Miriam Snape stood with her hands clasped in front of her as she stared at the portrait behind the headmistress' desk. The headmistress and her parents were in the other room.

Talking.

About her.

She knew they were.

She was the reason her parents were even here so they weren't talking about anything else!

She was absolutely positive that, despite her getting in trouble being the reason for it, her father took great pleasure in walking through Hogwarts' entrance about an hour ago to the shock of everyone. Except Miriam, of course. (And the headmistress.) Everyone, it seemed, thought she was a relative of his.

They weren't wrong.

She was, of course.

She was his daughter.

Why did she think he took pleasure in it?

Because he could have taken the floo to the headmistress' office and avoided being seen by most anyone but her.

He didn't have to wear all black. He used to, when he was a professor here, but hadn't since meeting her mother he told her. He'd fallen back into that habit for this visit.

Morgana, she would have been scared of him, if he wasn't her father. (No matter how mad at her he might be for what she'd done today, she knew that he'd never hurt her.)

She'd love to be in the common rooms and classrooms right now. The gossip! She could just imagine! And it made her both want to giggle and hide. Between her being sent here and the entire school finding out he was her father. She sensed she was going to be getting more attention than she wanted for a while.

She paced for the first five minutes of her parents meeting with the headmistress. She tried to listen at the door a couple of times. Of course she couldn't hear anything . She could just picture her dad smirking in the other room, too, knowing she'd do exactly that. He was constantly telling her she was too curious for her own good. No results from that, because her parents were both capable enough to cast proper silencing spells, she took to looking around the headmistress' office. She'd never been in here before.

She should have been sitting patiently in a chair, but she couldn't do that. He didn't want to be here. Her mum and Uncle Harry got her to King's Crossing and the Hogwarts Express in September. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard her parents argue until then. Sure they had differences in opinions, on many things. Those weren't arguments.

Morgan, Margaret, and her mom were in the sitting room. He'd called her in here. She didn't think she was in trouble.

"Your mother seems to think my not going to King's Crossing with you on September first will hurt your feelings."

Oh! She ducked her head a bit, focusing on her hands so that he wouldn't see that his question made her smile.

"You don't need to come," she volunteered quickly.

"Well, your mother has ensured that I haven't needed to do anything for many years now. That is to say. My staying away from the magical world has not been designed as a punishment toward you. So, if my absence will hurt your feelings. Or make you feel as if I don't want you to get your magical education."

He'd go. That's what he was saying. If she wanted him there, he'd do it. He'd hate it, though. She knew her parents did something for the magical world. The Minister for Magic had been at more than one of her birthdays. Uncle Harry had them over on occasion, but it was always very … secretive. She hadn't realized until recently (thanks to Uncle Harry) that the only people allowed to see her were members of the Order of the Phoenix (now retired since there was currently no need for the organization).

And none knew her last name.

"You don't have to," she repeated.

"All right. However, take a night or two maybe. You think about it. If you change your mind."

She wouldn't. Morgan or Margaret might make him, but she wouldn't.

"All right."

He nodded then, hugging her and kissing the top of her head.

"Only for one of you would I do it."

She knew that. He'd do anything for them. Including this, if she asked him to.

Her parents hadn't argued about it again, though her mum looked a little … disappointed. Miriam didn't understand that look. She hadn't asked about it, and never would, because she already knew the answer. "You'll find out when you get older."

That meant it was not a mummy and daddy thing but a Hermione and Severus thing. Grown up stuff.

Would he be mad at her? She hated that idea. She really did. More than upsetting her mum because she and her dad were like … Well, two peas in a pod. She'd been his shadow since she could walk, watching everything he did, wanting to learn, and trying things she shouldn't have much earlier than she should have even been thinking about them.

Her eyes had eventually settled on the portrait behind the headmistress' desk.

Here.

Where she stood now.

The subject of the portrait was watching her very curiously. He'd been in the portrait when she first got to the headmistress' office, but left. He was back again now, though. He was trying not to be obvious about his curiosity. She could tell, though. Her father taught her how to read faces and eyes. Her brother Morgan knew how, too, but he wouldn't be here for three years. Well, he'd start here when she started her third year.

She knew who the portrait was of. Her father told her about this man, cautioning her that she didn't want to say anything around any portraits in this castle she didn't want to be told to anyone else. Particularly this one, though, he'd cautioned. He hadn't frightened her. Just driven home the point portraits talked and gossiped because they had nothing else to do.

The look the former headmaster was giving her led to her approaching and standing before it as she was now.

