...Where the title of the story finally begins to make sense...

Um coï brevis ver Raïdos Aïlerod
Lon desalien tender Hioman *

(Luc Arbogast, Nausicaa)

* Prisoner of his solitary campaigns,

he lets the flame of his humanity extinguish

Finally all keyed up, Hermione came sweeping into the Headmistress' office but very nearly faltered when she found herself the focus of great attention. She realised only now how many other portraits would witness her discussion with Dumbledore, as she had only focused on what she wanted and what she was going to tell him.

Granted, more than half of the frames were empty because their owners were entertaining visitors elsewhere in the castle, or they were sleeping, even snoring, but her arrival aroused enough curiosity to make her hesitate a little before she reminded herself that she was on a mission, and this was certainly not the time to be self-conscious.

"Phineas, look who's come to visit!" exclaimed Dilys Derwent. The sight of the beaming witch, and of Phineas Black, waking up with a start in his frame because she was insistently banging on something that sounded like a wooden door, instantly cheered Hermione.

"I was beginning to think that you had forgotten us!" her painted friend went on. "You look good!"

Hermione smoothed her russet robes out, taking the time to enjoy the feel of the soft, woolen fabric as it helped her regain her confidence. (It was Ginny who had insisted she buy them and the fetching leather hat, too, the last time they managed a girls outing, which inevitably turned into a shopping expedition when the redhead whined, "It's been such a long time. I haven't been to Diagon Alley for anything other than visiting George and Angelina.")

"I sincerely hope so," she answered with a pleased smile. "For once, I am not required to wear green!"

"You are absolutely charming in autumn shades," Dilys declared. "Isn't she, Phineas?"

Phineas Black looked trapped, like most men when they are to offer an opinion about female fashions. "Yes, dear," he said, without much conviction and only realised how it sounded when it elicited a round of sniggers. "She is always charming, of course," he added in a clumsy and belated attempt at courtesy.

Dilys laughed affectionately. "Don't mind him. He's a typical man. Wouldn't see the difference between good robes and a sack." She stage-whispered, "Except when it comes to taking them off," and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Dilys!" the Slytherin hissed, scandalised.

The witch tried to look contrite but the way her eyes twinkled proved she was totally unrepentant. "Yes, yes, of course. Sorry. Decorum and all that kind of thing…"

Black half-heartedly glowered at her, offended to have his human foibles discussed in public and, yet, a little flattered by the oblique reference to his virility but Dilys ignored him and turned back to their visitor. "But how are you, Hermione? Last time I visited and asked about you, Severus was evasive. I know he's worrying about his trial, of course, but-"

"Actually," Hermione interrupted her resolutely, "I came to speak with Professor Dumbledore. About the trial."

All eyes turned towards Dumbledore, who was dozing or faking dozing in his frame. Uncharitably, Hermione inclined for faking.

After all, she had it on Dilys's authority, that a portrayed person only appeared sleeping when otherwise occupied in another portrait of theirs. She was pretty sure no one was speaking to his Chief Warlock portrait at the Ministry right now, since it had been taken down and stored away to avoid his being influenced by the debates until the time he would be brought in the courtroom to give his own testimony. Faking sleep was a common affectation with portraits, which enabled them to listen discreetly while pretending they were still very much sought after and had important things to do.

"Ho! Dumbledore!" a tall fellow in Cavalier garb called out in a stentorian voice. "A fair lass's come to visit you. Wake up, old man!"

Albus Dumbledore slowly opened his eyes. He looked wonderingly at Hermione's short curls for a brief instant before exclaiming in recognition, "Miss Granger!"

"Healer Granger, actually, Professor. Healer in training, that is."

"Yes, indeed. I've heard that you are Alfred Constanz's apprentice," he said with an appreciative smile that somewhat dimmed as his expression turned to compassion. "He doesn't accept just any volunteer. Only people who have suffered enough themselves to understand what it takes to ease the suffering of others."

There was an uncomfortable pause before he added, "It needs a lot of empathy and dedication."

She shrugged, dismissing the compliment. "There was the war. I'm sure I don't need to tell you about it," she said tartly. "When the dust of what people at the top ordered finally settles, somebody has to deal with the collateral damages and the survivors."

A crone on her left made the sound of a Curse zinging past. There were cackles and what little could be seen of Dumbledore's cheeks underneath the beard turned slightly pink.

Hermione noted with interest that it was not just Dilys and Phineas who did not like or support Dumbeldore.

She could not stop her eyes from drifting to the empty space near Dumebledore's frame – the empty space where the portrait of the next deceased Head would hang one day. Her mouth set in a hard line.

Dumbledore spoke softly. "I confess I never expected him to survive but I'm glad to think that Severus Snape won't be here on this wall for a very long time."

"You're glad?!" she said in scathing tones, her gaze obstinately fixed on the wood panel where Severus's portrait would now be hanging, if things had turned the way the old man had planned. "Not only did you frame him to die but you pushed him in so many ways beyond his limits that he didn't even sit for his own portrait out of self-hatred. If he had actually died, as you expected, what would be left of him?" she asked, looking around for a sign that Severus had indeed lived and worked here for several months.

The only thing that could be his, and that she was sure Minerva had kept there only for the sentimental value, was a worn Slytherin scarf on a rack in the corner and she pointed dismissively at it. "Only this to remember him by?"

Without much emotion, or so restrained that it was undetectable, Dumbledore declared, "I regret that he refused to sit for the Ministry painter."

Hermione instantly swivelled round to face him. "Do you know, Voldemort, too, said that he regretted it, before he set Nagini on Professor Snape and then again when he left him bleeding to death in the Shrieking Shack."

In the tone of appeasement, Dumbledore asked, "Healer Granger, why have you come today? If you only meant to throw into my face the error of my ways, there is no need. I am very much aware that what I asked of Severus Snape, and of your friend Harry for that matter, was much beyond the call of duty. It unfortunately had to be done."

"It is not the reason of my visit."

