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Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 129854 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 29
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 52
- 53
- 54
A/N: Sorry for such a long update! I hope you enjoy this and thank you soo much for the wonderful reviews! I really do wish I there was an option for me to reply on here but if you ever want to chat, remember that you can find my pen name on facebook! :D

"Headmaster, you wanted to see me?" Slughorn began nervously, walking into the office once he was told to enter.
Snape gestured for the older man to take a seat in the single visitor's chair opposite his enormous claw-footed desk. "I need you to resume your post as Head of Slytherin house," he stated without overture. "I will no longer be able to for obvious reasons and yes, this also includes a pay rise."
At the mention of a bit of extra work Snape saw Slughorn's eyes grow squinty, and he was practically telepathing his thoughts across the massive desk between them. Slughorn's countenance finally brightened a touch but that was only after he heard about the salary increase. That look lasted a few seconds as something else seemed to come to mind.
"As you know, headmaster, I'm no longer a young man. Navigating the moving staircases are difficult enough, in fact, I'm winded just thinking about it. The office I used last term was quite cosy and not too far from my classroom, and—"
"You may keep your old office, Horace," Snape cut in, eager to stop to what was sure to be a lengthy negotiation in its tracks.
Slughorn looked relieved at not having to state his case about why he should be able to keep his former living quarters. He looked extra cheerful when the headmaster stated that unless he had any further questions, he was free to go. Snape watched as Slughorn heaved himself to his feet; even though the older man was trying to focus on anything except for the portrait behind the headmaster's desk, more than once his prominent eyes flitted to the same place.
"Are you sure there is nothing else I can assist you with, Horace?" asked Snape, this time with forced politeness.
"No, no," Slughorn hastily answered, hurrying to the door. "Good day, Headmaster."
Good day, Snape thought cynically as he watched the portly older man scurrying out of his office. It was no surprise that Slughorn was drawn to Dumbledore's portrait, which had been a major factor in Snape's reasoning for avoiding the headmaster's tower. It had taken him some time to pluck up the nerve to set foot into the room, as well as take his place behind the desk. Dumbledore's frame had been empty, a fact which Snape tried to ignore, but moments before calling Slughorn into the office he detected a flicker of something moving out the corner of his eye. Slughorn obviously had been staring at the portrait and even without turning around to see for himself, Snape knew that the former headmaster had returned.
Now that Slughorn was gone, there were a countless number of things Snape wanted to say the former headmaster; at the same time, he found it difficult to move his tongue to utter a single syllable. First he would have to turn around to face Dumbledore's painting, and that was easier said than done.
"You needn't be so hard on Slughorn," the painting eventually murmured behind Snape's head. "I think you gave him a bit of a turn."
The nerve; the bloody fucking nerve of his man—
"Is that all you have to say to me?" Snape blurted accusingly, whirling around to glare at the painting. "Of all things that you could have said, chastising me about my behaviour towards that old codger was the first thing that came to mind?"
Well past the point of trepidation and knee-deep in irritation, Snape continued scowling until he noticed the way Dumbledore was looking at him. If the subject of a painting's eyes could twinkle, then Dumbledore's would currently rival the background in Van Gogh's The Starry Night.
"You're having me on."
"Well I would have broken the ice by asking about the weather," Dumbledore continued jovially, "but it isn't as if my portrait is in an area with an outdoor view. A bit of a shame, really; sometimes I enjoyed staring out at the Quidditch pitch. Besides I'm sure sunlight would not fare well with the paint."
"Tell me, Headmaster, is this what our conversations are going to entail? Pointless drivel?" asked Snape tightly. "Mindless banter about things of little importance? Please, enlighten me so I might pencil in a few hours for these little chats."
"Not to split hairs but technically, you're the Headmaster, Severus. Also there's no reason to be rude," Dumbledore told him, although it sounded as though he wasn't insulted in the least. "But you are correct— we do have other matters of great importance to discuss. Perhaps you would be so kind as to fill me in."
"Let's see," Snape began, trying to keep his scorn to a minimum. "Where shall I begin? We have a charming new addition to our staff; I believe you remember the Carrows?"
"Yes, unfortunately."
"The Dark Lord thought it wise to give them positions within Hogwarts. Alecto will be taking over Muggle studies and is to be made Deputy Headmistress. Amycus will be teaching Dark Arts." Snape paused when he saw the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye turn to an icy glint."You've heard me correctly, and he will also be made Deputy Headmaster."
