To Make Much of Time

The scene he entered was of such surpassing beauty that his encounter in the previous painting was immediately forgotten. He stood on a green hillock, overlooking the most marvelous garden he had ever seen. Streams of the deepest blue wound through groves of trees, bowed and heavy with fruit. In the leafy shade, choirs of birds trilled their songs of praise with joy so palpable that Snape's heart trembled to hear it.

A flash of sunlight caught his eye, and he approached it, smirking to find that it was an armored gauntlet. The chit must have tossed it off in a fit of pique. He followed the trail of discarded pieces of armor, and found the girl sitting beneath an apple tree, freshly scrubbed, attempting to force her fingers through her snarled hair. The sword still hung at her hip, but she looked much more like the student he knew, down to the spit-polished shoes.

He smirked inwardly at the start she gave when he noisily dropped the pieces of her armor that he'd gathered. She forced her features to blandness.

"Finished already, Professor?" she said with false sweetness.

"You have no talent for sarcasm, Miss Granger, and you have a great deal of explaining to do. Where did you come by this armor?"

"Smaug lent it to me."

"And the borrowed skill with weapons?"

She glared at him, but calmed herself before answering. "I have a tutor," she said.

"You don't expect me to believe that your proficiency is a recent acquisition."

"I started fencing when I was eight. The more intensive study started in my third year at Hogwarts."

"With whom?"

"Julie d'Aubigny."

"I know of no one in the school by that name."

"You wouldn't," she said almost in an undertone.

"Explain yourself, Miss Granger."

"Nobody ever notices the paintings," said the girl with feeling. "Nobody realizes that the subjects of the paintings, to varying degrees, are living, sentient beings with minds and feelings. Even the inanimate objects can feel."

Snape just managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "And your point, other than attempting to demonstrate to me how clever you are for hiding here?"

"I was attempting to answer your question, Professor," she said through clenched teeth. "Julie lives in a painting in the Library's Magical History section. We met around Christmas of my third year. She talked to me, we became friends, and said that I should either learn to sing opera or fight with a sword. I had learned a bit of foil before I learned I was a witch, so I chose the sword."

"It's a shame it's been useless until now."

"Oh, not at all, sir," she said earnestly. "Training with Julie improved my dueling immeasurably. I got the idea of starting the D.A. from Julie's training because I knew how much I improved with practice."

"How did she teach you?"

"You know the Fat Lady who hangs over the entrance to Gryffindor Tower? Julie's portrait conceals a salle and training room. She says it dates back to the Goblin Rebellion, when warfare was taught as a subject at Hogwarts. There's a proper strip to work on, and a number of spelled dummies for drilling."

"Did you ever fight a real opponent before your misadventures in the portraits?"

She hesitated "No, but-"

"Have you any idea the danger you were in?"

"The routes I took the students through were designed to be as safe as possible-"

"That's not what I asked," said Snape, sharply.

"I think I've done quite well here, Professor," she said with a scowl. Snape clearly heard her unspoken addendum, "unlike you."

"Listen to me, you arrogant child," he growled. "Regardless of how being the celebrated Falcon has padded your ego, you have put yourself and a number of students in grave danger with this stunt, and I for one will be the first to request your expulsion."

Red spots appeared on her cheeks. "You ungrateful... Would you rather have been left for the goblins?"

Snape felt his voice rise in spite of his attempts to stay calm. "I never would have encountered the goblins if not for you!"

"It's not my fault you didn't bother researching the paintings before you followed me!"

"You were in danger. It is my unfortunate responsibility as a Master of this school to save students from their own foolishness."

"I wasn't in danger before you started stirring up trouble here!" she yelled, abandoning all pretenses at respect for his position. "If you weren't so awful to everyone all the time, you wouldn't be in any danger, either!"

"Your ego has swollen far beyond your reason," he sneered, "otherwise, you might have realized that the safety of others is far more important than your alleged legend."

"It was never about me!" she shouted. "It was about helping everyone who is subject to the new law and doing what's right!"

"I weary of your childish prattle," he said with finality, straightening what remained of his teaching robes. "You will clean up this mess," he nudged her pile of armor with his foot, "and you will follow me."

The statement earned him a venomous glare. Barely managing to hold her tongue, she picked up her armor with what dignity she could muster and marched off to the edge of the painting.

A hissing snicker came from behind Snape. He turned to find himself face to face with an acid green serpent. "Apple?" it offered solicitously.

"You should really offer knowledge to those in need of it."

"I am."