She'd heard … stories of the man in this portrait, but had never had reason to be in this office until now to see it.

Him.

What did one say to the man her father described his relationship with as complicated? She didn't like that anyone made her father's life complicated. He had assured her that most of the complications he'd experienced were self-induced.

He used that word when it came to most of the magical people she'd known growing up. She didn't like that!

"You are truly Severus' daughter?"

"Yes, Sir," she said to the portrait. She knew she sounded proud, and her parents would scold her for displaying such hubris so publicly. However, she was proud. Of both of her parents.

Her mum was a whiz at history, arithmancy, and runes.

Her dad had worked as a spy during two wars and lived to tell about it! (He assured her when they watched a James Bond movie that the movie made spying appear to be far more exciting and glamorous than it was. She was pretty sure, at the time, he knew she wanted to be a spy, too.)

She offered the subject a small smile, hoping it would offset the prideful tone her remark contained. Until today, she'd been a model student. She never really had to worry about her tone. No one asked her directly who she was to Severus Snape. She wasn't under orders to lie or hide the truth. She just knew that her father preferred remaining private. And the fact that her mum wasn't known by many in the wizarding world. Well, it made people think she was a relative rather than a descendant.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Snape."

"You, too, Headmaster."

He regarded her closely. She wouldn't say the look was stern exactly, but definitely serious. That made her fidget a bit.

"Perhaps the next time I see you. it can be under better circumstances."

She rolled her eyes with a bite of her lower lip, giving a soft sigh. Of course he would say that. She knew, for that matter, her father was not pleased that his first time returning to Hogwarts was because she got in trouble.

The headmaster gave a low chuckle and she wasn't sure what she'd done that made him laugh. He wasn't saying anything else so she pushed on.

"It's not my fault!" Those white eyebrows shot up. In amusement or surprise? She couldn't tell. He did that gesture almost as well as her father.

"Hmm. The blood on your hands and clothing tell a different story." This was said with another soft laugh, though, so she didn't think he was upset with her.

She shook her head, clearing her mind. She would not cry. That's why she punched him. It was either cry or do that. She would not let a bully who didn't know what he was talking about see her cry!

She clenched her fists, one still bloodied (and throbbing) from the punches she'd thrown.

"He called my father a bad word!"

"Who called your father a bad word?"

Tears formed in her eyes, and she shook her head, flailing her hands at her sides. They'd been threatening to fall for a while now. She was surprised, honestly, she hadn't broken down as soon as the headmistress brought her in here to summon her parents.

She was already in trouble.

She didn't want to get a reputation for being a tattle tale, too. And telling him the name would be doing that.

"Well, it's okay if you don't want to tell me. I'll find out eventually, however, Miss Snape. I always do. Someone will mention to the headmistress who was seen in the infirmary for being hit hard enough to draw blood. A good deal of blood, if what I'm seeing on your clothing and hands is any indication."

She pouted a bit, nodding. Of course he was right. And then she gave a bit of a smirk at the thought of Jamison having a bloodied and broken nose. Not because she liked punching him, but because he was a bully and she thought he needed to know he wasn't going to get away with being that with her.

"People are always going to say bad things about your father. He knew that when he chose to become a spy after doing some," he paused here, looking as if he was thinking really hard on what to say. She saw that look on her mum and dad's faces a lot when they talked about stuff they weren't sure they should talk about in front of kids . (Uncle Harry had given her some books on the wars, so she knew more than her parents probably realized.) "Unsavory things before coming to me. He knows that today, and I imagine it's part of the reason he has stayed out of the wizarding world for as long as he has. If it wasn't for you, I'm not so sure he would have returned. At least not officially."

For that matter, he hadn't officially. Miriam wasn't sure he'd come back after today. Maybe.

"I have a brother and a sister," she said quickly.

The portrait headmaster's eyes widened at that. She surprised him.

"Do you?"

She nodded. "Morgan and Margaret. Mum says Margaret was going to be something else, but since Morgan and Miriam started with M they changed it."

"I see," he said, sounding amused. "How old are they, Dear?"

"Morgan is nine. Margaret is six."

"And you are twelve?"

"Yes, Sir. I turned twelve in November."

"Ah," he said, nodding a bit. "Well, Miss Snape. I somehow suspect the headmistress knew about you, but kept that information carefully guarded. Not even I knew of you. So, trust me when I say that those people don't know the truth, and your father has managed to live for many years now out of the public eye. That takes skill in its own right. Not everyone could just disappear!"

