"It's hopeless. I have my third year students in Herbology and astronomy at the same time now," Pomona sighed. "Someone remind me why we're doing this?"

"Because Empress Malfoy wants it this way," Minerva muttered, taking off her spectacles and sinking her head into her hands. "God forbid she leave anything alone."

Filius and Severus exchanged glances, and Severus reached across the table, picking up the stack of parchment that Pomona had just dropped. "Personally," he said softly, "I'm doing this because if we make it work, I will have time for a cup of tea at some point in every day. I'm doing this because it means Thursdays will no longer be a string of students from sunrise until sunset with barely time for lunch. I'm doing it because..."

"You're doing it because she has you by the balls until she tells you if you have the Defense position, Severus, and we all know it. So quit trying to kiss her ass when it isn't even present." Minerva shoved her glasses back onto her nose and peered at the parchment again. Imagine, Severus defending the High Queen of Changing Everything.

She could positively feel his scowl. "And I suppose you won't appreciate having two planning periods on Tuesdays?" he asked, but his head was bent to the parchment again.

"All right, here," Filius piped up, standing in his chair and leaning over the table. "If we exchange third year Charms and first Year Herbology, then we can move the Gryffindors into potions on Wednesday and the second years into Transfiguration on Thursdays, and that clears up a free period for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw astronomy that doesn't coincide with the Herbology."

"And then I'm teaching third year and fifth year Gryffindors at the same time," Severus replied. "And I simply refuse. One class at a time is more than enough."

"This is stupid," Minerva muttered. "This is not worth an extra period. Besides, we're also freeing up the students, and what are we going to do with them? Have them roam the corridors for an hour every day?"

"Study periods, Minerva," Filius replied, sinking into his chair again and peering at the parchment. "And it is worth it."

"It's worth it," Pomona agreed.

It was already past eleven; this 'quick task' had stretched on two hours already, and there was no end in sight. There was, perhaps, a reason that tempers were a little on the edgy side.

"Except that it's an impossible mess. She has second years in potions and Herbology at the same time, third years in Herbology and astronomy, fifth years have no classes at all on Wednesday mornings and Severus is scheduled to be teaching no fewer than three fifth year classes: one of Slytherin and Gryffindor, one of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and one of Hufflepuff and Slytherin." Minerva dropped her quill. "It's absolutely hopeless."

"Let me see that," Severus frowned, reaching for the parchment Minerva had been reading off of. He chuckled. "Minerva, you have sixth year Hufflepuffs with first year Ravenclaws, it seems. Accident? Or perceptive scheduler?"

"Severus!" Pomona looked offended, but the jest did coax a smirk from Minerva, who had often passed half an hour complaining about Hufflepuffs. Never in Pomona's hearing, of course. To Pomona she complained about Slytherins.

Exhaling slowly, Minerva looked at the parchment scattered all over the table again. "You know," she said softly, "I could find it very easy to hate that woman right now. This is absurd. This is something for us to plan to do next year, not to try and accomplish this year. How long have we been teaching without planning periods?"

Severus rubbed his head and looked at a much-scribbled piece of parchment. "I've never had planning periods," he replied. "Unless you count the time before classes begin or the time after they're over."

"Neither have I," Filius offered.

"Have any of us?" Pomona asked.

"Yes," Minerva admitted. "When I first started teaching, I had two every day. But that was back when the budget allowed for two teachers for each of the required subjects."

"So?" Severus prompted. "Is it worth it?"

Grimacing, Minerva tapped her quill on her parchment. She didn't want to admit that her royal highness Queen Malfoy had a point, but it was true. "It's worth it," she replied. "It's truly astonishing how much marking you can get done in an hour if no one is bothering you. And since everyone is either in class or teaching, no one does."

"See?" Filius asked. "Then we'll make this work. Now, if we move the second year Gryffindors to Herbology and the second year Ravenclaws to Astronomy, and put the fourth year Slytherins in..."


A little after one, the door to the old classroom opened, and Malfoy stepped inside, clutching her dressing gown closed. A candle floated in front of her, bathing her in a golden light, and she paused, unseen in the doorway, watching as the four professors revised the astronomy schedule for the eighth time.

