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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
"And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After"

Chapter Twenty-One
“Twenty Questions”
Disclaimer: "Double-Bubble Bubblegum, Wonkle, Ipso-facto, Wagga-Wagga, Fork-Tongued Four-Eyes, Fehzelbarm, Hey-Nonny-Nonny and a Ha-Cha-Cha!" Translated from Dumbledore speak, "J.K. Rowling is the owner of Harry Potter and all concepts. No profit is being made from this piece of fiction."
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"You look awful."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione replied monotonously without sarcasm.

Mrs. Weasley had stepped out of the fireplace in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic and was escorted by Harry, who had been waiting for her, to Auror Headquarters on Level Two.

There was a hastily scrawled sign posted on the lift that said, "Out of Order."

The smell of charred flesh still hung in the air and it made Hermione's throat close up. That particular smell triggered memories of the war that seemed as fresh and vivid as if the war had ended yesterday.

Even to this day, Hermione could not stand the smell of meat charred or overcooked in a pan, in the oven or on the grill. She had taken up a preference for her steak to be bloody rare.

"Can't somebody open a window," she mumbled distractedly to herself.

"I know what you mean," Harry added empathetically, having a similar reaction to the lingering smell.

"Here," Harry said, as he guided Hermione into an office that was not his. "Kingsley and Alastor wanted to ask you a few things themselves. I'll be joining them, as I offered myself for your moral support."

"Thanks," she whispered.

They sat in silence for a while before Harry said, "Ginny mentioned you and Ron had a fight, and he took off." Hermione didn't answer him, but continued looking out of the office window that had been charmed with a view of the River Thames. "I saw that he was there when I Flooed you earlier."

Hermione sat there in the Ministry issued chair, her shoulders slumped and her eyes downcast.

"You look like hell," he said with concern.

"You already said that."

"Well, you do," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "Do you want me to talk to Ron?" She shook her head. "Do you want to talk with me about it?"

'Oh yes, Harry. Do you want to hear about my pitiful sex life and how Gryffindor men, based on a poll of two, are lousy in bed? Do you want to hear how eerily similar my disintegrating marriage is to yours? Do you want to know how Ron and I have nothing in common anymore and I'm seeing a gigolo on the side for conversation and companionship? How I almost ripped my clothes off and begged him to fuck me last night so at least I know what a good fuck is instead of being left unsatisfied by an inconsiderate lover with a little prick?'

She didn't think Harry would want to know or hear about such things. A half-shrug and a shake of her head were her answer. As much as it disgusted her, she wanted pity and Ginny would say the right things to make her feel as if she weren't the only one to suffer such tribulation. The hollow feeling nestled in her chest and the now ever-present weight upon it was sucking out all the energy she had, reducing her to sit as still as a statue as they waited for Harry's superiors to arrive.

It wasn't long before the two senior Aurors strode into the room.

"Hermione," Kingsley greeted Mrs. Weasley with a weary and sympathetic smile.

She nodded in greeting to Shacklebolt and Moody. The top Auror merely nodded to her in return, sitting himself in a chair next to the desk on the other side of the room.

"I'm so sorry to have called you in, but we have a few questions," the black Auror apologized.

A small rush of nervous adrenaline raced through her veins, fueled with apprehension and guilt over her inaction the night before.

"Just answer them the best of your ability. It appears you didn't get much sleep last night, so if there are any details you remember later that you think are important, please be sure to contact us any time," Kingsley said.

Hermione nodded once more, her head feeling like one of those stupid Muggle bobble-head dolls her parents bought as a souvenir on one of their many trips abroad.

Shacklebolt set the Auto-Quotes Quill in motion before he asked, "At what time did you leave last night, Mrs. Weasley?"

As her eyes fixed on a particular pattern in the parquet floor in front of her, Hermione's visual memory flashed to the night before, remembering the clock on the wall as she headed out the door of her office. "It was about a quarter after five, maybe a few minutes earlier than that at most."

"Were you originally in your office?"

"Yes."

"Where did you go when you left your office?"

"The lift." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, realizing once more that she had stood in close proximity with a Death Eater that moments later had gone on a murdering rampage. Her body shuddered.

