Chapter Text
The door opened.
Harcourt’s eyebrows rose as he took in the occupants of the room.
“Mrs Weasley,” he said, coming forward smoothly and shaking her hand. “Minister,” he shook his hand in turn. “Mr Shacklebolt? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, Sir.”
Kingsley grasped his hand firmly and returned the handshake. “No. I’ve seen you in action, though. Impressive.”
“Thank you,” Harcourt said, sitting down.
They were in a room at The Leaky Cauldron.
Ron had kept two rooms furnished and available for meetings, and various Ministry departments, as well as other companies, used the service. Although Ron had kept the price minimal, people invariably chose to come in and book time slots in person at the bar, finding time to have a pint and a chat with Ron at the same time, and again, either before of after the meeting they did the same. As well as the income generated, Ron found it useful to see who came and went, who was friendly with whom, and which colleagues couldn’t stand each other.
Not to mention, many people just continued their discussions at the bar.
“We wanted to discuss a prosecution with you,” Benningdean said.
“Oh yes?” Harcourt slipped one leg over the other. “My cases are normally assigned in the department by Mrs Atkins.”
“We’re aware of that,” Benningdean nodded. “This is a high-profile case, and involves treason, which is why I am involved.”
“This is the Nott case, is it? You’re charging him with treason? You must have some good evidence,” Harcourt said, looking with interest from one to the other.
“As you know,” Kingsley said, “for security reasons, Nott is being held out of the country. A number of people died, and there are hundreds of Ministry employees who’ve been severely inconvenienced. He’s a potential target for retribution. Or elimination.”
Harcourt sat forward. “Hold on. You think someone might try to kill him to shut him up?”
Hermione gave a brief smile. “I told you he didn’t miss a trick.”
Harcourt glanced at her, and then said, “Such a suggestion means that you’re taking the treason allegation seriously. And that you think he had co-conspirators.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“I think it appropriate to tell you, at this juncture, that being involved in this case is potentially dangerous,” Kingsley said. “Would you like to listen to the details? If you would prefer to withdraw, that’s perfectly understandable.”
“You’ve already told me enough to make me a potential danger to you,” Harcourt commented.
“That’s true,” Benningdean said, “but we have to start somewhere. Also, if we feel that you are a risk, we’ll memory charm you.”
“That’s illegal.”
“I’m sure you’re aware that that isn’t the case in situations relating to Wizarding Security,” Hermione said.
“State vs Oneidan, 1734?” Harcourt said, after a moment.
“Exactly,” Hermione nodded. “But it was our intention to tell you, as we have done, beforehand.”
“Good of you,” Harcourt said dryly.
“Treason is a dirty business,” Benningdean said. “I’ll be blunt with you: I’m going to ask you some questions. I’m going to ask you to allow Master Snape to use Legilimency on you. If we’re satisfied, I’ll lay out our case. If, at the end of the discussion, you decide you don’t want to take it, that’s perfectly fine.”
“But you’ll Obliviate me.”
“Yes.”
“Why isn’t Mrs Weasley taking the case?” he said, looking across at her. “She has an excellent legal mind.”
“Thanks,” she grinned. She brushed her loose robe tighter against her body.
“Oh! My – my congratulations, Mrs Weasley,” he said, a slight flush blooming on his cheeks.
“Thanks,” she said again.
“Are you expecting this to be a long case?” he asked. “Or are you – you’re not unwell, I hope?”
“It’s not the length of the case,” Hermione shook her head. “I certainly hope that it would be over before the baby is due, but there are other considerations. Firstly, I didn’t expect the Beings Equality Law to pass so quickly, and so I ruled myself out initially on that score. That made me consider who would be best to take the case. You came to mind at once.”
“Thank you?” he questioned.
She gave him a quick smile. “You’re brilliant at what you do, and more ruthless than I am.”
At his raised brows, she went on, “It’s a compliment. And a necessity: you’ll need it. Nott and ….another conspirator….will need every ounce of your quick wit and incisive manner. You’ll be better at it than me.”
“You’re handing me the sort of case that can make a career,” he said slowly. “Are you expecting me to fail?”
“I sincerely hope you won’t,” she said.
“Forgive me, you’re more advanced in the profession than I, but, surely…”
“I don’t need it,” she said.
“No?”
“I’m changing careers,” she said. “The BEL was my last case, and I’m very happy to leave on that note.”
“But – what are you planning on doing?” He paused, and rested his chin on his hand. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business; but I’m very surprised: it will be a sad loss to the profession.”
