Snape awoke with a stiff back and a throbbing headache. The girl still slumbered on, huddled on her bench. He glared at her. Why hadn't he had the sense to retire to his own quarters, to his comfortable bed ? She was an adolescent, not an infant. Irritably, Snape banished the footstool and chair and began to remove the evidence of the Dark Arts he'd performed the night before. He cast scourgify on the work table and implements, cleaning everything meticulously out of long-established habit. Snape cast another glare in the girl's direction. Little good it did him to hide the evidence of his work, when the most obvious and damning evidence of what he'd done now sat blinking sleepily at him.
His foul mood lifted just a bit as little details became clear. She'd retained everything she'd had in the painting. The dark velvet robe, the little shoes... even the wand, he noted with a start and a surge of pride. The shoulder-length hair was just as it had been in the portrait, straight, fine, light brown - perhaps auburn. Snape wasn't sure about such classifications. He did know that if one were to touch it, it would be soft. Real. He felt little inclination to actually touch, of course. She was alive, fully sentient. One of his students, and professional boundaries would be maintained.
The girl was fully awake now and aware of his intense scrutiny. "Good morning, Professor." She gave a nervous, girlish little laugh. "I must look a mess." She waved her wand, casting some obscure feminine spell to tidy her hair.
Snape felt another fierce surge of pride. She was a witch, for certain - a powerful one if he was any judge. He chuckled sardonically. After all the students who'd passed through his classroom over the years, he thought, he ought to be a damned good judge. And speaking of damned... it was time to face the consequences of what he'd wrought. "Would you care for some breakfast, Miss Stuart ?"
She pondered this for a moment. "Yes," she replied, wonderingly. "I am hungry."
They ascended to the great hall. The girl's footsteps slowed at the intimidating sight of dozens of students crowding the long tables. Her peers – but she was not to join them just yet. "Come along," Snape said, and led her to the head table. She scurried to keep up with his long strides, letting out an audible sigh of relief at the momentary reprieve from meeting her classmates. Snape scowled. There would be no reprieve for him, not judging by McGonagall's expression.
"Good morning, Headmistress." Snape pulled out a chair for the girl, then took his own seat next to McGonagall. "This is Miss Veronica Stuart," he introduced his creation, "A fifth-year Slytherin."
McGonagall's eyebrows raised. "Good morning, Miss Stuart."
Snape chuckled again, inwardly, enjoying her reaction, minimal as it was. An excited buzz of conversation filled the hall; whispers, speculation. The rest of the staff peered curiously at them. "Miss Stuart has been on an extended sabbatical," Snape elaborated. "She's returned with the intention of sitting for her O.W.L.s with the current fifth-years."
McGonagall set her tea cup down and rose from the table. "I will see you in my office, Professor Snape. Immediately after breakfast."