Harry rubbed his hand on her back noting her physical discomfort.

"What happened next?" Shacklebolt inquired.

Hermione opened her eyes while remembering the exchange. "I got into the lift and… and I recall Dolohov was shifting from one foot to the other."

"Did you think it was strange?" Shacklebolt prompted.

"Yes. But I thought maybe he had to use the loo."

Moody let out a derisive snort.

All three pairs of eyes turned to him. "Well, I think that's pretty telling, don't you?" Moody said defensively.

"Please, Hermione, go on," Kingsley encouraged her, ignoring Alastor's comment.

"I noticed his eye twitched a bit."

"Twitched?" Kingsley asked.

"Yes, like a nervous tic or something."

Shacklebolt and Moody exchanged meaningful glances while Harry grip on her shoulder tightened.

"Go on. Anything else you noticed?"

"Yes, normally he asks me if I want the main floor, as I only really go between that floor and mine in the basement. He didn't say anything. Not even his usual 'have a good evening,'" Hermione stated.

"'Have a good evening'?" Moody growled incredulously.

"Yes," she snapped at him. "Normally he would ask, 'main floor?' and I would say, 'yes, please.' Then when we got to my floor he would say 'have a good evening.' It's been that way for as long as he worked here… until last night."

"So you felt some sort of affection for him?" Moody asked suspiciously.

"WHAT?" Hermione and Harry both yelled at him.

"You must have felt something for him if you said 'please' to Death Eater scum like him," Moody accused her.

"HA! That is the biggest load of tripe I've heard since… since…" Hermione's mind flashed back to Harry's recounting of Moody's accusations of Snape and young Malfoy's part in Albus and Minerva's death. However, being accused of such a thing, now was not the time to bring that little bit up. Instead she finished by saying, "… since my second year when Gilderoy Lockhart bragged about all the things he'd done."

Harry and Kingsley chuckled at the memory of the hot-winded braggart of a buffoon.

"Really now, Alastor," Kingsley chided his superior with a chuckle, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"Yes, really!" Hermione jumped in. "Do you really think a witch like me, a Muggle-born, would hold any affection for a Death Eater? One that tried to kill me not once, but twice? Do you not remember that I was in the Order as well? Did you ever think that I was merely exercising common courtesy?"

"It was just a thought, not an accusation," Moody amended with a grumble.

Hermione snorted at his half-arsed apology.

"Please, go on," Kingsley kindly urged her to continue. "You were saying Dolohov said nothing."

"Yes. I thought maybe he was acting strange, but…"

"But what, Mrs. Weasley?" Shacklebolt asked with great interest noting her hesitation, leaning forward in his chair.

Hermione hung her head in shame and quietly confessed, "But I dismissed it."

An oppressive blanket of silence weighted down the room. Finally lifting her head and expecting to see looks of disgust and anger, she saw Harry and Kingsley look at her with sympathetic understanding. She wasn't sure what was worse, the accusations she was expecting or the concerned looks she was getting.

A few tears welled in her eyes as she whispered hoarsely, "Because I did nothing, two people are dead and more are in St. Mungo's."

Harry kneeled next to her and pulled her into a hug. "It's okay," he assured her.

Though Hermione was an only child, if she had a brother, she was sure she would want him to be just like Harry in many ways. The fact that he could comfort her as if he was family made him seem like the brother she never had.

"No, it's not," she protested weakly.

Harry pulled back and looked her in the face, ignoring his two superiors behind him. "There were many other people who rode in the elevator after you did. And after questioning most of them, some of them said similar things too, but decided to dismiss it as well. Some of them were Aurors too. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione. You did not cause the death of those two people; Dolohov did."

"Yes, but I thought about coming up here and mentioning it to someone, but in my selfish act of wanting to go home, I ignored my instincts and went on my merry way. I'm just as much to blame through my inaction as if I had condoned it," Hermione insisted.

"NO! I will not let you start blaming yourself for things that should or could have been done differently!" Harry shouted. "I went through years of blaming myself for Sirius' death from the single action of insisting on coming to the Ministry to save him based on false images fed to me. It was a great many small actions that lead to his death, including his insistence to come here to help me, and my own fool-hardy actions that lead to it, but in the end it was Bellatrix Lestrange that killed him."

