned to her tartan robes. "Dear me, people will be arriving any moment!"

Just as she spoke, Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the doorway to the Hall, wearing formal dress robes and holding his hands over his ears. With him was Augusta Longbottom, who had magicked two pygmy puffs onto the sides of her head as makeshift ear protection. "Merlin's beard, what is all this?!" Kingsley mouthed.

"...NOT TO MENTION ACCESSORY TO MURDER AND/OR SUICIDE. YES, I'M PERFECTLY AWARE IT WAS YOUR OWN, YOU SCHEMING GIT. NEVERTHELESS..."

An elderly witch who had just entered froze, mouth agape.

"Really, we must do something," Minerva said. "We can't have people thinking our portraits are allowed to run wild in this manner!"

Hermione tapped her wand on her lips. "I have an idea." She adjusted her earmuffs, then stepped forward and bent to address herself to the gap between the portraits. "Professor, may I have a word?"

Silence fell.

"MISS GRANGER?"

"Yes."

"WHAT'S THAT, ALBUS? YES, I WAS AWARE OF THAT. THANK MERLIN SHE CAME TO HER SENSES AND GAVE THE YOUNGEST WEASLEY THE PUSH." There was a pause. "DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD?"

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Very much so. But it's alright, you're amongst friends. Now, I have a proposition for you. If you stop berating poor Professor Dumbledore, who is probably deaf by now, and say nothing for the rest of the evening, so we can enjoy the party, then..." She lowered her voice and whispered into the gap.

Everyone held their breath.

"THAT SOUNDS ACCEPTABLE," Severus thundered graciously. "I HAVE YOUR PROMISE?"

"Yes, if you're quiet. And," she added in a burst of inspiration, "if you join in the carol-singing at the end of the evening."

"CAROL-SINGING."

"Yes."

"I WOULD RATHER HAVE MY BOLLOCKS GNAWED OFF BY A RABID KNEAZLE."

"Not negotiable," Hermione said firmly. "I particularly want to hear you sing 'Good King Wenceslas.'"

The back of the frame radiated disapproval. "OH, VERY WELL."

Minerva sagged in relief. "And just in time, too. My dear, whatever did you promise him?"

"Sorry, Minerva, my date is here," Hermione said hastily, as she caught sight of Lucius stepping through the doorway, resplendent in black dress robes with a subtle pattern of snakes woven into the fabric. "I must go and change," she said, and ran out of the Hall.

"I should have guessed," Lucius said an hour later as he and Hermione stood arm-in-arm in a corner of the Hall watching the party, now in full swing. Flitwick was Charming holly berries to dance in the air like little red bubbles, Hagrid was devouring his third platter of roast beast, and Professor Trelawney, festooned in beads and a hat topped with a huge blinking star, was wandering about with an entire tray of champagne.

"So you do think I'm right then?"

"How could you not be? You're the brightest witch of your age." He smiled down at her, and tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. "And the most beautiful." He stepped back to take in the sight once again: a long gown of clinging deep-red velvet trimmed in Gryffindor gold, its plunging back open to below her waist, and heels that made her nearly the same height as himself. The delicate diamond necklace she wore had been an early Christmas gift from him.

"Flatterer." She gave him a smile and a gentle nudge.

"You are also," he murmured, leaning closer, his breath tantalizingly warm on her skin, "the most surprising. I must say I'm looking forward to tonight. I hardly expected—"

"Minerva!" Hermione moved away from him slightly as the Headmistress approached them. "Lucius, could you get me a drink?"

"I am all obedience, my dear." He stepped back and bent to kiss her hand, silvery hair catching light from the candles, then moved off towards the bar.

Minerva, watching him slide gracefully through the crowd, took a sip of her champagne. "I am sorry that the Ministry has tasked you with keeping an eye on him. Do you think he knows you're seeing him only to keep tabs on his behaviour?"

Hermione laughed, her eyes on the tall black-clad figure. "Of course he doesn't."

"Still, I'm sure you would prefer to be spending your time elsewhere."

"Oh, it hasn't been all bad," Hermione said, a secretive smile curving her lips. "And really, you know, he has changed. He hides it, of course – ‘My head is bloody but unbowed' and all that sort of thing – but he's not the same man he was."

Minerva raised a skeptical brow.

"I mean it. Did you know he's put in place a standing order at the Manor that any of his house elves may request clothes at any time? And they get a pension."

"Virtue signaling," Minerva sniffed. "A meaningless gesture. He knows house elves are too loyal to leave their families."

