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The Headmaster's Wife	By : Mrs_HH Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 96906 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 23
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 46
- 47
- 48
Severus looked up at the monstrous black iron and stone fortress, sea spray obscuring his vision as the squalling wind whipped it across his face. Except that it wasn't his face―it was Arthur Weasley's, and he was becoming concerned by how long it was taking for him and Pius to be admitted into the hell hole that was Azkaban.
The place reeked of indignity, and memories of the few days he had spent here at the Ministry's pleasure―even though that was seventeen years ago― made him shiver. The thought of of the Polyjuice he'd consumed wearing off before they were admitted to Ron Weasley's cell was also beginning to play heavily on his mind.
"Cold?" Pius asked.
"Something like that," Severus muttered before grumbling. "What the hell is keeping them? Do they usually keep you waiting this long?"
"Yes! You know they do. Stop fretting, Mr Weasley," Pius growled under his breath.
Severus huffed. "Of course I know, but Molly forgot to put out my thermal underwear this morning."
Pius laughed just as the flap in the huge steel reinforced wooden door opened to reveal the face of a thickset, bald man.
"State your business," he grunted in a rough voice; his accent synonymous with the east end of London.
"Pius Thicknesse, Head of Magical Law Enforcement and Arthur Weasley, Head of Spell Detection and Reversal, to see Ronald Bilius Weasley, Prison number 796."
The flap closed with a snap, and an intricate pattern of unlocking and unwarding could be heard before the heavy door swung open with a groan that sounded like the lamentation of a thousand souls. The two weather beaten men then crossed the threshold into the bleakest building in the wizarding world.
"You knows the way to the wand room, Sirs," the burly guard stated rather than questioned.
"Indeed, and how is your wife, Ruskin? Your new arrival is imminent I believe," Pius enquired conversationally.
"Only three weeks, sir. We's quite excited."
Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. The guard's rumbling tone sounded anything but excited.
"I'm sure you are. Having never known the joy of fatherhood I can only imagine how you are feeling, but of course, Arthur knows all about it," Pius advised warmly, looking at Severus with a small smirk at the corner of his mouth.
The disguised raven-haired wizard cursed Pius inwardly. "Oh yes, it's wonderful," he said, trying to sound convincing.
"And they repays you by ending up in here," Ruskin laughed before his derisive chortle transmuted into a hacking cough.
"He's still my son," Severus suddenly found himself saying, quite to his surprise.
Pius looked at the man posing as the normally jovial wizard, desperate to tease him about his rather fatherly comment. Yet knowing that he could not openly voice it, he allowed his tone to convey his amusement. "Well, time is of the essence. Come, Arthur, let us go and see your son."
The older wizard nodded curtly to the guard, and the two wizards headed towards the wand room where visitors left their wands after having them verified. Prisoners were restricted from performing wandless magic, but should they overpower a visitor and steal their wand, they could use it to escape. Of course, in order to maintain the pretence, Arthur's wand was handed over.
The real Arthur Weasley had discreetly sent a package of clothing together with his wand to Pius at his London home earlier that morning. He was now at The Burrow, enduring a feigned sick day and being fussed over by his wife.
The two men were then led down a long, dank corridor toward the interview rooms. Small flickering flames barely illuminated the space, and made it almost impossible to avoid the puddles of water that gathered on the stone floor that were continuously being fed by the oozing walls and dripping ceilings. The wallpaper of moss added a distinctive dense, earthy aroma which only served to compound the oppressiveness of the place. Dripping noises and the scrape of chains echoed through the edifice, punctuating the groans and cries of the inmates. It was bleak, and although the Dementor's Kiss was no longer an option, this place still destroyed souls; this place broke people, and Severus hoped that Ronald Weasley was not beyond repair.

The spartan interview room wasn't much better than the corridor, but at least the lighting was brighter. It contained nothing more than a table, two chairs, and on the floor in the far corner of the room, there was a large grey mass that on closer inspection had arms and legs, and dirty, unkempt red hair.
"Ah, Mr Weasley," Pius drawled to gain the man's attention as the door slammed shut.
Slowly Ron lifted his head to reveal dark, sunken eyes, ashen skin, and an untidy beard. He moved awkwardly. He appeared dazed, and winced as he stood slowly, his chains dragging against the floor. He went to walk forward, but stumbled, and Severus moved quickly to assist him.
Although Severus was playing a part, the overall condition of the young man genuinely worried him. He was obviously being subdued in some way, and there were gashes and bruises on his face. His wrists and ankles were raw from his chains, and though he knew Ron did not have stocky build, the headmaster felt more bone than was right through the young wizard's raggedy garb.
Severus looked over at Pius, who immediately seemed to know what the eyes of the Arthur-shaped wizard were trying to convey. The tall wizard banged on the door, and a guard opened the flap to find out what could be wrong already.
"Remove the prisoner's chains immediately, and then fetch a medical kit. Oh, and tea for three," Pius ordered.
Severus gave the older wizard an almost panicked look, knowing that he only had a matter of minutes before the Polyjuice wore off and that he only had enough for the return journey.
The guard looked flustered. "Can't. Need to check with me boss' boss before I―"
"I am your boss' boss!" Pius bellowed. "Do it. Now!"
"Yes, Sir," the guard blustered, snapping the flap shut. He then opened the door, muttering a litany of profanities.
As he approached Ron, the young wizard seemed to flinch. This was not lost on the other two wizards in the room, and Pius made a mental note to raise the issue with Azkaban's administrators in the morning.
"I'm only trying to remove yer restraints, yer fucking idiot," the guard growled, which caused Pius to admonish him immediately for his abusive language towards a prisoner. Somehow, the head of Magical Law Enforcement felt that by the time he left this place, he would have quite a list of issues to be raised.
