This is fanfiction. I'll let you know in the highly unlikely event that I ever get paid for this, or if I magically turn into J. K. Rowling. Probably never.

No beta, English isn't my first language. This is for those of you who hate old Dumbles: my god there's a lot of you!

Monday

Albus Dumbledore had planned everything carefully. What he hadn't planned was Severus Snape actually surviving the war, and so Dumbledore's portrait was quite displeased. But to know the dour man had survived with the help of Hermione Granger, who'd been his secret and hidden lover for most of her sixth year and been in contact through that year on the run and fully aware of all his plans... well, to say that the portrait was dismayed was an understatement, and somewhere in the afterlife Dumbledore's soul was seething.

Albus Dumbledore had planned on having Miss Granger eventually marry the youngest Mr Weasley, and had, in fact, slipped her some mild love potion hidden in a sweet: he hadn't counted on his Potions master recognising the potion's effects on Miss Granger or brewing an antidote for it. Snape probably wouldn't have noticed the damn thing, if only the stupidest Weasley child hadn't gotten tangled with the vapid and silly Miss Lavender Brown, making Miss Granger's potion-induced fascination with Mr Weasley more pronounced. And this action had driven Professor Snape and Miss Granger together, right under the nose of Headmaster Dumbledore himself. In his own defence Albus had been dying at that time and was working with the rash Mr Potter and the whole sorry business with the Horcruxes, and so he could pay little attention to what his staff was doing at the time.

The sad thing was that while the children produced by the union of Miss Granger and Mr Weasley might become quite talented, though Miss Granger's genes of raw talent, power and intelligence would be held back by Mr Weasley's considerably less promising heritage. While far from being a bumbling idiot, Mr Weasley was a galaxy or two away from Miss Granger's intelligence. Any offspring from the union of Miss Granger and Severus Snape would be marvels of intelligence and promise, something Albus Dumbledore did not like. He'd spent most of his long life trying to tamper down the true talents, to keep the wizards and witches from advancing too far. That, too, was another reason why he'd plotted for the demise one of the most powerful wizards in the world.

Miss Granger had known everything all along, and had managed to hold her tongue. She'd known how to Occlude when Bellatrix LeStange interrogated her, and in the end she'd saved her lover when the serpent Nagini had struck him. Albus knew Severus had brewed an antidote and he'd ordered one of the House-elves to remove it from his robes a bit before the battle: but Miss Granger having another vial of the same potion was an unfortunate an unexpected thing.

And so, Dumbledore's portrait seethed when he heard how Miss Granger had managed to save Snape's life and had Kingsley Shacklebolt exonerate him of any and all crimes. He could not voice a protest: Severus had managed to find a silencing spell that worked on a portrait.

Tuesday

Albus Dumbledore had been a teacher most of his life, and thus he'd strictly forbidden his staff and pupils from using foul language. He could tolerate the occasional "bloody hell", especially if came from one of his dear Gryffindors – the passionate and brave couldn't really be expected to guard their tongues fully, unlike the other Houses – but the language Severus Snape was using was intolerable. Now that he was a mere portrait, Snape used those horrible words all the time. Not just the hells and shites, no: the 'fucks', 'cunts', 'arseholes' and 'shitstains' filled the air. During his year as Headmaster Severus had, occasionally, let out some steam by standing in front of Dumbledore's portrait and showing him the full capacity of his vocabulary while the other portraits, such as Phineas Nigellus Black, had laughed maliciously at Dumbledore's unease, but now he wasn't alone and Snape was using those dreadful words all the time. And they seemed to be contagious! Minerva had cursed in Gaelic hard enough to paint the air blue and green, and Rolanda Hooch could strip paint off the walls with some of the words she'd used.

Snape had also chosen not to serve the school. His influence on the wizarding Britain could have been limited at Hogwarts, where the students left him behind after the few years, but out there he could... well, Albus could no longer manage and control what Snape did or did not do. The teacher's salary had limited him, and he hadn't been able to cash in on his inventions. Albus had been able to use Lily Potter to force Snape's hand: free at last in both body and soul there was no telling what Snape would do, especially aided and abetted by the talented Miss Granger.

Wednesday

And as if that hadn't been bad enough, Kingsley Shacklebolt had presented Snape with an Order of Merlin, first class. The same medal Albus himself had owned, in fact. Snape had also discreetly pointed out the loss of his dreadful and dreary old home at Spinner's End, his poor wages and lack of income from his years of research on potions, the money which had filled the coffers of Albus Dumbledore, and the Ministry hurriedly offered Severus Snape a generous amount of money for years of dangerous work and, in Shacklebolt's own words, putting up with "That-manipulative-old-fucker-Albus-Dumbledore". Aberforth had agreed and said Snape deserved a second medal for finally putting out his miserable arsehole of a brother, and Albus could do nothing but glare viciously from his frame.