"Well, how about that new endowment at St Mungo's, for studying the long-term effects of Dark Magic and developing more effective treatments? Five million galleons, wasn't it?"

"I read about that in the Prophet." Minerva shot her a sharp glance. "Given by an anonymous donor, or so it was reported."

Hermione gave a sly smile. "Not anonymous to me."

At that moment Lucius appeared at Hermione's elbow to hand her a slender flute of sparkling golden liquid. Hermione bit her lip to suppress a giggle at Minerva's expression, which appeared to be equal parts admiration, confusion, suspicion, and annoyance.

"Well, I must go say hello to my drink and get another Sybill," the Headmistress muttered, and hastily decamped.

Lucius watched her go, grey eyes bright with amusement. "Do you think she knows you've long since stopped suspecting me and started sleeping with me?" he murmured to Hermione, running a finger lightly down her exposed spine.

She shivered deliciously and thought of his fingers elsewhere. "Of course she doesn't."

As Minerva, fresh drink in hand, paused at the buffet for a vol-au-vent, Narcissa greeted her coolly but courteously. The woman was still as blonde and beautiful as ever. Minerva wondered if there was a haggard, ancient, decrepit portrait hidden somewhere in Malfoy Manor – or rather, now, at Zabini Villa. She glanced back at Narcissa's ex-husband, whose attention was all on Hermione as she chattered animatedly with Professor Flitwick.

Narcissa followed Minerva's gaze: "You know she's stopped suspecting him and started sleeping with him, don't you?"

Minerva gave her an arch look. "Of course I do."

The Great Hall was nearly empty. All that remained of the feast were crumbs, the magical floating candles were burning low, and even the flocks of doxies that inhabited the Yule Tree and kept the fairy lights flickering were dozing off, draped here and there among the branches like small dirty handkerchiefs.

"I BELIEVE I HAVE FULFILLED MY END OF THE BARGAIN," boomed the voice of Severus Snape to the three grouped around him. "IF YOU WOULD NOW BE SO KIND AS TO REMOVE THIS EXCRESCENCE—"

"Are you quite sure you don't have anything more to say to him, Severus?" Minerva inquired politely.

"QUITE."

"If you'd like a few more minutes, we can go and have another glass of champagne," Lucius offered, prompting an urgent if unintelligible mumble from Dumbledore, with distinct overtones of panic.

"THANK YOU, BUT NO. I BELIEVE I HAVE EXHAUSTED MY CONSIDERABLE STORE OF FESTERING RESENTMENT."

"Really?" Hermione said in pretended astonishment. "Given how consistently and liberally you dispensed it while I was at school here, I'd have thought you were good for at least another week."

An eloquent silence greeted this remark.

She laughed. "Oh, very well. Lucius, Minerva, if you would each hold one of them so that when they separate, neither falls?"

Lucius and Minerva together lifted the conjoined portraits, each holding the sides of one frame. Hermione placed the tip of her wand in the gap between the two frames.

"THIS HAD BETTER WORK," Severus said. "I DON'T RELISH SPENDING THE REST OF MY DAYS EYEBALL TO EYEBALL WITH MY OWN MURDER VICTIM, EVEN IN PAINTED FORM."

"Hush. This is a new spell for me and I need to concentrate. You don't want to end up with Albus' ears, or him with your nose, do you?" She closed her eyes. "Teflonus lubrici," she murmured as she drew her wand slowly down, tracing the tip along the thin crack. She repeated the spell on the other three edges, and as she reached the end of the last, the two portraits slid smoothly apart leaving Minerva holding Albus and Lucius holding Severus.

Hermione burst out laughing. Severus – cool, composed, obsidian eyes unreadable in his pale face – looked exactly as always, apart from the slight smirk playing about his lips, but Albus was very much the worse for wear. Pale and shaken, pointed hat crumpled, elegant grey robes dishevelled, half-moon glasses hanging askew off one ear, he looked as though he'd tangled with a flock of Cornish pixies and not come top. He tried to speak but only a faint hissing reached their ears.

Severus inclined his head graciously towards Hermione. "THANK YOU," he said, his voice positively deafening now that it wasn't blocked by the other portrait. The floating candles quivered in the air and a faint fall of dust shimmered down from the stone ceiling.

"Dear me, this will never do," said Minerva, glancing upward uneasily. "Now that they're separated, perhaps the usual spells will work? Finite incantatem," and she waved her wand towards both portraits.