As soon as the bindings fell away from Ron's wrists and ankles, the guard stepped back as if expecting him to retaliate, almost suggesting that he needed to act like that because of the threat the prisoner posed. However, his ploy failed to work, and Pius reminded him that his orders were not yet fulfilled. The stocky guard left the room grumbling, and slamming the door, reset the wards on the interview room so that no one could leave.
Ron seemed to blink out of his haze, and stared at the two men stood before him until his features softened, and a smile crept onto his lips.
Before Severus had time to assess the situation, he found himself with an armful of jubilant wizard.
"Dad," Ron cried, hugging the man he thought to be his father.
Severus was completely taken aback by Ron's greeting, and felt a pang of guilt that the young wizard was obviously so pleased to see his father, knowing that he was about to burst his bubble.
"You may not be so pleased to see me, Mr Weasley, when you find out with whom you are actually embracing," the headmaster drawled as the first waves of transformation began to pass through him.
Ron immediately went on the defensive, and began to back away from the man who he realised was changing before his eyes. "What the hell is going on?"
"Mr Weasley," Pius said soothingly. "All will quite literally be revealed, but you must trust that we mean you absolutely no harm whatsoever."
"The guard will be back soon," Severus croaked out mid transformation.
"Get behind the door, and I'll deal with him," Pius told him before handing Ron a chair and telling him to sit down and act calmly.
The transformation was not quite complete when the guard lowered the wards and pushed the door open. Severus flattened himself against the wall so that he was shielded by the door as Pius strode forward to relieve the man of the medical kit and tea tray, all without allowing him to re-enter the interview room. Promising to call if they needed anything further, the guard was dismissed, and by the time the door was finally closed, Severus' transformation was complete.
A look of panic flitted across Ron's face as he saw the identity of the other man.
"What are you doing here?"
"Do you take sugar, Weasley?" Severus asked, stepping forward as Pius poured the tea.
"What?"
"It is a simple question. Do you take sugar in your tea, Mr Weasley?"
"Yes, two. Why?"
Pius put two spoonfuls of sugar into a cup and passed the sugar bowl to Severus, who promptly put it on the floor. Producing his own wand, Severus Transfigured it into another chair, and then added additional wards and charms to the room.
Severus' attention then turned towards the medical kit. He flipped open the lid, grimacing as he saw the filthy vials and dressings.
"I thought things were supposed to have improved in here," he muttered, rifling through the box with a look of distain on his face before pushing it away from him. "I'm more likely to kill you if I apply any of this," he told Ron, who was sat agape at what he was witnessing. "Luckily, I always carry Dittany with me these days. After all, one never knows when one will be hexed when one's back is turned," he snarked as Pius handed him a handkerchief to Transfigure into swabs.
"Oh, and here," the headmaster added, reaching inside Arthur's inside pocket. "Eat this. It will help you feel less drained from whatever form of Confundus they've used on your shackles."
Ron looked suspiciously at the chocolate Severus placed before him.
"It's not poisoned, Mr Weasley. It was purloined from one of Hermione's secret stashes this morning."
Ron snorted mirthfully. "Don't tell me she still tries to hide it."
"Tries being the operative word," Severus mumbled distractedly as Pius pushed a battered metal teapot towards him.
The black-eyed wizard arched an eyebrow. "It's just extra hot water," Pius advised, sitting down opposite Ron.
Severus removed the lid and dipped a square of fabric into it, and explained to the bemused young man, "There's nothing I can do about the bruises, I'm afraid― although I will ensure that your mother is well supplied with bruise paste when you return home tomorrow―but I can, at least, clean your wounds and heal the broken skin."
"Drink your tea," Pius ordered.
"Why, what have you put in it?" Ron accused, wincing as Severus applied the Dittany to a gash on his forehead.
Pius chuckled. "Nothing. It is not our intention to cause you any harm. But we would like to talk to you about something."
"Like what?" Ron asked gruffly, picking up the cup and inhaling the aroma of tea as if it were a fine perfume. It was an unremarkable brew; in truth, it tasted as if it had been strained through a dirty dishcloth, but for a man who had been denied the basic comforts in life for a short while, it may as well have been the finest silver tip white tea served in the finest white china.
"In short, Mr Weasley, we would like to discuss your plans following your release," Pius informed him, grimacing after taking a sip of his own dishwater flavoured tea.
The young wizard snorted. "Does it matter? I've been in here, and I've lost my contract with Wimbourne so that rather limits my options. I can't become an Auror now, so―"
"Well fear not," the head of Magical Law Enforcement chimed cheerfully. "With careful media management we can have the Golden Trio back together, and ―"
Ron looked at Pius incredulously. "Hey, look I don't want to be rude, but I can't have anything to do with her," he emphatically told the two men in front of him before looking shamefaced at Severus, and adding, "not now, anyway."
"Believe me, Mr Weasley, as much as I am delighted to hear that," Severus drawled dispassionately, "you must understand that our offer of assistance comes at a price―for all of us―and a public reconciliation with Professors Potter and Granger―"
Ron snorted at the use of Harry and Hermione's professional titles, but feeling Severus' eyes pierce him with a glare, recoiled as he completed his sentence, "―is a small price to pay."
"Gentlemen, please. I would prefer it if you could keep your bickering to a minimum. Time is short, and there is much to discuss. As I was saying, with the Golden Trio back together―it will be a media front, of course―and the ensuing publicity, I will be able to pull a few strings on your behalf so that you will soon be playing Quidditch again. The only thing we cannot guarantee is that you will regain your position. That is completely up to you, but if you are not training you cannot do that anyway."
Ron huffed. "Is that it? You'll whisper in a few ears so long as I appear to hang round with those two again?"
"No," Severus sneered at the ginger-haired wizard's tone, which bordered on the ungrateful. "There is more, but―"
"So what is this price?" Ron enquired distastefully.
Pius cleared his throat. "Well, apart from the fact that you will need to be civil to Miss Granger in public―"
"And believe me, you will be civil to her or else you will have me to deal with," the headmaster snarled.
"Severus, please," Pius groused, realising that having these two wizards in a confined space was going too far from easy.
