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Divided We Fall	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 8602 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the Harry Potter fandom or its affiliates. I make no money from the publication of this fic. Do. Not. Sue.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Betcha didn't think I was going to update today, did ya? Well I wasn't sure if I'd get done, but five thousand words later, it's done. Thank you thank you for the kind reviews my lovelies! They make me so happy and I am thrilled you are all enjoying the story. Now seriously, I have to get some other work done this week, and I work the next three out of four days so updates will probably slow down a bit. I need to write a chapter desperately for my "Woman" series, and I'd like to spit at least one more chappy out for "Physical Fascination" before the end of the weekend. So forgive me for the not daily updates after today. Damn life anyway!

Without further ado, Chapter Four, and please Review (hugs and massages for all reviewers!)

Chapter Four

A smug-looking Hermione Granger arrived bright and early at Malfoy Manor with her boss Mr. Jenkins in tow, along with a very tired, barely presentable looking Adrian Pucey, Second Assistant Finance Director. In other words, Adrian was a highly talented paper pusher with a knack for jumping through political hoops due to his father’s money and connections. If it wasn’t for his highly developed Jack-Of-All-Trades skill with both people and money he would have been sacked within a month of employment.

A very young Auror stood nervously behind Mr. Jenkins; hand on her wand, eyes flashing like a horse in a thunderstorm. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her own eyes in response. If Malfoy was in a mood to hex someone, the young girl who’s name she did not catch, would be as a matchstick against a mighty oak in comparison to the powerful wizard’s skill.

Patting her neatly-coiffed hair, springy curls arranged neatly around her freshly pressed, Ministry-issue robes, she raised her knuckles and rapped loudly on front door. A house elf opened the door and solemnly regarded the four interlopers with large brown eyes. Wringing her hands around an emerald green tea towel with a fancy ‘M’ embroidered in red, the little elf addressed Hermione.

“I is welcoming you to Malfoy Manor, Miss. Do you has business with Master Malfoy?”

Hermione smiled brightly at the charming, if ugly, little creature. “Why yes, I do. Mr. Malfoy is expecting me this morning. We are here on official Ministry business.”

The house elf continued to stand between the four of them and the inside of the house. She looked nervously over her shoulder and back up at Hermione.

“The Master still be sleeping, Miss. It be very early. Master is never awake this early.”

“Then you shall simply have to go wake him up. He was informed I would be back this morning and the Finance Director has a very full schedule.”

Pucey yawned loudly, shifting on the balls of his feet and closing his eyes, tapping one finger against his thigh. The young Auror was still looking around, scared stiff, and Mr. Jenkins was beginning to arch one fat eyebrow in an irritated manner.

The elf finally opened the door more widely and ushered them all into the foyer, taking their cloaks before settling them in a small sitting room a short distance around the grand staircase and down the hall. Tippy served tea, Apparating from the room with a barely concealed look of fear on her face.

Mr. Jenkins gave Hermione an encouraging smile. “Don’t you worry, Miss Granger, we’ll get ole Malfoy all sorted out. By the time I leave here that man will know exactly where he stands.”

That was exactly what Hermione was afraid of. When she’d told her boss how she’d been received, his rather intense reaction had surprised her. A bit late, she found him to be much like her old Head of House in that he was very protective of those in his employ. Once you were in Bobby’s domain, no one messed with ‘his’ people. Hermione wanted to get on with the job, not left to be crucified once he left.

“Buck up Mr. Pucey and look alive. I didn’t hire you to fall asleep.”

“What? Where? Who?” The young man snapped up in his seat, looking around wildly. Mr. Jenkins leaned forward and cuffed Pucey’s ear soundly.

“Don’t be such a disgrace, young man. Straighten up your robes and look smart for once!”

“But it’s so early!” he complained. With a stern look from the fat old man he shut up and did as he was told. If there was one thing Mr. Jenkins didn’t tolerate, it was insubordination, no matter how laid back he seemed.

The young Auror sat very still. Hermione almost thought she resembled a statue for how quiet she’d gone.

A distant shout and crash from the top of the stairs caught their attention and all heads swiveled in the direction of the door. There was a thin squeak, what sounded like something being rolled down the stairs, and another crash coupled with a very distinct shout of, “Fuck!”

