Disclaimer: I won only the plot, and possibly one of the characters.
Of all the portraits in the Headmaster's study, only one looked out of place. The subtle regalia of the other portraits seemed to cast a distasteful glance on this newest inhabitant.
The subject was by no means one who would be picked as a leader by his appearance. He had greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and looked as if he'd never had enough sunlight in his lifetime. The only feature he possessed that could possibly label him as a caring human being, his sorrow-filled black eyes, were currently closed as though in deep sleep.
His chest was rising up and down with each slow, deep breath he took, and the corner of his mouth twitched as if he was having an unpleasant dream.
"Professor Snape?" a small voice whispered. The owner was a girl, perhaps fifteen, whose long blonde hair caught the moonlight as she swayed nervously on the spot.
"Hmm?" the portrait muttered. He stirred from his sleep and gazed at the girl, his black eyes sparkling with a mixture of irritability and curiosity.
"Can I ask you a question?" the girl asked.
"Why would you want to ask me?" the man asked, his voice full of sarcasm. "Out of all the wonderful witches and wizards in this room, why me? I was the Headmaster with the shortest time in office, and I was only Headmaster to serve the purpose of another man. So, I say again, why me?"
"Because," the girl explained nervously, "I feel like I don't belong in my house."
"I belong in my house," the man said scornfully, "I was just as slimy and cold-hearted as they expected me to be."
"But, you see, sir, you weren't," she said, looking as though she would faint. "You were a great man, whose whole life was dedicated to helping the good in the world."
"My whole life was spent double-crossing people," he argued bitterly.
The girl was silent.
"What house are you in?" he asked softly.
"Gryffindor," she answered.
"And why do you feel you don't belong?"
"Because, sir," she blurted out, "Everyone in Gryffindor is supposed to be brave. I'm scared of my own shadow, sir, and I don't know why they picked me for it."
"So, you believe you should be in Hufflepuff?" he asked, a slight smirk crossing his cold features.
"No," she said defiantly, "I refuse to be in Hufflepuff. I am not a failure."
"I thought you said you were."
"I never said that," she asserted, her head held high with pride.
"You seem to be very brave, talking back to a former Headmaster."
"But that's not bravery," she argued stubbornly. "That's just plain rudeness."
"As you are demonstrating now?" the professor asked silkily.
The girl looked down at her feet. "My point exactly."
"Your lack of drive wears on my patience," muttered Snape, his voice perfectly audible.
"Your lack of leadership wore on everyone else's," she replied clearly.
"Exactly the type of response I would expect from a Gryffindor," sneered the professor.
"Good," she snarled, "Because I am one."
She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Just before he returned to his peaceful slumber, the last thing anyone would expect to see on such a man's face, a smile, flitted across his features.