"Pius, if I might suggest that we cut to the chase. As you say, time is short, and we can talk about media management until we are blue in the face, but, in this instance, I believe Mr Weasley deserves to be involved in an open and forthright dialogue." Severus was aware that his own patience was becoming quite tested, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he offered snidely, "Perhaps I should take it from here?"
Pius narrowed his eyes at the dark wizard, the retort desperate to pass his lips making them twitch, but he decided against deploying it, and simply drawled, "Be my guest."
Severus leaned back in his chair, observing the young wizard before him carefully. Despite everything, the headmaster knew what they were about to ask of Ron was extremely dangerous, and that now was not the time to disrespect or hoodwink him. Taking a deep breath, the professor leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table before steepling his long, pale fingers. "Mr Weasley, as you are aware you are here because of your association with Yaxley and other rogue Death Eaters. We know that you did not intentionally seek them out and that you were coerced into certain actions, but the fact remains that you were disgruntled enough to―shall we say―welcome their attentions."
Ron gulped, knowing full well that Severus was aware Yaxley had used the unfortunate Alexandra Carson to seduce him whilst he was still allegedly in a relationship with Hermione. What Ron still didn't know―for which Severus was most grateful―was that he was already aware of that fact before the red-haired man's official interrogation at the Ministry.
"Now, Mr Weasley, you have made it clear that you do want anything to do with Hermione―"
"Yes, but not because I hate her," Ron interrupted, a sense of urgency clear in his voice. "I...I was treating her like shit; I just assumed― after everything―that she would always be there. All the time we were on the run; all the time I was away from them, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I thought...I was sure that she'd always be around; that she'd be mine. And she nearly was, but I don't know, I just took her for granted.
"I suppose I was so relieved to have made it through the war, unlike my brother, and I decided to live my life to the fullest. But I expected Hermione to be―well I wanted her to be like Mum. But if Dad had treated Mum like I was treating Hermione, she'd have strung him up by his bollocks―"
Pius looked at Severus, slightly perplexed that he wasn't chivying Ron along or making snide comments considering that his own spiel had been less than appreciated by the headmaster. However, he realised that Severus was playing a very careful game. He was allowing Ron to make his confession―a cathartic act for the ginger-haired wizard in itself―whilst gathering and storing information that could be used at a later date. Plus, Severus was taking a perverse amount of pleasure from observing the young man squirm through his admission.
"―I should have seen it coming," Ron admitted. "She spent so much time sneaking away to see you at St Mungo's. I thought it was strange, but then again you know Hermione and her causes. I guess I tried to make up for the fact that my own witch didn't want to spend time with me, and bloody hell, you should have seen some of the witches that threw themselves at me. I guess I was weak. I shouldn't have been upset when she turned down my proposal or when she finished with me. I was already treating her badly, but with Yaxley's help I ended up acting like a complete cunt towards her. I...I guess I'm just embarrassed, and it's not like she'll want anything to do with me after what I tried to do to her―what I ended up doing to you."
"Ronald, you have already offered your apologies, and I have already accepted them. We all make mistakes; we all do things that we regret, but we need to put that episode behind us and move on," Severus drawled, feeling a certain amount of empathy with Ron's situation, having been in a similar one all those years ago. "However, I am pleased that you have considered your behaviour towards Hermione."
"Well, in here you get lots of time to think," Ron admitted ruefully.
Pius snorted softly, noting that the headmaster's eyes never left the young man sat before them.
"You should know," Severus continued in a remarkably soft tone, "that Hermione does still care about your well being. "Now, you and I, on the other hand, may not see eye to eye personally, and I do not care about your feelings towards me, but what I do care about is how each of us can ensure the security and prosperity of our world. You know, better than most that just because Voldemort is dead, it does not mean that our way of life is without threat―"
Ron's brow furrowed. "You mean Yaxley and the rest of them?"
Severus nodded. "Which brings me to the reason we are here today. We can ensure that your indiscretion is overlooked; we can ensure that the doors, which your stay within these walls have closed, will be reopened to you. Tell us what you want, or what you want to do following your release, and we have it within our power to ensure that it happens. But you are intelligent enough to know that this kind of offer does come with a price, and it is a price far beyond posing for a few photographs with Hermione and Harry.
"In short, Mr Weasley, we would ask that you return to Yaxley's fold as our agent."
Ron's eyes widened. "What?"
"We would like you to become our spy," Pius stated calmly.
"No! No way. I'm not risking my life for...he's the reason I'm in here, and―"
"―and by becoming our spy," Pius interjected, "and delivering information vital to continued peace in our world, he will be the reason that you stay out of here to play Quidditch again, or become an Auror―I believe that was your first career choice― and take your rightful place once again as Harry Potter's right hand man in defeating the Dark Lord, as well as the benefits that accolade has to offer."
Ron shook his head, his breathing becoming more laboured as panic swept over his face. "But why should I go back? It's not like he's shown me any loyalty. He tasked me with something―well, he forced me to do something―I cocked up. If he had any interest in me, he'd have found a way to help me rather than let me end up in here."
"Well, I wouldn't rule out his assistance, but we cannot confirm it," Severus commented smoothly.
Ron pressed the heel of his palm between his eyes. "Stop talking in riddles. What do you want from me?"
Pius cleared his throat. "Your function would be to gather and provide intelligence between―"
"I'm not thick. I know what a spy is," Ron snarled.
Severus arched an eyebrow and inclined his head slightly. "I do not believe it was Pius' intention to suggest that you are," before he threw a glare at his colleague. "However, in order for us to elucidate, I would recommend that you pay attention without interruption."
Ron glared at the headmaster, but knew it would be foolish to stand up to the man who had been able to strike him down verbally so quickly over the years.
"As you know," Severus continued in his lecturing drawl, "Yaxley seems determined to take revenge upon those considered―in his eyes―to be traitors. We are unsure why he has taken it upon himself to avenge the death of the Dark Lord, but he has, and we would very much like to know why, and stop him either from gathering supporters or undermining the very fabric of our world."