“Can we get this mutual ego massage over?” Snape said. “You are both undoubtedly good at what you do. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Hermione laughed.
Harcourt gave her a startled look. “You know each other,” he said.
“Apart from having taught her for six years?” Snape queried.
“Don’t be mean,” Hermione swatted Snape’s arm with casual ease. “We do,” she said. “A little. The thing is, there are personal issues involved here too; I don’t want them clouding the case.”
“Personal issues in treason?”
“There are wider issues,” Kingsley said. “Shall we explain? Are you willing to proceed?”
“You know I am,” Harcourt said. “You’re promising me the case of the century.”
“More than you know,” Benningdean nodded. “Alright. I’ve looked up your records,” he went on, waving to a folder on his desk. “You’re a Pureblood.”
“Is that relevant?” Harcourt’s brows drew together.
“Yes,” Kingsley said flatly.
“I was only seven when Voldemort was defeated,” Harcourt said, puzzled. “I had no involvement at all in the war.”
“Your parents were out of the country,” Benningdean stated.
“I’m an adult. My parents views are entirely irrelevant,” Harcourt said firmly.
“Your mother is an Arithmancy expert employed by the Russian Wizarding Consortium for the last forty years,” Kingsley went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Your father teaches at the St Petersburg Wizarding Academy.”
“Yes. And they’ve had quite enough issues interfacing with the changes in Russian society during that period to have much concern about what was happening back here.”
“Do you believe Purebloods are more properly wizards than Muggleborns?” Kingsley asked.
“I have the highest respect for Mrs Weasley, who is, I believe, Muggleborn.”
“Funny, isn’t it, how we’ve both chosen a profession that we could actually do in the Muggle world,” she said.
Harcourt’s head swung round sharply.
“I know we’re dealing with Magical Beings, but we don’t actually use magic ourselves in what we do,” she shrugged.
“I’d never thought of that,” he said, slowly. He turned back to look at Benningdean and Kingsley. “Are you saying this is about Pureblood supremacy? That Nott destroyed the Ministry because of that? Is he trying to be a new Dark Lord?”
“I don’t think Nott is,” Benningdean said.
There was a pause.
“But you think he has a co-conspirator, who is,” Harcourt mused. “You –” he looked from one to the other. “This has to be someone from the Ministry,” he said. Another moment. “Someone from within our department, or you wouldn’t be taking so many precautions…”
They were all silent, allowing him to work it through.
“You haven’t even brought in the Head of – you suspect Mrs Atkins? Dorothy Atkins?”
“Yes,” Benningdean said. “Are you interested in taking the case?”
Snape walked over to Ron at the bar.
“All finished?” Ron asked, eyes taking in that Snape was alone.
“Yes. I left the others chatting. I’d like to see you and Hermione privately, when you have a moment, Ron.”
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Sure; wait a mo?” he said to Snape, whilst nodding to a customer who was trying to get his attention. “Pint of ale, Phineas? Usual for lunch? Veg today are roast spuds, runner beans and cauli cheese. Sound good?”
Ron pulled the pint expertly, and with a scrawl on a piece of parchment by the till, the food order winged its way to the kitchen. He came back to Snape. “Mione’s staying here for lunch today: we’re about to have it in our quarters. Want to join us? Or is it too soon?”
“Time is of the essence, actually,” Snape said. “Thank you.”
Ron gave him a sharp look, but nodded, went and spoke to a young witch with spiky green hair who was behind the bar with him, and then came to the end of the counter, lifting the flap for Snape to follow him through.
Ten minutes later they were sitting at a small scrubbed table in a neat kitchen somewhere at the top of The Leaky.
Snape had taken stock of his surroundings as they settled to eat.
“Food’s from downstairs,” Ron said. “Seems pointless to make our own. We order take-out sometimes though – there’s an excellent Chinese that delivers to the Muggle side, and doesn’t ever seem surprised.”
“This is very good,” Snape said, savouring the very English taste of steak and kidney pie.
It was funny how the temperature of a region affected what you ate so much. They never ate this sort of food at Villa Olorosa.
“Got to keep Mione’s iron levels up,” Ron smiled warmly across at his wife.
“You’ve been keeping well?” Snape asked.
“Yes, I seem to be over the worst,” Hermione said, tucking in with relish.
“You implied before that you’d had to be careful,” Snape prompted.
“They were just a bit concerned at the beginning, which is why I kept it quiet for so long,” Hermione shrugged.