Hermione took the end of one of her curls and chewed on it in anticipation. Her eyes tore briefly to her boss, who seemed to be almost enjoying his own anticipation of this encounter. She shook her head slightly. Hermione doubted she would ever understand what made the wizard tick, and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Heavy footfalls in the hall preceded the appearance of one Lucius Malfoy, Lord of Malfoy Manor. Hermione was unable to stifle a gasp at his appearance. Gone was the fastidious, well-groomed wizard from Friday. The man in front of her may as well have been pulled from a rubbish bin for all the care he had taken before appearing in front of the assembled.

His three day beard cast a dirty shadow against a wan, haggard face. Red rimmed eyes enhanced the haunted eyes that reminded Hermione of the sea after a storm. Rumpled house robes had obviously been slept in, and black slippers peeked out from the hem of his clothing. Running a hand through tousled, sleep mussed hair; Lucius gazed darkly around the room and let his eyes rest on Hermione.

She quickly stood up and extended her hand to him. He stared at it like one would a poisonous snake. “Good morning Mr. Malfoy, I apologize for waking you. Your house elf graciously let us in and I did tell you I’d be back Monday morning……”

Her cheerful monologue died on her tongue as she realized that Malfoy didn’t seem to be hearing a word she said. He was staring at her, but seemingly through her.

“Mr. Malfoy?” she began once more, daring to reach out and touch the sleeve of his robes.

“Fuck!” he shouted again. That seemed to startle everyone in the room.

Mr. Jenkins stood abruptly, Adrian Pucey let his tea cup clatter to its resting place on the table and the skittish Auror also quietly took to her feet, hand still on her wand but tensed with readiness.

Jenkins stepped up next to Hermione and quickly took one of Malfoy’s large hands in both of his, pumping his limp arm up and down.

“Mr. Malfoy, so good to see you. Thank you so very much for allowing us to enter your exquisite home.”

“My pleasure,” came the listless reply. Lucius still didn’t seem quite lucid, but at least he had seemed to have heard Mr. Jenkins.

Mr. Jenkins sniffed inconspicuously a few times and wrinkled his nose, his ridiculous spectacles riding up the bridge slightly. He stepped forward and guided a pliable Lucius to the settee in front of the fire. The man sat down next to Mr. Malfoy and began speaking to him in low, urgent tones. When Hermione tried to sidle around the other end of the settee, she was waved away by her employer. With a frown, she moved away and settled for plopping down next to Pucey who now had his eye on the Auror. Pucey wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was ogling the girl.

Hermione smacked him soundly upside the back of his head with the flat of her hand. Mr. Jenkins frowned at them sternly and leaned back in to Lucius, who seemed to be gazing into the fire and nodding every so often.

A few minutes later Mr. Jenkins waved Hermione over to them and indicated to a set of parchments.

“I need you to place your magical signature on this document, Miss Granger. Then Mr. Malfoy shall place his right under yours, and as an official witness, I will place mine at the bottom. This shall constitute the transfer of all legalities concerning the Malfoy financial ventures to your custody, with my oversight, Miss Granger.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip, amazed at Malfoy’s lack of response. The man continued to stare dully at the fire with that same vacant look. With a slight flick her signature was upon the page. Mr. Jenkins had to prod Lucius twice before the semi-catatonic man produced his own wand and touched it to the page. A gorgeous, flowing script appeared beneath Hermione’s loopy writing and burned brilliant silver, fading to a bright blue, and then an austere black. Mr. Jenkins finished with his overly large and pretentious signature before declaring the morning meeting a success.

With another one-sided handshake, Mr. Jenkins thanked Malfoy for his cooperation, collected the once-more-snoozing Pucey, signaled the Auror and left Hermione to deal with the owner of Malfoy Manor.

With one last wave, Mr. Jenkins wished Hermione the best of luck and a fading call to Owl him if she needed further assistance. At the last minute, Hermione realized that Mr. Jenkins had left the parchments on the table in front of the settee. She scooped them up and rushed past Malfoy into the hall, swearing inwardly as she opened the front door to be greeted by the crack of Apparition.

Damn! She had missed them by half a second at most. With a shrug, she shrunk the parchments and headed back into the room she’d vacated moments before. Malfoy continued to stare into the fire. His hand still clutched his wand, but he didn’t seem aware of it. Moving closer, she noticed his head slumped forward onto his chest. Peeking around the edge of the settee, Hermione realized that he’d fallen fast asleep. Sitting up. With his wand in his hand.