"But he just wanted to bring you down," Ron protested. "He never said anything else. He―"
"Pius, Lucius, and Draco have also received threats," Severus interjected, annoyed that Ron had only managed to keep silent for all of thirty seconds. "Plus we know that at the Ministry Ball Hermione became a target, and recently a first year Muggle-born was poisoned."
Ron's brow furrowed. "A first year? That's rough. Why would anyone single out a firstie?"
"Because they were sorted into Slytherin," Severus drawled, enjoying the look of disbelief which crept across the Gryffindor's face.
"How the hell―"
"―did that happen?" Severus completed Ron's question. "We are not sure. The Sorting Hat has remained obstinately silent on the subject, but an important tenet of Slytherin ideology is 'adapt or die', and given that Salazar's portrait seems quite taken with the child―despite his non-magical background―I would say my house has chosen to adapt once more.
"Now, you asked us what we want from you. Given the escalation of hostilities, we would ask that you become our double agent. You will provide us with full disclosure regarding his plans, and you will only feed him the information we tell you to. It will be up to you to gain his trust and―"
Ron narrowed his eyes, and interrupting Severus, queried, "You think he's up to something else, don't you? You don't think he's just out to avenge his death by bringing down those he sees as traitors?"
"That will be one of your tasks to ascertain," Pius confirmed carefully, not wishing to step on Severus' toes. However, the headmaster's dark eyes had already narrowed, but not at his friend. He knew that Ron meant that Yaxley was out to 'avenge Voldemort's death', but the unintentional slip of the tongue sent a myriad of thoughts flying through his mind. However, he let the comment rest for now, because the implication of those thoughts was potentially too terrifying to contemplate.
Pius continued, but his face could not hide his concern as he watched Severus pale for a moment. "We have already touched on your inducements briefly, but to be clear, the community service that you will be required to perform will be held at Hogwarts as Flying Instructor―"
"But that's George's job," Ron countered.
"Not for much longer, and your brother will be suitably compensated," Severus informed him dispassionately.
"This will be carefully managed in the media, of course," Pius drawled. "You will be training with Wimbourne again, although we cannot guarantee your first team place. However, what we can guarantee is that once we have enough evidence to put Yaxley on trial, your record will be wiped clean, and I will personally ensure that you are offered a place in Auror training. You will need to complete your NEWTS to facilitate this, however―"
"―we will arrange private tutoring for you so that you do not need to return to Hogwarts," Severus cut in.
"Thank fuck for that," Ron muttered, but was surprised to see an amused twitch in the corner of the headmaster's mouth.
"A shared sentiment, Mr Weasley."
Ron snorted softly. He would never like Severus Snape, but he was certainly appreciative of his candour at the moment.
"So, let me get this straight," Ron insisted before taking a deep breath. "You want me to waltz back up to Yaxley, say, "I want to join the cause, and I'll spy for you, as well," and you expect him to believe that?"
"It is up to you how you approach him, Ronald," Severus told the young man nonchalantly, "but I would say you have more reason than you did a few months ago―"
"Yes, but he approached me. I didn't―"
Severus' fist met the table with such force that both Pius and Ron flinched. His tone then returned to its usual calm, measured tone. "Can you honestly sit there and tell me that you are not still disillusioned by the outcome of the trials, and by Hermione's rejection? Can you honestly sit there and tell me that you are pleased that your ex-girlfriend is with me, and that she humiliated you in public?"
"Of course I'm not―"
The raven-haired wizard snarled, "Do you not think all of that would give you the perfect cover to stroll up to him, and offer him your support?"
Ron opened his mouth but quickly shut it again. He paused for a moment before clearing his throat. "You're right. I suppose he would accept that I've got more to be pissed off about now, but do you really think that I can be bought by all these promises? And what makes you think I can do this?"
Severus looked earnestly at the young man before him. "No one is buying you, Weasley. I believe that your recent behaviour has been an aberration. You have been brought up to be an honourable wizard, and, yes, you have a hot-headed streak, but you have fought against one mad man, and I believe you will fight against another."
Ron huffed. "For the greater good?"
"Indeed."
"And what if I fail? What if I am discovered? Look what happened to you?" Ron argued.
"I never thought I would hear myself uttering these words, but I have faith that you will succeed, which should translate into you not being discovered," Severus said before sighing deeply. "What happened to me was...unfortunate. I was never discovered, but I was prepared to take my secrets to the grave."
"I don't know that I am," Ron snapped, which earned him a look of disgust from his former Potions professor.
"And you call yourself a Gryffindor?" Severus hissed. "However, my situation was different, and you will have the benefit of being properly trained for the task in hand, and closely monitored. Precautions will be taken, and you will be issued with emergency portkeys, Protean charmed objects, and if your cover is blown you'll be confined to a safe house until the danger to your person has abated."
Taken aback by the amount of thought that had already gone into keeping him safe, Ron asked, "I'll be trained?"
"Indeed. Pius specifically requested that the Wizengamot allow you to carry out your community service at Hogwarts as a cover for having legitimate contact with me."
Ron's eyes widened, and he gulped audibly. "You'll be training me?"
"Believe me, Mr Weasley," Severus scoffed, "if tutoring you is as pleasurable as it was to tutor Mr Potter then I would rather slit my own throat. However, your success will greatly help Hermione and me, so you will have my undivided attention three times a week."
The freckled-faced wizard thought about this for a moment. "So will I report to you?"
"You will report to me when we are in direct contact; otherwise you will report through your father to Pius."
Ron was incredulous. "Dad knows about this? What about Mum?"
"We have left it to Arthur to decide whether your mother is informed of this arrangement," Pius informed him dryly.
"You will also have a soft contact with whom you'll speak to on a more social basis," Severus apprised.
"Who's that?"
