Severus Snape maintained his habitual sneer as he observed the portrait-girl, currently chopping daisy roots with meticulous care. Her eyes kept straying out of her frame, watching for his reaction. She was doing quite well, actually. Very well. The potions master didn't let his approval show. If she really intended to sit for the O.W.L, she'd have to produce a far more difficult potion in front of the examiner; no sense coddling the child with flattery. Her cheeks flushed as their eyes met; she hastily returned her attention to her work. Minutes passed. At last the girl added a precise four drops of leech juice and the potion turned a bright acid green. She'd produced a perfect Shrinking Solution. She waited, afraid to look up, almost seeming to hold her breath. "That would earn an A in my classroom, Miss Stuart," he told her.
"Only an A ?" she asked hesitantly. "I was hoping for an E, at least-"
He snorted, cutting her off. "An E ? The potion is Acceptable... barely."
She raised her chin defiantly, temper flaring. "It's an O, Professor Snape, and you know it. You just don't want to help me."
Instead of replying, Snape turned away and walked to his office. He returned a moment later carrying a heavy leather-bound book, setting it down on the desk in front of the portrait with a bit more force than necessary. As he flipped the book open, an additional chill entered the dungeon laboratory, a very real sense of menace that caused the girl to recoil in her frame. Woodcut illustrations on the page writhed unpleasantly. In the past week, Snape had done a great deal of research in the restricted section of the library. He had to admit, the challenge intrigued him. "This is just the first of the rites you're asking me to perform, Miss Stuart," he said, indicating the page. "You are aware that the Ministry still frowns on use of the Dark Arts ? I'd be risking my teaching career, at the very least." The portrait-girl didn't respond. "There is an even greater risk to you," Snape went on. "You would become an essential ingredient of the potion, you understand. If I were to fail, your portrait would be destroyed. Your existence, such as it is, would come to an end."
"I've died once already, Professor," she said, again with that wry expression, almost a smile. "I'm willing to accept the risks if you are." The portrait-girl hesitated. "Are you ?" She leaned closer in her frame, waiting expectantly for his reply.
Snape closed the book and changed the subject. "You died in 1583, Miss Stuart. Failed to survive a werewolf attack." Sarcasm crept into his tone. "Tell me, you seem like a bright girl. Whatever possessed you to enter the Forbidden Forest under a full moon ?"
She didn't answer right away, standing there in her frame with a far-away look in her painted eyes. Snape realized the girl was seeking back over the decades, remembering. Four hundred and twenty-eight years was a long time, he reflected. "I needed an ingredient for a potion," she said finally. "Love-in-idleness. It has to be harvested at the full moon."
"Viola lutea," Snape supplied the Latin name. "You planned to brew a love potion, then."
The girl blushed and lowered her eyes. "There was a boy... I loved him. He didn't even know I was alive." Her painted cheeks were crimson. "I only wanted him to notice me," she whispered.
"Such potions destroy free will. He wouldn't really have loved you," he said gently. Snape collected himself, made his voice harsh. "Was it worth it, do you think ?"
"No." She laughed softly, without humor. "I can't even remember his name."
"Typical. Foolish scatterbrained chit of a girl. Why would I add yet another hormonal, half-witted adolescent to my roster of students ?" he sneered. "I have enough idiots to deal with without brewing a fresh batch of trouble for myself."
"Because, Professor, unlike most of your students, I want to learn," she said sharply. "You're a petty, mean-spirited man," Veronica told him bluntly. Snape started to reply with another insult, but she raised her voice, drowning him out. "Don't even try to deny it. I've watched you for years, ever since you were a student yourself. You're spiteful and cruel and unfair. And yet, you are a good teacher. You look at those hormonal half-wits and see the potential they don't even know they possess, and you force it out of them." The professor snorted dismissively. She ignored it. "And when you find that rare student who really wants to learn, Professor Snape, you don't rest until you've taught them everything you possibly can. You drive them and belittle them and make them hate you, but you teach them." The girl's eyes bored into his, refusing to let him look away. She was an eleven-year-old child no longer; Snape suddenly felt the full weight of over four hundred years of existence bearing down on him. "I was a foolish scatter-brain, just like you said, but I've had centuries to regret wasting my life. Get me out of this frame, professor. Let me touch the ingredients again, smell the mold on the pages of the books, taste the fumes of the cauldron. Let me feel the magic flowing through my veins again. I'll learn ! I'll learn it all, everything you have to teach me. I'll make you proud of me, Professor Snape." Veronica stopped, blushing furiously, and lowered her eyes. She seemed very young once again, very unsure.
Snape bit back a laugh, then. What a torrent of words. More in one minute than in all the years that had come before. He hoped the outburst wasn't the start of a trend - he really didn't think he could manage another Hermione Granger, not at his age. The portrait-girl kept her eyes down, refusing to look at him again. Snape watched her for a long time before he finally spoke. "The potion itself will take at least four weeks to brew, Miss Stuart. But first, I'll have to acquire the rest of the ingredients, several of which are not readily available in the U.K." Because they're illegal, he added to himself. Snape picked up the sinister book and turned to leave. "I shall let you know when I am ready to begin."
"Professor Snape... thank you." He glanced back up at her. The portrait-girl was smiling, the first genuine smile he'd seen from her. The unaccustomed expression lit up her whole face, giving her a brief, unexpected beauty.
"I'll expect you to pay attention in class from now on, Miss Stuart," the potions master snapped. "You have four centuries of catching up to do."