Hermione bit her lower lip again, the skin pinking and plumping out from her continued abuse of the soft tissue. Now, here was the dilemma. Should she wake him up or leave him to sleep? She couldn’t imagine he’d be happy to find her rifling about his private office, not to mention the rest of the Manor. On the other hand, she had a job to do. The meeting had been rather anti-climactic. It seemed Lucius was sleeping off a drinking binge and really hadn’t been very coherent during her boss’s little discussion.

She edged closer to the settee, drawing her wand to poke at his shoulder.

“Mr. Malfoy?” she asked, wincing and jumping back with anticipation.

Nothing.

She tip-toed in and pressed his shoulder harder with the tip of her wand.

“Mr. Malfoy?” she asked again, this time a bit louder, only jumping back a little this time.

Nothing.

With a sigh she got right up next to his ear and shouted.

“MR. MALFOY!”

That did the trick. Lucius must have jumped a foot off the settee. A reactive curse sent a shower of red sparks from the end of his wand that clashed with the fire, sending a brief conflagration spewing back at him. The ends of his hair singed, the hem of his robe caught fire and his eyebrows burned off. Lucius cursed and shouted, “Aguamenti!” thus successfully putting out the little blaze. He turned slowly, now fully awake and cognizant of just who was standing several feet away from him against the opposite wall. With preternatural calm he rose and descended upon her, his slippered feet still sounding rather heavy along the carpeted floor.

The position she found herself in now seemed quite familiar to the one they’d been in the previous Friday. Lucius was standing uncomfortably close to her, wand drawn, looking the part of a man doomed to hell. If he didn’t look so bloody serious Hermione may have laughed at how comedic it all was.

As it was, she couldn’t quite suppress a smirk that escaped her lips.

“What, pray tell, do you find so fucking funny, Miss Granger?” rasped the imposing wizard.

Hermione just shook her head and lowered her gaze. Looking down at the hem of his robe was even funnier. Where the fire had burned it was allowing her a good look at the slippers he had on. Little green snakes looped around the ankles with little black puffball ties at the ends. Her smirk turned into a choked guffaw.

She heard a deep rumble in front of her and she chanced a glance up at him. For some reason the lack of eyebrows and bits of charred blond hair reminded her of a stage performer she’d once seen. This didn’t help the situation any and instead of burying the giggle deep within her, it erupted into a full-fledged cackle, complete with throaty, wheezing inhales and gasping exhales.

Lucius just stood there and watched the situation die a quick, agonizing death by hilarity. He had a feeling that a mirror wouldn’t exactly be his best friend at this point in time. Snarling softly he lunged in completely, grasping the infuriating young witch by the front of her robes, dragging her up the side of the wall in a show of brute strength.

That seemed to shut her up fast enough. The strenuous laughing turned into a converted shriek of surprise at the sudden manhandling of her person.

“M-M-Mr. M-Malfoy!”

“Ah, I see that I finally have captured your evasive attention.” The trademark sneer curled his lightly bearded lip into a feral snarl. “I fail to see what is so amusing about the Ministry forcing some insignificant, Mudblood peon into the privacy of my home! Never in the history of Malfoy Manor has one of our proud blood been so hideously disgraced. I suppose the proverbial cherry on top will be your tiresome face nattering away to those worthless, facetious arseholes at the Ministry so they can all have a good laugh about how old Malfoy’s fortune has been bled away by all the traitors lining their pockets. But do you know something, Miss Granger?”

Hermione shrugged the best she was able, pinned a foot off the floor by his large, strong hands. As long as he was talking and not hexing, she would count herself lucky.

“It is I who will have the last laugh. I do not believe a single one of those mud-sucking scum buckets has a clue exactly how much and how long my family has been propping up the various coffers of many prominent institutions within Wizarding Great Britain. By the time they have wiped their arse with me and bled me dry, as I’m sure you’ve been sent to do, so many of those same fuckers will be out of a job they won’t have anyone else to blame but themselves.”

With that conclusion he promptly opened his hands and let her drop to the floor with an undignified, “Ooomph!”

Swinging his hands out to either side of him in a mock display of chivalry, he bowed to her and backed out of the room as such, as he would have done to the Dark Lord.