"Thank you, my dear," Dumbledore said with a sigh of relief. He straightened his hat and hooked his glasses over both ears. "I cannot in all honesty say I am glad we had this little chat, Severus." He rubbed his temples gently, a pained expression on his face. "My ears are ringing like the bells of St Mary's."

"I, on the other hand, am delighted," Severus said. "After all the dunderheaded students it has been my misfortune to teach through the years, none of whom paid me the slightest mind, I found it deeply satisfying knowing everyone had to listen to me at last."

Hermione gazed at the portrait, tilting her head critically. "It is a remarkable likeness," she said. Severus had rolled up his sleeves, evidently so as to really get down to work on Albus, and the Dark Mark was exposed in his entirety. "A shame they didn't take the time to get every detail in the Dark Mark. It's a bit sloppy." Severus eyed her narrowly, then jerked down his sleeve to cover it.

Hermione gave Minerva a quick hug. "Thank you for another fine Hoggy Warty Christmas," she said fondly. "It's always a treat to be back here."

As Lucius bowed to kiss the hand of the surprised Headmistress, Hermione turned to Severus who was watching from his portrait, arms crossed and fingers drumming impatiently. "Alright, you." With a quick Minimus she shrank the portrait and slid it into her beaded bag.

"Do bring him back safely, my dear," Minerva said with a pat on her shoulder. "I shall miss his wit and wisdom."

"Never fear, Minerva, no harm will come to Severus," Lucius said smoothly, draping a dark green cloak trimmed in silver around Hermione's shoulders. "Quite the contrary. And now, we must be off."

Severus blinked and squinted as his portrait was lifted from the darkness of Hermione's beaded bag. He thought he caught a glimpse of bare legs quickly passing in front of him, but his eyes had not yet adjusted to the light – warm but not overly bright, golden and flickering. Candlelight? Firelight? As his surroundings came into focus, he saw that it was both. The first came from several elegant silver candelabra scattered across the top of a gleaming mahogany chest of drawers; the second from a large hearth, above which hung an ancient faded coat-of-arms. A four-poster featherbed, heaped with pillows and spread with an emerald-green duvet, occupied the last of the three walls Severus could see from his frame.

Oh, but he knew this room.

He turned his attention to one of the two figures lounging on the thick wolf-skin rug spread before the hearth. "You promised me a respite from Hogwarts in exchange for ceasing to berate Albus Dumbledore," he said coldly. "Am I to infer that you consider Lucius Malfoy's bedroom a suitable vacation destination?"

"Why not? Don't you?" Hermione inquired, her eyes shining. "From what Lucius has told me, I thought you might."

She wore a loose gold robe, untied and short enough to leave her legs bare, over something low-cut in thin red satin that clung in fetching ways. The curves thus revealed distracted Severus so much that it took a few moments for her words to register. "I...he...what?"

Lucius, wrapped in a quilted dressing gown of green velvet, lay stretched out full-length on the wolf-skin rug with his head pillowed on Hermione's thigh and a glass of whiskey balanced on his bare chest. "Severus, I'm hurt," he said in mock pain. "Why, I can recall several occasions when you found my bedroom a delightful place to spend a holiday." He gave Hermione a suggestive look. "Just as Hermione does now."

Hermione bent down to give him a long, slow kiss. Severus scowled. "Merlin's arse, don't tell me you're going to force me to watch while the two of you—"

"Goodness no," she said, twining the fingers of one hand with Lucius'. "That would be cruel." The two of them gazed at each other for a moment, shared a smile, then looked straight at him, grey and brown eyes meeting black ones. "We were hoping you'd join us."

Severus gaped at them, both his voice and his wit utterly failing him for perhaps the first time in his life.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Severus. We've suspected for ages that it was really you in there."

He looked away. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"There have been rumours from the start that you weren't dead," she went on, "what with putting a stopper in death and all that. The question was, if you weren't dead, where were you?"

"And now we know." Lucius rolled onto his side and propped himself on one elbow, reaching out to take a bottle of champagne out of the silver bucket where it was chilling. "It was brilliant, really. Very Slytherin. Where better to hide than by masquerading as a portrait amongst all the other portraits in the office of the Head of Hogwarts? After all, that's precisely where and what everyone would expect you to be."

"Also," Hermione added, "it lets you keep tabs on all that's going on, be as snarky as you like, and avoid unwanted attention."

