"The Wages of Wagering" (Minerva, Wilhelmina, Severus, Albus)
Author: lash_larue
Prompt/Prompt Author: Talking to portraits of your dead friends - igrockspock
Title: "The Wages of Wagering"
Characters: McGonagall, Grubbly-Plank, Portrait!Snape, Portrait!Dumbledore, others both living and framed.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Word Count: 4700
Summary: Some rivalries survive death, let the bettor beware.
Author's Notes: Well, there may be a bit of angst, but not the usual kind. I do hope this doesn't flop altogether, igrockspock, but it was fun to do.
"The Wages of Wagering"
"Severus," Minerva McGonagall called, standing before the portrait of Snape in the head's office.
There was no reply; the piercing dark eyes remained resolutely closed.
"Severus, wake up," she repeated in a louder voice but with the same lack of response.
"Have it your own way, then," she muttered, and, seizing the bottom of the frame, she rapidly banged the portrait against the wall.
"What?" Snape said resentfully after one eye had slowly opened.
"I wish to speak with you," she replied.
"I had assumed as much, do be brief, if you please, I am trying to rest."
"Rest from what? You're dead, Severus," she patiently explained.
"That had occurred to me, actually. However, death is rather more work than you might suppose. Certainly it is more work than I ever supposed," he informed her dryly.
"How so, Severus?"
"For one thing, people are constantly disturbing me. 'To sleep, perchance to dream...' not bloody likely," he carped, "dreaming requires that one either be left in peace or heavily drugged. As the drugging is no longer possible the peace is my one option and I am constantly denied that," he told her mournfully.
"I have scarcely bothered you that often. This is the first time I've spoken to you in weeks," she protested.
"That much is true, but sadly, this is not my only portrait. There is the one in the "Hall of Honor" at the ministry. It's bad enough with all the ones who come and tell me what a misunderstood hero I was, and tell me how brave I was, and how I deserved better. Where were these sycophants when I was alive? Bastards. No, that's not the worst of it, not at all," he spat.
"Do tell then, Severus," she asked, finding herself drawn in against her inclination, "what is the worst of it?"
"The unimaginative gits in charge arrange the portraits of the Order of Merlin, First Class, recipients chronologically, using the date of death. Why the fools choose to commemorate someone's death rather than their birth is beyond me, but in any case this moronic practice has landed my portrait hard by that of Dumbledore. That, my dear Minerva, is the worst of it."
"Oh. Oh my goodness," she whispered in understanding.
"Goodness has nothing to do with it," Snape snapped. "Not only do I have my own tithe of supplicants to contend with, there is the endless stream of weak-willed, weak-minded imbeciles seeking the advice of the Great Man Himself. Further, a substantial portion of my visitors ask me about him and a majority of his ask him about me. A subject, by the way, on which he can emote at great length and in intimate detail. Death has at last loosened his tongue and it seems as if he is trying to make up for lost time."
She stifled a snicker, and the brow above the open eye arched severely.
"You find that amusing, do you?"
"A bit, perhaps, but I do see how it might wear a bit thin," she admitted.
"Do you now? It doesn't stop when the place closes, either. Albus will insist on reviewing the entire day's conversations regardless of the fact that I was there the whole time. I am always there, and so is he. I swear he is more in love with the sound of his own voice in death than even he was in life," Snape carried on.
"I heard that," a familiar voice chimed in with faint overtones of amusement.
"Good. I know better than to think you will take it to heart, though. Now then, Minerva, what inspired you to knock me up?" Snape asked.
"Frankly Severus, I just wanted the relief of talking with another pragmatist. One has to speak so carefully in public since the war. I confess myself weary of it, and I find that I miss talking with you. Slughorn is a competent Potions Master and a fine Head of House but he is entirely too gentlemanly in his conversation and his wagers on the Quidditch are uninspired," McGonagall answered.
That got Snape's other eye open.
"So, in essence, you want something from me then?"
McGonagall eyed him warily.
"That is one way to put it, I suppose," she replied cautiously.
"Be careful, Minerva," Dumbledore advised her.
"Mind your own business, Albus," Snape snapped, and Dumbledore chuckled in reply.
"I will admit that conversing with you would be an improvement over present conditions, Minerva. However I do have two stipulations," Snape told her.
Minerva demonstrated that she too could arch a brow.
"I am listening, Severus."
"Firstly, I want you to take this portrait of me and hang it in your rooms. Our repartee should not have so wide an audience, and that way I won't be disturbed by the sniveling of students called on the carpet," he explained.
"Unusual, unprecedented, but neither unreasonable nor impossible. It also has the advantage of my being able to enjoy a good whiskey while we argue, consider it done. And the other requirement?"
"Get me out of that wretched Hall of Honor."
"Your portrait is there by decree of the Wizengamot, Severus. Even if I were to somehow be able to remove it, it would simply be replaced," Minerva explained.
“Surely this is not an insurmountable difficulty for you, Minerva.”
“I’ll tell,” Dumbledore threatened.
“If you do I shall hang your portrait in the Divination classroom, Albus,” McGonagall threatened in return.
“Mum’s the word,” he replied.
“That will be the day,” Snape muttered.
"Very well, Severus. Shall I move this portrait now?" McGonagall asked.
"Say no, Severus," Dumbledore counseled. "Once she has what she wants, why should she go to the bother of moving your other portrait?"
"Albus! I am a Gryffindor! My word is my bond, and everyone knows it!" she said indignantly. Dumbledore scratched his nose.
"I was also a Gryffindor," Albus reminded her, "and it is possible that on occasion my word did not mean quite what the person I gave it to assumed that it did."
"He has a point, Minerva," Snape conceded.
"Hear, hear," Phineas Nigellus agreed.
"Shush, you old snake," McGonagall muttered, "no one was talking to you."
"I always thought that Dumbledore had the makings of a Slytherin," Phineas continued. "Why, I recall the time -"
"Fine," snapped McGonagall, "I shall leave you gentlemen to admire one another's subtle deceits, and go and steal a painting like a true Gryffindor. I do hope Sybill will like her new decoration." She swept from the room.
"Oh dear," Dumbledore said quietly.
"You're for it now, lad," Phineas Nigellus promised.
Snape chuckled and closed his eyes.
~~~
"What on earth are you up to, Minerva?" Wilhelmina asked, peering over McGonagall's shoulder at the diagrams and notes spread over the work table. "Are you planning to rob Gringotts?"