She did not say more. After all, it was only fair to use the same destabilizing tactic he had himself used countless times on others, since silence is the ultimate weapon of power… Although Dumbledore's piercing gaze made her feel rather transparent.

Suddenly suspicious, she raised her mental shields. The portrait did not seem to notice any difference, but it proved nothing. He could be using Legilimens and she would not know. After all, she was still a novice and knew only its medical use with consenting patients.

He said, not really asking, "Then, it is about Severus's trial?"

"Yes."

"You are very much involved in his case, I've heard," Dumbledore said with a glance towards Dilys Derwent.

"Someone has to be."

"You don't know how thankful, I am. Not that I ever doubted it, because once the truth was known, honourable people were bound to support Severus."

"Honourable people…" Her voice trailed quizzically. "What about you?"

Dumbledore produced a box of sherbet lemons and carefully considered them, taking one, then another, although they all looked identical. Hermione tried not to lose patience, very much aware that it was nothing but an artifice. He finally selected one that he put in his mouth.

"Miss Granger… I mean Healer Granger, I am called to offer my testimony to the Plenary High Court. It was a master stroke that, by the way," he commented genially while wiping his fingers out of habit in the length of his beard under Hermione's slightly disgusted gaze. "I must congratulate Shacklebolt when I next see him. He managed to expand the court, manoeuvre Fudge and the opposition so that they will be under the eyes of the entire international community and acknowledge Severus's crucial position in the war, all in one move."

Hermione was listening with a dangerous gleam in her eyes – a clear proof that the unconditional obedience and respect she displayed as a student were clearly things of the past, and that there were limits to her patience.

"For my part," Dumbledore went on, as affable as ever, "I will tell all that happened and all the services Severus rendered to me and to the Order. Nobody will stay in doubt about his loyalty and the fact that he acted on my orders in everything."

"How long ago was your portrait painted?" she asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

"When I first became headmaster, of course."

She pouted, clearly showing that she knew a little more about portraits than the average person. Not surprising from the over-achieving Miss Granger.

"I had the painting re-infused with fresh blood regularly over the years, as prescribed," Dumbledore said, answering her question by anticipation. "And you can see that I appear to you as I was not long before I died. I added fresh blood almost daily between the time my hand was cursed until my death. On Severus's insistence, I must say. He warned me that if I wanted him to follow my instructions post-mortem, my memories would have to be fresh and up to date."

Hermione could not help smirking a little. You could not claim that Severus Snape ever went passively to his fate.

Dumbledore was still speaking. "I stand before you with my memories intact until just moments before I left Hogwarts with Harry Potter to hunt down Slytherin locket."

"So, you don't actually remember how you died."

"Just like any other portrait. I believe it is considered a mercy not to remember one's own death."

Hermione's face hardened. She knew Harry remembered much too well all that happened after Voldemort hit him with the Killing Curse, and Severus still had nightmares about being trapped in Nagini's cage and unable to move even as her fangs and venom destroyed his throat.

"A mercy, certainly," she said coldly. "A pity, though, as far as your evidence is concerned, since you won't be able to explain what happened between you and Professor Snape on the Astronomy Tower."

"It was unavoidable," Dumbledore answered, not looking at her as he was conveniently picking another lemon drop. "But I am confident there will be enough evidence with Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy giving their eye-witness testimony."

Hermione ignored Dumbledore's answer, turning back to the contemplation of the rows of portraits. Occasionally, she would nod politely when her eyes met someone else's. She sounded very meditative when she said, "If he goes to Azkaban or into exile, he will never sit his Hogwarts portrait."

"Never is a strong word," Dumbledore said, his voice a little muffled by the fact he was now sucking on two sweets at the same time. "It sounds so exceedingly final. Severus is still much too young for you to consider he will never have his portrait here. He has a long future in front of him and plenty of time to remedy this, even if there are inevitable bumps in the road to expect."

"Oh? Because a stint in Azkaban is just a bump in the road, to you?"

With a small, reproachful sigh, the old wizard answered, "Do not presume to make me say what I did not. I just meant that Severus is a pessimist and he will not easily admit that he has a future, even if he were not to be immediately and totally exonerated."

She forced herself not to react. Deploring Severus's pessimism when it was Dumbeldore's personal handling of him since his student's days which was one of the most profound roots of his lack of illusions about the world! It was not even mere hypocrisy, she could tell, more like willful self-deception and it would be much harder to break.

"But do you believe that he will be 'immediately and totally exonerated'?" she insisted.

Most of the portraits leaned forward, showing their interest in the back and forth discussion and particularly in Dumbledore's answer about Snape's probable fate.

Unruffled, the old headmaster declared with his usual courtesy, "It is impossible to predict the exact outcome of a trial, whatever our wishes."

"Even with you speaking in his favour?" she asked, crossing her arms to show that she expected a better answer.

"I promise you I will do my best," he answered without losing any of his good humour, although he discarded his sweets on the nearby table, with a sad head shake, as if he did not fancy them anymore. "Unfortunately, during my time as Chief Warlock, I learned that misadventures and unexpected shifts in the judges' opinion are always possible in a courtroom, particularly when strong feelings and unscrupulous people who carry grudges are involved. It never hurts to be prepared for every eventuality."

"This is not very comforting," she said with cutting irony, "Coming from someone who thought nothing of throwing his right-hand man to the dogs, without any plan to ensure his survival or, at the very least, his vindication."

"I never meant for Severus to die," he said regretfully, "But the odds in his favour were very, very low to begin with."

"I find this pretty hypocritical, when it was you who dealt his cards." Hermione did not mind, for once, that her dratted hair was probably making its usual interpretation of Medusa, considering the way Dumbeldore was trying not to stare. It was a good thing if she could distract him a little and get some genuine reaction.

Still, his vivid blue eyes never blinked when he countered, "I don't know if this is Severus's perception of the situation, but we should not forget that he handed half the hand to Voldemort to begin with, and he always rallied to my plans in the end."

"I'd rather say that he never had the option not to obey you!"