"Mr Potter. Yaxley knows that your issues are with Hermione and I, but he also knows that ultimately you are Harry's friend. And because Harry is Hermione's friend, you will have limited contact with her, and be able to provide reasonable intelligence on both her and myself."
Pius interjected, his tone extremely serious. "All you need know is that the logistics will be carefully considered, and you will have the advantage of a support network. All we need to know is whether you are willing to help rid the wizarding world of this latest threat by becoming our spy."
Ron shook his head. "I don't know. How long do I have to decide?"
Severus looked at the table and swallowed hard. "Mr Weasley...Ron, you have my word that you will be well looked after. I promised your father that I would keep you safe, and unlike others, that is a promise I do not intend to break. Unfortunately, we require an answer before we leave."
"It's just so much to take in," the ginger-haired wizard mumbled.
"Which is why you will not be alone in this endeavour. You will have the benefit of my knowledge and skills as a spy and double agent, and―"
Ron looked straight into Severus' eyes. "Did you ever forget which side you were on, Snape?"
Returning the younger wizard's gaze, Severus proclaimed, "Never, and I will show you how you never forget."
"And I can say no?" Ron asked.
"You can," Pius confirmed. "You are under no obligation, but, realistically, you are the best candidate for the role."
Ron sat for a moment; his eyes darting around the dank, dark room whilst he tried to think. For once, he found himself wanting to trust Snape because he was being offered a clean slate. But, was the price of his redemption too high? He wished that the answer was clear, and yet he knew he could do this. And if he did this―if he succeeded―he'd finally get some recognition.
"Yes," he mumbled before looking up at the two wizards in front of him. "Yes, I'll do it."
"Severus, your wand," Pius commanded as he stood up to walk around the table. Once he was before Ron, he stated calmly, "Mr Weasley, you are required to make The Unbreakable Vow."
Ron's response was short and to the point. "Bloody hell!"

Once the ritual had been performed, Severus nodded curtly to the slightly dazed red-haired man. "We shall speak soon, Mr Weasley."
The headmaster then took a small flask out of his pocket, swigged its contents, and immediately began to transform back into the form of Arthur Weasley. He removed the additional wards, and Pius summoned the guard.
"Take Mr Weasley to the rehabilitation rooms, and he is not to be chained," Pius advised the brawny, almost toothless custodian.
"Come on," the jailor growled at the young man, who was looking awkwardly at the other two wizards.
All of a sudden, Severus, stepped forward and placed his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, son, and then you'll be safely out of this place."
Ron looked at the man posing as his father and nodded. "Thanks, Dad."
"Until tomorrow, then," Pius added, also touching Ron's shoulder before he was led to the relative comfort of the rehabilitation suite.
As the two wizards walked back towards the wand room, Pius asked, "Does he have any idea what he's getting himself into?"
Severus looked at him, and shaking his head, he snorted, "Not a fucking clue."

Pius and Severus continued their discussions regarding Ronald Weasley at the former's London home. However, before returning to Hogwarts, the headmaster found himself in the kitchen at The Burrow being force fed by Molly, when all he'd intended to do was surreptitiously return Arthur's belongings.
"You look very peaky, Severus," the concerned witch fussed.
"I am a little tired. I have had meetings all day, but when Pius said Arthur was unwell, I thought I would visit. I lost track of time and didn't appreciate the lateness of the hour. I did not mean to intrude at―"
"Nonsense, you are always welcome for dinner," Molly interrupted. "But it can't be easy for you at the moment with everything that's going on. Oh, Hermione's told me how much pressure you're under," she apprised when Severus looked at her enquiringly, "and now poor old Slughorn. Well, that must make things even more difficult for you."
"It doesn't make it any easier," Severus admitted quietly before sighing, "but then who said being headmaster would be easy? Now I find myself in need of a new Potions professor or else I shall have to return to teaching. Hermione could teach to NEWT level, I'm sure of it, but with her own NEWT and apprenticeship studies, she couldn't cope with the extra preparation and marking. She struggles enough as it is―even if she won't admit it."
"I think, perhaps, she doesn't admit it to you because she doesn't want to worry you," Molly told him, placing a hand on the surly wizard's arm as she noted his consternation at this information. "I sometimes think it's a shame Fred and George didn't do their NEWTS. They both loved Potions. Well, George still does, but on a more commercial level, obviously."
Severus looked at Molly, sensing the rawness of her emotion when she mentioned Fred, but wondered if her statement contained another message.
"They were two of my best students," Severus conceded. "Both had an instinctive curiosity, and a flair for invention. I would have readily given them top grades in their Potions NEWT if not for their decision to leave school in such a dramatic fashion."
"But they weren't bothered about school," Arthur interrupted, walking into the room and fighting back a wave of nausea. When Molly started to become suspicious about his feigned illness, Arthur ound and consumed one of his son's famous Puking Pastilles.
"And in many respects they didn't need to be given the success of their business," Severus mused. "From what I've heard George's expansion plans are most admirable."
Molly sighed. "He needs more lab space now that the Hogsmeade shop is open, and Angelina wants them to move out of the flat above the shop in Diagon Alley because she doesn't want to live so close to a potions lab which is operational all day and night."
Severus laughed. "Personally, I'd have no issue with that. After all, you can't create potions without breaking a few cauldrons. But then, I've never cared enough about anywhere I've lived to mind if a cauldron blew up and embedded itself into the wall. Hermione, on the other hand, would no doubt take issue with it."
"Who are you trying to kid?" Arthur chuckled, "You know full well that she'd go spare."
"Quite right, too," Molly interjected, "but if she's going to be a Potions Mistress she'll have to get used to blowing up cauldrons herself."
Severus snorted. "I don't think she's ever had a serious explosion," he mused. "But I know that she'll be mortified when the inevitable occurs, and I'll spend all night consoling her."
"Oh, and you'll hate that," Arthur added sarcastically, before dry heaving and uttering an apology.