Hermione knew Harry was right, as she had spent time trying to convince him that Sirius' death wasn't his fault, but that didn't quell the guilt that burned like hot acid in her gut.

Turning to his superiors, Harry asked, "Are there any more questions for her?"

"No, I believe that's all we wanted to know. Alastor? Did you have any other questions?" Shacklebolt asked, glancing at the battle-scarred wizard.

"No," Moody answered gruffly. "But I would like to add that you should keep constant vigilance, young lady."

Closing her eyes, she silently counted to ten. That damned phrase had not done a damn bit of good to keep her co-worker alive and was the backing philosophy behind the conspiracy to convict Snape and the younger Malfoy.

Her mind suddenly remembered Snape and Malfoy. 'Shit.' How long had it been since Hermione learned of the reasoning behind their false convictions? And she had done no research into freeing them yet? 'I have my own problems to deal with before tackling others' right now,' she reasoned. When the dust settled from the latest tragedy in her life, she would preoccupy her time with freeing them. Now, however, she had to deal with her own crumbling marriage and the death of someone she knew.

"Has Marge's family decided on when to hold her funeral?" Hermione asked, hoping the subject would cool the sudden disdain she felt towards Moody.

"Sunday," Kingsley said.

Hermione nodded.

Harry helped his friend up from her chair and walked with her to the atrium.

As Hermione's heels clicked on the floor echoing down the hall, Harry said, "Since you'll be back to work on Monday, how about I take you out to lunch that day?"

"Won't you be busy will all… this?" she said, gesturing vaguely at the atrium they just entered.

"I'll be working the weekend probably, getting the paperwork done and all. I should be free on Monday for lunch. We never did get to have our lunch last week."

Hermione decided to ignore the subject of their fight, considering how tired she felt. She was in no mood to fight with Harry over semantics of the term Death Eater versus ex-Death Eater. "That would be nice, Harry."

"Meet me here in the atrium at noon?"

"Sure," Hermione replied listlessly.

"Go home," Harry gently ordered her as he walked her to the fireplace. "Sleep."

For a moment, Hermione contemplated the pros and cons of Apparating versus Flooing home. One was instant and did not involve soot, but it ran the risk of splinching if the person Apparating was not fully alert, which Hermione definitely wasn't.

'Sod it all,' Hermione thought. 'I'll take a shower before I go to sleep.'

Once back in the familiar surrounding of her abode, she looked for Ron. There was no sign of him except for a large duffel bag stuffed with his clothes by the wardrobe and a note left on the table next to the bed.

-------

Hermione,

I had to leave for practice, but I'll be home before I have to leave again for the pub. We'll talk later today.

Love,

Ron

-------

"Aw… bloody hell," Hermione muttered to herself.

Some small part of her was hoping they could avoid the inevitable talk that was to come. She had silently hoped that he would just come back and they could go on as if the fight never happened, but that was the easy out, the coward's way.

'Some Gryffindor you are.'

She ignored the need to bathe and stripped her clothes of and crawled into bed. Hermione was asleep before her mind could start imagining the things her husband would say to her upon his return.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus paced the length of his Tabriz rug, disconcerted with his uncertain future.

'At least a condemned man knows that the ax will fall,' he thought darkly.

It had been an hour since he’d returned home. His house-elf, Marf, had cleaned his study of any incriminating evidence that might give Moody cause to haul his cursed arse off to Azkaban. All Potions journals and books purchased since the beginning of his semi-incarceration and any evidence of Sebastian Delgado had been spirited away to a location that even he was not aware of. It was a preventative measure to keep the location secret, lest Moody use too much Veritaserum and Severus wound up "volunteering" too much information when questioned. Once that task was complete, he sent Marf off with a note to Miss Brown outlining the reason for his delay that morning.