"No. I am trying to figure out a way to fulfill one of the conditions that Severus' portrait set in order that we may resume our former sparkling repartee in decent privacy and comfort," she answered testily.
"What's the caper?" Wilhelmina asked, reaching for her pipe and tobacco pouch.
"I am to remove his portrait from the Hall of Honor. He finds the atmosphere vexing and his proximity to Albus purely toxic."
"What's the chief difficulty, then?" Wilhelmina asked as she tamped the tobacco down with the ease of long practice.
"There are several key points to be addressed. First, I have to replace it, not merely remove it. They would simply commission another were it to disappear."
"I can see that, yes. Do go on." Wilhelmina lit her pipe.
"I have secured a portrait of Severus done by a Muggle artist of my acquaintance as a stand-in, and charmed it to respond with a selection of Snapeish phrases, a simple and pithy, 'Go away', prominent among them, along with 'You cannot possibly expect a reply to that arrant nonsense, you sycophantic imbecile; go away,' " Minerva elaborated.
"The theme does hold true, should work a treat," Wilhelmina approved.
"I think that it should, yes. The sticking point is how to make the actual exchange. I can shrink the replacement portrait down, enter the Ministry during business hours in my Animagus form carrying the portrait in my mouth and hide until it closes. Then I can slip into the Hall of Honor, and even if I am spotted by the guards they will assume that I am merely a Ministry Mouser mindfully minding my mousing mission."
"Mmmm, can't see a flaw as yet," Wilhelmina granted.
"The flaw, Wilhelmina my love, is that I cannot return the replacement to its proper size, swap them, and then shrink the original down while in my feline form. And the instant I return to my human self the wards will trigger and I shall be trapped and in the unenviable position of having to explain a rather flagrant case of art theft, or portraiturbation, or something equally unseemly." Minerva let out a huff of frustration.
Wilhelmina looked at the stick drawing of a cat wearing spectacles staring up at a wall of stick portraits with question marks popping up all around her head and rubbed the stem of her pipe on her chin as she thought.
"Why don't you just ask a House-elf to do it?" Wilhelmina said after a moment.
"Oh."
In the end it was that simple.
~~~
"Not over the fire, Minerva, please. The smoke makes my eyes smart. I cannot imagine why you insist on burning that horrible by-product of a bog instead of simply conjuring a proper magical fire. I can teach you the spell, if you like," Snape griped.
"Then I shall surely place you there, Severus, so that some part of you will be smart. It should make a nice change for you, and you know perfectly well that I find the smell of burning peat comforting."
"I was thinking perhaps the bath? That might keep me from drying out," he suggested.
"A lovely idea, Severus. That way Wilhelmina can join in our discussions while we soak in the tub of an evening."
"I'm sure I can adjust to the smoke over time. It might give me a nice patina, or something," he backtracked quickly.
"You could do with a bit of color, yes," Minerva agreed, settling back on the couch with a whiskey.
"I still don't see why you had to put my other portrait back in your office."
"There is room for you beside Albus in the Divination classroom."
"It would almost be worth it just to see Albus cringe, but thank you, no," Snape decided.
"The Slytherin common room, then?"
"Interesting... but I think not. The risk of being subjected to frenzied bouts of late-night frottage is simply too great. How long are you going to leave Albus with Trelawney, anyway?"
"Until he apologizes and asks to be returned to the office."
"Forever then, yes?" Snape asked, his eyes glittering.
"Oh, I doubt that he'll hold out much longer."
~~~
"Surely you can give me some news from the other side, Professor Dumbledore," Trelawney pleaded. "My inner eye is focused on you. See here? Perhaps if I performed the Dance of the Midnight Nymph again? Would that not strengthen our connection?"
"Please, no! I mean to say, Sybill, that I cannot give you news of the other side because I am merely a remnant lodged in a portrait. I am not actually on the other side, do you see?"
"Perhaps if I were to further emphasize the sensual components of the dance..."
"Sybill, would you please inform Professor McGonagall that I should very much like to speak with her at her earliest convenience?"
~~~
"That was cruel, Minerva," Dumbledore's portrait said with a shiver as she straightened it in its former place in her office.
"Cross me again and I'll make it Binns' classroom," she promised him.
"Tartan harpy," Dumbledore muttered. Snape responded with a gleeful chuckle.
"Tell me, Albus, how is my substitute faring in the Ministry gallery?" Snape asked him.
"I can scarcely tell the difference myself," Albus admitted, "although the invective does get the least bit repetitive by the end of the day."
"I can always stop by and add a description of you watching the "Dance of the Midnight Nymph" Albus," Minerva suggested. "Sybill thought that you seemed most stimulated by it, she said that you blushed extravagantly." Snape chuckled again.
"Oh?" Phineas piped up. "I can well imagine, Professor Trelawney is a fine figure of a woman. Fine figure of a woman indeed, she has the loveliest eyes, and the Dance of the Midnight Nymph is a classic of terpsichorean erotica worthy of the muse herself."
"I did not blush. I was merely straining with the effort of trying to perform a wandless, non-corporeal, Avada Kedavra on myself. She focused her inner eye on me."
"Oh dear, I am sorry about that, Albus," Minerva allowed.
"Nonsense, he had it coming," Snape said dismissively.
"Not even remotely," Dumbledore demurred, and he shivered again.
~~~
"Shall we set the terms of this year's bet on the Quidditch, Minerva?" Snape's portrait asked.
"I still have an interview to conduct, Severus, and would you not prefer to discuss this in my sitting room?"
"Actually, I was thinking that it might be well to have a witness. Other than Wilhelmina, I mean," he temporized.
"Oh?" Minerva questioned with a sharply arched brow.
Armando Dippet waved to attract her attention, and pointed towards Dumbledore's portrait. The Albus in the indicated frame was snoring rather too loudly.
"Severus, you know full well that I am not that type of Gryffindor. Albus, you insinuating git, if you want to know the terms of the bet you can simply ask," Minerva declared in exasperation.
"You might have declined," Albus pointed out with a shrug.
"Enjoy your stay with Hagrid, Albus. I shall have Rosmerta send a cask of oak-matured mead to him to help with the singing."
"Hah!" exclaimed Dippet. "Serves you right, Albus!"
"Piss off, Armando," Albus grumped.
"As for you, Severus, I am surprised that you allowed yourself to be manipulated like this. Perhaps some time with Professor Trelawney will aid you in better assessing the possible consequences of your actions in future."
"Minerva, please, no..."
"Hah! She caught you out, lad!"