“Well, I was scared shitless,” Ron said bluntly. “She fainted twice. That I know of,” he said, giving his wife a look that said he clearly thought she might have been holding out worse on him. “Anyway,” he said, “what can we do for you, Severus?”
Snape put down his knife and fork.
And paused.
“I know I offered once to give you anything you asked,” Ron said, his eyes narrowing. “Have you come to call in the favour?”
“Yes,” Snape said.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance.
“Very well,” Ron said. “What is it?”
“Just like that?” Snape looked disbelieving.
“You saved our son’s life. I haven’t forgotten.”
“I might ask you to do something illegal.”
“You might,” Ron said, wiping a piece of pastry crust around the gravy on his plate, spearing it onto a piece of kidney, and popping it into his mouth.
“That – you’d just go along with that?”
“You must really want what you’re about to ask for,” Ron said, “and it must be something you can’t get for yourself, otherwise you’re far too proud not to have done so. I’d be surprised if it was something illegal, because you would probably have insisted on seeing me without Mione.”
“What is it, Severus?” Hermione asked, putting her hand on his arm.
Snape explained.
Snape could not help experiencing a moment’s enjoyment as he saw the hastily masked horror on Hannah Longbottom’s face as she opened the door.
“P- Professor Snape!”
He could see everything she knew of him washing over her face in ten seconds flat.
“Mrs Longbottom,” he said, inclining his head.
“Who is it, dear?” a voice called.
Hermione had mentioned the step-mother was insatiably nosy.
He’d use that if he needed to.
The door pulled a little wider, and a rotund woman stood there, looking him up and down.
Hannah seemed incapable of speech.
“Severus Snape, Madam,” he said. “Hannah was my student at Hogwarts.”
“S- Snape?” Mrs Abbott said. “Professor Snape?”
“It’s a long time since I taught,” Snape said wryly. “Mrs Abbott, is it?”
“Oh, I do beg your pardon! Elaine Abbott,” she said, holding out her hand and at the same time stepping back as Snape took it. “Do come in! Hannah, whatever were you thinking, leaving the Professor on the doorstep?”
Soon after, they were ensconced in the parlour. “I had a very good lunch, with Mr and Mrs Weasley,” Snape said, declining cake but accepting coffee. “Ron and Hermione,” he said, looking across at Hannah.
She went bright red.
“Oh! Hermione is pregnant as well!” Mrs Abbott said, “Such a comfort for Hannah to have someone she knows so well having a child at the same time!”
“Indeed,” Snape said.
“So sad that Neville…” Mrs Abbott began, dabbing at her eyes.
“Elaine – ” Hannah sighed.
“I can understand how upsetting his loss must be,” Snape said. “I was in court when Mr Longbottom so cleverly pointed us to Hogwarts, and what was happening to Mr and Mrs Weasley’s son. I have to admit, he was never a brilliant student in my class, but as a man – of honour, and courage – I saw it in his teens, and on that day: he was exceptional.”
Hannah’s mouth had dropped open.
“You – you were there?” Hannah’s hand fluttered.
“In court? Yes. And I went to Hogwarts, too, and saw how accurately Neville had given us directions to allow us to rescue Hugo.” He looked across at Hannah, and then allowed his gaze to encompass Mrs Abbott. “If your child has an iota of his courage, as I’m sure he will, you’ll be a very proud mother and grandmother.”
Hannah’s face went pale, and then red.
“You’re too kind,” Mrs Abbott started saying to Snape, and then, sharply, “Are you alright, Hannah?”
“I feel a trifle faint,” she said, putting a hand to her cheek.
“I’m so sorry, Prof – Mr Snape, perhaps you ought to go – ” Mrs Abbott said, bustling to her feet and coming over to her step-daughter.
Snape stayed in his chair. “Actually,” he said, “I came to offer Hannah my services. Mrs Weasley said that you were a little peaky, and that the hospital were concerned that you weren’t eating enough.”
“Just my thoughts exactly,” Mrs Abbott nodded. “I was twice her size when I had my first, I’m sure.”
“I do make nutritive brews to help women at such times,” Snape said.
“St. Mungo’s gave me some – ” Hannah began.
“Yes, generic ones, no doubt. Not totally useless,” Snape said, condescendingly, “but obviously there is no comparison to a custom-made potion.”
“Goodness, that’s so kind of you! Hannah, what do you say to Master Snape?”