Hoping Shacklebolt and Moody would show up soon, so that he could get over fretting like a nervous virgin witch on her wedding night who didn’t know what to expect, he began the mental task of the going through the ingredients and steps required to brew the Beam of the Red Oak Potion. It was an old potion he had found in one of his more arcane Potions tomes that he had accrued over the years. The potion would serve as a starting point for the male "performance enhancing" potion Miss Brown suggested they start working on this week, since the natural lubrication potions seemed complete and was now entering the testing phase.

'Cactus fruit for endurance, cayenne and raw crimini mushroom for opening up the capillaries, increasing energy and enhancing blood flow, saw palmetto, Peruvian grown maca, julienned dragon spleen…'

Miss Brown wanted to add Tilia for conjugal affection, but Severus reminded her that many wizards wanted to enhance their performance in the bedroom, and not suffer the side effects of an ingredient commonly used in love potions.

Reflecting upon Hermione's complaints about her husband's lack of stamina in the bedroom, he considered adding an infusion of cornel tree bark for duration. Of course he wouldn’t add it to the first test batch, but it would be an ingredient worth looking into for a variation of the performance potion. Perhaps if he could create an odorless, tasteless version, it might increase the marketability to witches who secretly wished their husbands or lovers would last longer before climaxing. That singular addition of cornel tree bark, based on his own personal knowledge of percentage of witches who complained about their husbands and lovers climaxing long before they could reach one themselves, would guarantee a huge customer base.

A few hours later, Severus was still waiting. He wondered if the whole day would be a waste of waiting patiently like some silly first year left out in the hall and forgotten about when showing up for detention.

'A perfectly good day of work shot to hell while waiting for my judge, jury and possible executioner to arrive,' he thought with a sour disposition.

His ears picked up the far off echoing sound of heavy footsteps tromping up the stone steps of the inner atrium just outside his door. As Severus was normally at work in the lab at this hour on a weekday, he wondered if it was one of Blaise’s clients that had come for a visit.

That notion was dispelled when he heard a fist banging on Macnair's door downstairs. "Open up Macnair. It's Shacklebolt."

Severus cracked his door open a bit to listen better and to peek to see if the whole Auror division had descended upon the building or if it was just Shacklebolt and Moody, as his parole officer had told him that morning.

The ex-Death Eater couldn't see Macnair's door, as it was directly beneath his, two floors down, but he could see a small contingent of Aurors waiting just outside the entrance to the building, hanging about the alley. Moody had probably brought them convinced there would be trouble and of a possible need for back up.

"Constant vigilance," Severus quietly sneered to himself.

He could hear the squealing hinges of Macnair's door when he opened it. "What do you want? I already had my weekly parole meeting and my monthly work place check," Macnair yelled, his voice reverberating along the stone, tile and metal interior of the atrium as it rose up to Severus' ears.

Of the other inhabitants in the building, Severus only dealt with Draco, choosing not to have anything to do with Mr. Zabini or Mr. Macnair. The two loyal Death Eaters had kept to themselves and rarely ventured out into public. When crossing paths in the building's atrium or on the stairs, Macnair and Zabini merely nodded to Severus and said nothing, each wizard silent in the awkward shame of the knowledge that the others would know why they were there.

"This is a surprise inspection, Macnair. Step aside, we have a few questions for you." Moody's voice took on a sinister tone as it echoed.

There was a sharp crack of a door being slammed shut followed by a few spells being cast to open the door. A few shouts of voices later and silence descended upon the building once more. It was only a matter of time before Aurors would be knocking on his door seeking entrance to "ask a few questions."

Half an hour later, Macnair's door opened and Severus pressed his ear against his own door to listen. The only sound he could make out was Shacklebolt and Moody talking as they ascended another floor.

Once certain that they were on the landing of the third floor and could no longer see his door, Severus quietly opened it once more. Peering through the crack between the door and the jamb, he saw Macnair quietly being led away by some junior Aurors. His pondering on why and where the Death Eater was going ceased abruptly when he heard one of the two Aurors knock on Draco's door.

"Good morning gentlemen. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Severus heard Draco's voice drift up. His voice sounded carefully neutral, neither bitter nor amused.

"Mr. Malfoy, we need to come in and ask you a few questions," Shacklebolt replied.

"Fine," Draco said with resignation.