"I'm sure Minerva will have plenty to say about that," Dumbledore intoned.
"Does that mean you're volunteering to break the news?" asked Snape bluntly, causing the painting to chuckle quietly.
"I will trustingly leave that task to your ever-increasing pile. And what of Harry? How is he doing?"
"Potter's seemingly vanished into thin air, along with his friends," Snape reported. "They were last seen fleeing the wedding of Bill Weasley and Miss Delacour, now Mrs. Weasley. Rowle and Dolohov caught up with and—so they say— nearly captured the three in London. Instead they were found in a cafe, unconscious and their memories altered. Three guesses as to which cerebral member of the illustrious trio performed that little trick."
"Why, Severus, is that a compliment?"
"I can only assume that Potter, Granger, and Weasley are currently on the run." Snape went on speaking as if he hadn't heard Dumbledore. "However, their whereabouts remain a mystery."
"Headmaster," a strong voice rang out. Snape turned round to find the dark eyes of Phineas Nigellus Black staring pointedly at him, as if wanting to make clear who it was he was speaking to. "If it's of any interest to you the Mudblood removed my portrait from Grimmauld Place and has been dragging me about to Merlin knows where. The last place I overheard was somewhere in Wales; other than that I can tell you nothing more."
Snape was so secretly relieved at being given information that he decided against reminding Phineas of his distaste for the word 'Mudblood'. Seeing that he had a newfound direct connection to Granger and her friends, he told himself that it was in his best interest to not aggravate the painting.
"Thank you, Phineas," Snape told him. "If you hear anything else please let me know."
Phineas answered with a curt nod and disappeared from his frame, although Snape heard him continue to speak, bitterly mumbling something about infernal children and that 'inconvenient, loud-mouthed Mudblood pushing his portrait from pillar to post and keeping him in the dark like some recluse'.
"Severus, do what you can."
Dumbledore remained silent the entire time, even though Snape knew it was likely that his thick-skinned attitude had been transferred to his new form, as he had taken no offence to Phineas' obvious snub. The two former headmasters had never seen eye to eye, mostly because of opposing viewpoints when it came to how Hogwarts should be run.
"I will," Snape answered in a tired voice.
"How is our other young friend?"
"Maintaining, as I was last told by Mrs. Malfoy."
"I gather you'll also be keeping an eye on him when he returns to Hogwarts."
"You gather correctly, Headmaster. After all, it was you who helpfully pointed out my ever-increasing list of tasks."
"It is incredibly selfish of me to ask more of you, but I must insist that you pay careful attention when it comes to your newest members of staff. It goes without saying but I fear greatly for the students' safety."
Typically, Dumbledore never felt the need to state the obvious and Snape attributed his extra words as a result of him speaking in a painted form. When the former headmaster was alive he and Snape had already discussed the terms of what would happen in the likely event of his death. The Dark Lord thought he was doing himself a favour by telling Snape he would be Hogwarts' new headmaster, when that had been Dumbledore's plan all along.
"And it goes without saying, but you know I will. I haven't forgotten about my promise, Dumbledore. I don't need reminding."
"I'm not doubting you, Severus. Please do not take it that way." Dumbledore didn't sound patronising and that was the only thing that kept Snape from feeling insulted. "Now I must be off. I promised Dilys I would pay her a visit."
The moment Dumbledore excused himself and walked out of his frame, Snape collapsed back into the chair behind his desk and dropped his head into his hands. His left temple was throbbing, a sure sign of a full-blown migraine in the works.
"There's no time for that, Headmaster."
Snape looked up to see Phineas back in his frame, frowning out at the headmaster.
"What happened, did you quickly tire of the women in crinolines? Perhaps you should have visited the painting of monks instead."
Phineas scoffed and spluttered with indignation, his frown growing deeper. "As if I would allow myself to be seen with those nitwits. You must have me confused with Dumbledore."
"That would never happen, Phineas. Anyway with my luck a headache won't be the least of my worries," Snape continued deprecatingly. "I have to speak with McGonagall and it will be a miracle if my head is still attached to my neck afterwards."
"That one," Phineas sniffed depreciatively. " If I am to risk suffering the inconvenience of her voice then I think it my best interest to find another painting to visit. She always did grate my nerves."
