Canvas and Parchment
Title: Canvas and Parchment
Team Name: Order!
Word Count: 100x7
Rating: PG
Challenge: The portrait one
A/N: Murky theme, but definitely on the side of the Light.
The spiral staircase juddered wearily upwards. As the door opened and brittle applause rang out a patch of still darkness by the window, where it ought not to be, caught and held Hermione’s attention.
Harry was dog-tired but Albus Dumbledore’s crass benediction made him glow as much as it always did. He and Ron were turning to leave when Hermione pointed and whispered gently, “Look. He’s here. I can’t believe neither of you noticed him!”
Harry froze, breath held, happy light put out.
Snape was not sleeping. He stood in the foreground of his canvas realm with his head bowed.
“Sir?” croaked Harry.
His throat worked and his brow crunched and then there were tears.
“I’m so sorry.”
There was nothing else to say.
A hand lifted quickly and clamped over thin lips. Lamp black hair brushed the tips of fingers as shoulders hunched. After a long moment the hand dropped and Snape lifted his chin defiantly.
“We all did what we had to. None of us got everything right.”
Harry simply sniffed and nodded sadly.
As they were preparing to depart for the second time words rang out.
“Miss Granger. Stay. There are things I wish to tell you.”
Hermione shooed the boys out of the office and ordered them to bed. Behind her, Phineas Black snorted quietly.
“Sir? What is it?”
Snape tilted his head.
“Are you well?”
The question stumped her completely.
“Are you injured?”
“No, Sir! Some bruises, but really I’m just tired.”
“A Muggle-born witch who managed to dupe Dolores Umbridge twice and was the only constant companion of Harry Potter. Perhaps I should have come to you for advice on self-preservation.”
“I’m only good for luggage, Dittany and nagging.”
His eyebrows rose in obvious scepticism.
“Whoever gave you that idea is a complete fool.”
“Go to my … Go to the desk and look in the bottom drawer on the right-hand side.”
She walked quickly but struggled to cope with the stiff runners of the old oak drawer. In it she found three tightly rolled scrolls of parchment.
“One contains the personal details of all those who faced the Dementors under Dolores Umbridge’s orders. There are rooms in the Department of Mysteries that you have not yet visited. They contain people. Victims. Send the scroll by owl to Kingsley Shacklebolt immediately. Tell him the wards will easily respond to her wand.”
Hermione’s stomach lurched.
“The second scroll contains details of all the prisoners for whom the Snatcher gangs received payment. There are a number of possible locations for them. You should start the search at Malfoy Manor and question the house-elves there. Try Little Hangleton, Azkaban and the houses of Avery and Yaxley.”
She didn’t even want to touch the scrolls. The darkness they contained was overwhelming.
“Miss Granger! Listen!”
Her head jerked up.
“The third scroll contains the vault numbers of all of the Death Eaters and the Ministry staff who first colluded with them. Ask the goblins to seize the assets within.”
“I’m probably not the best person to ask.”
“On the contrary. You are the only person they’ll listen to. Bill Weasley was busy telling them of your antics with the house-elves years ago. Now they’ve seen you in action they’ll take you seriously.”
Hermione nodded, marionette-fashion. She still hadn’t touched the parchment. Snape rested his hands on the edges of his canvas and leant forwards, speaking urgently.
“Miss Granger. Please do this for me. I went to a lot of trouble to gain that information, and with it you could save more lives than I managed to in twenty years.”
The scrolls felt like parchment. Not like catatonia, or blood, or despair. Hermione tucked them into her purse.
Snape nodded in approval and for the first time she saw his features fold into a genuine smile.
“Thank you. I’ve been waiting up for you especially, and I can sleep peacefully now.”
She was in a hurry, but first she had a question.
“Sir, when was your portrait painted?”
“A likeness is always taken during the first month.”
“Is it really? I’ll definitely bear that in mind.”
His smile widened.
“I hope so, Hermione. I look forward to seeing you again.”