Draco's door shut and Severus was left to wait once more to learn of his and Draco's fate. An hour passed by before Draco's door opened again.

"Now, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" Moody said lightly.

Severus hoped Draco's house-elf, Dheef, got every last scrap of parchment that might otherwise indicate that Draco was doing something other than entertaining ladies for work. If the Ministry ever got wind of Draco's work in marketing and advertising for Miss Brown, that would prove to be most inconvenient to all parties involved, especially him and Draco.

"Thank you for being cooperative, Mr. Malfoy. It shall reflect on your record," Kingsley offered as small compensation.

"Good day," Draco said through clenched teeth before closing the door.

Severus ran from the door into the kitchen. "Marf! They are coming. Remember your cue."

"Yes, Mr. Snape, sir. I knows just what's to do as you told me, sir," the house elf added while bobbing on the balls of his feet, wringing the corner of his pillowcase draped over his knobby body.

Severus gave a nod to the slight creature as the knock at the door came.

Bang-bang-bang.

Straightening his shoulders, Severus walked to the door and opened it quickly.

"Yes?" Severus asked sharply.

"Mr. Snape. We are here to ask you a few questions," Shacklebolt announced.

"Well then, come in. Pardon me if I don't invite you to make yourselves at home," Severus countered.

"Ever the snide bastard," Moody growled as the two Aurors entered the ex-Death Eater's flat.

Severus retorted, "If I wasn't, that would probably make you even more suspicious than you are now."

The senior Auror grumbled while sitting himself down in a wing back chair, his eyes gliding over his surroundings, looking for anything amiss or dubious.

"Quite a nice little place you have here," Moody said nonchalantly. "Especially for someone who is, let's see," he paused, while producing a folder Severus recognized as his parole file, "ah, yes, a 'male escort.'" A low chuckle rose up in the gnarled wizard's throat. "My! How the proud and not-so-mighty have fallen. And not very far at that," he derisively ridiculed Severus.

Severus continued to glare at Moody, forewarned by Shacklebolt not to react to his possible taunting.

"Sit down," Moody ordered, "so that we can get out of this den of iniquity as soon as possible."

"I would prefer to stand during this… interrogation, if you don’t mind" Severus hissed with challenging contempt.

Shacklebolt stood behind Moody, giving no expression to tip his hat to either party, as he knew his superior's magical eye could see him at any moment.

"Fine. Either way, we'll find out what we want to know. Now go fetch a cup of tea or whatever the libation of your choosing is in order to take your Veritaserum," Moody ordered.

When Severus clapped twice, a tea service set for three appeared on the table in front of them.

"Tea, gentlemen?" the suspect offered with no sincerity.

"I'll pour," the black Auror said.

"No sugar or cream, if you don't mind," Severus requested. "I would prefer to see if the Veritaserum has expired before I set my lips upon it. If it has, it will have a definite smell and color instead of being odorless and colorless."

As the clear, dark brown liquid poured gracefully from the teapot's spout, Severus watched the patterns and waves in the stream move and dance. Shacklebolt produced the clear vial and showed it at arms length to Severus before uncorking the vial.

'Gods above and below, please don't fail me now,' Severus silently prayed. If things didn't go as planned, he would be forced to drink his tea with the full three drops of Veritaserum, leaving him to the complete mercy of Moody's questions with little hope of keeping his plan to escape secret, if the right questions were asked. He wondered how much Draco divulged under his interrogation and if Shacklebolt was able to get away with pretending to put three drops of the potion in the younger wizard's tea.

Shacklebolt held the vial delicately above Severus' cup and began to count. "One." The surface rippled from the single drop.

CRASH!

Moody's head spun quickly to the kitchen door.

"Two," Kingsley continued his count, watching a distracted Moody from the corner of his eye, while not dispensing the second drop.

Marf burst through the door wailing and sobbing, "MARF IS A BAD HOUSE ELF! MARF MUST BE PUNISHED!" The pitiful creature cried loudly.

Moody, startled, pulled out his wand while jumping to his feet.

"Three," the junior Auror finished his count, quickly corking the vial and stashing it in his cloak pocket while lightly touching the tea with his little finger to give the effect of having added the last drop.

