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"Pretty, pretty mudblood's snagged herself a pureblood husband, Evans?" LeStrange said, picking up one of Lily's Potions assignments.
"Give it back, LeStrange. It isn't any of your business. And I'm not married," yet, she finished mentally, but it was as good as saying it aloud. All because of James' big mouth, everyone knew she and James were engaged. She wished he'd have kept his silence for a little longer, but it was no use. He was so proud, so happy that Lily had finally given in, that he'd all but shouted it to his entire school.
"Then it's only a matter of time. Engagements can be broken, you poor thing. You could always marry what's-his-name, that mudblood you sit next to in Potions."
"Severus Snape," Lily offered, wondering why she bothered. LeStrange had sat three desks away from Lily and Severus for seven years of Potions, plus the extracurricular Potions classes Durmstrang offered. If she hadn't learned Severus' name by now, she wouldn't ever learn it.
"Detention, LeStrange," a familiar voice said, coming up to Lily's right. "For disrespecting a Prefect. I'll write you a slip later. And give Lily back her Potions paper while you're at it, or you'll have detention with Gregotich."
"Snape," LeStrange sneered, throwing the paper at Lily's face. She walked off in a huff, robes billowing behind her.
"I don't need to stick up for me, Severus." Lily glared at him weakly and packed up her belongings. It was pointless to stay at the library if she wasn't getting any peace and quiet.
Severus shrugged. "She's going to get in a lot of trouble for saying something like that in front of the teachers one day. The Minister's spent decades improving pureblood-muggleborn relations, but some people just won't learn."
They meandered out of the library, slowly walking to Lily's dorm. Curfew wasn't in another hour, and she didn't want to see LeStrange again very soon.
"Do you think they're really working? His policies, I mean. Durmstrang isn't even half pureblood anymore, but there's still so much the teachers can do. Especially with people like LeStrange around."
Severus patted her back and Lily leaned in, comforted by her best friend. "Fifty years ago, Durmstrang wouldn't even let muggleborns in. And now? Remember when we got our Durmstrang letters, even before our Hogwarts ones?"
Lily rolled her eyes and poked him in the shoulder with her books. "Stop saying Hogwarts like it's a dirty word. James says it's not a bad school."
Severus gave her a look, and Lily laughed and conceded to his wordless point.
"Fine, it's a bloody useless school. Did you know, they don't even have mandatory classes after fifth year? You could take one NEWT class and graduate. And they don't even have post-Hogwarts formal education! Not ours is very widespread," she conceded, "but at least the Minister's trying. Not like theirs. I don't understand how they could elect Fudge of all people. They'd be better off with Nicholas Flamel if they could ever track him down."
"Mister 'I was alive before you were even conceived" Flamel? No thanks, one guest lecture was enough. He's worse than Lockheart and I have to share a dorm with that ponce." Severus shuddered. "He's great with memory charms, though. Lockheart, I mean. I heard some Gregotich saying he might be recruited to do the Durmstrang exam charming in a few years."
"Jealous, Severus?"
He scowled. "No. Of course not."
Lily smirked into her books. "Well, of course the great Severus Snape isn't jealous. Why would the youngest person to ever hold the Gregotich Potions Award ever feel jealous of anyone?" She felt accomplished when Severus' pale cheeks reddened just a bit.
"I'm jealous of Potter, sometimes," he said, not looking at her.
Lily couldn't look at him either. "I love him. I love you too, no less and no more. Always," she whispered, mostly to herself. "Just not in that way."
Severus nodded, and the topic was closed. "I'm jealous of how LeStrange's robes billow, too. It's such a grand effect. A bit intimidating, too, if I didn't know her personally. I've tried to do the same billowing thing, but she must get her robes specially tailored to do it."
Lily rolled her eyes. "If we're going to play the jealousy game, I'm jealous of Goyle's Arithmancy prowess. Can you believe she got every question correct on last year's exams? Professor Euclidean told me in the I-didn't-tell-you way. She's going to be the best spell creator of the decade when she finishes schooling, and I'm going to be number two. The one they floo-call when she's unavailable, on some higher-paying job or the like."
"We can't all be perfect, Lily," Snape said as they arrived at Lily's dorms.
She glowered at him. "Thanks. Really, that was heart-warming."
"I tried." He left with a backwards wave, and she shook her head and entered her dorm.
There, she came to the unfortunate realization that she'd left her Spellman's Syllabary at the library, and after dropping all her belongings on her bed, ran out of the dorms and to the library. She didn't pass Severus on the way, which meant he'd dropped by one of the experimental potions rooms on the way to the boys' dorms, and probably wouldn't sleep again until tomorrow night. She reminded herself to grab a Pepper Up potion for him from the hospital wing tomorrow morning, otherwise he'd be a snarling wreck during class. She turned another corner, speed-walking and huffing now, and found herself not at the library entrance.
Lily stopped short, dropping down a bit and gasping for air. Curfew was in twenty minutes and getting lost was not in her plans. She turned back through the door she thought she'd just come through, but she just entered an identical open room.