"Healer Granger," Dumbledore chided gently, "You won't make me believe that Severus Snape could have changed so much that he denies responsibility for his own acts. He is certainly no one's puppet. He swore allegiance to me at one time, but so did he to Tom. If he had not trusted me, he would have found a way to leave the Order, just like he turned from the Death Eaters."

"He may not have been a brainless puppet, but you manipulated him emotionally as thoroughly as you manipulated Harry," she answered disdainfully. "Harry was too young and innocent to challenge anything you said, but I heard that whenever Professor Snape wanted you to consider another option or another plan, you never listened. They may have acted the way you suggested, but with you more or less covertly twisting their arm."

Blatantly ignoring her last words, Dumbledore looked longingly at his lemon drops, although he did not pick them back. "Every alternative he proposed, I had already considered."

"Rejected, more like, and without any discussion or explanation."

Dumbledore's gaze turn cold. "And why would I have discussed them?"

Before an indignant Hermione could tell him what she thought of tin-plated Headmasters with delusions of godhood, he went on quietly, "There is an old Chinese saying, that if several people all want to pilot a boat, it will end up sinking. Severus knew and accepted that leading an army cannot be an exercise in democracy. Besides," he insisted, seeing that she was going to object, "I never asked him to obey mindlessly. He would generally be screaming and kicking all the way when he did not like what I proposed." He shook his head in fond reminiscence, while playing one more time with his sweets. (Hermione idly wondered if painted sweets would be as sticky as real ones when manipulated so often.) "But in the end, he did what needed to be done, by his own choice."

"But you can't deny that the cost he paid was much higher than what you asked from anyone else," she instantly protested, "Except maybe Harry."

"If I asked more from Severus than from any other Order member," he acknowledged, prudently leaving Harry Potter out of the discussion, "It was because he was in a unique position. He was also the only one with the fortitude to kill me when I asked it and to be able to turn it to our advantage."

"It did not hurt that he was a Slytherin, I suppose?" She asked before she could stop herself. She just hoped it did not sound too cynical. "After all, being able to turn even a murder into something useful is not given to every one."

"I would not have put it like that, but it certainly helped that Severus had a reputation. Nobody, even amongst the Death Eaters, would have dared question his motivations."

Hermione had to call on all her professional training to keep her feelings inside and sound (almost) neutral. "Yes, everyone learned that at Hogwarts. Can there be any good thing come out of Slytherin?"*

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her peculiar turn of phrase but he obviously missed the reference. "The very worst come out of Slytherin but great and good wizards, too. Severus faced many challenges on my request but only because no one else could have done it. If anything, I trusted him more than anyone else, not less."

"Yet not to the point of telling him the full truth about Voldemort's horcruxes."

"That was not a matter of trust."

"Oh?" She asked, in the tone of disbelief. "A matter of what, then?"

"Of helping him focus on what he had to do, not on all that needed to be done." Stroking his beard pensively, he added, "He would not have been able to just stand and watch if he had known the details of Harry's mission, and it would have endangered his cover."

"It may have saved us time and some of the people who died under the Death Eaters's rule might be still alive today. There would have certainly been a lot fewer victims." Like me. Her resentment soared even more from not saying it aloud.

"Speculation cannot change history."

Dumbeldore seemed totally oblivious of how close he was to being sprayed with solvent.

"You say nothing of regrets."

"Severus could tell you that it does not do to dwell on regrets and forget to act."

"I can see that you certainly take your own advice," she observed with just a bit of sarcasm. "No regrets and no remorse."

The Headmaster's portrait did not answer.

Hermione realised things were not turning as she had hoped. She was too resentful, despite her good intentions when she came to Hogwarts and Albus Dumbledore had a lifelong experience in bluffing his way out of any type of emotional inveiglement.

She had to try again, though. "Whatever you pretend, the simplest explanation is that you didn't tell all the truth to Professor Snape because you could not help doubting him."

He shook his head sadly. "I do not know how to convince you that I trusted him, but it does not make it any less true."

"Considering all he managed to hide from Voldemort, I don't think it would have made a difference if you had told him."

"The more he knew, the greater the risk for the Order."

"If he betrayed you?"

"If he was caught," Dumbledore enunciated chillingly, finally showing some semblance of impatience. "I believe you spend enough time with Constanz in the Janus Thickey Ward? With incurables like the Longbottoms as a living proof, I do not have to tell you that there are limits to what a human being can endure. I would hardly call it betrayal if someone were to break under torture, so it was better for Severus and for everyone else not to burden him with too many secrets to hide and too many missions at the same time."

She grew pale at the mere thought of Severus... But, no, she refused to go that way. "If he had been caught, we would have lost anyway."

"I admit the odds would have been staggeringly low."

He sounded just as cool as ever, which infuriated her. "So, what the heck!" she cried, "He could have helped us find the Horcruxes!"

"I repeat that he could not have done so without blowing his cover."

"Professor Snape did not blow his cover when he passed us the Sword of Gryffindor," she immediately objected.

"But there is a difference between being cornered in a hopeless situation and deliberately courting disaster," he explained as if she was particularly obtuse. "In the long run, it would have necessitated that several people knew the truth about my death for his help to be accepted. The greater the number of people who share a secret, the higher the probability that something will inadvertently be repeated or written down and that the information will end up in the hands of the enemy. It was not safe to share the bigger picture."

Hermione considered him with a contemptuous, mocking little smile. "What you are telling me, in fact, is that you would have had to share your plans with a potential successor."

"At the risk of sounding pretentious, who do you think would have been able to do it?" he asked coldly. "Maybe Harry Potter, but in ten years time, and at the cost of too many of his ideals. What little I told him, he was not ready to hear."

Dumbledore certainly had a point, but she would never admit it. "Maybe not one single person, then, but a small team, like in any successful organisation. People like Moody, Shacklebolt, Remus, Minerva, Arthur Weasley... I can go on."

"You do realise that the days of the Order of the Phoenix were numbered once the Ministry fell, don't you?" he asked for form's sake. "What would have been the use, then, of a leading team whose members would be hunted down for their inside knowledge?"