Once realizing he was no longer in mortal danger, Moody turned back to see Kingsley putting away the Veritaserum and the subtle ripples on the surface of the tea subside.

"What have you done this time?" Severus barked.

"Mister Snape, sir. Marf is most deeply sorry, sir. Marf was putting away the breakfast dishes when–"

"I didn't ask for every last detail, just what happened!" he snapped.

"Marf broke your favorite tea jar," Marf sobbed. "Bad elf!" He began hitting himself in the head repeatedly.

"Go back to the kitchen, fix it, and then punish yourself." Severus sneered down his long nose at Marf. "I'm busy and I can't be bothered with such trivialities right now."

"Yes, Mister Snape," the house-elf said in between hiccups, bowing as he left.

Inwardly, Severus gave a great sigh of relief as he saw that Kingsley was able to get away with only one drop. He wished that he would have to ingest none of the potion, but Moody would know better from Severus’ voice and the dilation of his eyes. As a Potions master, Severus knew how different dosages affected the drinker. At one drop, the recipient would be compelled to tell the truth, but could be done with simple yes or no answers. Two drops and the person would feel their tongue loosen and their resolve not to volunteer further information slip. Three drops and every last deep dark secret would come spilling out without even being asked for the details.

He would have to ask Miss Brown to double Marf’s weekly ration of butterbeer for playing his part so well.

"Well," Snape said, turning on the spot to face the two Aurors, "let's get this done and over with."

Severus took the proffered cup and saucer from Kingsley. Holding it by its delicate handle, he looked into the cup then sniffed at it. "It seems to be good, though if I keel over and purple boils begin erupting all over my body, you'll know that your batch was tainted. Get me to St. Mungo's immediately and tell whoever is running the Potion and Plant ward to give me the antidote for tainted Veritaserum, NOT an antidote to an overdose of Veritaserum–"

"All right! We get the point, stop delaying," Moody grumbled.

"Seems your concern not to kill your prisoners during interrogations has waned a bit." Severus took a tentative sip.

"All of it," Moody warned.

"Patience," Severus coolly replied, then downed the rest of the cup in three large gulps.

He felt the effects immediately, like a numb fuzzy sensation in the brain while feeling completely relaxed. Knowing he had to play the part, he pasted on a vacant stare and let his mouth hang slack. Fortunately, even with just one drop, his eyes would dilate enough to make Alastor think he had taken the full dosage.

Plopping down in the wing back opposite, Severus prayed he could keep his wits about him and not divulge too much information, while still seeming believable.

Moody rose and inspected Severus pupils for dilation. As Severus' eyes were black to begin with, he would have already looked the part without the potion.

"That's a good boy," Moody said. "Now let's begin." He sat back down into his chair while Shacklebolt had an Auto-Quotes Quill ready.

"Let the record show that on July 11th, 2003, Aurors First Class Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody are here to question Severus Snape at," he paused while glancing at the clock, "11:24 a.m." The quill began scratching notes across the parchment set on the table next to the tea.

"State your name for the record," Shacklebolt commanded.

"Severus Sebastian Snape."

"Have you, Severus Snape, brewed any potions, hexed or cursed anyone, or performed any prohibited charms, spells, or transfigurations under the law, according to the Death Eater Decree?"

"No–"

"All right, all right," Moody interrupted testily. "He thinks he's been a good little Death Eater, so let me get down to the right questions."

The weather-beaten wizard asked, "Did you consort or socialize with Antonin Dolohov?"

Severus did his best to not snap at Moody, but kept his features slack and hoped his eyes looked glassy enough. He felt the compulsion to tell the truth and decided it was best to let himself elaborate on the details. "No, not since I rejected Voldemort as my master when I was 20 years old."

Moody growled, seemingly unsatisfied with his answer. "Did you have any foreknowledge that Dolohov was going to kill or harm anyone last night or any night since the end of the war?"

"No, no idea at all," Severus answered in a trance-like state.

"Do you know of any other Death Eaters who want to kill or harm anyone now or in the future?"