"School map," she said, waving her wand in a figure eight. The map appeared, holographic and twinkling a bit, like someone had spilled a bottle of glitter over it ages ago and the glitter had never come out. When she'd first gotten the map attached to her wand when she was a first year, she imagined the map as something out of the science fiction shows Tuney used to watch.
"My location," she ordered when the blue location dot didn't show up. The map blinked and wavered, then collapsed back into her wand. "Awesome," she muttered, looking around. The room was in typical Durmstrang fashion: built for giants and covered in shades of gray. It was smaller, maybe by two meters or so, than the dining room, but just as tall and open. There were six doors to her left and six doors to her right, all closed. At the far end of the hall, she saw a large painting, though she couldn't tell of what.
She tried another door, but ended up coming out of another door, closer to the painting.
"I'm stuck and lost and late for curfew!" she yelled as loudly as she could, cupping her hands around her mouth and turning towards one of the exits. She waited for a reply from outside the room, but no one answered her.
No one answered her from outside the room, anyway. "In my time, people would yell into their pillows or at other people, not into hallways, young lady," a voice from behind her said.
She whirled around, but there was no one in the room with her. She wondered if she'd even see someone in the room if they came in, with the way the room was slowly darkening. "Hello?" she called toward the direction of the voice.
"Over here, girl," the voice ordered in a peeved tone, and Lily decided to take her time walking toward the picture frame. As she came closer, the frame somehow grew lighter, until she could see its occupant, though she saw no torchlights nearby. She chalked it up to the oddities of magic and studied the man in the frame for a moment. He seemed to be about forty years old, judging by the wrinkles near his eyes and on his forehead, although Lily wouldn't bet on her estimation being correct. Professor Moehlmann looked about forty, but claimed to be sixty years old. He had dark red hair, the kind that could almost be called brown, dark brown eyes, and a smile that looked very kind, but made her want to back away for some reason.
"Er, I didn't notice you, sir," she began, but he just waved her words away.
"Where is that angry spirit I saw a moment ago? Are you women of today's world always to meek?"
Lily bristled. "I'm not meek! I'm just trying to be polite. Do you know how I can leave this room? I'm a bit lost."
"It's a bit difficult to be polite after you've ruined my nap, isn't it, young lady?" The man had the gall to look both smug and affronted. Lily wanted to punch him, but she didn't want to get covered in paint along with getting lost in a stupid, confusing room.
"You're a portrait! Sleep and eavesdrop is all you do!" She noticed he hadn't answered her question, but didn't ask again. Maybe the portrait didn't know, either? She felt an itch at the corners of her eyes as she stared at the portrait, but somehow she couldn't look away. She tried to scratch the itch, but it wouldn't go away.
"Excuse me for enjoying the afterlife," the man said.
"Afterlife? What... you're a portrait. You're not a ghost or a spirit..." she left off, still staring at him.
"What are they teaching you these days? Oh, don't tell me, girl," he said when she opened her mouth. "I'd not like a heart attack at my old age."
Lily frowned. "Okay, you're a ... sentient portrait. Fine." After a moment, the itching stopped and Lily could look away again. Something told her that it wasn't normal to be unable to control her own body, but she couldn't remember why. "Can you tell me how I can leave this room?"
The man shook his head. "I don't remember. I've been here a very long time, girl." He waved his wand and sat down in the chair that appeared. "Well? Tell me about life outside my portrait. I don't have all day, you know."
"I just want to-" Lily paused and was still for a while until she shook her head, trying to clear it. "Fine. I'm lost anyway, so why not?" She told him about Durmstrang and Bulgarian Minister Riddle and Hogwarts and how there was a war in the muggle world, but she couldn't remember which one. She talked even though she started to feel tired and sleepy, until she started talking in monotone, more than half asleep.
She told him about the Yule Ball Beauxbatons had held last year and her romance with James Potter. She told him about her Durmstrang letter at age ten and how elated she and Severus had been. She told him about how it still bothered her that she couldn't remember the Durmstrang entrance exam and how she thought the teachers would get this odd look in their eyes, like there was something they knew about her and she herself didn't. She told him about how Severus was her very best friend and how she hated LeStrange and loved charms.
She didn't know how long she talked or why she even talked so long, about things the portrait probably didn't care about.
Eventually, she fell asleep, leaning against the portrait, not caring that her hair would be covered in paint the next morning.
While she slept, the man stepped out of his portrait, stretching his body again after a very, very long time.
He turned around, loving the feel of air on his face as he walked. He rubbed the portrait, smiling as waxy paint covered his finger. Inside, the new portrait slept, and would only awaken when the man's progeny entered Durmstrang again.
Smiling, the man rubbed the portrait girl's cheek. "I'm not planning on having any children, my dear sweet girl," he whispered, unwilling to wake her.
The schools welcomed its master once again, and Godric Gryffindor left his prison forever. After all, he had three more portraits to uncover, and then the world would find just how immortal the four founders of Hogwarts really were.