"I admire the confidence you have in all the people who followed you or gave their life for the cause," she said drily. It elicited a few approving snickers, which made Dumbledore curl his fingers, if ever so slightly. He is not as unflappable as he wants us to believe, she noted.

"I have great regard for every single one of them. It does not make it any less true that very few people make good leaders and that even fewer are able to work together without losing a lot of time in deliberations."

"You're unbelievable!" she declared, throwing her hands in the air. "The very purpose of an organisation like the Order should have been to go on fighting, even without you… But, of course, you would have had to share information and power."

Dumbledore remained silent for some time, although her healer training enabled Hermione to note signs of uneasiness. The now steepled fingers that reposed in his lap, the willfully unfocused gaze that refused to meet hers proved that he was on the defensive.

He sighed, so softly that she would have missed it if she had not been watching carefully, and admitted almost apologetically, "You are right, but by the time I should have been passing on my knowledge, I was unable to do so." He raised a hand in a fatalistic gesture and let it fall back on the armrest. "The only excuse I can give is that the Peverell ring probably affected me much more profoundly than I realised. With the benefit of hindsight, I see that it magnified my need for secrecy and for control."

"I know." She rubbed her temples, almost tempted to give up on this stubborn old man, who did not want to admit that he had been consumed by his own hubris long before he was cursed. "Professor Snape berates himself for not realising it sooner."

The portrait had the grace to look contrite. "Honestly, Healer Granger, I am not sure it would have made much of a difference. I do not think I would have been able to listen…-"

Of course not, you NEVER listened.

"… And I do not see what Severus could have done, apart from consigning me to the devil and walking away."

"He would never do that."

"Indeed, I do not believe he would ever have done it. His sense of duty always made him act for the greater good, even when he admitted he did not understand my plans but followed them simply because he trusted me."

He briefly hung his head and shook it with something close to awe. "He trusted me, Healer Granger. Not for what I represented or what he believed I was, because he never could see me as the infallible Headmaster or the 'bulwark against Darkness' everyone else believed me to be after I beat Grindelwald. I will even admit that he had very little reason to respect me, but he trusted me nonetheless." The corners of his mouth sagged sadly. "It was a heady feeling. Probably too heady for someone like me."

Hermione almost felt sorry for Dumbledore in that instant, because he was finally reaching the critical point where he needed to speak, even if only to try to justify himself, but she could not and did not want to bear that additional burden. He would have to find someone else.

"It was all for the Greater Good," she said, careful to sound as neutral as possible. It was the most she was disposed to do for him.

"For the Greater Good, yes," he said. For a brief instant, he seemed to shrink and looked as old as he really was. "Serving the Greater Good is not as comforting as it is supposed to be. I was unfortunately no more able to prevent people from suffering than all the other delusional leaders who claimed it before me. I cannot speak for them, but I always found it was a very small comfort when confronted with the results of some of my decisions."

Yes, the Headmaster was certainly reaching some breaking point if he was sounding so self-pitying and maudlin.

Once again, she hardened herself against her own, always ready to sympathise heart. and tried to sound merely understanding.

"Don't you think that the 'Greater Good', these days, requires Professor Snape to be exonerated, for everyone's closure, as much as his own?"

It was as close as she could get to say that Dumbeldore needed to see Severus vindicated, for his own self-esteem. "The public need to know that people who are willing to risk their life, their reputation and everything they hold dear will be recognized in the end, not punished for their courage." She could not help adding, "The Order need it, too. They are very confused, and we have a lot of heated discussions about the true motives behind your decisions."

She immediately realised she had made a mistake.

Dumbledore's face had been displaying conflicted feelings for a brief moment but she could see the exact second he blinked out of his self-indulgence and returned to his usual self.

Unable to backtrack now, she raised a beseeching hand. "Tell me, what example to the next generations would it be, when the day comes to fight injustice or evil again, if Professor Snape is not exonerated?"

"I find this discussion a very good training before the trial," the Headmaster said, resolutely closing the door on introspection. "But what does Severus think of your intervention today?"

"Nothing, since he doesn't know," she said, raising her chin defiantly. "And before you begin to drone again about his being so loyal that he followed you with such complete trust, let me tell you that he is only expecting the very worst of this trial, in spite of all our efforts… Because he doesn't expect anything good from you!"

Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised. "Surely, he knows that I will defend him to the best of my abilities."

She snorted contemptuously. At this point, she would not handle him with kid gloves. "Even with the limitations of your being only a portrait these days, he does not put it beyond you to ruin him definitely if it suits you… And he does not see why it would not suit you."

"Healer Granger!" the portrait protested in a wounded tone, "I may have had to give Severus hard, merciless tasks, I never wished him ill."

"Then, why doesn't he know that?" she jeered. "He believes that you will let him down, like every time it counted."

Dumbledore blinked. "Severus says that?"

"His exact words and quite bitter, too. I can sympathise," she said in a deceptively sweet voice. "After all, it is not just anyone who will spend the seven years he stayed at Hogwarts convincing an abused boy that he will always be a second class person, protecting and rewarding his bullies as you did." Her voice grew colder and a little shrill. "Or destroying the career and ambitions of a potions genius, one whose work may have changed the world, just to keep him at your beck and call, even when it was obvious Voldemort would not return for years to come."

"Healer Granger-"

"It is not just anyone," she cut again angrily, "Who would ask him to kill them and make sure he would be in everyone's eyes the most contemptuous, ungrateful and cowardly turncoat ever!" She was practically shouting now.

"Healer Granger!" Dumbledore was angry, too, by now. "It is not just anyone either who will believe a Death Eater, when they come to you supposedly on behalf of a former girlfriend they have all the reasons to hate, and give them a second chance. And it is not everyone either who will move heaven and earth to get them out of Azkaban and exonerated. I did it once, I will do it again and things are never as simplistic as you make them sound."

She eyed him scornfully. "You pretend you care for him?"