"Do be quiet, Dippet," Snape snapped. "I apologize, Minerva, it is not that I doubt your character, but that I am accustomed to being manipulated by Albus. Old habits die harder even than I did," he said sadly.
"Save it, Severus. I'm not buying it, but I shall let you off just this once. I do however expect you to assist with this interview, and I expect you to treat the applicant with respect."
A House-elf appeared with a crack of sound.
"Yes, Headmistress?" the bowing elf enquired.
"Professor Dumbledore is going to spend some time with Hagrid, Remy, would you do him the favor of delivering him?"
"Of course, Headmistress," the grinning elf responded with a huge wink.
"Insufferable..." muttered Dumbledore.
"Tah, Albus," Dippet said with a wave before he fell back asleep.
"Very well, Minerva, I shall assist with the interview, and I shall strive to restrain my disdain for the undoubtedly imbecilic applicant," Snape grudgingly agreed.
McGonagall's rejoinder was cut off by the knock on the door, with a warning glance at Snape, Minerva called out - "Enter."
"Good afternoon to you, Headmistress," the applicant said with a shallow bow.
"And good afternoon to you, Mister- "
"Longbottom", drawled Snape, his upper lip a-curl.
"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Neville replied. "How's it hanging? Still dead?"
Minerva coughed to cover her laughter, and Snape's visage turned rather purple, but then he was laughing out loud.
Such a thing was beyond the experience of all in the room, living or oil-based, and there were startled stares all-around, except for Neville, who merely smiled benignly.
"Well said, Longbottom!" Snape gasped as he fought for control. Snape wiped the turpentine tears from his eyes and actually smiled at Neville. "Please allow me to take this opportunity to thank you for dispatching that thrice-damned snake, Longbottom. I daresay that hurt Voldemort more than anything else."
"My pleasure, Professor," Neville said with a smile of his own.
McGonagall looked shocked, then thoughtful, then amused.
"I assume that Longbottom is here concerning a position in Herbology," Snape began, "I endorse him without reserve, and also recommend him for Defense Against the Dark Arts, should there be a need and he be interested."
Even Neville seemed surprised at that.
"Hear, hear," Dippet chimed in.
"The boy will do," Phineas Nigelus grudgingly admitted.
"Well then, Professor Longbottom," Minerva began, "which shall it be?"
~~~
"A month with 'Irma la Douche' is scarcely a fair wager in exchange for one evening in a Muggle evening gown, Minerva," Snape protested.
"Ha!" snorted Wilhelmina, "who made that one up, and when?"
"I did, just now," Snape replied, "and my objection stands."
"This gown has nearly no top, Severus. To say nothing of the silver serpent wrapped 'round the bodice and the slit up the thigh. If I am to risk wearing that to the Halloween Ball your risk must be commensurate. You at least will have silence enforced on the witnesses to your discomfort," she rejoined.
"I'd think the quiet of the library would suit you, Snape," Wilhelmina put forth.
"The quiet I can endure, it is the palpable tension of the indigenous morons approaching certain failure that I find taxing. And quite apart from that you know that Madam Pince and I never got on," Snape explained.
"So you expect Slytherin to lose to Gryffindor?"
"Nonsense! The Gryffindor Seeker is hopeless, can scarcely stay on his broom," Snape scoffed.
"Then your reluctance is puzzling," Minerva said.
"Give us your feet, Minerva," Wilhelmina ordered, and Minerva swiveled around on the couch and surrendered her feet to Wilhelmina's care.
"That's lovely, Willa, thank you."
"I could do with a bit of that," Snape admitted.
"Don't be ridiculous, Severus, you don't even have feet," Minerva rejoined.
"I have the recollection of feet, and I recollect them being tired. You are flaunting your physicality to irritate me, Minerva."
"Is it working? Do we have a bet?"
"Very well then! I accept your terms," Snape huffed, and he closed his eyes firmly.
"You do recall that the terms require you to keep your eyes open so long as Madam Pince is in the library, I trust?" McGonagall prodded.
"I do," Snape replied without opening his eyes, "and mind you recall that you are not allowed cloak, jacket, or any other covering for the Prophet's picture coverage of the ball."
"Lecherous old snake," Minerva muttered.
"Never you fear, Severus. I shall take care that Minerva does not occlude her charms," Wilhelmina promised.
"What side are you on, Wilhelmina?"
"The top of your feet, but I'm working my way up."
"Ladies, I am as firm a supporter of your relationship in death as I was in life, but either the two of you or I should go elsewhere before this proceeds further."
"You can always keep your eyes shut, Severus," Minerva reminded him.
"I can, but I cannot stop my ears, and human curiosity being what it is I fear that I might look at an awkward time."
"Nothing awkward about us, Severus," Wilhelmina assured him, "years of diligent practice you know."
"Would you carry on so before me if I were alive? This is blatant disregard for the feelings of the differently-animated."
"The man has a point, Wilhelmina," McGonagall admitted, "let us adjourn to chambers. Good night, Severus, I shall have Mister Filch prepare a suitable spot in the library for you."
"If you wish to waste the man's time, it is no concern of mine," he replied off-handedly. "Good night, ladies, pleasant dreams."
~~~
"And Albus the he-ro... he flew off the tower, with 'is 'and shriveled up, which was sad."
"I'm sorry professor," blubbered Hagrid, tears and mead running down his beard. "I shoulda been there! I shoulda stopped it! It's all my fault, you bein' dead an' all..." He dissolved in tears, patting Dumbledore's portrait awkwardly.
"My dear Hagrid, you know quite well that I was dying anyway, and that the events on the tower were all part of my plan. Do get a grip on yourself, and please drink either a good deal less or a great deal more for the duration of my visit."
"I'm sorry professor, but it's that sad an' all," Hagrid told him, and he fetched an enormous handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.
"I still think it was a rotten thing ter do, mind, makin' Snape kill yeh an' all, beggin' yer pardon, Professor Dumbledore, sir."
"It was for the greater good, Hagrid. Do have some more of that excellent mead, why don't you?"
"It is too bad there is no pill for this particular sort of impotence," Dumbledore mused, "I would never have expected Minerva to be the vengeful sort, honestly, the woman is more than half a Slytherin."
" 'Ogwar's, 'Ogwar's! 'Oggy war'y 'Og-" Hagrid's head hit the table with a loud thunk, and his snoring soon had the windows of the cottage rattling.
"Well played, Minerva, but I find myself pulling for Slytherin this year."