Hermione sat in a heap of robes, completely overcome with the combined desire to burst into tears, start laughing again and run for the hills. In the end she simply did nothing but think on his words and wonder exactly where he’d drawn his ill-gotten conclusions. She certainly wasn’t there to bleed him dry, as he so vehemently seemed to think. Indeed, really the only thing she was supposed to do was an accounting and report back to her boss.

Now, Hermione Granger was intrigued, both by the unusual way her boss was acting and this undoubtedly uncharacteristic display and lack of manners from her host.

With renewed determination Hermione picked herself up off the floor and stalked out of the little room to find Malfoy’s house elf.

---

The Great Hall was abuzz with students speculating what the surprise theme of the Winter Ball was going to be. Minerva had decided to put a little mystery into the holiday air and had announced that the theme would be a surprise at dinner on the previous Friday. The speculation hadn’t died down all weekend and Severus was almost grateful to the woman for taking the student’s minds off of being cooped up and the recent hex wars that had plagued each waking day. Five expelled students and several howlers later hadn’t given him hope that the rest of the winter would be any more pleasant, if the Divination Forecasters were to be believed.

He speared a piece of buttered Asparagus and blanched slightly when he tasted it. The new menu was positively revolting. A man needed meat, and he swore Minerva was specifically trying to kill him with all of the ‘colorful fruits and vegetables that should make up a substantial portion of a healthy wizard’s diet’. A healthy wizard’s diet, his arse.

Snape reached for the salt and felt a sharp rap on his knuckles for his trouble. With his best scowl in place he turned to his colleague and hissed, “Don’t you dare admonish me in front of the students! I am not some seventh year sneaking to the kitchens after curfew!”

Minerva ignored his fierce expression and moved the salt and pepper further down the large table. “Too much salt isn’t good for you. Here, try this. It’s a salt and pepper substitute made entirely from organically grown and dried herbs.”

Severus stared suspiciously at innocuous looking glass bottle filled with varying shades of unidentified dried greenery. He must have stared too long for Minerva’s liking, for in the next instant she had picked up the shaker and liberally sprinkled it all over the remains of his dinner.

He’d had enough. With a little more force than necessary he pushed his plate away from his person, purposefully dragged the heavy legs of his chair over the floor so it made a hideous scratching noise that made all of the staff and the entire front row of pupils cover their ears in annoyance, and fling himself in a billow of black Head masterly robes to stalk out the teacher’s entrance.

Minerva continued eating calmly; her eyes alight with secret triumph.

An extremely irritated Headmaster walked quickly through the halls of the school, headed for anyplace that would take him as far from the Great Hall, and his irritating Deputy Headmistress, as possible. He simply couldn’t abide the woman at times like this. The witch was punishing him for partaking of borderline legal drugs while performing scholarly duties. Scholarly duties his arse. As if he was ever really off duty! He’d been awakened in the middle of the night for things that should have been dealt with by the Slytherin Head of House, but the incompetent Potions replacement professor and Head of House had the self-esteem of a flobberworm. If it was purely up to him the man would have been fired by now. But nooooooo…….. Minerva thought he was too hard on the young man and told Severus to give him a chance to prove himself.

With a derisive snort, Severus was suddenly surprised to find himself in front of the one place he’d been avoiding since the first part of the school term. Septima Vector and he had developed a short-lived, fiery romance in the month before term commenced. A bit of drinking at the Three Broomsticks, a drunken walk back to the castle, a misplaced hand or three and suddenly he’d wound up in her bed, inside of her, riding his colleague for all she was worth. It had been quite pleasant to find a rather well-formed figure under her voluminous robes. Her strict demeanor had melted into a very passionate witch. The unfortunate side of the coin landed a mere three weeks into term when she’d uttered the dreaded, “L” word.

Snape didn’t “do” love. He’d dropped her faster than a raindrop on a hotplate.

What the hell was he doing here? Fuck. He didn’t want to give her the wrong impression.

Damn.

Chastising himself for not paying attention, he turned sharply to head back to the Headmaster’s office when the witch in question turned the corner, catching him off guard. Septima came to jerky stop in front of him, her arms crossed already under her very nice breasts.

“Headmaster.”

Ouch. So formal.