"And you grate mine, Phineas," the feeble yet annoyed voice of Armando Dippet called out. "Dear lord, man, day in and out we have to hear you complain and I think we can all use a break. Might I suggest the map of Argyllshire? It'll be secluded and perfectly tailored to your tastes. Or perhaps the one with trees; plenty of foliage for you to grouse at and direct your ill-manners towards."
Phineas took offence to that, and the two former headmasters began snapping at one another. The conversation ended with Phineas storming out of his frame. Professor Dippet began conversing with Dumbledore, and Snape quietly brooded over the knowledge that he inevitably was going to be saddled with the opinions of every painting each time he stepped into the headmaster's office.
Swiftly turning his attention back to his next planned meeting, Snape decided that he'd rather deal with ten chattering portraits than one angry, live and in person, Minerva McGonagall.

"Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—the nerve!"
Forty-five minutes later, the former Head of Slytherin House stared at the current Head of Gryffindor House with cool detachment, and the current Head of Gryffindor glared daggers at the former Head of Slytherin. Snape knew that McGonagall could be light on her feet when needed, however, he did not expect her to literally spring forth from her seat and lean menacingly over his desk. He shot her a warning look with hopes that she would sit back down, but all he incurred was the seven rings of hell in her green eyes flashing directly at him.
"The nerve, Severus, the nerve!"
"I understand that you're upset, but this change is not negotiable," Snape interrupted, hoping that the enraged witch would take her anger—and fiery eyes— elsewhere, anywhere, so long as they were far away from him.
"Severus Snape, I may not have been Deputy Headmistress for that long, but if you're going to sit there and tell me that I'm to be replaced with that...beast of a woman... allowing her to abuse our pupils, then I forbid it!"
A hint of McGonagall's accent had always been present when she spoke, particularly with a few certain words. Right now her dander was up and as her fury grew she broke further into native dialect, her brogue becoming thicker by the minute and efficiently cutting through him like a blade as she spluttered angrily after being told about her demotion.
"You forbid it?" echoed Snape with a hint of derision. "I'm the one sitting behind the headmaster's desk. Pray tell how you intend to forbid anything?"
For a moment, McGonagall looked as if she wanted to snatch up the professor by the ear, yank him over his own desk and throttle him. Snape had seen the older woman become cross many times, some of those instances his own doing as a student. Yet he had never seen her upset to the point of shaking; McGongall's ugly tartan-wrapped hat quivered atop her head, and he could see her nostrils flaring as she pointed down her long, thin nose at him.
"Oh pish, Severus! Now I know you and I have had our disagreements in the past, more than I care to count at the moment," she began in a tight, desperate voice, "but you know I'm right. If you allow the Carrows to have one smidgen of control over this school these children will pay for it in blood!"
Snape knew McGonagall was right; he also knew that he needed to remain headmaster in order to carry out his end of the bargain, part of which entailed secretly protecting the students from the likes of the Carrows. If he were to openly go against the Dark Lord, it would risk his dual positions and then bloodshed would no longer be a possibility, but a certainty.
"So long as the students—and staff—do as they are told, then I see no reason for a problem and certainly none of your ridiculous claims," Snape replied smoothly. "Now if you'll excuse me I have rather urgent matters that need—"
"Hold your wheesht, young man!" McGonagall shouted, pressing her mouth into the thinnest of lines before speaking again. "I'm talking now so stop yer bletherin' and don't think you can brush me off and eject me from your office. Not that it matters to you but I've known you since you were eleven. I would think that should garner a bit more respect from you, of all people!"
"That's right, you have known me since I was eleven," Snape replied frostily. "I also seem to remember your precious cubs using my face as target practice although I was the one who ended up being lead by my ear to my Head of House."
McGonagall gave a long suffering sigh before falling back into her seat. "For God's sake, Severus, are you still on that? James Potter and Sirius Black were two reasons that my head is full of grey. Furthermore, I seem to remember that Slughorn barely gave you a slap on the wrist after I told him Potter and Black were the ones who instigated the entire thing, so don't sit there and play the wounded one. Besides they're both gone now, in case you've forgotten. Considering the means of their death I would think you would be more understanding as to why I cannot allow those two simpletons to set foot over Hogwarts' threshold!"
"Again I ask how you intend to do so."
The Head of Gryffindor gave him a long, hard stare before righting her hat and standing up.