"Nonsense. I'm just a portrait. Nothing but paint and memory, anyone can see that. The fact is as plain as, er..." He trailed off as Hermione bounced to her knees, causing her breasts to jiggle in a way that made both Severus and Lucius to eye them with great interest.

"You want facts? Here they are. First, Stykki placed a barrier on the back of Dumbledore's portrait to prevent him leaving, but not on yours. He didn't bother – because he knew that, not being a real portrait, you couldn't get out that way."

"Or," Severus pointed out, "he might have assumed I didn't want to leave. I was enjoying myself, after all."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Don't interrupt her when she's analyzing, Severus. She can become quite vicious."

Hermione continued ticking the points off on her fingers as if they hadn't spoken. "Second, you know far too much and are far too...alive to be a portrait. You would have had to spend months with your portrait to get it as enlivened as that. Months, may I remind you, that you never had."

"That proves nothing," Severus scoffed. "The same effect can be achieved by blending a bit of the subject – an eyelash, a bit of fingernail – into the paint."

Lucius leaned forward with a faint smile. "But your portrait, my friend, was painted after your ‘death'...and your body was never found."

Severus instantly changed tack. "Obviously whoever commissioned it was a great admirer of me, who paid top galleon and demanded the highest quality work."

"No one commissioned it," Lucius said. "When I got Minerva's note thanking me for a portrait I never sent, believe me, I did some investigating. There is no record of your portrait being commissioned by any wizarding artist in England."

"What makes you think England has a monopoly on great artists?" Severus objected. "Did you try Italy, or France, or Holland? The Dutch are quite good at portraiture."

"As a matter of fact, I did," Lucius said calmly, twisting the wire cage off the champagne cork. "There is no record of your portrait being commissioned by any wizarding artist anywhere."

"Still, I do agree that whoever created it was a great admirer of your work," Hermione interjected mischievously.

Severus ignored her. "Well then, you simply must have missed it, Lucius. Perhaps it was painted by some unknown genius." He crossed his arms and glowered. "We may consider the matter closed, unless you have some other nonsensical evidence to trot out."

Hermione dropped her hands into her lap. "Alright, then," she said softly. "What about the Dark Mark on your arm?"

Severus looked suddenly shifty. "What about it?"

"Everyone else's Dark Mark faded away shortly after Voldemort's death," she said, watching him intently.

Lucius obligingly held out his arm. "See? All gone." The skin of his forearm was pale and smooth, only the faintest white lines showing where the tattoo once had been.

"Exactly," Severus said smugly. "But I, being a portrait, cannot change." He jerked up his sleeve to reveal the black skull-and-snake. "See? Still there."

Quick as lightning, Hermione retrieved her wand from the table and lunged forward. He tried to dodge, but she was too quick for him. She pressed the tip of her wand to the canvas, directly over the Mark. "Tergeo!!"

The Dark Mark shimmered and then vanished as if it had never existed. All that remained were the same faint lines as those Lucius bore. Severus glared fiercely at her for a moment, then collapsed into his chair with a disgusted oath.

"Charcoal, was it?" she asked sweetly. "It was a bit smudgy, you know."

"Medium-tip Sharpie," he said grudgingly. He was silent for a long moment, fiddling with the buttons on his sleeve. Finally, looking at them both with narrowed eyes, he said, "Who else knows?"

"Minerva, of course," Lucius said. "But she's fond of you, I doubt she would...what's the term, my dear?"

"Blow your cover?" Hermione suggested.

"Precisely." Lucius popped the cork on the champagne bottle and it foamed up invitingly. "Now, I seem to recall we extended you an invitation, Severus, and you have not yet accepted."

Severus's mind flashed back to the sight of Lucius and Hermione kissing. He swallowed in a throat gone suddenly dry. We were hoping you would join us...

"I mean, unless you have something better to do..." Hermione let her robe slip down off one shoulder with a meaningful look.

With a scowl, Snape stepped out of portrait onto the wolf-skin rug, regaining his full height as he did so. He stretched luxuriously, arms high above his head, and took a deep breath. "I must say, it is pleasant to be able to stand up straight again. When I shipped myself to Minerva I--"

He got no further before Hermione was on her feet, pressed against him, kissing him long and hard. Instinctively his arms went around her and he closed his eyes, losing himself in sensations he had truly thought never to feel again.

When they broke off at last, his heart was racing like a runaway centaur. He gazed down at the woman in his arms, her eyes drowsy with desire, then looked up to see Lucius holding out a glass of champagne, his lips curved in the wicked smile Severus knew so well.

"Welcome home, Severus," he said.