She frowned a bit at that. How would the headmistress know about them? She knew the headmistress knew her dad was alive, but Miriam didn't think he'd seen her, let alone told her about her or her brother and sister.

"I know," she said with a pout. Their house was secret-kept and only a few people even knew where they lived. Her permanent address went to her grandparents' home in London. Most of the time, she liked it. Some of the time, she didn't. Growing up, it had been difficult, because she always had to go to a friend's house instead of them coming to her house.

"Just know that I agree with you. He does not deserve any bad words said about him. I've found, in my experience and observations, that people like to judge others because it stops them from looking at their own transgressions. It's also easier to criticize others that you don't know or understand. Just know that I know the truth. More than anyone likely. And I agree with you."

She doubted he knew more than her mum. Her father told her that until meeting Mum, this man was the only person he'd ever been able to be honest with. Even with this man, he'd held back though. He said he never had to with her mum.

She nodded, offering him a bit of a smile. She liked that. He agreed with her!

"However," he said, peering at her as he stroked his silvery beard. "Punching someone isn't going to change their, or anyone's, mind. Some might, believing your father to be a bad man, even be inclined to say "like father, like daughter". Those same people will be watching you, especially now, because they now know that you're his daughter and are here when he is not."

She knew that. Her dad told her many times that she had to act very good. She didn't want to disappoint him. So, she knew!

Morgana.

More tears were forming in her eyes at the thought of her dad being mad at her for that, too! She hadn't meant to punch Jamison. She really hadn't. For a second, it was like her hand and brain became disconnected. She caught her breath, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

"He said that he died loving another man's wife and wanting her son dead. Uncle Harry. Uncle Harry's mum."

The portrait man was quiet. Should she not have said that? Her dad told her the story before she'd come here to Hogwarts. He said she had to know, but she wasn't to tell her brother or sister because he would when it was time for them to go to Hogwarts. Just as he'd done with her.

"Do you think that's true?" the man asked.

"No, Sir. I think Dad loves Mum. Very much. And hasn't loved Uncle Harry's mum for a long time." She leaned in then, her nose practically touching the portrait. "They're soul mates," she whispered.

"Well, yes, that is definitely something that points to your being right and to keep to yourself."

She knew. Her parents told her that she couldn't tell. She didn't know why she couldn't, but she knew not to tell. She'd think being soul mates would be something they'd want people to know. She wouldn't tell, though. Well, she just did. She swallowed hard. Would he tell their secret?

"To make it even, I'll tell you a secret, too. One only myself and Severus know to this day. Can you keep it?"

She bit her lower lip. "Yes, Sir," she said with a nod of her dark curls.

"You mustn't ever tell, not even your father, that I told you this. Your father wanted James and Harry Potter saved, too. He thought he loved Lily as you seem to be aware, but was willing to plead for the life of her husband who stood in the way of him having her. So, I knew he didn't really love her many years ago."

"Really?" she asked, eyes widening. Her father hadn't told her that.

"Really. I was, needless to say, very surprised, as he and James Potter were not friendly. To put it politely."

She nodded.

"Your father was already a spy by that point. The night Harry Potter's parents died. It suited our narrative, what people thought, better if they believed he loved Lily and hadn't betrayed Thomas Riddle or his death eaters. So he did nothing to correct people who believed he still loved her. I'm sure it pained him greatly many times, especially once Harry got to Hogwarts. It bothered him the boy thought that."

She stood a little prouder at that.

"And another thing. Again, you must not repeat this, even to your parents."

"Um, okay," she murmured.

"You know that your parents … travel for their jobs."

"Yes, Sir."

She didn't know exactly what their job was, but knew it was important and that she and her siblings had to stay with her grandparents or Uncle Harry sometimes because they had to go out of town. How did he know that though?

"I have two portraits, my dear," he said, as if he knew what she was thinking. "While you were talking with the headmistress before your parents arrived, I was talking to the Minister for Magic about your parents. Other than the curls, you look quite like him. I had to find out if I was right, and Minnie wouldn't tell me if she hasn't already."

"Oh," she said.

"You know your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Professor Lupin?"

She knew she sounded confused, and she didn't like that. What did Professor Lupin have to do with her parents? She knew her Potter cousins knew him, that he and Uncle Harry were friends. That he had been friends with Uncle Harry's mum and dad. She knew that her father went to school with all of them. When she'd written to her parents about her teachers back in September, her father replied back telling her who was tolerable and who was not. Most were not in her father's opinion (though he admitted that most he knew only from being his student or from articles they published), aside from Professors Sprout and Lupin. He liked Madam Pomfrey, too, he'd told her. She hadn't ever had to see her.