"Clearly we're at an impasse." McGonagall walked to the edge of his desk and paused, looking as though she was trying to find the right words. "I accept my demotion, Headmaster, even if I disagree. You may go far as rescinding my position as Head of Gryffindor House and I'll turn the other cheek. But if you think I'm going to stand by and let you or anyone else harm these children, then let me inform you that you have severely underestimated me. Good day, Headmaster."
Without another word, McGonagall swept out of his office, her tartan shawl leaving behind a breeze and causing a stack of paper to flutter off Snape's desk and down to the floor.

The Start of Term Feast was a held a few days later, and the atmosphere in the Great Hall was a tense affair for all. The first-years looked nervous, purely because some of them didn't know what to expect. As for the rest of the children, the majority looked marginally less on edge yet still sent cautious glances towards the staff dais. Snape did notice, however, that his Slytherins (he supposed they were now Slughorn's Slytherins) looked pleased by their former Head of House having been promoted to Headmaster.
Things weren't much different with the rest of the staff; Flitwick, who likely hadn't forgotten about the current Headmaster stunning him the night of Dumbledore's death, looked like he was trying to appear as if all was well but Snape easily saw through his guise. Hagrid looked unsure of himself but cast him a small, nervous smile. Trelawney was off in her own world, even if she seemed more off kilter than usual. Slughorn merely looked as if he wanted out of the Great Hall, while professors Sprout, Vector, Sinistra, and Hooch outright kept their eyes averted from Snape's direction. Then there was the two newest members of staff, both of whom seemed to be taking some perverse pleasure in the mounting tension at the staff table.
To any who cared to notice, it was excruciatingly obvious that McGonagall was still miffed with him; when she first approached the dais she pointedly ignored Snape while making her way to her seat. Before being appointed Deputy Headmistress to the former headmaster, McGonagall mostly sat next to him. During Umbridge's reign as Deputy Headmistress, McGonagall made it a point to sit with him, purely because Snape accidentally on purpose let slip that he had a special potion of his own making that would be undetectable in Umbridge's heavily sugared tea. Dumbledore had found that mildly amusing, and Snape knew McGonagall did as well even if she refused to admit it. In the end McGonagall told Snape that even though she was inclined to aide him in his mischief, he was to behave. The Head of Gryffindor went so far as to make it her business to sit with him during every meal, purely to make sure that his hand didn't wander towards Umbridge's cup.
Snape and McGonagall had always disagreed on more things than they agreed on, and their working relationship mostly consisted of dry jokes and heckling one another when Slytherin or Gryffindor lost in a Quidditch match. Yet a sense of respect had always been maintained between the two, and to currently have McGonagall giving him the cold shoulder left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The former Deputy Headmistress was seated between professors Flitwick and Vector on the far right of the table. As was customary his current Deputy Headmistress was seated to his right, and Deputy Headmaster to his left. Dumbledore, and later, Granger, had been the only individuals that Snape ever openly admitted to making mistakes. The harshness of self-admittance had been just as hard, and he always felt that every bit of misery which came about as a result of his foolishness was justified. However, in his mind, the punishment of being forced to sit between Amycus and Alecto Carrow whilst being expected to eat dinner was unacceptable no matter how horrendous the crime.
Alecto had all the charm of a bloated hog from afar; up close she was ugly as sin—"mingin'!", Snape's finely tuned ears caught from one student who had been whispering to his mate about the new professor. Typically a student would have been given detention for being rude, but the headmaster was in silent agreement with the young man. It was nauseating to watch Alecto eat; stubby, unkempt fingers grabbed at every dish on the table, and Snape was reminded of a pig eating slop at a trough. Even though her fingernails were bitten to the quick and almost non-existent, somehow she managed to get dirt trapped beneath them. Apparently the grime beneath her nails didn't bother her, or perhaps she didn't notice, because the dishevelled witch began using her fingers to tear meat from her pork chop and shove it into her mouth, completely ignoring her cutlery.
Amycus was no better. He had pulled over the entire dish of steak and kidney pie, a large platter which was meant for everyone on the left to serve themselves from. Instead of taking one meat pie and putting it on his plate, Amycus proceeded to eat over the entire stack, smacking loudly while dropping clumps of pastry and carrots onto the rest of the pies.
Snape noticed that he wasn't the only one put off his dinner. Hagrid, who sometimes displayed questionable behaviour but quickly straightened up when McGonagall glared at him, could be seen frowning behind his thick, bushy hair and beard. Even Trelawney had stopped eating to gawk over at Amycus, her eyes growing wider and wider with his every bite.