Dumbledore sighed, and closed his eyes resignedly.
~~~
"You cheated!" Snape snapped in accusation, and Minerva arched an eyebrow.
"Oh? How did I cheat? Are you accusing me of tampering with the Snitch?"
"You know very well how! Bringing Potter back as the Gryffindor Seeker! The man is a professional!"
"He is also still on the books as a student, having never completed his coursework. There is nothing in the rules that says he can't play," Minerva said smugly.
"She's got you there boy," Phineas Nigelus told him, "Armando confirms it, and Armando knows the rules backwards and forwards."
"Indeed," confirmed Dippet, "Headmaster McGonagall's actions may have strained the spirit of the rules a bit, but they hardly violated them."
" 'rtan harpy", or something very like it sounded from the direction of Dumbledore's portrait.
"Do you miss Hagrid so much, Albus?"
"Power has gone to your head, Minerva."
Several portraits sniggered over that one.
"Pot," said Dippet.
"Kettle," added Nigellus.
"Black," finished Derwent.
"Of all the possible eternities, it simply did not occur to me that endless taking of the mickey by oil-based life forms was among them," Dumbledore admitted.
"Perhaps I have been a bit hard on you, Albus," McGonagall admitted, "would you like to attend the Halloween ball?"
Dumbledore brightened visibly.
"That was always my favorite! I should love to, Minerva, thank you," he said happily.
"There is one small condition..."
"Yes?" he responded cautiously.
"I pick your costume," Minerva told him.
"Careful, boy!" Phineas Nigellus said quickly.
"Done!" agreed Dumbledore, who really did love the Halloween ball, and whose numerous faults did not include taking himself too seriously on Halloween.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come," McGonagall called out.
"You sent for me, Headmistress?" Filch inquired.
"Yes, Mister Filch. Have you found a suitable location for Headmaster Snape's portrait in the library?"
"Indeed I have, it's all ready. You'll be able to see nearly the whole place, Headmaster Snape," Filch assured him.
"I still say she cheated," Snape protested.
"Now, now, boy, take it like a man, she outwitted you is all," Nigellus encouraged.
"Indeed, Severus. Take it like a man," Dumbledore agreed.
"You would know all about that," muttered Snape as Filch carefully removed him from the wall. Dumbledore chuckled.
"Now then, Albus, as to your costume," McGonagall began.
"Don't do it boy!" pleaded Dippet when McGonagall displayed the green and silver gown.
"A Gryffindor honors his word," Dumbledore said staunchly.
"I admire the colors," Nigellus stated.
"Bit racy for my tastes, but elegant," Derwent put in.
McGonagall carried the dress close to Dumbledore's portrait so that he could see it better, and turned so that her body and the dress screened the other portraits.
"Thank you, Minerva," mouthed Dumbledore.
"You're welcome, Albus, my friend. Enjoy the ball," she replied in kind.
With a flick of her wand she sent the gown into the portrait, and Dumbledore stroked the silk and smiled.
~~~
"Good evening, Irma, are you ready to begin?" Sybill Trelawney asked her upon entering the library.
"Nearly, just let me clear a place," she answered, and with a wave of her wand the chairs and tables stacked themselves neatly out of the way, another wave took care of securing the doors.
"Good evening, Headmaster Snape, so nice to see you this Halloween," Sybill greeted him.
"I think we should call him Severus, considering that he is going to witness our Halloween tradition, Sybill. Would that meet with your approval, sir?" Irma asked him.
"By all means, ladies. I see no need to stand on ceremony, 'Severus' will serve admirably. Might I inquire as to the nature of your tradition?" he replied staunchly.
A bet was a bet, even if McGonagall had cheated.
"Irma and I always perform the "Dance of the Midnight Nymph" on Halloween, Severus," Sybill informed him. "It is an ancient tradition that brings us in tune with our sisters before us. You are the only one who has ever shared this with us."
"I am - honored," Snape said cautiously, "but I have no wish to intrude. I am bound by the terms of my bet with Headmistress McGonagall, but she cannot compel you to allow my intrusion. You could always carry on your tradition elsewhere this year, the Room of Requirement, perhaps?" he asked hopefully.
"The magical energy here is just right, and the dance also serves to dispell the accumulated tension of all those worried and struggling students that builds up in the atmosphere. Can you not feel the tension? Also the temperature here is perfect for the, ahh - costume."
"Costume?" Snape asked, a nameless dread rising within him.
Irma smirked at him, and reached for the buttons on her blouse...
~~~
"Albus seems to be enjoying himself," Wilhelmina commented to Minerva, waving at Dumbledore's portrait with her pipe.
"Indeed he does. Who is that he's dancing with?"
"No idea. The gown actually looks good on him, though," Wilhelmina allowed.
They joined the small knot of students watching Dumbledore dance with a slender man in tails, and also joined in the applause when the dance ended and Dumbledore and his partner bowed to their audience.
"Well done, Albus, enjoying the ball?" Minerva asked him.
"Indeed I am, Minerva! Splendid affair this year, my compliments! I only hope that Severus is not too lonely in the library."
"I don't think you need worry on that score," McGonagall assured him with a small, sort of self-satisfied smile.
~~~
"Merlin, no..."
~~~
"Nightcap, Min?" Wilhelmina asked.
The ball was over, and there were no classes the following day. That is to say that day, as it was well past midnight.
"Indeed, I think this is a single malt night, Willa dear."
"You are a fiend, Minerva," a familiar voice stated coldly.
"Get a grip on yourse- oh, I see that you already have," Minerva responded.
Snape was glaring at her from his portrait, jammed against one side of it because he had his arm around himself, comforting a glassy-eyed and shaking version of his own outraged portrait.
"He's supposed to be in the library," McGonagall pointed out.
"I can't! I won't go back! Don't let her send me back," Snape pleaded with himself.
"What's got you in such a state, Severus?" Wilhelmina asked when she returned with a bottle and glasses.
"You knew about this, Minerva," Snape accused.
"I may have had a vague notion, yes," she admitted.
"What's he on about?" Wilhelmina questioned.
"My other self was subjected to the "Dance of the Midnight Nymph" as performed by Sybill Trelawney and Irma Pince."
"Is that all? Surely the dance wasn't that bad?" Wilhelmina pressed.
One of the Snapes passed a shaking hand over his eyes. He might have sobbed.
"Tell me, Minerva," Snape began, patting himself soothingly, "are you familiar with the term 'sky clad'?"
"Happy Halloween, Severus," Minerva replied, raising her glass to him.