END
Team Name: Order!
Word Count: 100x7
Rating: PG
Challenge: The portrait one
A/N: Murky theme, but definitely on the side of the Light.
The spiral staircase juddered wearily upwards. As the door opened and brittle applause rang out a patch of still darkness by the window, where it ought not to be, caught and held Hermione’s attention.
Harry was dog-tired but Albus Dumbledore’s crass benediction made him glow as much as it always did. He and Ron were turning to leave when Hermione pointed and whispered gently, “Look. He’s here. I can’t believe neither of you noticed him!”
Harry froze, breath held, happy light put out.
Snape was not sleeping. He stood in the foreground of his canvas realm with his head bowed.
“Sir?” croaked Harry.
His throat worked and his brow crunched and then there were tears.
“I’m so sorry.”
There was nothing else to say.
A hand lifted quickly and clamped over thin lips. Lamp black hair brushed the tips of fingers as shoulders hunched. After a long moment the hand dropped and Snape lifted his chin defiantly.
“We all did what we had to. None of us got everything right.”
Harry simply sniffed and nodded sadly.
As they were preparing to depart for the second time words rang out.
“Miss Granger. Stay. There are things I wish to tell you.”
Hermione shooed the boys out of the office and ordered them to bed. Behind her, Phineas Black snorted quietly.
“Sir? What is it?”
Snape tilted his head.
“Are you well?”
The question stumped her completely.
“Are you injured?”
“No, Sir! Some bruises, but really I’m just tired.”
“A Muggle-born witch who managed to dupe Dolores Umbridge twice and was the only constant companion of Harry Potter. Perhaps I should have come to you for advice on self-preservation.”
“I’m only good for luggage, Dittany and nagging.”
His eyebrows rose in obvious scepticism.
“Whoever gave you that idea is a complete fool.”
“Go to my … Go to the desk and look in the bottom drawer on the right-hand side.”
She walked quickly but struggled to cope with the stiff runners of the old oak drawer. In it she found three tightly rolled scrolls of parchment.
“One contains the personal details of all those who faced the Dementors under Dolores Umbridge’s orders. There are rooms in the Department of Mysteries that you have not yet visited. They contain people. Victims. Send the scroll by owl to Kingsley Shacklebolt immediately. Tell him the wards will easily respond to her wand.”
Hermione’s stomach lurched.
“The second scroll contains details of all the prisoners for whom the Snatcher gangs received payment. There are a number of possible locations for them. You should start the search at Malfoy Manor and question the house-elves there. Try Little Hangleton, Azkaban and the houses of Avery and Yaxley.”
She didn’t even want to touch the scrolls. The darkness they contained was overwhelming.
“Miss Granger! Listen!”
Her head jerked up.
“The third scroll contains the vault numbers of all of the Death Eaters and the Ministry staff who first colluded with them. Ask the goblins to seize the assets within.”
“I’m probably not the best person to ask.”
“On the contrary. You are the only person they’ll listen to. Bill Weasley was busy telling them of your antics with the house-elves years ago. Now they’ve seen you in action they’ll take you seriously.”
Hermione nodded, marionette-fashion. She still hadn’t touched the parchment. Snape rested his hands on the edges of his canvas and leant forwards, speaking urgently.
“Miss Granger. Please do this for me. I went to a lot of trouble to gain that information, and with it you could save more lives than I managed to in twenty years.”
The scrolls felt like parchment. Not like catatonia, or blood, or despair. Hermione tucked them into her purse.
Snape nodded in approval and for the first time she saw his features fold into a genuine smile.
“Thank you. I’ve been waiting up for you especially, and I can sleep peacefully now.”
She was in a hurry, but first she had a question.
“Sir, when was your portrait painted?”
“A likeness is always taken during the first month.”
“Is it really? I’ll definitely bear that in mind.”
His smile widened.
“I hope so, Hermione. I look forward to seeing you again.”
END