"I do not pretend," he denied tiredly. "I do care for Severus. I know I wronged him when he was younger because..." It was the first time she saw him hesitating to find the proper words, and she knew, both as a healer and from personal experience that there was something very strong and significant there. "...Because of personal failings of mine," he finally admitted in his own convoluted way, "And ill-judgement. Severus had a lot to atone for as well, but we put a lot of things behind us after Lily Potter's death, when he agreed to stay at Hogwarts and to go on spying."

When you took advantage of his grief, she wanted to say and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the words in. "You say you care, but you still prefer to play God rather than put Severus's mind at rest," she claimed, abandoning the pretence that he was just Professor Snape for her. Dumbledore did not seem surprised. "Your pride and reputation are still more important to you than knowing he has been waiting for months for yet another stab in the back from you, because he did not dare hope for something else."

Dumbledore stood up, an impressive if impassive figure. "I do not pretend to understand you, Healer Granger."

"No?" she asked with a little derisive laugh. "Severus doesn't need a grand gesture at his trial that will make you look good when he is at his lowest." She shook her head angrily. "He needs to know that he is more than just a means to an end for you, and I should not have to tell you that he must have it before you give your testimony."

Dumbledore made to open his mouth, but she beat him, now speaking in a low, urgent voice. "No! Let me speak. You do not know it, but it will not be just the trial next week… There is a whole conspiracy afoot, with escaped Death Eaters behind it. I fear..." She swallowed painfully. "They want him dead."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Of course, they want him dead."

"So," she pleaded, "If he ever meant anything to you, he needs to know it now! Not when you say it in front of an audience, with too many other things happening at the same time." She straightened, her expression turning forbidding once again. "Either you do it now, or he will never believe that you are not using him again for your own ends and he will never forgive you. Neither will Harry, I warn you, and more people than you would believe."

There was a growing rumble from the other portraits, more hostile than anything else. Dumbledore ignored it as usual, but Hermione looked around before saying, "I think you already had a taste of how it feels to be ostracised… I hoped it would have helped you understand a very little what Severus had to endure for years, but I suppose it was too much to expect that you would be willing to end his suffering before it suited your own agenda."

Dumbledore sat back rigidly. She almost pitied him for being so unable to admit his own failings or his contradictory feelings, and she was sure it was because of the audience. She briefly regretted she had not the authority to send the other portraits away.

She looked imploringly at Phineas Black, who nodded and managed to click his tongue loudly enough to catch the eyes of all his fellow portraits while Hermione attempted to distract Dumbledore by walking menacingly to him until she could have touched his frame, although she still had to look up to him.

Black glared meaningfully towards Hermione and Dumbledore and then back at his colleagues before putting an imperious finger to his lips and closing his eyes in fake sleep. Almost immediately, his eyelids shot up and he watched on as, reluctantly, the other portraits left their frame or went to faked sleep.

The corner of his mouth lifted as Dilys and a few ladies gifted with the same accessory hid their face behind their fan that suddenly occupied the entire canvas.

He almost missed Hermione's next words to Dumbledore. "I know you told Severus you left nothing to help clear him of murder, for security reasons. He took it as just another proof that you never cared for him as a person."

Dumbledore rubbed a finger on his lower lip but said nothing.

Hermione held his gaze. "I have another theory."

"You find me most curious, Healer Granger."

"With or without the Elder Wand, there was always the possibility that Harry and Severus would find themselves face to face at one time or another. We both know Severus would have tried to spare Harry as much as possible. I would not have thought it possible, but I have learned since that Harry had come to hate Severus so much, he would have had no reservation to harm and possibly to kill him."

"Then, we must be thankful they were both too busy for that."

"Are you telling me that is the reason why you sent Harry far from Hogwarts while Severus was stuck there?"

"No, but if what you tell me is true, I am thankful I did."

"I guess you have forgotten how to stop acting all the time," she said, shaking her head again, with pity this time. "It must be tiring."

Dumbledore said nothing.

"Even Severus has learned to lower his defences and allowed us to know the real him."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "An impressive feat, if it is your doing."

"Praise Healer Constanz. It took weeks of therapy for Severus to accept he is a human being and not some kind of monster… As he had been made to believe by those who used him with so little consideration for his feelings."

The old man reached for his sweets box. His hand stilled over the lemon drop, long enough for him to say, "I am happy for him," before putting it in his mouth.

She brushed the comment aside with an irritated wisp of her hand. "I did not finish telling you about my theory. Had Harry managed to kill Severus, he would have been consumed with guilt when he learned the truth. Severus revealed that your intention was to reveal nothing, to spare Harry the remorse… Which did nothing for Harry's peace of mind, I can tell you. He has come to resent you as much as he used to hate Severus back then."

Dumbledore's expression turned blank again but not before he could hide the hurt in his blue eyes.

She waited a few seconds before adding, "What I believe, is that you meant to keep the secret only as long as Harry was alive."

If she had not been watching him like an eagle its prey, she may not have noticed the small beads of sweat on Dumbledore's brow.

They carefully seized each other up again, in painful, expecting silence

At last, Dumbledore asked prudently, "What would you have me do, exactly, Healer Granger?"

"What you should have long done, since neither of them died and Harry knows the truth." she said. "I want your proofs, and I want them now."

There was a collective gasp of surprise from the supposedly empty frames or sleeping portraits all around but they both ignored it.

"If you don't do it for Severus's peace of mind, at least do it for Harry's. He's worrying himself sick about Severus."

Dumbledore cocked his head.

"My compliments, Healer Granger," he said with obvious sincerity. "I have been insulted and berated by a lot of people lately, who felt necessary to give me their opinion about my callousness for the way I treated Severus, and to express how contemptible it makes me, but nobody actually took the time until today to tell me that I am still hurting him, and Harry, too… Although I do not want you to believe that I do it more for Harry than for Severus's sake."

The blue eyes suddenly seemed much brighter and the old man blinked several times. "It seems I am always doing the wrong thing when Severus is concerned, when it could not be farther from my intention."

"Then," Hermione said softly, "It is time to do something right."