The Slytherin shrugged. "I will not enjoy the fact that she is upset. I will, of course, enjoy the act of consoling her."
"I really don't want to know," Molly blustered.
Severus chuckled. He then noted the time. "Molly, I thank you for your hospitality, but I regret that duty and my apprentice calls. I understand that your son is being returned to you tomorrow. I hope everything runs smoothly."
"Yes, well I just hope he's learnt his lesson and can do something useful with himself now," Molly grumbled; her usual motherly demeanour was obviously stretched very thin still where her youngest son was concerned.
"I'm sure he will," Severus said reassuringly. "I believe he has to do a period of community service, and I'm sure he will find ways to redeem himself if he is afforded the opportunity. After all, it was such an opportunity that now allows me to enjoy your beef casserole, Molly," he added smoothly.
Molly sighed and with a tight smile nodded. "Yes, you are quite right, Severus, you are quite right."
"I know," Severus drawled nonchalantly before pausing and raising a contemplative eyebrow, adding, "I may have a solution to George's lab problem."
"Really?" Molly exclaimed, hoping that her son's concerns could be alleviated before Angelina's patience wore thin.
"I believe so," the black-haired wizard replied. "I will speak to him on Saturday before the Quidditch match."
"Yes, Ginny is expecting a good result," Molly proudly stated.
Severus pondered this. "Well, if Gryffindor can't beat Hufflepuff there really is no hope for them," he scoffed lightheartedly before turning to Arthur. "I hope you feel better," he offered knowingly.
"Thank you, I think it's just a twenty-four hour bug," Arthur responded vaguely.
"I don't know," Molly added with concern. "You're never ill. Why don't you go up to bed? I'll bring you a cup of herbal tea to help settle your stomach."
Severus did well to contain his amusement as Arthur rolled his eyes whilst enduring his wife's overbearing attentions.
"Well, whatever it is," Severus drawled, "I wish you a speedy recovery."
"You are too kind," Arthur grumbled.

Once Severus had returned to the castle, he'd popped into his and Hermione's chambers briefly to let her know that he was back. Unfortunately, due to the fact that his desk seemed to be groaning under the weight of paperwork, he informed her that he would only be able to join her in the lab at the end of her three-hour apprenticeship session.
Hermione had to admit that Severus looked and sounded drained. When she'd enquired about what happened with Ron, he told her they would talk about it later, while placing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, before turning on his heel and heading to his office. Hermione didn't even get the chance to ask if he had eaten anything before he'd disappeared.
However, whilst Hermione's brewing session was going well, Severus' paperwork clearing exercise had failed after only one parchment, when he was summoned to the Hospital Wing.
"Ah, Headmaster," Poppy said brusquely as the dark wizard swept in through the large double doors and walked towards the private room that she was gesturing for him to enter.
He stopped briefly to speak to the two first year students who had been admitted to the infirmary with bad cases of wizarding flu, and Poppy chuckled at their stuttered responses to the headmaster's questions. Bidding the young wizards good evening, Severus continued towards his intended destination. Opening the door to the small room for him, the matron whispered, "I think you've probably scared the fever out of them."
Without acknowledging her comment, Severus' eyes fell upon the bed containing the unconscious, frail form of Horace Slughorn.
As Madam Pomfrey closed the door, he asked urgently, "What happened?"
Poppy sighed. "Harry happened."
"Harry?"
"Yes," she confirmed, "he came down to visit him. At first, Harry said Horace was quite lucid, but then started calling him James―and congratulations on not sneering at the use of his name."
"How remiss of me," Severus grumbled sardonically.
Poppy shook her head before continuing, "He did his best to play along, but then Horace noticed his eyes, and it confused him. We were trying to calm him when Mr Zabini and Miss Weasley also came to visit him."
Severus' mouth twisted in consternation. "And I suppose the presence of Ginevra confused him further?"
"Indeed. He began calling her Lily and bless her, she tried to play along as well. I understand Blaise felt rather uncomfortable with the whole episode, especially when Horace told Harry and Miss Weasley to be mindful of your feelings now that they were dating." The school matron chuckled as Severus' eyebrows attempted to escape his forehead, but all too soon her tone became more sombre. "Unfortunately, it was all too much for the poor dear, and he passed out. However, once I'd cleared the room, he began to fit. He is settled for now, but, after running my diagnostics, I contacted St Mungo's and the Healers believe that his fitting may become more frequent. I know he wants to be moved back to his chambers, but I cannot allow him to be left alone, Severus."
Without hesitation, the headmaster decreed, "Then his chambers shall come here."
"Headmaster?"
"Well, his bedchamber at least," Severus admitted with a wry smile. "I will assign Professors Potter and Malfoy to the task. In fact, if you would be so good as to call them for me and advise that I wish to see them in my office in at nine o'clock, I would be most grateful. I will sit with Horace for a while."
Poppy gave a watery smile as she observed the headmaster move a chair next to the elderly professor's bed and sit down. Closing the door softly, she went to call the two young professors from her office.
Severus sat there for a moment, wondering why he had decided to sit with his old professor when he had nothing to occupy himself with, when all of a sudden he began talking to the unconscious man.
"I am not sure if you are aware of my presence, Horace, but I just wanted to assure you that we will endeavour to make you as comfortable as possible. Poppy doesn't want you to be on your own, but I know that you wished to have your creature comforts around you so I will be asking Harry and Draco to ensure that transpires."
Silence fell as the headmaster tried to think of what to say next. He was about to make some fatuous statement regarding the weather, when he heard a weak coughing sound. Looking up, Severus saw that Professor Slughorn was awake.
"To what do I owe the honour, Mr Snape," Horace asked hoarsely, his mind obviously back in the mid seventies.
"I just wanted to make sure that you were alright, Sir," Severus drawled politely.
The elderly wizard narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the figure sat beside him. "Well, I'm glad you are here. I wanted to talk to you as it happens."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Mr Potter came to see me earlier today, shortly followed by Lily. Now, given their relationship, I just want ensure that you won't do anything stupid, my lad," Slughorn declared in a cautionary voice.