"Close your mouth, Sybill," Vector muttered from the corner of her mouth, trying her hardest to keep her eyes averted and fixed on her own plate.
After forcing down as much as he could stomach, an already difficult feat worsened because of the witch and wizard on either side of him, Snape made a hasty retreat to his rooms. The headmaster mentally reminded himself that his chambers now belonged to Crookshanks and Loki. Shortly after his rooms became home to both cats, Snape quickly began a routine of checking each place he was about to sit down in, as his four-legged companions had the uncanny habit of dominating every inch of space of his armchair in the sitting room and bedroom, the chair behind his desk, or his side of the bed. Therefore he was shocked to walk into his room and find both animals lying side by side before the hearth.
Teaching robes and frock coat now removed, Snape settled into one of the armchairs and proceeded to stare blindly into the flickering flames. He still felt perturbed from everything that transpired within the past few hours, and did his best to clear his mind. However, the moment he closed his eyes there was the feel of a cat jumping up onto his lap, shoving its head beneath his hand. Without opening his eyes, Snape knew that it was Crookshanks who demanded attention. He began pushing his fingers through the cat's long hair, feeling the vibration of his purring against his thigh. It wasn't long before Loki jumped up onto the chair, using his head to bat at the hand that was busy petting Crookshanks. Refusing to be ignored, Loki persevered until one of the professor's hands was also stroking his head.
"One Animagus that's brassed off with me and two insane cats who, for some bizarre reason, are fighting over me."
Loki's tongue darted out and swiped the top of Snape's hand, as if he was agreeing with the professor. Crookshanks, on the other hand, was well on his way to sleep beneath the stroking hand, and swished his tail once before stilling it.

Hermione never put much stock into superstition or old wives' tales, but somehow whenever she heard the phrase 'things can't get any worse', just the opposite happened.
The search for Horcruxes continued to remain tedious and ineffective. Considering that the only Horcrux in their possession was the locket which had been obtained well over a month ago, Hermione wondered if they would eventually find the next one and if so, how long it would take. Then there was the issue of still being ignorant of how they were supposed to destroy the Horcruxes. No amount of spells or brute force put so much as a ding in the locket, and the three refused to let it out of their sight for a single moment.
Finally a glimmer of hope came in a most unexpected way. As had become Ron's habit, he'd been deep into a tirade about his disappointment in their dinner. Having her fill of his ungrateful remarks, Hermione told Ron in exact words what he could go do with himself since he didn't appreciate her and Harry's efforts at keeping their stomachs filled. Harry had been the one to hiss for them to shut up, claiming that he heard someone. What had been an initial moment of fear soon turned into one of bewilderment as they eavesdropped on a group of goblins and three wizards: Dean Thomas, their friend and fellow Gryffindor, Ted Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks' father, and Dirk Cresswell, who Ron explained worked at the Ministry.
Through the use of Extendable Ears—something else Hermione had thought to pack away in her overstuffed beaded bag—the three gleaned a bit of information from that conversation which they hoped would prove useful. Griphook, an unfriendly goblin they were all familiar with, spoke about Ginny and Dean Thomas attempting to steal the sword of Godric Gryffindor from the headmaster's office. They also found out that the two had been castigated severely. The only thing Harry had been able to focus on was Ginny being punished. Ron had gone strangely silent, and Hermione ignored them both as her brain began rapidly shifting things into place once she'd heard that the sword in Snape's office had been a fake.
While Harry continued stewing over Ginny's welfare, Hermione dug out the portrait of Phineas Nigellus from her handbag. Deciding that it was better to be safe than sorry, she cast a blindfold over his eyes, causing the already irritable man to snap at them. Harry made things worse by referring to the headmaster using just his last name; the bitterness he used to say Snape's name hadn't been lost on the portrait and he icily reminded Harry at each turn that the headmaster should be referred to as Professor Snape.
Stereotyping and lumping every Slytherin into one pile was something Hermione made a conscious effort to avoid. It was no secret that many of those sorted into Slytherin were more concerned with looking after their own interests. Snape had even told her the same thing even as he inconvenienced himself to help others. However, it was irrefutable that Phineas Nigellus Black harboured prejudice when it came to half-bloods and Muggle-borns, and Hermione had little hope that he would willingly volunteer information about the going-ons at Hogwarts and its headmaster. Taking that into consideration, Hermione reflected back to the conversation that took place between Snape and Phineas' portrait back at Grimmauld Place, during which the painting referred to her as a Mudblood yet grudgingly admitted that out of the three, she was the only one with manners.