"Yes. I have … You'll forgive an old man for sounding crazy. I'm not, I assure you. I have a memory of Professor Lupin being a werewolf as a result of an attack when he was rather young. Who attacked him or when it happened. Well, those memories aren't there. It was before he attended Hogwarts. That's why I remember it. We had to make specific accommodations so that he could attend Hogwarts. I even have a memory or two of your father brewing the wolfsbane potion for him. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes, Sir. He still brews it."

He nodded then, a sparkle in his eyes. "Good. I'm very glad to hear that. There are few I'd trust with such a potion."

"Thank you, Sir." She was glad to hear him say that. Her mum told her, Morgan, and Margaret that he was among the top potioners in the world. She didn't think her mum lied, but it was nice to know this man thought highly of his abilities, too.

"So, that memory or two that I have. They're fleeting, but there. I don't quite understand it. It's like a shadow in the corner of my mind, but if I chase after it, try to follow where it leads, it disappears. I admit, I don't know how the magic in these portraits work," he said. "I don't know if the fact that the events took place while I was alive but were … presumably altered when I no longer was. If that's why those memories are visible sometimes. I wish I knew."

"Okay?"

She still wasn't sure what that had to do with her father. He peered at her then and she blinked rapidly. Her tears were dry by now. She didn't know what that had to do with her parents' jobs. How did one have memories of things that hadn't happened? Had he dreamt about Professor Lupin being a werewolf? He wouldn't be able to teach then, certainly, and he was one of her favorite professors. She knew he got his education at Hogwarts. How could he have done that being a werewolf? The headmaster had said he wasn't crazy, but she was starting to wonder if that wasn't a lie.

"I suspect, Miss Snape, that your parents did that, based on Minister Shackelbolt's evasive answer during my visit with him. He's not as good at keeping his eyes neutral as your father is. So, I think that they altered something so that Professor Lupin didn't suffer the attack that left him a werewolf."

She shook her head, a little confused. What was he saying?

"You're clever. You know what I'm suggesting, Miss Snape. And why it has to remain a secret."

She scrunched her nose. She was pleased he believed her to be clever!

"While you're catching up, I'll continue. Just know that I believe your father has the ability to change things. That means, my dear. Of all the things from his past that he could have changed. That he could have perhaps done differently. Lily Evans. Taking the Dark Mark. His childhood. Meeting Voldemort to begin with. Very literally years of actions and things that I know Severus regrets or hated. That he wishes he could have done differently. He chose, instead, to effect change for someone else. Someone who wasn't even very nice to him, truthfully. I suspect there are several someone elses who've been helped, but none as … drastic as what changed for Professor Lupin."

It clicked then. What he was talking about. How they could change things. Change the past . She sucked in a deep breath.

"They have a time turner?"

He held his index finger up to his lips and she nodded.

"They are making a difference. Quietly. Your father doesn't want articles written about his efforts. He never wanted fame. He hated I asked him to kill me because he knew that would be something associated with him for a long time. If not forever. I imagine that he and your mother prefer to just keep doing these things. I know him well enough, despite not having seen him for many years, to know this is fact."

Was that really what her parents did? She'd never really asked. Uncle Harry never seemed to find anything odd about their jobs. So, she never thought about what they might be doing. She understood about not being able to tell people things. The same as she couldn't tell her muggle friends about magic.

"So, Miriam Snape, eldest daughter of Severus Snape. And the one young Morgan and Margaret will look to for an example. To follow your lead, as it were. Let that bolster you. Let that be what keeps your ire down. It means, my dear Miss Snape, that you must refrain from letting people speaking ill of your father get to you. People like to talk about what they don't know. Just know that he was a successful double spy, a war hero, as far as I know my death is the only one who was directly responsible for and I asked him to do it, and now has chosen a path that helps others. Quietly. Without fanfare. What I've told you here today, I don't know for certain. I have my suspicions, and haven't been wrong very many times. With that being said, you have every reason to be proud. And, likely, every reason to punch anyone who disparages his name. His actions will speak for themselves, though, so you needn't fight his battles. He wouldn't want you to do that anyway. So be the better person and don't stoop to their level."

"They haven't yet," she said with a pout.

"Because he's only just returned to the wizarding world, my dear. Today. People thought him dead for years. They weren't entirely sure who you were to him until today. Truthfully, I thought he was dead until hearing the rumor a Snape was starting at Hogwarts. Dead men can't have children and you were born long after the war's end to have been fathered by him then. They know now. Their perception may change. Give it time, but you do him no favors punching people."