"Yes," Severus answered, unable to stop himself. "I'd like to hex you and Fudge to oblivion for my false incarceration."

Moody actually began to chuckle. "Yes, I'm quite sure someone such as you feels the need to hurt people, even though the law forbids it and the threat of a Dementor's Kiss is the only thing stopping you. Figures that only cowardice is the only thing that keeps you lot in line." He rephrased the question. "Are you aware of any Death Eaters who are planning on harming or killing anyone?"

"No, though if I was I'd inform Shacklebolt of the threat immediately," Severus answered truthfully.

Each answer Severus gave only seem to irritate Moody further, as if each answer was stalemating his attempt to catch Severus in the act of doing something evil and illegal.

"Tell me, Snape, what sort of client comes to 'visit' a thing such as yourself," Moody asked, taunting the raven-haired wizard. "You certainly aren't anything to look at. I can understand women coming to fuck that pretty young abomination Lucius Malfoy produced, if they were unaware of his past and family history, but what would make a woman even want to be in the same room as you?"

Severus did his best to think of women who came to him for things other than sexual relations, in order to delay admitting the inevitable truth. "They come to me to play chess, to have someone listen to the woes of their miserable marriages and bleak lives, to have a sympathetic ear to talk to. I give them pleasure when their husbands can not or haven’t bothered to for years, to teach them the art of seduction to later practice on their incompetent lovers, to–"

"Enough! Tell me who some of your clients are," Moody demanded.

"No! You don’t have to answer that Severus. I order you not to answer that." Kingsley intervened. His command was the only thing stopping from Severus to begin naming his clients.

Moody gave a mirthless smile. "What? Why stop when this is becoming so interesting? The thought of this bastard actually forced into bedding women, degrading him to be nothing more than a chancred whore is most amusing. What would drive a woman to fuck a man who looks like that, I'm most interested in knowing."

"No!" The black Auror insisted. "No names. To give names would not only betray his client confidentiality, but could prove to be very embarrassing to many well-heeled people in society, including family of those on the Wizengamot and in the Ministry."

Severus had never given names nor hinted at the sort of clientele who frequented him, so he could only assume Kingsley was improvising or knew that many respectable witches made visits to people such as himself.

"We will have to give a full report to the Wizengamot, and I don’t think they would look too kindly upon you, Alastor, for revealing it if some of them, their wives, daughters, or other family members frequented a place such as this," Shacklebolt rationalized, emphasizing the need to keep this above the board, yet discreet.

"Point taken," Moody acquiesced. "Fine, the questions are done with, but we still need to look around and make sure you aren't hiding anything around here."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Half an hour later, Moody was still not satisfied, but he had not turned up anything incriminating against Severus. The grizzled Auror did discover Severus' collection of masks. Upon grilling Severus on their purpose, he found more fodder in which to taunt the former spy for the Order, remarking that no woman would want to shag a man with a face like Severus'. The senior Auror went on to question the Potions master while he was still under the influence of Veritaserum about every pot, knife, utensil and the worn cutting board he used to prepare his own meals with. Once Severus had blabbered in detail about the variety of vegetables, fruits, breads, culinary herbs, and hunks of meats he had cut, sliced, diced, minced and julienned, Moody went on to other parts of the flat, seeming irritated he had not caught Severus in a confession about brewing Potions on the sly. A thorough examination of the study for damning evidence that Severus was still a practicing dark wizard turned up nothing. The rest of the flat yielded nothing of interest either. Finally, Moody performed a Priori Incantatem on Severus' wand only to find the usual limited litany of spells and charms that were allowed to a wizard of his standing.

"Fine!" Moody shouted. "But don't think I won’t be keeping a close eye on you. You should feel lucky you're not in Azkaban with the rest of your twisted kind, like you truly deserve."

"Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage, nor Dementors needed to rob one's soul," Severus retorted, feeling the effect of the truth serum waning. Though he lived in a light and spacious flat and not in a dank cell, it was still his own prison of the Ministry's making.

Shacklebolt interrupted the conversation. "Thank you for being cooperative, Severus. This will reflect well on your record. So will the fact that everything here was in order."