Severus knew he had to play his part in the charade that the older wizard's mind seemed insistent on playing, but he was rather perplexed why his former professor was showing so much concern for him now, when at the time he never seemed to have much time for him.
"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Severus commented dismissively.
"Come now, young man, playing dumb does not suit you," Slughorn intoned. "Lily and yourself may have grown apart, but I know you still care for her deeply, and everyone knows that you and James do not see eye to eye. I would hate for you―"
"Professor, I thank you for your concern, but I no longer care about what Miss Evans and Potter get up to because I have met someone else," Severus declared nonchalantly.
Horace smiled. "Have you, by Jove? Well, tell me more. Who is she?"
Severus tapped his fingers on the white infirmary blanket covering Horace's bed. He wasn't sure whether this was the best thing to say―he didn't want to confuse the man further―but he didn't really want to discuss this warped version of the past, especially when his future was so alive. "Her name's Hermione," he said almost wistfully, a small smile gracing his lips.
"And you love her?"
The younger wizard nodded. "I do."
"Yes, Hermione is an extraordinary witch," Slughorn mused, alerting Severus to the fact that his mind was now back in the present. "You know, I remember your Sorting, Severus. You were so protective of Lily that day. You were inseparable when you arrived. Some of the staff thought they could see the first married couple of your year when they saw the two of you. Of course, I didn't bother with such idle speculation and neither did Albus. He always said you had yet to meet your future wife."
Severus smirked. "Well, for once I would have to agree with you and Albus―although, I will now deny that I ever said that. I suppose, at the time, I hoped that Lily and I would grow up and marry, but it was a childish hope, and now I realise that my feelings for Lily were―"
"―Different to those you have for Hermione―that much is certain―but never understate your feelings for Lily at the time. They were powerful enough to make you change your life for the better―"
"For the better?" Severus sneered. "How exactly did my life change for the better because of my feelings for Lily?"
"You chose the right path, didn't you? And it was that path that led you to the woman whom I am sure will become your wife," Horace explained knowingly.
Severus huffed, realising that in some twisted way Horace was right, but despite the truth of his statement―plans were indeed afoot to ask Miss Granger to become Mrs Snape―he refused to give anything away. "It wasn't exactly the straightest of paths though was it? And please do stop trying to channel your inner Albus," Severus smirked, "and if you do insist on continuing to try, may I suggest you practice your sparkling technique?"

Draco and Harry had just left the headmaster's office to carry out the task assigned to them, and Severus had picked up his quill ready to do some more work, when he swore and thumped his head against the back of his chair. It wasn't because of recent events, but it was because an annoyed voice now rang through his head.

Where are you? I need you to check my potions, a wild-haired, frazzled Hermione grumbled from their private lab as she bottled up her potions ready for inspection.
At the end of last week's session, Severus had tasked her with brewing the powerful mind soothing draught that St Mungo's used to treat patients―like Alice and Frank Longbottom―who were tortured by way of the Cruciatus Curse and had their mental faculties compromised. He'd told her that it could never cure them, but it helped ease their suffering by stilling their minds.
Of course, she'd been set her this task because it was a potion that, despite its few ingredients, was highly unforgiving in its sensitivity, but telling her it would never be a cure was like deliberately provoking an Erumpent. All week she'd been thinking up ways of modifying the potion's efficacy, and had spent much of her free time talking to Neville about his parents. She'd even accepted an invitation to accompany him when he next visited his parents. So having put so much thought into the potion, and successfully brewing three variations of it, Hermione felt that the very least Severus could do was turn up, as promised, to evaluate her work.
Shit! I'm sorry, sweetheart. I got caught up with Horace and it slipped my mind.
Everything alright?
Severus sighed. Not really. Poppy doesn't think it will be long now. When he is lucid he is as he ever was, but the confusion is rendering him unconscious and causing him to fit. I've asked Draco and Harry to make sure his bedroom is moved into his hospital room. It is, however, rather tiring talking to him. One moment I am required to be my sixteen year old self, only for him to snap back into the present and I need to myself again. I fear my acting skills have become a little rusty.
That's a good thing, isn't it? It means you don't have to act anymore.
Yes; yes, I suppose it is.
You sound tired.
I am, he groaned, but my desk looks like Peeves has been playing on it, and I have to come down to assess someone's potion. I take it you managed at least one successful vial?
Three, as it happens, she stated with a sense of pride, but go home, love, and take some work with you. And make sure you take some stuff I can do for you, she told him emphatically. I'll bring the vials to you, once I've dropped some notes off for Draco to look at on my tracing project. Now, have you eaten?
Severus smiled as Hermione's bossy, yet concerned tone pervaded her voice. He often found that tone hard to refuse. Yes, I visited Arthur on my way back from the Ministry.
Ah! So Molly tried to fatten you up?
How did you guess?
Because she's always telling me you need to put on more weight.
I'm heavier than I ever have been, he groused, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he was once again confronted by the knowledge that people actually did care about him. Are you sure you don't mind me taking work home?
Of course not. And besides, it won't be the first or last time, she remarked playfully whilst performing a cleansing charm on the large gold cauldron she'd been using.

Arriving back in their chambers, Severus had fully intended to start working straight away, but decided to get changed first. The stack of parchments he'd brought with him ended up on the bed as his frock coat and cravat were banished to wardrobe. Toeing off his boots, he realised how cold the floor was. The nights were much colder as they approached November, so he picked up his wand so that he could attend to both the fires in the bedroom and living room. He was certainly too tired for frivolous acts of wandless magic tonight.
Looking around the living room, now illuminated by the warm glow of a roaring fire, he noticed the bottle of wine that Hermione had opened the previous night, and saw no harm in pouring himself a glass to aid him in his work. Looking at the bottle, he smirked at his witch's choice―she was learning―and took a sip as he walked back into the bedroom. Placing the glass on the bedside table, he pulled his shirt out from his trousers, unbuttoning it until it lay open.