When the men left the office of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Severus stayed a bit behind. He smirked and waved his wand, and Albus Dumbledore's beard turned green in his portrait. Slytherin green. Try as he might, Albus could not remove that blasted spell, and he just knew that no being dead or alive apart from Snape himself could remove the colour. Headmaster Black's portrait laughed with tears in his eyes, Dippet fell off his painted chair and Derwent got a hiccup.

Thursday

Every day things were going from bad to worse. Of course Hogwarts was in shambles. Albus dearly wanted to suggest that Minerva could, perhaps, use her influence to bring more comfort for Gryffindor pupils in their tower: better and bigger bathrooms perhaps, individual rooms and many other small pleasures as rewards for their years of hardships. Minerva was working with her staff to dry and warm up the Slytherin dormitories in the dungeons, which was a waste of time, really, they ought to be used to the dank and cold conditions.

And to ask for Snape's help in discarding Dumbledore's personal possessions! The nerve of it. Snape was currently gleefully burning Albus Dumbledore's fantastic collection of socks. He'd had some of those since he'd been a mere boy, and Snape was burning over a century worth of sock-history. Some of those charmed socks screamed as they burned! It was painful. But the true humiliation came when he found one of the huge dildos hidden inside a sock. A glittery pink one, charmed to massage and throb, one he'd forgotten when he'd destroyed the rest.

The Slytherin fiend also used Fawkes' perch as firewood and shagged Hermione Granger in front of the dying embers in front of the portrait gallery. Former Headmasters throughout centuries cheered them on. Some of them made suggestions. Albus found his way to his other portrait at the Ministry blocked: apparently Kingsley hadn't liked some of his suggestions.

Friday

Snape had taken up smoking again. Disgusting, unhealthy habit, and in a school where the vulnerable and corruptible young minds could see it. He also drank: Albus had banned alcohol from Hogwarts decades ago, only allowing his staff (with the exception of Trelawney) Butterbeer while on the premises, and while most of the staff spent their summers getting utterly wasted and plastered and completely and utterly stone-face drunk, they'd never dared to take a sip inside the school. Now Minerva gleefully ordered boxes of Scotch, Professor Sprout slept on top of her Mandrake seedlings and Professor Hooch fell off her broomstick. Snape had started it by bringing a nice selection straight into the Great Hall. Minerva drooled in the Headmaster's chair, farted and accidentally changed into her Animagus form.

Saturday

Apparently Snape wasn't done with Albus' private possessions. How in seven blazing hells had he found one of his porn stashes?! Snape had made copies of it all and spread it all over the staff lounge. It was quite graphic. Albus had also made notes on it. Those were bloody personal! How dare they all laugh!

And Ronald Weasley had finally understood that Miss Granger wasn't going to give him a chance. Forcefully kissing her in the heat of battle hadn't impressed her: Harry Potter's whinging and desire for all of them to become one big and happy Weasley family weren't received well... or at all. Ronald had apparently tried to force her with magic. She'd solidly beaten him to within an inch of his life. Trying to force a witch with a wand was foolish: to try that on a witch stronger and far more intelligent than you was downright idiotic. She'd been taught to Snape, after all.

Potter's little sidekick wasn't going to get the girl.

Sunday

Finally Albus managed to flee from his portrait, but only into the portraits inside Hogwarts. He came across Miss Granger in the library. The young woman was currently undressed; her Slytherin green lingerie was strewn about the room; her breasts bounced and Snape's long fingers caressed and pinched her nipples as the Potions master pushed and shoved and grunted behind her, his large cock thrusting vigorously inside her. He kissed and bit her neck gently, while she moaned and panted with pleasure. He whispered dirty things into her ears, his voice hoarse and punctuated with his own panting.

His thrusts became vehement and frantic as Miss Granger closed her eyes and whimpered, her entire body convulsing with her orgasm. Snape's eyes closed and he moaned her name as he came, thrusting his cock deep, deep inside Miss Hermione Granger. He opened his eyes and saw they'd been observed, and he smirked at Dumbledore's green-bearded portrait.

And as he pulled his slowly softening cock from Miss Granger, Albus saw that even partially deflated Snape's cock was much bigger than his had ever been.

If he hadn't been under Snape's bloody modified silencing spell, the world would have heard Dumbledore curse for the first time.