Snape glared at the snake and swept imperiously after his furious student.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the next painting, Snape found her watching a small tree from which a bunch of deep purple grapes dangled. Beneath the grapes, a handsome red fox gazed hungrily up at them and occasionally jumped to reach them. But every time he jumped, his jaws snapped shut millimeters shy of his goal.

Snape's stomach rumbled. Perhaps he should have taken the serpent's apple after all, as he'd had nothing to eat since yesterday's supper. He approached the tree, grabbed a handful of grapes, and put several into his mouth.

The fox's ears drooped. Hermione frowned at her professor, drew her sword, and slashed the vine, which sent the grapes tumbling to the ground. The fox, hardly believing its good fortune, devoured them with several snaps of its jaws.

Her satisfied smile fell when she saw the look on her Professor's face.

"You accomplish nothing in this world, girl, don't you know that? The goblins you killed will be back and fighting all the more furiously for having been killed, and the fox will just go back to being hungry and will never be able to reach the grapes. That's the way they've been painted. It doesn't make any difference what you do."

"It makes a difference to me," said Hermione, "because I know that at least I did something about it."

"What good does that do, other than giving you an even more inflated head than usual?"

"Because if others feel the same way and do as I do, then it does make a difference."

"That sounds very much like naiveté."

"It sounds like hope to me."

They walked across the next few portraits in silence.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Headmistress-

Miss Granger and I have returned. I am most anxious to speak with you about this morning's activities. Due to an unfortunate misunderstanding with one of your "distinguished alumni," I am currently unable to teach and would be most obliged if you would cover my afternoon Potions classes. I would also be grateful if you could inquire of Filius the countercharm to a spell whose incantation is "Sopranino."

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That evening found Hermione in the Headmistress's office with Professor Snape, who was in fine glowering form.

"Thank you both for joining me," said the Headmistress. "I trust you will keep this conversation in the strictest of confidence. Just to ensure that we may be perfectly frank, I have cast a Cone of Silence over the area immediately surrounding my desk. Now, Hermione, please start from the beginning."

Hermione told her tale, leaving out, of course, the ridiculous song and the high number of students that by the Ministry's definition would no longer be susceptible to ex-Death Eater attacks. The Headmistress listened gravely and rose to her feet at the story's end.

"Miss Granger, I find myself perplexed. Where on earth did you pick up swordplay?"

"I've been fencing since I was eight."

The Headmistress looked knowingly over her spectacles. "And when did you learn how to fight with a real sword?"

"In my third year," said Hermione.

"I don't suppose the Time Turner assisted you at all in that pursuit, as you were only supposed to use it for academic purposes," said the Headmistress somewhat disapprovingly. "You should know that Professor Snape has asked me to deduct five hundred points from Gryffindor for endangering your fellow students and for blatant disrespect to a teacher."

Hermione's curiosity won out over her annoyance. "Then why doesn't Professor Snape deduct the points?"

"Professor Snape is suffering the after-effects of a curse from Balfour Blane and cannot speak. However, I have assured him that any points he deducts from you I will replace with points for ingenuity and courage in the face of danger. However, this leads me to the crux of the problem. The world inside the paintings is entirely too dangerous for you and the other children. The hardships suffered by Professor Snape demonstrate the peril that you were lucky enough to avoid for so long."

"I don't think it was entirely luck, Headmistress."

"Damn it all!" exclaimed Professor Snape. "You can't find everything in books! What do you think would have happened if that madman Blane had realized that two of the students you introduced him to last night were Slytherins?"

Professor Snape's voice was several octaves above its normal pitch, leaving Hermione with the distinct impression of having been chastised by a five-year-old girl. Both women stared at him, too astonished to laugh.

McGonagall recovered first. "Professor Snape is correct, Miss Granger," she said, with only the barest tremor of laughter in her voice. "I have taken the liberty of donating Balfour Blane's portrait to a museum to be permanently displayed. I'm told it's quite an important piece."

"But what about the girls and boys with appointments with the Ministry?"

"I think most of the parents have realized that their children meant business when they repeatedly broke their appointments. Things should be well until we're able to present our appeal to the Wizengamot next week."

"But in the meantime, how can we be sure?" pressed Hermione. "There must be something we can do to protect them."

"Miss Granger, I assure you that everything that can be done has been," said the Headmistress. "Short of getting rid of Dolores Umbridge." She gave short laugh, then busied herself warming a pot of tea.