"Wait 'till next year."
Prompt/Prompt Author: Talking to portraits of your dead friends - igrockspock
Title: "The Wages of Wagering"
Characters: McGonagall, Grubbly-Plank, Portrait!Snape, Portrait!Dumbledore, others both living and framed.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Word Count: 4700
Summary: Some rivalries survive death, let the bettor beware.
Author's Notes: Well, there may be a bit of angst, but not the usual kind. I do hope this doesn't flop altogether, igrockspock, but it was fun to do.
"The Wages of Wagering"
"Severus," Minerva McGonagall called, standing before the portrait of Snape in the head's office.
There was no reply; the piercing dark eyes remained resolutely closed.
"Severus, wake up," she repeated in a louder voice but with the same lack of response.
"Have it your own way, then," she muttered, and, seizing the bottom of the frame, she rapidly banged the portrait against the wall.
"What?" Snape said resentfully after one eye had slowly opened.
"I wish to speak with you," she replied.
"I had assumed as much, do be brief, if you please, I am trying to rest."
"Rest from what? You're dead, Severus," she patiently explained.
"That had occurred to me, actually. However, death is rather more work than you might suppose. Certainly it is more work than I ever supposed," he informed her dryly.
"How so, Severus?"
"For one thing, people are constantly disturbing me. 'To sleep, perchance to dream...' not bloody likely," he carped, "dreaming requires that one either be left in peace or heavily drugged. As the drugging is no longer possible the peace is my one option and I am constantly denied that," he told her mournfully.
"I have scarcely bothered you that often. This is the first time I've spoken to you in weeks," she protested.
"That much is true, but sadly, this is not my only portrait. There is the one in the "Hall of Honor" at the ministry. It's bad enough with all the ones who come and tell me what a misunderstood hero I was, and tell me how brave I was, and how I deserved better. Where were these sycophants when I was alive? Bastards. No, that's not the worst of it, not at all," he spat.
"Do tell then, Severus," she asked, finding herself drawn in against her inclination, "what is the worst of it?"
"The unimaginative gits in charge arrange the portraits of the Order of Merlin, First Class, recipients chronologically, using the date of death. Why the fools choose to commemorate someone's death rather than their birth is beyond me, but in any case this moronic practice has landed my portrait hard by that of Dumbledore. That, my dear Minerva, is the worst of it."
"Oh. Oh my goodness," she whispered in understanding.
"Goodness has nothing to do with it," Snape snapped. "Not only do I have my own tithe of supplicants to contend with, there is the endless stream of weak-willed, weak-minded imbeciles seeking the advice of the Great Man Himself. Further, a substantial portion of my visitors ask me about him and a majority of his ask him about me. A subject, by the way, on which he can emote at great length and in intimate detail. Death has at last loosened his tongue and it seems as if he is trying to make up for lost time."
She stifled a snicker, and the brow above the open eye arched severely.
"You find that amusing, do you?"
"A bit, perhaps, but I do see how it might wear a bit thin," she admitted.
"Do you now? It doesn't stop when the place closes, either. Albus will insist on reviewing the entire day's conversations regardless of the fact that I was there the whole time. I am always there, and so is he. I swear he is more in love with the sound of his own voice in death than even he was in life," Snape carried on.
"I heard that," a familiar voice chimed in with faint overtones of amusement.
"Good. I know better than to think you will take it to heart, though. Now then, Minerva, what inspired you to knock me up?" Snape asked.
"Frankly Severus, I just wanted the relief of talking with another pragmatist. One has to speak so carefully in public since the war. I confess myself weary of it, and I find that I miss talking with you. Slughorn is a competent Potions Master and a fine Head of House but he is entirely too gentlemanly in his conversation and his wagers on the Quidditch are uninspired," McGonagall answered.
That got Snape's other eye open.
"So, in essence, you want something from me then?"
McGonagall eyed him warily.
"That is one way to put it, I suppose," she replied cautiously.
"Be careful, Minerva," Dumbledore advised her.
"Mind your own business, Albus," Snape snapped, and Dumbledore chuckled in reply.
"I will admit that conversing with you would be an improvement over present conditions, Minerva. However I do have two stipulations," Snape told her.
Minerva demonstrated that she too could arch a brow.
"I am listening, Severus."
"Firstly, I want you to take this portrait of me and hang it in your rooms. Our repartee should not have so wide an audience, and that way I won't be disturbed by the sniveling of students called on the carpet," he explained.
"Unusual, unprecedented, but neither unreasonable nor impossible. It also has the advantage of my being able to enjoy a good whiskey while we argue, consider it done. And the other requirement?"
"Get me out of that wretched Hall of Honor."
"Your portrait is there by decree of the Wizengamot, Severus. Even if I were to somehow be able to remove it, it would simply be replaced," Minerva explained.
“Surely this is not an insurmountable difficulty for you, Minerva.”
“I’ll tell,” Dumbledore threatened.
“If you do I shall hang your portrait in the Divination classroom, Albus,” McGonagall threatened in return.
“Mum’s the word,” he replied.
“That will be the day,” Snape muttered.
"Very well, Severus. Shall I move this portrait now?" McGonagall asked.
"Say no, Severus," Dumbledore counseled. "Once she has what she wants, why should she go to the bother of moving your other portrait?"
"Albus! I am a Gryffindor! My word is my bond, and everyone knows it!" she said indignantly. Dumbledore scratched his nose.
"I was also a Gryffindor," Albus reminded her, "and it is possible that on occasion my word did not mean quite what the person I gave it to assumed that it did."
"He has a point, Minerva," Snape conceded.
"Hear, hear," Phineas Nigellus agreed.
"Shush, you old snake," McGonagall muttered, "no one was talking to you."
"I always thought that Dumbledore had the makings of a Slytherin," Phineas continued. "Why, I recall the time -"
"Fine," snapped McGonagall, "I shall leave you gentlemen to admire one another's subtle deceits, and go and steal a painting like a true Gryffindor. I do hope Sybill will like her new decoration." She swept from the room.
"Oh dear," Dumbledore said quietly.
"You're for it now, lad," Phineas Nigellus promised.
Snape chuckled and closed his eyes.
~~~
"What on earth are you up to, Minerva?" Wilhelmina asked, peering over McGonagall's shoulder at the diagrams and notes spread over the work table. "Are you planning to rob Gringotts?"
"No. I am trying to figure out a way to fulfill one of the conditions that Severus' portrait set in order that we may resume our former sparkling repartee in decent privacy and comfort," she answered testily.