"This is never going to work," Minerva repeated her mantra once more. "It is hopeless. It's impossible!"

"It is going to work, Minerva, it's just going to take some effort." Pomona was also beginning to sound like a broken record, and a tired one at that.

"Why don't we call it a night?" Filius asked. "Maybe it will all click together in the morning."

"I can't," Minerva replied testily. "I have a meeting with the Mistress of Misery at nine, and then another at three, and there's the staff meeting at one, and at some point I'm going to have to assess the damage in the dormitories from last year's graduating class. We finish tonight or it doesn't get done."

"Minerva, you're tired. You're snapping at shadows. Why don't we put it aside until Friday?" Pomona sounded as though she hoped against hope that Minerva would agree. It was, after all, Minerva who kept insisting that they stay. With every passing minute, nerves became a bit more frayed and tempers grew a little bit shorter.

"No," she insisted. "Going to do this if it kills us. And then that bitch won't have any reason to say we're being uncooperative."

Severus glanced up, having been ignoring the exchanges for the better part of half an hour, and looked levelly at Minerva. "No one would ever accuse you of being uncooperative, Minerva. You are a model of easy-going, good natured teamwork. Always keeping in mind what is best for the school, never letting your personal feelings cloud your judgment." He was going to need a shovel before long if he kept piling on the shit.

Minerva awarded him with a scowl. "At least I'm being honest about what I think of her. You, on the other hand, are utterly ass-whipped at the moment, and I don't think I like seeing you on your knees."

It was Severus' turn to scowl, but Pomona cleared her throat softly. "Let's either get back to work or go to bed," she suggested, then yawned. "And my vote is for bed."

"I agree," Filius interjected. "We've been at it for too long. I think we're going in circles."

"No," Minerva insisted again. We are going to finish this. I won't have the Monarch of Modification accusing us of not trying. I won't have her accusing me of not trying."

"The Monarch of Modification?" A laugh was threatening Filius' voice despite a valiant effort to keep a straight face. "You're scraping the bottom of the barrel now, Minerva."

Severus snorted softly.

"Fine. Then I'll just go back to referring to her as 'the bitch'."

"Tell us how you really feel," Severus invited.

"You want to know?" Minerva asked, folding her hands. "Fine. I think she's an annoying little princess. She comes in here, and starts looking for things that she can change. Do you know what it reminds me of? A cat, marking his territory. She's not going to stop until everything at Hogwarts has her fingerprints on it, and I think it's ridiculous. And she's like a worm, slithering her way into everyone's hearts. It's insulting! The price of loyalty? A new telescope and a few books. Or is it crystal phials, Severus? The half-made promise of a coveted position that assures your loyalty for these first crucial weeks while you tiptoe around and try not to insult her. Subtle jabs at Albus, picking apart the things he did and..."

Severus' eyes were glinting dangerously. "And God forbid we admit that Albus Dumbledore might have ever done anything wrong," Severus hissed. "What do you have to say in your own defense? Every time she opens her mouth, you open yours. Merlin's beard, Minerva, you oppose her just to be opposing her!"

"You're right," Minerva replied simply. "I do. I hate her already. If she were to make a speech about how wonderful mothers are, I would find someone whose mother is a whore, just to prove her wrong. But that aside, she has no business walking in here and changing everything. She can bloody well let well enough alone."

"And you could stop knee-jerking and listen to what she is saying before protesting! Just because it's been done one way since the dawn of time doesn't mean that's the right way!"

Minerva and Severus were squaring off rather impressively, and Filius and Pomona were both wisely avoiding the conversation all together.

"Nor is it inherently wrong! And I would think you would show a bit more loyalty to the Headmaster, Severus Snape. After all he's done for you, and this is how you repay him. Shameful."

Severus' eyes narrowed, and he stood suddenly, leaning forward over the table. "Fuck off, McGonagall," he hissed. "And don't you EVER question my loyalty to Albus!"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and then Pomona stood. "I think it's bedtime," she said firmly. "We can finish this tomorrow. Minerva..." she preempted Minerva's protests with a warning in her tone. "That's enough. Severus, go to bed." Pomona could be as firm and stern as any teacher in the school when she wanted to be, and just now she did not look like a force to be taken lightly.