The man in the portrait stepped even closer to this end of the portrait, so close that if he could have walked out of the ornate frame and into the office, she was sure that he would have. "You don't want people to think he can't properly raise his daughter, do you?"

She gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth. She shook her head almost violently, her curls bobbing and swaying with the gesture.

"Nuh uh," she mumbled through the hand covering her mouth.

"That is precisely what they will think. Not knowing your mother, they will blame your father. The one they do know, who wasn't very well liked and some still today doubt which side he was truly on. Do we understand one another, Miss Snape?"

"We do, Sir."

"Good. The Minister for Magic filled me in with regard to your mother. The marks she received when she was a student at her school and at university are most impressive. I have no doubt the wizarding world won't know what's happened to them with you on the scene. Let's make that a positive and not a negative thing, shall we?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip. "Yes, Sir."

"And," he said, returning to the chair he'd been sitting in until a few moments ago. "If you wanted something to strive for. Someone interviewing and learning about these magical portraits would probably be welcome. Someone needs to know how they work! There are several in the castle who seldom see anyone, let alone get to have conversations. You never know, someone learning how the portraits actually work would get to write articles and books on the subject. Perhaps be able to tell if a portrait is meant to be a talking one or not."

Her eyes widened. It would be fascinating.

"I see that appeals to you. I can talk to Minnie, the headmistress, to see about granting you access to various portraits in the castle."

"Yes," she said enthusiastically. He chuckled at that. Morgana, why was this man being nice to her when she was here so the headmistress and her parents could decide if she should be suspended.

Or expelled.

How embarrassing. Her father had never been expelled.

"Give it time, Miss Snape. They're not going to suspend you. Minnie wouldn't do that, knowing your potential. I promise you won't feel the need to punch too many people after today. Well, for talking badly about your father anyway. They won't know what to make of it, and if he survived what I think he survived. They won't want to cross him. Know, too, in part they were, and will be perhaps more stringently now that they know exactly who you are, testing you to see what you're made of and what they can get away with."

"Okay," she said. She wanted to say she didn't believe him. This man in the portrait, but she knew he was her father's friend.

"I wish you luck, and it was truly a pleasure to meet you. Let's make our next meeting one where you're talking with Minnie to decide which excellent job offer to take if the portrait idea doesn't catch your fancy after all."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. And remember what I've told you here today whenever you feel the need to defend your father. His actions will speak for him. People will come around. He was - is - a hero. You, Miriam Snape, are daughter of a hero."

She stood a little taller at that.

"Thank you."

"Thank you, Miss Snape. Now, clean yourself up so your parents don't think you are hurt, too."

She smiled a bit, setting about doing exactly that before returning to her seat on the other side of the headmistress' desk.

To wait for her parents.

To hope she wasn't grounded for the rest of her life.

Vowing never to have anyone ever doubt her father raised her properly.

And, maybe, just maybe, she'd sneak a hug in for Professor Lupin when she saw him in class the next time. He'd get flustered, but he would accept it because he'd known her since she was born, and then ask her about a book she'd read as if nothing unusual happened. Perhaps she'd ask him if he ever read The Wind in the Willows . It was a favorite of hers, and she'd reread it just last week because it reminded her of home.

The door opened to the room her parents and the headmistress were in. She turned to look, but there was no one there.

"Come in, Miss Snape," the headmistress' voice said from inside the other room. She huffed. That couldn't be a good sign she wasn't getting expelled, could it? Surely, her parents would come out here if it was good news.

She glanced at the portrait who nodded, seeming to encourage her to go.

She stood then, walking to the room.

"You will have detention, of course," the headmistress said as soon as she sat in the seat next to her father. Mum was on the other side of him.

"Yes, ma'am."

Detention! She huffed, tears forming in her eyes once more at the very idea. Even if it was better than being suspended or expelled.

"Miss Watling could use some help."

Her eyes shot up at that. Miss Watling? The library? She was going to be serving her detention in the library?

"Twice a week until the end of the school year. For as long as you're able, which is the reason for the lengthy sentence," the headmistress said. She regarded her over the tops of her glasses. "That means, if you have schoolwork, that takes priority, but she will follow up with your professors if she believes you're abusing the … leniency we're giving you. If Miss Watling believes you've met enough hours before the end of the school year, she will relay that to me, and I will inform you of your detention being served."