"What's the caper?" Wilhelmina asked, reaching for her pipe and tobacco pouch.
"I am to remove his portrait from the Hall of Honor. He finds the atmosphere vexing and his proximity to Albus purely toxic."
"What's the chief difficulty, then?" Wilhelmina asked as she tamped the tobacco down with the ease of long practice.
"There are several key points to be addressed. First, I have to replace it, not merely remove it. They would simply commission another were it to disappear."
"I can see that, yes. Do go on." Wilhelmina lit her pipe.
"I have secured a portrait of Severus done by a Muggle artist of my acquaintance as a stand-in, and charmed it to respond with a selection of Snapeish phrases, a simple and pithy, 'Go away', prominent among them, along with 'You cannot possibly expect a reply to that arrant nonsense, you sycophantic imbecile; go away,' " Minerva elaborated.
"The theme does hold true, should work a treat," Wilhelmina approved.
"I think that it should, yes. The sticking point is how to make the actual exchange. I can shrink the replacement portrait down, enter the Ministry during business hours in my Animagus form carrying the portrait in my mouth and hide until it closes. Then I can slip into the Hall of Honor, and even if I am spotted by the guards they will assume that I am merely a Ministry Mouser mindfully minding my mousing mission."
"Mmmm, can't see a flaw as yet," Wilhelmina granted.
"The flaw, Wilhelmina my love, is that I cannot return the replacement to its proper size, swap them, and then shrink the original down while in my feline form. And the instant I return to my human self the wards will trigger and I shall be trapped and in the unenviable position of having to explain a rather flagrant case of art theft, or portraiturbation, or something equally unseemly." Minerva let out a huff of frustration.
Wilhelmina looked at the stick drawing of a cat wearing spectacles staring up at a wall of stick portraits with question marks popping up all around her head and rubbed the stem of her pipe on her chin as she thought.
"Why don't you just ask a House-elf to do it?" Wilhelmina said after a moment.
"Oh."
In the end it was that simple.
~~~
"Not over the fire, Minerva, please. The smoke makes my eyes smart. I cannot imagine why you insist on burning that horrible by-product of a bog instead of simply conjuring a proper magical fire. I can teach you the spell, if you like," Snape griped.
"Then I shall surely place you there, Severus, so that some part of you will be smart. It should make a nice change for you, and you know perfectly well that I find the smell of burning peat comforting."
"I was thinking perhaps the bath? That might keep me from drying out," he suggested.
"A lovely idea, Severus. That way Wilhelmina can join in our discussions while we soak in the tub of an evening."
"I'm sure I can adjust to the smoke over time. It might give me a nice patina, or something," he backtracked quickly.
"You could do with a bit of color, yes," Minerva agreed, settling back on the couch with a whiskey.
"I still don't see why you had to put my other portrait back in your office."
"There is room for you beside Albus in the Divination classroom."
"It would almost be worth it just to see Albus cringe, but thank you, no," Snape decided.
"The Slytherin common room, then?"
"Interesting... but I think not. The risk of being subjected to frenzied bouts of late-night frottage is simply too great. How long are you going to leave Albus with Trelawney, anyway?"
"Until he apologizes and asks to be returned to the office."
"Forever then, yes?" Snape asked, his eyes glittering.
"Oh, I doubt that he'll hold out much longer."
~~~
"Surely you can give me some news from the other side, Professor Dumbledore," Trelawney pleaded. "My inner eye is focused on you. See here? Perhaps if I performed the Dance of the Midnight Nymph again? Would that not strengthen our connection?"
"Please, no! I mean to say, Sybill, that I cannot give you news of the other side because I am merely a remnant lodged in a portrait. I am not actually on the other side, do you see?"
"Perhaps if I were to further emphasize the sensual components of the dance..."
"Sybill, would you please inform Professor McGonagall that I should very much like to speak with her at her earliest convenience?"
~~~
"That was cruel, Minerva," Dumbledore's portrait said with a shiver as she straightened it in its former place in her office.
"Cross me again and I'll make it Binns' classroom," she promised him.
"Tartan harpy," Dumbledore muttered. Snape responded with a gleeful chuckle.
"Tell me, Albus, how is my substitute faring in the Ministry gallery?" Snape asked him.
"I can scarcely tell the difference myself," Albus admitted, "although the invective does get the least bit repetitive by the end of the day."
"I can always stop by and add a description of you watching the "Dance of the Midnight Nymph" Albus," Minerva suggested. "Sybill thought that you seemed most stimulated by it, she said that you blushed extravagantly." Snape chuckled again.
"Oh?" Phineas piped up. "I can well imagine, Professor Trelawney is a fine figure of a woman. Fine figure of a woman indeed, she has the loveliest eyes, and the Dance of the Midnight Nymph is a classic of terpsichorean erotica worthy of the muse herself."
"I did not blush. I was merely straining with the effort of trying to perform a wandless, non-corporeal, Avada Kedavra on myself. She focused her inner eye on me."
"Oh dear, I am sorry about that, Albus," Minerva allowed.
"Nonsense, he had it coming," Snape said dismissively.
"Not even remotely," Dumbledore demurred, and he shivered again.
~~~
"Shall we set the terms of this year's bet on the Quidditch, Minerva?" Snape's portrait asked.
"I still have an interview to conduct, Severus, and would you not prefer to discuss this in my sitting room?"
"Actually, I was thinking that it might be well to have a witness. Other than Wilhelmina, I mean," he temporized.
"Oh?" Minerva questioned with a sharply arched brow.
Armando Dippet waved to attract her attention, and pointed towards Dumbledore's portrait. The Albus in the indicated frame was snoring rather too loudly.
"Severus, you know full well that I am not that type of Gryffindor. Albus, you insinuating git, if you want to know the terms of the bet you can simply ask," Minerva declared in exasperation.
"You might have declined," Albus pointed out with a shrug.
"Enjoy your stay with Hagrid, Albus. I shall have Rosmerta send a cask of oak-matured mead to him to help with the singing."
"Hah!" exclaimed Dippet. "Serves you right, Albus!"
"Piss off, Armando," Albus grumped.
"As for you, Severus, I am surprised that you allowed yourself to be manipulated like this. Perhaps some time with Professor Trelawney will aid you in better assessing the possible consequences of your actions in future."
"Minerva, please, no..."
"Hah! She caught you out, lad!"