“Septima, I was just stopping by to get your input on the new Slytherin Head of House. He seems to be having difficulties settling in. Won’t you allow me a moment of your time?” Hot damn, he was still a smooth, fast talking sonofabitch.

Her eyes swept over him critically, their rich, chocolaty brown glinting with a hint of suspicion. Deciding there was no harm in it; she brushed past him and unwarded the door to her chambers.

“After you.” She ushered him in and promptly put on a pot of tea.

Severus lent himself a seat next to her fireplace. Taking the liberty of starting the blaze, he looked about with longing at all the fond memories he had of that room. Just over there, he’d taken her from behind over the back of her reading chair. Oh yes, and up against the big bookcase against the wall. He wondered if she’d bothered to clean the come off the wall. Last he’d checked, it was still there.

“I hate to interrupt your musings, Sir, but I really do have a lot of marking to do, if you don’t mind getting on with it.”

“Yes, of course.” The nickname of Frost Queen still reigned supreme in the staff room when she wasn’t present. Only Severus knew otherwise, and he didn’t fuck and tell. How he wished he could melt her icy exterior just one more time, for old times’ sake. Even though it hadn’t been that long.

“Kyle Braeburn has not exactly been the epitome of Slytherin standard. I was wondering if you would reconsider your position of taking over as Head of House for Slytherin.”

Septima set his tea down in front of him, settling into the chair opposite to sip at her own. She pushed a tin of McVities Dark over to him which he graciously declined. Snape was more of a Hob Nob sort of man.

Silence had never bothered Snape, so he allowed the testy witch as much time as she needed to think over his impromptu offer. He mentally added one more black mark to Minerva’s list of things to punish him for. At this rate, he’d never get on her good side ever again. She would go apeshit when she found out about this offer, if Professor Vector took him up on it.

A good half hour passed before she spoke to him again. The tea had grown cold, only half consumed in either cup. His hands were folded patiently in his lap. For a witch with insurmountable bits of marking to do, she sure was drawing out his little visit. Perhaps there was a chance……

She nodded once and pounded her fist into the arm of the chair with conviction. “I’ll do it.”

The way she said it almost sounded as if she’d actually put a lot of thought into the decision. Perhaps she had, but Severus wasn’t missing the way she’d shifted in the chair several times, looking at him when she thought his own were drawn elsewhere.

He rose smoothly, unfolding himself from the chair and reaching across the table with an extended hand. “Very good, Septima. We’ll make it official at the next staff meeting.”

She rose as well and took his outstretched hand, holding onto it a little bit longer than was professionally necessary.

Bingo. The ball was in his court.

“It’s been a pleasure. Thank you for the spot of tea.”

With a genuine flash of smile that he saved for special occasions, he spun on heel and swept towards the door, making sure his robes billowed appropriately for the full effect. He almost thought she’d let him leave without saying anything when he got as far as grasping the handle to open the door.

“Severus, wait!”

A self-satisfied smirk curled on his lip as he stopped moving forward, but neither did he turn around. He was going to make her work for it.

A small hand on his arm was enough to turn his head to the side, coal black eyes glittering behind his mask of indifference.

“Is there something further you require of me?”

“No- I mean yes. I mean, please, could you come back in for a minute?”

Severus gave the appearance of thinking it over before giving her the tiniest nod of his head. He retreated back into the room several paces and stopped short of sitting.

Put on the spot, the witch began puttering around nervously.

“How have you been? It’s been awhile since you and I have caught up, and I’ve missed seeing you on a daily basis after we-“

The breath was shocked out of when he swooped in and grabbed her by either wrist, causing Vector to drop the tea cups onto the floor where they nearly shattered. Those same deep brown eyes pooled with desire as her defenses came down and she sagged against him.

“Oh, Severus, how I’ve missed you!”

The declaration was all he needed to move in for the kill. His libido was raging and she was convenient. Severus told himself it wouldn’t hurt to have one last fling with the buxom, limber witch.

“You have, have you?” he murmured, dragging her towards the bedroom. At the last minute he changed his mind and shoved her towards the kitchenette.

“Yes, I’ve missed you terribly. Always so busy, and I realize now what a fool I was for saying what I did and driving you away. I’m so sorry, Severus. Can you forgive me?”

She was apologizing to him for telling him how she felt? Oh, this was too rich.