The Headmaster nodded. "One thing is certain, he could not have found a better advocate."

"No," said the young woman with a smile. "He could not have. Alexia Yaxley certainly knows what she is doing."

"I was not speaking of Alexia, even if I agree she is enchantingly ruthless and can wield arguments with the power of an axe."

Once again, she brushed aside the compliment. "The proofs, please. I do not want Severus to fret any longer than necessary."

"Then I will ask you to sit at Minerva's desk, and you will need your wand."

Hermione did as she was told without the slightest hesitation at using the headmistress's seat without her permission.

The desk was an incredible piece of craftwork and she could not help admiring it once more, even as she waited for Dumbledore's instructions. It had been a present from Beauxbatons on the occasion of a Tri Wizard Tournament, more than three centuries ago.

It was an eight-legged Mazarin desk in the Boulle style. The central drawer was inlaid with the school motto in the typical brass and tortoise shell ground. The school crest and the symbol of each of the four houses adorned the smaller surrounding drawers.

She instinctively reached for the Slytherin drawer but a small chuckle stopped her. "I hope I am not that predictable."

Dumbledore recited in a dreamy voice, "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Tittillandus." Her gaze instantly settled on the school motto. "Place the tip of your wand successively on each 'S' and then say Titillando."

"Titillando?" She could roll her eyes at the absurdity, but it was Dumbledore, wasn't it?

"Titillando," he confirmed, with a smile.

Two 'S' for Severus Snape, she thought while caressing the letters with the tip of her wand.

"Titillando!"

Nothing happened. No hidden drawer. No triggered mechanism. No apparition. Nothing. She turned to Dumbledore's portrait, wavering between suspicion and dismay.

"Of course, I could not hide anything in this office," he told her with a bright smile. "Too many witnesses."

"So?" She was rapidly getting tired of Dumbledore's little riddles.

"Under the third step of the staircase, counting from the top. Tap it again with your wand and repeat 'Titillando' twice."

"That will be three times?"

"Third time's a charm, as the muggles say."

"I hope it's not another of your fool's errands," warned Phineas Black as Hermione walked out, leaving the door open.

They could see the young healer kneeling on the fifth step to reach more easily the third one with her wand and calling out twice, "Titillando."

There was a faint hiss, like released vacuum and a collective sigh echoed, coming from the portraits.

"Ha!" Hermione announced triumphally, before reappearing some time later with a plain, old shoe box, whose very oddity plainly designated the owner as well as the faded label, 'ladies purple and gold embroidered slippers size 11'.

She put it on Minerva's desk, opened it and eagerly unrolled the parchment that laid at the top.

She read aloud, "I, Albus Wulfric Perceval Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, declare being as sound in body and mind as possible, which some may say does not amount to much, this day the eighteenth of August 1996. Today, I asked Severus Tobias Snape to do me the great favour to kill me and grant me a merciful and meaningful death at such time Tom Marvolo Riddle, who styles himself as Lord Voldemort, orders it."

Dilys Derwent face-palmed with a relieved sob and several portraits looked approvingly at Dumbledore. Phineas Black scrutinized his face through narrowed eyes but did not comment.

Hermione rapidly scanned the rest of the parchment. Cursed hand… Blah, blah, blah... Confirmed diagnosis that he would be dead before the end of next summer… Medical certificate by Healer Alfred Constanz of St Mungo's as an attachment… The Ministry still refusing to take seriously the threat of Voldemort… Blah, blah, blah... Order of the Phoenix intelligence and Arithmancy equations confirming that the Ministry and Hogwarts would fall within the year… Blah, blah, blah… Need to secure Severus Snape's position with Voldemort… Only hope to protect Hogwarts and the students… Blah, blah, blah… Personal memories of his interactions with Severus Snape enclosed… Ha!

She put her hand back in the box to search for the vial. She raised a quizzical eyebrow as she extricated not one but several vials and another box, in rot-proof acacia wood.

She put them on the top of the desk. All seven vials were the same size and labelled with the name of an event and a date between 1980 and 1997: Encounter on a hilltop. Wizard's oath. Tom's initial displeasure. Containing the curse on my hand. Consent. There were two vials with the same 'Debriefing' tag but one dated from the first war and the other right after the Battle of the Ministry.

She reached for the wooden box, after a swift glance at Dumbledore, who sat trying to look impassive but nodded in assent.

She discarded several balls of paper stuffing to unearth first a heavy bag of galleons, then a business card from Capuletto Padre e Figlii, with an address in Roma, and the single word: Ritrattisti. A swift translation spell later and she now knew that they were portrait painters.

There was an extension charm on the box, because she now pulled out a file much thicker than the box. It contained an extensive correspondence between Dumbledore and the Capuletto covering every single detail of a long-term commission for a wakeful portrait, with top confidentiality and no deadline. Half the price had been paid in advance, to seal the deal. Hermione did not count them but surmised that the bag of galleons represented the rest of the sum.

There were samples of framework and several sketches, full-length or head-and-shoulders, all featuring Snape. It turned out that they had been drawn from a batch of accompanying magical photographs.

Hermione could not help wondering how Dumbledore had ever managed to obtain them, because they were not the official kind. Even at work in his lab or on Hogwarts grounds, the Potions master looked more relaxed and approachable than she could ever have imagined him as a student.

When he looked up from the copy he was correcting, he smiled without restraint and such open affection that her heart leaped. She was sure that he could not have been looking at Dumbledore.

Suddenly remembering how fond Rita Skeeter seemed to be of photographing her family and friends, she put the photo down as if she had been burned.

The blood vial was carefully wrapped in some kind of professional cloth padding she had never seen but was obviously imbued, by the feel of it, with magical properties – for preservation, she guessed.

It was opaque brown like all hospital unbreakable standard issue, but the throb of magic when she brushed against the cork told her that the vial was protected with the same strong spells as Dumbeldore's memories. It was only labelled SS 1995 – 06 – 24.

The last day of the Triwizard Tournament, she realised with a pang. The day Cedric Diggory died and Voldemort returned.