"Do be quiet, Dippet," Snape snapped. "I apologize, Minerva, it is not that I doubt your character, but that I am accustomed to being manipulated by Albus. Old habits die harder even than I did," he said sadly.
"Save it, Severus. I'm not buying it, but I shall let you off just this once. I do however expect you to assist with this interview, and I expect you to treat the applicant with respect."
A House-elf appeared with a crack of sound.
"Yes, Headmistress?" the bowing elf enquired.
"Professor Dumbledore is going to spend some time with Hagrid, Remy, would you do him the favor of delivering him?"
"Of course, Headmistress," the grinning elf responded with a huge wink.
"Insufferable..." muttered Dumbledore.
"Tah, Albus," Dippet said with a wave before he fell back asleep.
"Very well, Minerva, I shall assist with the interview, and I shall strive to restrain my disdain for the undoubtedly imbecilic applicant," Snape grudgingly agreed.
McGonagall's rejoinder was cut off by the knock on the door, with a warning glance at Snape, Minerva called out - "Enter."
"Good afternoon to you, Headmistress," the applicant said with a shallow bow.
"And good afternoon to you, Mister- "
"Longbottom", drawled Snape, his upper lip a-curl.
"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Neville replied. "How's it hanging? Still dead?"
Minerva coughed to cover her laughter, and Snape's visage turned rather purple, but then he was laughing out loud.
Such a thing was beyond the experience of all in the room, living or oil-based, and there were startled stares all-around, except for Neville, who merely smiled benignly.
"Well said, Longbottom!" Snape gasped as he fought for control. Snape wiped the turpentine tears from his eyes and actually smiled at Neville. "Please allow me to take this opportunity to thank you for dispatching that thrice-damned snake, Longbottom. I daresay that hurt Voldemort more than anything else."
"My pleasure, Professor," Neville said with a smile of his own.
McGonagall looked shocked, then thoughtful, then amused.
"I assume that Longbottom is here concerning a position in Herbology," Snape began, "I endorse him without reserve, and also recommend him for Defense Against the Dark Arts, should there be a need and he be interested."
Even Neville seemed surprised at that.
"Hear, hear," Dippet chimed in.
"The boy will do," Phineas Nigelus grudgingly admitted.
"Well then, Professor Longbottom," Minerva began, "which shall it be?"
~~~
"A month with 'Irma la Douche' is scarcely a fair wager in exchange for one evening in a Muggle evening gown, Minerva," Snape protested.
"Ha!" snorted Wilhelmina, "who made that one up, and when?"
"I did, just now," Snape replied, "and my objection stands."
"This gown has nearly no top, Severus. To say nothing of the silver serpent wrapped 'round the bodice and the slit up the thigh. If I am to risk wearing that to the Halloween Ball your risk must be commensurate. You at least will have silence enforced on the witnesses to your discomfort," she rejoined.
"I'd think the quiet of the library would suit you, Snape," Wilhelmina put forth.
"The quiet I can endure, it is the palpable tension of the indigenous morons approaching certain failure that I find taxing. And quite apart from that you know that Madam Pince and I never got on," Snape explained.
"So you expect Slytherin to lose to Gryffindor?"
"Nonsense! The Gryffindor Seeker is hopeless, can scarcely stay on his broom," Snape scoffed.
"Then your reluctance is puzzling," Minerva said.
"Give us your feet, Minerva," Wilhelmina ordered, and Minerva swiveled around on the couch and surrendered her feet to Wilhelmina's care.
"That's lovely, Willa, thank you."
"I could do with a bit of that," Snape admitted.
"Don't be ridiculous, Severus, you don't even have feet," Minerva rejoined.
"I have the recollection of feet, and I recollect them being tired. You are flaunting your physicality to irritate me, Minerva."
"Is it working? Do we have a bet?"
"Very well then! I accept your terms," Snape huffed, and he closed his eyes firmly.
"You do recall that the terms require you to keep your eyes open so long as Madam Pince is in the library, I trust?" McGonagall prodded.
"I do," Snape replied without opening his eyes, "and mind you recall that you are not allowed cloak, jacket, or any other covering for the Prophet's picture coverage of the ball."
"Lecherous old snake," Minerva muttered.
"Never you fear, Severus. I shall take care that Minerva does not occlude her charms," Wilhelmina promised.
"What side are you on, Wilhelmina?"
"The top of your feet, but I'm working my way up."
"Ladies, I am as firm a supporter of your relationship in death as I was in life, but either the two of you or I should go elsewhere before this proceeds further."
"You can always keep your eyes shut, Severus," Minerva reminded him.
"I can, but I cannot stop my ears, and human curiosity being what it is I fear that I might look at an awkward time."
"Nothing awkward about us, Severus," Wilhelmina assured him, "years of diligent practice you know."
"Would you carry on so before me if I were alive? This is blatant disregard for the feelings of the differently-animated."
"The man has a point, Wilhelmina," McGonagall admitted, "let us adjourn to chambers. Good night, Severus, I shall have Mister Filch prepare a suitable spot in the library for you."
"If you wish to waste the man's time, it is no concern of mine," he replied off-handedly. "Good night, ladies, pleasant dreams."
~~~
"And Albus the he-ro... he flew off the tower, with 'is 'and shriveled up, which was sad."
"I'm sorry professor," blubbered Hagrid, tears and mead running down his beard. "I shoulda been there! I shoulda stopped it! It's all my fault, you bein' dead an' all..." He dissolved in tears, patting Dumbledore's portrait awkwardly.
"My dear Hagrid, you know quite well that I was dying anyway, and that the events on the tower were all part of my plan. Do get a grip on yourself, and please drink either a good deal less or a great deal more for the duration of my visit."
"I'm sorry professor, but it's that sad an' all," Hagrid told him, and he fetched an enormous handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.
"I still think it was a rotten thing ter do, mind, makin' Snape kill yeh an' all, beggin' yer pardon, Professor Dumbledore, sir."
"It was for the greater good, Hagrid. Do have some more of that excellent mead, why don't you?"
"It is too bad there is no pill for this particular sort of impotence," Dumbledore mused, "I would never have expected Minerva to be the vengeful sort, honestly, the woman is more than half a Slytherin."
" 'Ogwar's, 'Ogwar's! 'Oggy war'y 'Og-" Hagrid's head hit the table with a loud thunk, and his snoring soon had the windows of the cottage rattling.
"Well played, Minerva, but I find myself pulling for Slytherin this year."
Dumbledore sighed, and closed his eyes resignedly.