“You are under no obligation to accept any potion from me,” Snape said, ignoring Mrs Abbott and looking directly at Hannah. “Mrs Weasley asked me to make her a potion - and she has given me permission to tell you that, as I’m sure you appreciate all my work is in confidence - and she mentioned your situation. It may be that there is nothing I can do to help, or indeed, that you don’t need any help at all, but, out of respect for your husband – here I am.”
Hannah looked at him.
Snape stared back.
Mrs Abbott opened her mouth.
“Hermione is – she was brilliant at potions. Doesn’t she make her own?” Hannah stammered.
“There is a subtle art to understanding the needs, as well as creating a perfect custom potion,” Snape said. “Mrs Weasley chose to follow other avenues after school, and while I am sure she has been quite capable of brewing standard potions for her family throughout the years – indeed, I would feel that the years I spent teaching were wasted if pupils did not go on to do so – some situations call for an expert. And of course, I would never recommend that a pregnant woman make potions: there are too many potential dangers to the child.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs Abbott said. “I knew a witch once – ”
“Mrs Abbott,” Snape interrupted, standing up and stretching out his hand. “It’s been an education to meet you. I’m sure Mrs Longbottom,” he looked at Hannah, “is very grateful for your continuing support. But we need to have a lengthy chat to help me construct the potion accurately, and I can see,” he glanced down at her ankles, just showing under her robe, “that you’d benefit from putting your feet up for an hour. I’ll send something along, if you’d like, to help with the oedema.”
“Well I – that is – how kind,” Mrs Abbott said, hauling herself to her feet from her position next to Hannah. “I don’t know how you realised a lie-down was just what I needed – ”
“Every afternoon for at least an hour,” Snape recommended, leading Mrs Abbott across the room, “a pillow to elevate them will make a big difference,” he added, as he opened the door, and with a slight bow, shut it behind her.
“Did – did you put a - a compulsion spell on her?” Hannah demanded, rising to her feet herself.
“You put one on Harry,” Snape said smoothly, walking across the room and sitting down again. “I assumed you had no problem with them. Besides, it was true: she’ll feel a lot better for it. She’s obviously entirely wrapped up in your pregnancy. Idolised your husband, did she?”
“My husband was an admirable man,” Hannah said tightly.
“Yes, he was,” Snape agreed. “And every bit as fair as you. What is she going to say when your child is born with black hair, do you think?”
Hannah jumped.
“Do sit down,” Snape said.
“You – Harry told you – ”
“Yes, you know he did.”
“I’m not giving up my baby!”
“I’m delighted to hear it.”
“I’m not – what?”
“Let us not beat about the bush, Mrs Longbottom. I’m told you have no interest in marrying Harry. I find that hard to believe, but I understand that you might play him along a little – ”
“How - how dare you!”
“I don’t think there is any point in us prevaricating: we both have too much to lose.”
“What do you have to lose?” she demanded. “You’ll have everything.”
“You’re obviously working under a misapprehension,” Snape said. “Harry has terminated our relationship, on the off-chance that you will decide you need him.”
She sat down suddenly. “I’m not going to marry Harry!”
Snape gave her a quizzical look.
“I – he’s nice, of course. But – for one, he’s – ” she glanced at Snape, and away. “He’s gay. Surprising as it may seem, Neville and I –.” She bent her head, then looked up, and said, fiercely, “It was very good between us. In bed. Neville was – ”
Snape held up his hand. “Forgive me, Mrs Longbottom, I’ll take your word for it. I have no desire to hear the details of your sex life.”
“Well,” she said, after a moment, “I have no intention of settling for second best.”
“If I were a generous man, I would say that I’m sure Harry would try to make you happy – ”
“You don’t understand. He wouldn’t succeed. He isn’t Neville,” she said.
“When your grief is a little less intense – ”
“No.”
Snape again just watched her.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t know why you’re pushing Harry on me, but I don’t want him. I’ve known him for nearly forty years. I never fancied him, not once, in all that time.”
“And yet you slept with him,” Snape murmured.
“It –look, I’m sorry if he was in a relationship with you then – he never said, or I wouldn’t have – I didn’t even fancy him – I’m sorry – I just – he was a friend, and we were drunk, and I hurt so badly, and he held me, and I – I just wanted to forget, for a moment, and – ” her shoulders rose awkwardly in an embarrassed shrug. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
It was exactly as Harry had said, Snape thought. Something settled in him.
“Nevertheless, we both have a problem,” he said. “The moment your child is born, rumours will start. And they won’t stop. They’ll affect you, and they’ll affect your child. I have a suggestion that I hope will help us both. Are you willing to listen?”
She looked at him.
And nodded.