The day Severus went back to spying.

So, Dumbledore had expected and even probably planned Severus' s death at least from that date, but he had been prepared to pay for his portrait himself.

She turned to the Headmaster again, full of questions.

He pointed to the vial of blood. "It was almost spur of the moment inspiration." He lightly rubbed his beard, before admitting, in a low, subdued voice, "I was not sure he would make it out of that first confrontation with Voldemort alive."

Hermione put a hand on her chest in a vain attempt to control her own emotion. Even in her youthful ignorance, she had known that Professor Snape was going to do something much more difficult than 'alert the old crowd' like Sirius Black when he left Hogwarts on Dumbledore's orders.

Even after remembering how strangely unsettled and subdued the Headmaster had been after the Potions master had left, she would never have imagined that Dumbledore had been worrying that much about him. But then, she never imagined either that Severus entertained very small hopes not to be tortured or killed on sight when he presented himself to his dark master.

"I sent him to Poppy under the fallacious excuse to help Alastor Moody to get there-"

She blurted, "They hated each other!"

"Yes, but it was the only way I managed to get Severus to the Infirmary. He did not dare refuse Poppy in front of Alastor when she took some blood from him, supposedly for a routine update of his medical file."

"Poppy was in on the secret?"

"Not exactly," he said, and she instantly translated it as 'definitely not'. "But she knew that Severus went regularly on dangerous missions for me, since she sometimes had to help patch him up. I just hinted that it would be a good thing to have some more blood at hand, just in case, you know."

"Why did you not have the portrait painted?"

"Because he lived on."

She snorted. "That's the weakest excuse I ever heard, particularly when it is so obvious you spent days planning all this," she said, pointing at the contract, vial and money.

"I assure you, I could not find the right moment. What would I have done with Severus's portrait while he was alive? Where to hide it?" He smiled unapologetically.

"I see. You didn't want to explain the living Severus that you had his portrait painted without his knowledge or permission."

Dumbledore chuckled briefly. "The real trouble would have been to discuss why I did not want him to infuse new blood in the portrait." He turned thoughtful, almost regretful, as he took his box and automatically put a lemon drop in his mouth. "I was sure that he would not survive the war. The least I could do was to find a small way for him to stay with us without retaining memories of what he had to do to bring Voldemort down."

"He was bound to learn the truth, even as portrait."

"Second hand knowledge is not the same. He deserved as clean a slate as possible, and this blood sample would have given him a sort of compensation, if you want. He would have been unable to remember the horrors he had to witness or to commit himself while retaining at least the memory of his one successful relationship."

"With Rita Skeeter?" Hermione blurted.

Dumbledore looked nonplussed while there were several gasps and guffaws from the other portraits.

"Rita Skeeter?" he asked incredulously, with barely held mirth. "Why would you want Severus to…-"

He stopped at the sight of Hermione's obvious mortification, all the more since Dilys Derwent was gesturing wildly behind the healer's back to catch his attention. She was glowering and passing a finger across her throat to make him understand that the question was particularly loaded.

"Oh… Oh! Severus and Rita Skeeter were certainly never lovers. Frankly, I cannot imagine that he would ever have been tempted by such a woman. He had a much better match with…-" He was interrupted by a violent coughing spell and nearly chocked on his lemon drop that he managed to swallow, very painfully if his purpled face was any indication. He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

"With whom?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"I do not think it is anyone's business but their own," Dumbledore managed to say, his voice still rough. He cast Aguamenti, not caring to Accio a goblet and drank directly from the flow to sooth and clear his throat with fresh water.

Hermione, frustrated not to get her answer looked around. The subtle or not so subtle body language of the other portraits indicated that they knew the identity of Severus's lover, just like Dumbledore. She could tell that some positively itched to tell her. Considering how outspoken they could be, it was obvious they were bound to silence.

She wondered how the fact that Severus was still alive, even if he was not Headmaster anymore, still had the power to bind them. She could not remember having read that it was possible when the fealty oath has been legally transferred to someone else.

Indeed, now that she thought about it, Dilys and Phineas only answered to Minerva now. Did she know, too?

Her gaze fell on Severus's scarf.

A fantastic idea suddenly struck her. She stood transfixed for a while, her eyes widening as she thought about the very improbable couple Severus would make with…

A witch significantly older, and not by a paltry ten years like Rita Skeeter, but as old as his mother,

A witch who could not have lived far from Hogwarts, or Severus would have had a hard time, with all his responsibilities, to be carrying on with her.

Except on part of the week-end and on holidays.

Although it was common knowledge that his Friday nights and most of his holidays were spent with a fellow oenophile and academic of this very school, writing brilliant papers together… And maybe doing more… Maybe…

She fixed her gaze on Dilys and discreetly shifted her gaze to Minerva's seat then to Snape's scarf and back, conveying without words her question.

The former headmistress remained sedate in her own frame, an unusual enough situation, until she was sure the other portraits were otherwise occupied: complaining to each other under their breath that they could not share such a juicy piece of gossip, studiously wiping their glasses to avoid Hermione's gaze like Phineas or, in the case of Dumbledore, still busy recovering.

She swiftly glanced from Hermione to Minerva's seat, then to Severus's scarf on the rack and back to the Headmistress's seat. She tried to wink but had to blink several times instead, as her eyes went all red and swollen. She closed her eyes in intense concentration and it passed in another blink.

She had not been as discreet as she thought, or it was Hermione's reaction that alerted him because Phineas Black whispered with exasperation, "Dilys!"

"What?" she asked, sounding totally innocent.

"I think it is time to say goodbye," he said loudly. "We would not want Severus to wait any longer now that Healer Granger has such good news." His half-smile was affable enough but his gaze was stern and Dilys squirmed slightly under it.

"In fact," Black added in a tone indicating she had better not contradict him, "I suggest we visit my other portrait immediately, since she will not be able to extricate herself from all the hugging and kissing old friends anytime soon. Severus deserves a little warning before hearing such life-changing information."