Severus gave a brief nod of acknowledgment to the younger Auror. "Please don't be offended if I don't walk you out."

Moody harrumphed and left quickly, followed by Shacklebolt, who gave Severus a knowing look that this would be discussed at his next parole meeting.

Once the two Aurors were gone, Severus collapsed into a chair feeling so entirely exhausted that he was tempted to take a nap before heading off to work, but was so offended and indignant over what he had gone through for the past hour that he knew he would not sleep.

A quick sweep of his wand over his flat to make sure Moody had not left any spying devices behind and Severus was finally able to relax.

"Work is the best thing to keep my mind busy," he said out loud to himself before heading out the door.

As he passed by a cluster of junior Aurors hanging out in front of his building, he noticed how their eyes followed him, though he had the hood of his cloak raised, obscuring his face in shadows of the midday sun. With some amusement, he could tell he was being trailed by one of the young Aurors, no doubt instructed to follow him, as his clopping, clumsy feet gave him away, echoing down the narrow alleyways as Severus made his way towards work.

Deciding he had enough of this little game of cat and mouse, he headed into the Twenty-Four Blackbird Bakery and went right up to one of the witches behind the counter.

"Excuse me, but it's a bit of an emergency. May I use your Floo? You can add the cost of your troubles to Miss Lavender Brown's weekly tab." Before the witch could agree or protest, Severus made his way behind the counter. He noted the little Auror was still waiting outside, thinking that he could continue following Severus once the cloaked man had made his purchase.

"Lovely Lavender's Headquarters," Severus announced quietly so the witch who still stood in shock at Severus' brazen imposition couldn't hear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A tapping noise woke Hermione from her restless sleep. Shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun streaming in through the windows, she saw Hedwig perched on the windowsill outside her bedroom.

Flopping back down on the bed, she reached over for her wand and spelled the window open. The snowy owl walked across the window threshold before taking short wing to Hermione's bedside table.

Still bleary-eyed, it took a few tries before she successfully removed the letter from the bird's leg then croaked, "Thanks, Hedwig."

The bird didn't bother sticking around for a treat and took wing straight from the table, out the window and into the hazy summer sky. The bedside table rattled and wobbled a bit before settling, a few knickknacks and items being knocked over from the bird's effort to take flight.

Hermione rubbed her eyes so they could focus before reading the note.

-------

Dear Hermione,

I can't tell you how relieved Harry and I were to know that you are all right. From Harry's owl during lunch, it sounds like you could use some company.

We are not taking no for an answer. Harry and I will be over tonight at about six o'clock. Don't bother cooking, I'll take care of that.

See you tonight.

Ginny

-------

Groaning from exhaustion and the insistence of her friends, the weary witch rolled over and went back to sleep.
============

A/N: I know, I know, Rowling just posted around May 2005 info on Veritaserum, but that came out after I already posted chapter 21 in April 2005. Oh well. If we all changed out fanfiction after each book or tidbit of information that came out after it was written, when canon was still open, there would be a ton of fanfiction what would need rewriting.
Crimini mushrooms are noted for a high content of niacin, a nutrient that helps with circulation, energy production, and other metabolic functions.

"Beam of the Red Oak" seemed like a very alchemy-like phrase for a potion to give a man a big, hard erection, based on the notes from the web site used as reference for Cucurbite from the previous chapter: "e.g. the alchemists' use of "Athanor" and "Cucurbite" as code words for the penis and vagina, or "Blood of the Red Lion" for semen and "Gluten of the White Eagle" for menstrual blood (though a few think, perhaps wrongly, that this particular phrase means female sexual fluids instead)."
Catus, Tilia and Cornel Tree for potion ingredient uses are taken from the symbolic meaning of flowers from the web site: http://www.gardencards.biz/html/flowermeanings.htm
I've been itching to use that phrase "chancred whore" from the movie/play "The Lion In Winter." Chancre is the primary sore of syphilis and occurs at the site of entry of the infection. This lesion is also known as a hard, Hunterian or true chancre.
"Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage, Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage." From To Althea, from Prison (IV) by Richard Lovelace.
Three cheers for my fabulous betas, Siren and Horserider.
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After