~~~
"You cheated!" Snape snapped in accusation, and Minerva arched an eyebrow.
"Oh? How did I cheat? Are you accusing me of tampering with the Snitch?"
"You know very well how! Bringing Potter back as the Gryffindor Seeker! The man is a professional!"
"He is also still on the books as a student, having never completed his coursework. There is nothing in the rules that says he can't play," Minerva said smugly.
"She's got you there boy," Phineas Nigelus told him, "Armando confirms it, and Armando knows the rules backwards and forwards."
"Indeed," confirmed Dippet, "Headmaster McGonagall's actions may have strained the spirit of the rules a bit, but they hardly violated them."
" 'rtan harpy", or something very like it sounded from the direction of Dumbledore's portrait.
"Do you miss Hagrid so much, Albus?"
"Power has gone to your head, Minerva."
Several portraits sniggered over that one.
"Pot," said Dippet.
"Kettle," added Nigellus.
"Black," finished Derwent.
"Of all the possible eternities, it simply did not occur to me that endless taking of the mickey by oil-based life forms was among them," Dumbledore admitted.
"Perhaps I have been a bit hard on you, Albus," McGonagall admitted, "would you like to attend the Halloween ball?"
Dumbledore brightened visibly.
"That was always my favorite! I should love to, Minerva, thank you," he said happily.
"There is one small condition..."
"Yes?" he responded cautiously.
"I pick your costume," Minerva told him.
"Careful, boy!" Phineas Nigellus said quickly.
"Done!" agreed Dumbledore, who really did love the Halloween ball, and whose numerous faults did not include taking himself too seriously on Halloween.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come," McGonagall called out.
"You sent for me, Headmistress?" Filch inquired.
"Yes, Mister Filch. Have you found a suitable location for Headmaster Snape's portrait in the library?"
"Indeed I have, it's all ready. You'll be able to see nearly the whole place, Headmaster Snape," Filch assured him.
"I still say she cheated," Snape protested.
"Now, now, boy, take it like a man, she outwitted you is all," Nigellus encouraged.
"Indeed, Severus. Take it like a man," Dumbledore agreed.
"You would know all about that," muttered Snape as Filch carefully removed him from the wall. Dumbledore chuckled.
"Now then, Albus, as to your costume," McGonagall began.
"Don't do it boy!" pleaded Dippet when McGonagall displayed the green and silver gown.
"A Gryffindor honors his word," Dumbledore said staunchly.
"I admire the colors," Nigellus stated.
"Bit racy for my tastes, but elegant," Derwent put in.
McGonagall carried the dress close to Dumbledore's portrait so that he could see it better, and turned so that her body and the dress screened the other portraits.
"Thank you, Minerva," mouthed Dumbledore.
"You're welcome, Albus, my friend. Enjoy the ball," she replied in kind.
With a flick of her wand she sent the gown into the portrait, and Dumbledore stroked the silk and smiled.
~~~
"Good evening, Irma, are you ready to begin?" Sybill Trelawney asked her upon entering the library.
"Nearly, just let me clear a place," she answered, and with a wave of her wand the chairs and tables stacked themselves neatly out of the way, another wave took care of securing the doors.
"Good evening, Headmaster Snape, so nice to see you this Halloween," Sybill greeted him.
"I think we should call him Severus, considering that he is going to witness our Halloween tradition, Sybill. Would that meet with your approval, sir?" Irma asked him.
"By all means, ladies. I see no need to stand on ceremony, 'Severus' will serve admirably. Might I inquire as to the nature of your tradition?" he replied staunchly.
A bet was a bet, even if McGonagall had cheated.
"Irma and I always perform the "Dance of the Midnight Nymph" on Halloween, Severus," Sybill informed him. "It is an ancient tradition that brings us in tune with our sisters before us. You are the only one who has ever shared this with us."
"I am - honored," Snape said cautiously, "but I have no wish to intrude. I am bound by the terms of my bet with Headmistress McGonagall, but she cannot compel you to allow my intrusion. You could always carry on your tradition elsewhere this year, the Room of Requirement, perhaps?" he asked hopefully.
"The magical energy here is just right, and the dance also serves to dispell the accumulated tension of all those worried and struggling students that builds up in the atmosphere. Can you not feel the tension? Also the temperature here is perfect for the, ahh - costume."
"Costume?" Snape asked, a nameless dread rising within him.
Irma smirked at him, and reached for the buttons on her blouse...
~~~
"Albus seems to be enjoying himself," Wilhelmina commented to Minerva, waving at Dumbledore's portrait with her pipe.
"Indeed he does. Who is that he's dancing with?"
"No idea. The gown actually looks good on him, though," Wilhelmina allowed.
They joined the small knot of students watching Dumbledore dance with a slender man in tails, and also joined in the applause when the dance ended and Dumbledore and his partner bowed to their audience.
"Well done, Albus, enjoying the ball?" Minerva asked him.
"Indeed I am, Minerva! Splendid affair this year, my compliments! I only hope that Severus is not too lonely in the library."
"I don't think you need worry on that score," McGonagall assured him with a small, sort of self-satisfied smile.
~~~
"Merlin, no..."
~~~
"Nightcap, Min?" Wilhelmina asked.
The ball was over, and there were no classes the following day. That is to say that day, as it was well past midnight.
"Indeed, I think this is a single malt night, Willa dear."
"You are a fiend, Minerva," a familiar voice stated coldly.
"Get a grip on yourse- oh, I see that you already have," Minerva responded.
Snape was glaring at her from his portrait, jammed against one side of it because he had his arm around himself, comforting a glassy-eyed and shaking version of his own outraged portrait.
"He's supposed to be in the library," McGonagall pointed out.
"I can't! I won't go back! Don't let her send me back," Snape pleaded with himself.
"What's got you in such a state, Severus?" Wilhelmina asked when she returned with a bottle and glasses.
"You knew about this, Minerva," Snape accused.
"I may have had a vague notion, yes," she admitted.
"What's he on about?" Wilhelmina questioned.
"My other self was subjected to the "Dance of the Midnight Nymph" as performed by Sybill Trelawney and Irma Pince."
"Is that all? Surely the dance wasn't that bad?" Wilhelmina pressed.
One of the Snapes passed a shaking hand over his eyes. He might have sobbed.
"Tell me, Minerva," Snape began, patting himself soothingly, "are you familiar with the term 'sky clad'?"
"Happy Halloween, Severus," Minerva replied, raising her glass to him.
"Wait 'till next year."