Phineas greeted them with a snide "'Please' always helps," after she and Harry called to him, but Hermione figured that Harry's voice was the only reason the painting continued conversing with them, and not her polite decorum.
Their conversation lasted only a few minutes and was akin to pulling teeth. Phineas insulted Hermione, Ginny, Hagrid, and anyone else mentioned during the course of conversation at every turn, to which Ron, Harry and Hermione defended each of their friends. That caused Phineas to become cross and he threatened to leave until Hermione begged him to disclose more about the sword. The group's one consolation had been finding out more about the sword: Dumbledore had used it to break open a ring.
Phineas remained blindfolded the entire time, although that hadn't stopped him from trying to find an exit. After informing all that he would not be making a return to his purloined portrait, the professor left in a rush. By then Harry and Hermione had already figured out that sword of Gryffindor had the ability to destroy Horcruxes. In the middle of brainstorming, trying to figure out what to do next, Ron decided to lash out in fit of anger that neither Hermione nor Harry could explain. A screaming match between both boys ensued; Hermione was thoroughly disgusted that Ron tried to twist her words and put her in the middle of things, but she told herself that the locket round his neck was the thing fuelling his anger. Harry, on the other hand, refused to make excuses for the person who was supposed to be their best friend and just as he and Ron drew wands on one another, Hermione cast a shield that kept them all separated. Just as she had been about to suggest that Ron take off the locket, in the hopes that it would calm him down, he all but screamed from his side of the invisible barrier if she was going to stay with Harry or come with him. When Hermione tried to explain why she was choosing to stay with Harry, Ron shot her a look of pure loathing before storming out into the rainy night.
Up until then Hermione had been doing her best to keep it together. While she knew the search for Horcruxes would be anything but easy, it turned out to be more difficult than even her sometimes pessimistic side could contrive. Never had she seen Ron so angry; the two bumped heads plenty of times, and he'd behaved like a wet hen when she and Viktor Krum spent time together, but not once had she witnessed him viewing her with rage of such ferocity that it left her chilled to the bone. He behaved as if he hated her and Harry, and after all they'd been through, it hurt.
Tears couldn't be helped, and Hermione cried so hard that she hadn't been able to tell Harry 'thank you' when he covered her with the blankets from Ron's bed. The blankets were still warm from where Ron had been laying just minutes ago, and that renewed another round of vicious sobs. Harry had been too shell-shocked by their friend's unexpected departure to offer any sort of consoling, and made a quiet escape to his bed. Eventually Hermione left to go to her own room, where she spent the next few hours curled up in bed, crying off and on into Ron's blanket.
There was one thing the trio promised to one another, and that was to stick together. It didn't take a genius to figure out that there was strength in numbers; Snape even had his doubts about Harry and Ron, but told Hermione that they needed to maintain a united front. With Ron now gone, Hermione felt worried sick about his welfare, knowing that Snatchers and Death Eaters were on the loose looking for them. Besides him going off on his own being completely asinine, she thought it terribly selfish of Ron to risk his and their lives as well, purely because of some imagined slight.
What if Ron gets captured and tortured? What if they hurt him just to find out where Harry's been hiding all this time? What if...
One bad thought after another kept Hermione in a constant state of panic for hours. Of course she still felt angry, but the heavy sense of dread about Ron and his senseless actions outweighed everything else.
"...there is nothing wrong with saving yourself first..."
Hermione had no idea why a snippet of her and Severus' last conversation came to mind, but the memory of his deep voice and slow manner of speaking made her long for his presence. The portrait of Phineas was her only way of communication with the headmaster; it would be indirect, but it was better than nothing. That was if she could get Phineas to return to his second frame, considering that their earlier conversation had taken a sour turn.
"Professor Black?" Hermione called softly after drying her face with her sleeve. "Please, Professor Black, can you hear me?"
By chance the professor returned to his portrait, Hermione realised that she hadn't thought of a single thing to say that would not sound trite. That didn't matter, she would make something up if needed. Yet no matter how many times she called Phineas' name, the murky backdrop of his painting, sans professor, continued staring up at her.
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Unintentional Inveiglement