"And I suppose you're going to report me to the bitch if I tell you I'm not leaving?" Minerva challenged. Filius' eyes suddenly grew wide, and Severus snapped his head in the direction the Charms professor was looking. "Go ahead. Give her a reason to fire me. I'm sure she'd love the opportunity to start replacing the faculty, and the Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor would be such an auspicious place to start."

"Minerva..." Severus murmured, his eyes focused behind Minerva's shoulder.

"What?"

"You might want to measure your words a bit more carefully."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because 'the bitch' is right behind you," Regalia Malfoy replied, her voice matched only by her eyes for coldness.

Minerva's eyes closed, and Severus saw her mouth a curse before she straightened, and turned slowly to face the Headmistress. "Headmistress," she acknowledged tightly, opening her eyes. "How long have you been standing there?"

Malfoy walked slowly around the table, then paused, reaching for a sheet of parchment and looking over it for a minute, then dropping it again. "What you really want to know is how much I heard," she said softly, and Severus recognized the tone as inherently Malfoy. It was the tone Lucius used when he was at his most dangerous.

"Let's see," she said softly. "Mistress of Misery?"

Severus' mind churned backward, trying to remember precisely when that epithet had surfaced and what had been said since. He certainly hadn't noticed Malfoy there that long ago. He hadn't seen her until Minerva's last little speech.

"Yes," Malfoy continued. "Mistress of Misery and Monarch of Modification, wasn't it? Creative." The last carried an emphasis that made Severus' mouth go dry.

"Headmistress..."

"Stop calling me that," Malfoy said softly. "Regalia, or Malfoy, or 'the bitch.' Take your pick. But I want you all to stop patronizing me."

Pomona cleared her throat softly. "Really," she said, sounding a bit nervous. "I think it is past time we all called it a night. I don't think anything productive has happened in the last two hours."

"That's because the mess is too profound to wade through," Minerva replied tightly. "If we're given nonsense to work with, it's hardly surprising that we're only going to produce garbage."

For a moment, Malfoy was quiet, and then she reached for another of the sheets of parchment. "Is that what this is about?" she asked. "The scheduling?"

Filius cleared his throat. "There were a few problems," he squeaked. "Some conflicts. We've been trying to sort it out, but I think Pomona is right—we've all worked beyond the endurance of our tolerance."

"What sort of conflicts?" Malfoy asked, her eyes on Severus.

"Students in two places at once. Teachers in two places at once. Just... conflicts."

"The result of faulty scheduling," Minerva said sharply. "We've had to rearrange every class, practically."

"Ah," Malfoy said softly. "I see."

"Do you?" Minerva shot back. "I doubt that, somehow."

"Yes," Malfoy replied icily, dropping the parchment she'd been holding. "I do. I fucked up. Is that what you want from me? I made a mistake, and that, apparently, is not something your former Headmaster ever did. I overlooked a scheduling conflict. That, surely, is enough to make me a force of evil second only to You-Know-Who."

Severus cleared his throat softly. "I think," he said quietly, "that Pomona is right. It's time we were all in bed."

"Go on," Minerva replied tersely. "All of you."

"You too, Professor McGonagall," Malfoy commanded. And there was no doubt that it was an order.

For a moment, there was a silent battle of wills between Headmistress and Deputy Headmistress. For a long moment, the tension was palpable. Minerva had the look of a woman who had no intention of swaying from her chosen path. Malfoy looked like... well, like a Malfoy about to pull rank or name or whatever else she needed to pull to have her way.

"Minerva..." Severus murmured, reaching for her arm. Luckily, she allowed herself to be pulled away, and the four of them exited the classroom.

The next morning, Severus had a charmed folder on his desk, containing a stack of parchment. The top parchment was a note in an elegant script:

I have taken Professor Sprout's advice. This is your schedule, and those of the Slytherin students. Look over them, and assure that everything is in order.

Regalia Malfoy
Headmistress