"Yes, Madam," she said.

"Unfortunately, I do have to document the occurrence in your record."

"I understand," she said. She did. She'd have to live with that. Really, though, for a second there it was as if her fist had a mind of its own.

"Any questions?"

This seemed to be asked to all three of them. None of them had any, it seemed.

"I will leave you to say goodbye to your parents then," she said, collecting her things and leaving the room once she'd stood from the table.

Silence.

"Are you all right?" Dad finally asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm still Dad."

"But you're mad," she said, looking at him finally.

"I'm not mad. This wasn't exactly how I wanted it known I'm alive," he shrugged. "The fact we've managed to keep it merely a rumor and the thing of gossip for this long is impressive. So, it is what it is."

"Really?"

"Is this," he said, gesturing to the conference room they were in. "Going to happen again?"

"Oh, no, Daddy. He just…"

He held up his hand, stopping her from saying more. "I really don't want to know."

"Why not?" She'd defended him! Didn't he want to know that?

Her mum looked as if she was wondering the same thing.

"In the event he learned his lesson and realizes that you are someone worthy of being friends with, I'd rather not hate him for whatever he did or said to upset you so today."

She smiled a bit at that. She didn't see that happening. But maybe. She knew that her dad and Professor Lupin hadn't been friendly until their seventh year when they worked on a joint NEWT level spell for their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Rumor was Professor Lupin still taught that spell, and told his classes how much he learned about spell creating during that project. She'd find out, she supposed, when she got to fifth or sixth year. She couldn't remember which year the spell was rumored to be taught.

"Okay."

He stood then. Her mother was rather quiet through all of this.

"I was going to give your mother a tour since we're here. Take a stroll through halls that were once very familiar to me."

"He wants to see how frightened the students are of him," her mum said, looking both amused and shocked.

"Oh, okay," she said. Her mum was kidding, right? He didn't really intend to frighten the students. Did he?

She swallowed a bit when he offered her his hand. She looked from it to his face. There wasn't a scary thing about this man.

Her mum had to be kidding!

Didn't she?

"Care to join us then?"

She smiled widely, nodding. She settled her hand in the palm of his. His hands were so big compared to hers, but she was never scared of them. She just knew he could do great things with them.

"Where should we start?" he asked.

"Your old classroom?" she asked.

"Mm. Do they still use it?"

"Yes."

"I'm surprised it wasn't deemed too antiquated by now. That would be Professor Mulhoun, correct?"

"Yes," she said with a nod, glad he remembered. That was months ago she'd written to him with the names of everyone.

"Is he a dunderhead?" he asked.

"Severus!" her mum said.

She gave a giggle, biting her lower lip, and nodded.

"Mm," he said with a knowing nod in reply. "Just as I expected. Show me the way then, if you must."

She gave a soft squeal of delight, holding his hand tight as they left the room.

"Thank you for your time, Minerva," Severus said once they returned to the headmistress' office.

"You're welcome anytime, Severus," the headmistress said. Miriam gave a wave to the headmaster's portrait who merely nodded in response. She was pretty sure her dad saw because his back stiffened a bit, but he didn't say anything.

"Did you know that no one's ever studied magical portraits before," she said, as they made it to the stairs that would take them from the office.

"You don't say?" her dad said. "And this … interests you?"

"Well, sure," she said as the gargoyle statue moved to let them leave once they were at the foot of those stairs. "Haven't you wondered how they work?"

"Not particularly," he drawled.

Oh. Well. Was it a bad idea? If her father had never been curious about it, then it must not be very worthwhile. He was so smart.

He stopped walking then, turning toward her a bit, setting the tips of his fingers under her chin. "I didn't need to wonder, Miriam, because I knew you'd come along one day and get me the best answers."

She smiled then. He did not know, but her heart pounded in her chest because he just said he thought she could figure them out.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Like Mother, like daughter."

Yes, her mom was quite the studious witch. Miriam didn't mind being compared to her.

But when all was said and done, she was a daddy's girl, both her parents knew it.

She hadn't told the headmaster that Jamison said Lily Potter wouldn't have loved her father anyway because he was so evil he wouldn't have known how to treat a nice witch. She knew her father wasn't evil. She didn't want other people to say he was!

"That was actually rather sweet, Severus," her mum said.

She ducked her head a bit as her mum reached in, bussing her dad on the lips right there in the halls.

She thought her mum would tell Jamison that her dad knew precisely how to treat a nice witch right.

Especially when that nice witch knew how to treat him.

~The End~

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com