It was then that Hermione had another idea. The Headmistress's attention was on preparing the tea, but Snape saw inspiration blaze across Hermione's face like a shooting star. An instant later, her face fell, only to light up again as she met Professor Snape's gaze and willed him to understand. She nodded toward the portrait of Everard on the Headmistress's wall while the Headmistress was pouring the tea.

If Professor Snape understood her plan, he gave no sign of it.

"You know, Miss Granger," mused the Headmistress, passing Hermione a steaming cup. "If you and your friends are still entertaining notions of Auror training, you do realize you'd be Ministry employees and responsible for enforcing their laws."

"That, and the three of us are over-qualified, now," said Hermione, just managing to keep a straight face.

The Headmistress snorted. "In all seriousness, my dear, I wondered if you'd ever considered working for Hogwarts in some capacity after you sit your N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione blushed. "I have no practical experience."

"Perhaps not, but you're imaginative, ruthless, and pay close attention to details, attributes I need for this particular position."

"You make it sound like you're hiring her as an assassin, Minerva," commented Snape as dryly as his tiny voice allowed.

"Only in a manner of speaking," said the Headmistress cryptically, sipping her tea. "And if we're all finished tonight, you may go, Miss Granger. Please think about what I've said."

With a final significant look at Professor Snape, Hermione took her leave.

Please, Professor Snape, she begged him mentally. The Headmistress will be watching me, but she won't be expecting it from you. I know you can find a way.

Snape would have understood her entreaty even had he not been using Legilimency, which of course he was. He belatedly realized that the Headmistress was speaking.

"-naturally, it was. Severus?"

"I beg your pardon, Minerva," he said. "I seem to be over-tired today."

"Yes," she said, amused. "I suspect you have to use a lot more lung pressure to keep your pitch up."

He scowled and was about to deliver a scathing comment but refrained, partially because he would have sounded like a petulant child, and partially because he needed a favor.

The Headmistress noticed his reserve. "What do you want, Severus?"

"I wondered if I might have a private audience with Albus this evening."

"I already asked him if he knew an answer for your vocal problem."

"I wish to discuss something of a more private nature. I don't mean to ask you to leave..." he trailed off, because that was exactly what he was proposing to do.

The Headmistress sighed and got to her feet. "I think I've gone entirely too soft. However, I haven't anywhere near the energy tonight to fight it."

"I suspect you have to use a lot more mental pressure to keep your façade of respectability up," commented Snape.

"We'll see who gets a more respectful reception tomorrow during your Potions classes," said Minerva snidely, shutting the door behind her.

Snape walked to the back corner of the office to the cabinet where Dumbledore's Pensieve once sat. Dumbledore's portrait hung directly over it. Snape suspected the old man was feigning sleep from the way the corners of his mouth were slightly tensed.

"Dissembler."

Dumbledore's blue eyes opened, brimming with mirth. "Severus, it's good to hear from you."

Snape frowned "Highly amusing, I'm sure. I don't suppose you know the countercharm to this blasted spell?"

"I'm afraid not, dear boy. Now, for what reason did you send poor Minerva off?"

"I'm being sent on a mission by one of your lionesses and I require your assistance."

"How interesting. Minerva mentioned no mission to me."

"No, Minerva has no idea what's about to happen, with your cooperation, of course."

Dumbledore's brow wrinkled in confusion. "From whom are you taking orders?"

"The Falcon herself. And she's hasn't ordered me. It's far worse than that."

"She's not blackmailinging you."

"Worse- she appealed to my better nature. I didn't think it existed anymore."

A smile lit the former Headmaster's eyes. "Bless me, it's happened at last," he said softly. "Now," he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, "what can I do to help you and your bird? I mean, Miss Granger."

"I need a way into the portraits, Albus."

"Minerva assures me that Blane's portrait, the only way in, has been removed."

"I don't believe it's the only way in," said Snape, voicing his suspicions at last. "I believe there is another portrait in Hogwarts that is far more imbued with magic than Blane's puny pink charm, and I believe it's right in front of me."

The former Headmaster was giving nothing away. "What makes you think that?"

"You're no longer Headmaster, yet you still know everything that's going on. The Cone of Silence is one of Minerva's specialties, yet you manage to hear everything regardless."

Dumbledore sighed. "You could have just recited the poem. It would have worked without my permission."

The corner of Snape's mouth lifted slightly. "Only a fool would attempt to enter an unfriendly portrait more than once."

Dumbledore smiled softly. "Then welcome. It's been far too long since I had any company."

Snape's eyes stung uncharacteristically while enfolded in the fond embrace of his late mentor.