“I can think of a way for you to make it up to me, witch,” he growled, pointing to the floor. She opened her mouth to protest but bit it back quickly, simply from the look he gave her.

In a thrice she was on her knees, mining past his outer robes to separate the lower part of his frock and on down the garden path to the treasure inside his pants. She breathed out a delectable sigh of contentment, something he imagined an addict might utter when reacquainted with his or her favorite drug. It was music to his ears. So he wasn’t the only one that had missed the physical part of their liaison. The only difference was that was the only part he’d been missing.

Snape liked variety, and there weren’t too many shaggable witches to choose from amongst the females he worked with. If he was able to keep Vector on a short leash and have Tonks on the side, than he supposed the lack of drugs would be tolerable.

He groaned as her talented tongue made love to his weeping cock, the long, thick length filling her mouth full to capacity. Vector made short work of taking him to the edge of oblivion before he pushed her off of him with a series of torrid pants.

“No! I want to be inside of you. Now.”

She couldn’t obey quickly enough. Turning around, she started toward the bedroom but was forestalled by his powerful hands. Snape shoved her up against the nearest wall and sneered as he rucked her robes up around her waist and lifted her legs around him. It was a struggle to keep his robes and frock to either side but he was soon buried balls deep inside the panting Arithmancy professor.

“Severus, yes!” she breathed, her head falling forward onto his shoulder as he grunted and thrust hard into her dripping pussy. He’d forgotten how wet the witch was for him each time they’d had sex. There was nothing like melting her cold exterior and Snape knew she was a sucker for his voice.

“You’ve wanted me, haven’t you Septima?” he purred into her ear, slowing his thrust as she made sensuous noises each time he bottomed out inside of her.

“Oh Gods, yes I’ve wanted you so bad. You’re the only one I dream about at night. I can hardly believe you’re here.”

“Oh, I am very much here, and very much inside of you, fucking you, and I’m going to make you come so hard there will be no doubt in your mind who your pussy belongs to, witch.”

With a desperate sob she clenched down around his plunging cock as their lips at last met for a kiss that could only be described as hungry and intense. Snape felt her begin to tighten and he dug his hands into her firm bottom with greater aplomb. His hips jerked erratically when his balls drew up and he felt the telltale tingle at the base of his cock, zapping up his spine and starting to spread through his body.

“Come for me, witch!” he grated through clenched teeth. With a harsh cry her head banged backwards into the wall and she came undone around him, spasming hard. For a woman the same age as he, she was remarkably tight and if she was to be believed, it was no wonder for a woman who had only had two other lovers besides him in her lifetime, and those many years before their encounter.

He fucked her through her orgasm and finally succumbed to his own blue balls by grinding his molars together as he ejaculated spectacularly inside of her, feeling as if he was blasting an opponent with his wand for the force with which his come shot from his body.

At last he came down from his high and let her down gently. Now slightly uncomfortable, he wanted nothing more than to leave her quarters and head back to his own for a brandy. As if sensing his discomfort, he was immensely relieved when she gestured toward the door.

“I know you’re a busy man. I understand if you need to leave.”

Shite, this might work out to his advantage after all. He muttered a generic response to the effect of enjoying the remainder of her evening before exiting quickly.

Snape gave himself a little pat on the back before walking with a spring in his step back toward his office. He startled several students as he walked by who looked on in shock at the Headmaster practically skipping down the hall. After the fourth and fifth strange looks he got from students returning from the Great Hall to their common rooms, he slowed his gait and scowled until he was sufficiently satisfied he’d persuaded them it was better to hurry by and mind their own business.

At last he came up the last blasted staircase. He felt very relaxed and fully intended to enjoy a hot bath, a glass of brandy and a good book.

Snape gave the password, “Asphodel”, and took the ascending staircase three steps at a time. Upon opening his office door he felt his dinner rise up into his throat when a shock of pink hair rose from a chair in front of his desk to greet him just as Remus Lupin intercepted him from off to one side.

The former Marauder was clutching a piece of parchment in one fist and grabbing onto his upper arm with the other.

“Severus, what’s the meaning of this?”

Minerva rose from the other chair right behind Tonks and raised that irritating eyebrow of hers.

“Yes, Severus, please do explain.”

There was no rest for the wicked.
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Divided We Fall