"What a good idea!" exclaimed Dilys, as if she relished the prospect, but Hermione knew her well enough by now to hear the slight edge in her voice. "See you soon," she told Hermione with the same faked enthusiasm, tempered by an apologetic smile.

Phineas was already at his lover's side, proffering his arm for her to lean her hand on and whisking her away. He only turned long enough to convey through his glare that Hermione had better hold her tongue or the both of them would have a serious discussion soon, just like he was going to have with Dilys.

Before Hermione thought of a way to reassure him without saying it aloud, there was a swirl in each painting. Dilys's frame turned empty and Phineas's chin fell on his chest, as he looked fast asleep.

Hermione stood, a strange, heavy feeling in her stomach.

Severus and Professor McGonagall.

Severus and Minerva.

Minerva who had welcomed her with such obvious affection this morning and who had helped her so patiently during her therapy and healing.

Minerva who was so aggressively protective whenever someone discussed Professor Snape.

Minerva who had been the first and only person to rush to visit him in St Mungo's and who was the only person Severus trusted absolutely, apart from Lucius Malfoy.

With a sinking heart and slightly trembling hands, the young healer undertook to carefully stow back everything in the shoe box while regaining her composure.

Until now, she had repeated to herself that a relationship with Severus Snape was not possible, because of her own failings that made it impossible for him to love her as much as she loved him, but without absolute conviction. More like a desperate attempt to protect her heart and her self-esteem against her fears and the risk of rejection.

Hope is a hard thing to kill, though and there was always that little part of her mind which stubbornly refused to give up and persisted in whispering that one day, maybe…

This changed everything.

Minerva and Severus had been a couple long before little, bucktoothed Hermione Granger learned she was a witch. They had been separated by the war and Dumbledore's machinations to ensure Severus's credibility with the Death Eaters, but even the old wizard called it a 'successful relationship'.

Whatever bad feelings there might have been between the two lovers during his time as Headmaster was obviously behind them. After the trial, nothing would be able to stop them to get back together, and certainly not her.

She admired and loved the both of them much too deeply to even dream to ever come between them.

She glanced up at Dumbledore and found him considering her with a compassionate look on his face. She raised her chin. "Thank you, Professor," she said courteously. "I am sure that S… Professor Snape will be most grateful. I have no doubt that Harry will be, too."

"It is I who must thank you, Healer Granger," he said gently.

She was still firmly on Severus's and Harry's side, but she could afford to relent with the old wizard now and to be kinder, since she understood now that Minerva was even more involved in protecting Severus than she had thought.

She suspected that Dumbledore had a hard time at Hogwarts, not only with the other portraits but with Minerva as well. Hermione could not imagine that the Headmistress would easily forgive him for what he had inflicted on Severus. In Minerva's shoes, she would do the same, but somehow, it felt that she had no right to interfere anymore.

"You can call me Hermione, Professor." There was a great deal of pity in her offer, but it was hard to tell if it was more for Dumbledore than for herself.

"Then, thank you, Hermione. I have been trapped in my own schemes for too long and did not know how to come clean about Severus, except in the Courtroom." With a sad smile, he added, "It is not as if he could or would wish to visit me."

She thought it better not to answer, since there was only one possible answer and it was a resounding "No!"

She hesitated, her hand poised on the wooden box from the portrait painters. "Do you think I should give this to Professor McGonagall?"

He shook his head. "I think Severus deserves the choice, at last."

Hermione squared her shoulders. "You're right, as usual, and you must know how painful it is for me to admit it." She disillusioned the box and tucked it safely under her arm. "It is good bye, then."

Dumbledore smiled, almost impishly she thought. "Good luck, Hermione."

The door closed on Hermione and a slender tabby cat emerged from behind the brocaded curtains. She swiftly transformed back.

"Minerva!" Armando Dipett saluted her paternally from his frame, undaunted by her resolute, pinched lips. "How long have you been here?"

She managed a brief, polite smile but nothing more than a cursory glance to the man who had been Headmaster when she was herself a student and that she still had the habit to respect more than all others. "Long enough," she answered curtly.

She took a few steps to the more sombre corner of her office, but turned around before she unwisely indulged herself by reaching for Severus's scarf in front of an audience. Keeping it here had been foolish indulgence enough.

Only in cat form could she still perceive remnants of his particular body scent and there was no way that she would offer anyone, even portraits, an occasion to ponder over her own feelings – and certainly not after Dilys Derwent's unsubtle little pantomime. She was glad Phineas Black took her away, but she would still give the interfering old biddy a piece of her mind as soon as possible.

She looked around and commanded, "Everyone, out! Dumbledore, you stay."

Most portraits were not surprised, considering how Dumbledore had foolishly forgotten the biding, but they took their time to arrange things around in their frame before leaving, commenting to each other as they did so that someone was obviously like a bear with a sore head and that some other people obviously had it coming – just to drive home that they were not to be ordered around so callously but were willing, for once, to indulge Minerva who was not generally so rude.

Professor McGonagall waited patiently, ordering a tea tray and then busying herself with pouring a cup and flavouring it with her favourite pure malt. She turned her armchair so that it faced Dumbeldore's portrait, sat comfortably and began to sip with the contended sigh of someone who had a hard day and can finally relax.

As soon as the last portrait had left, though, she put her cup down on the tray and asked, "You are proud of yourself, aren't you?"

Albus was genuinely surprised. "Why do you say that?"

"Severus will finally get that much needed confirmation that you cared for him, and he, Harry and all their friends will look up to you again and like you."

"It may seem a little late," he said prudently. "But I hope it is the right time. I admit I am profoundly relieved the truth is finally out."

"At least, what you have persuaded yourself to be the truth."

He almost pouted. "Now, that is not very kind, Minerva."

There was a lengthy pause, while she served herself another cup of 'tea'.

"Do you know?" she finally said between sips, "I have been tempted to change and rip your face off this canvas often enough, but as Severus would put it… You are not worth the paperwork with the Ministry."

TBC

All my thanks to JOdel for her helpful corrections.