He was undoing his cuffs when a piece of parchment caught his eye. The monthly list of Hogwarts Acceptance letters had never been something that Severus had to deal with. Last year's admission rate was so low due to Voldemort's restrictions that he'd not even bothered to look at it, but left it all to Minerva to handle. After all, he was only interested in knowing the overall number of students that he would need to protect. And as Minerva had done an outstanding job―as she had done for Albus― he saw no reason to interfere in the process this year, either.
It had been his earlier conversation with Horace that had undoubtedly drawn his eye to September's list. He turned it round and began to read as he undid and removed his trousers. Sitting back on the bed, propped up by his pillows in just an open shirt and black boxers, he picked up the document to continue reading it when he realised his glasses were still in his frock coat.
Strangely, he found himself to be more comfortable wearing glasses than he'd anticipated. Hermione's unequivocal acceptance helped, of course, as did the lack of headaches. He'd even sat through his weekly meeting with Minerva without realising he was wearing them until she passed a comment about how they suited him. Summoning them, he moved the rest of his work to Hermione's side of the bed and settled down to give his full attention to the piece of parchment which had piqued his interest.
Surprisingly, there had been ten acceptance letters sent last month, and even more surprisingly―or maybe not―not one was Pureblood. Instead, there were nine half-bloods and one Muggle-born. Curiosity got the better of him, and he quickly Apparated to his office, pulled out the last ten years' worth of monthly reports, and returned to their bedroom to go through them. He looked up from parchment that he had been scribbling on when he realised how dire the Pureblood situation was, and how there seemed to be a steady increase in the number of Muggle-borns. Once again, his thoughts went back to his conversation with Horace.

"It was never about blood purity or power for you, was it, Severus?" Slughorn had asked as the two wizards sat talking in the hospital wing.
Severus shook his head. "No. I never enjoyed the power I accrued―well maybe I did at times― but it was more about hate and acceptance. I hated my father for what he did to my mother, and that was twisted to―"
"I remember your mother," Horace reflected.
Severus looked shocked, but the fact that Slughorn would have taught his mother shouldn't really have come as a surprise.
"Yes, she was a quiet witch," the older wizard continued, "kept herself to herself. Gobstones Captain, of course. Talented brewer; not very methodical, but not afraid to experiment. You seemed to have inherited her talent for experimentation, but you are methodical to the point of being meticulous."
The headmaster chuckled. "That doesn't surprise me. I had to endure enough of her cooking experiments. What little we had she always tried to make it interesting―not always successfully," he admitted dolefully. "I suppose my father was the meticulous one. The rows started for three reasons―magic, me, or because Mother hadn't done something to his exacting requirements."
Slughorn looked at the headmaster as he shifted awkwardly in his chair, clearing his throat to rid himself of the lump that had formed.
"I never had the privilege of meeting your grandfather―although I met your grandmother on a few occasions, and that was an unforgettable experience," Horace drawled weakly. "However, I am led to believe that you are very much like Julius. He was said to be a very meticulous man."
Severus gave the old man a watery smile. No one―not even Lady Eleanor―really spoke about his grandfather. Mrs Hopkins had told him once that his grandmother had been so devastated by his death that she'd almost shut down that part of her life, and that was why there were no known portraits of him. Severus couldn't remember what he looked like, although he did recall his mother telling him that there was a resemblance.
"I never really knew my grandfather," he admitted. "He died when I was six or seven, but we stopped visiting my grandparents when I was a toddler. I do vaguely remember a man being present though." A small huff escaped his lips. "He must have been the one who would levitate Arnold for me."
"Arnold?"
"My...my first stuffed toy," Severus mumbled as he focused intently on a spot on the floor.
Horace laughed, but cut it short as he witnessed something terribly sad in the younger wizard's eyes.
"Actually, he was my only stuffed toy. My father threw him on the fire when I was eight...just before he―" Severus cleared his throat, blinking a few times to prevent any impudent moisture from welling up. "I would have hated that man no matter what he was. He could have been Merlin himself, and I would still have hated him. But he was a Muggle, and I was too weak to see how that fact was manipulated to the point where it made perfect sense for me to become a Death Eater. I will never forgive myself for being so weak."
"You were never weak, Severus, and that was the problem. We, at Hogwarts, were not the only ones to notice it. Tom needed someone like you, and whilst all the Death Eater and blood supremacist families vied for his attention and favour, your deliverance became the way in which they could ensure it. I have no doubt that you were the topic of conversation around many an Inner Circle member's dining table. Their sons and daughters studied you―I saw it all the time in the common room―and once they knew which buttons to press, they had you.
"But ultimately it was your strength that saw you back to the right path. I would like to say the same for Lord Malfoy, but it wasn't really strength that made him see sense in the end. On the other hand, he was indoctrinated from birth, so it was always going to be harder for him to see the light. In some respects, I think you saved Lucius―you grounded him. Abraxas never liked you because of your heritage―although he had to respect you because of your position with Tom― but Lucius stood by you. I maintain that his father's death freed him. It was just a shame that by then his whole family was in danger."
Severus looked at the frail, old man and didn't know whether to thank him for his words or smother him with a pillow for seeing what was happening to him all those years ago and not doing anything to protect him. Of course, Horace was never one to upset the apple cart, especially where the elite―both pureblood and half-blood families― were concerned. He could disagree with their politics in private, but he wouldn't dream of disagreeing with their fine dining and brandy.
Horace then added quietly, "Mind you, I don't even think that blood purity was an issue for Tom. It wasn't the thinning of wizarding blood that he feared, it was that he would not be remembered. It had always baffled me why he took such issue with Muggle-borns or pureblood's breeding with Muggles, and then it hit me. Muggle-borns and first generation half-bloods, such as yourself, are incredibly talented in one way or another. And, as it was, he was quite right to fear you."
Severus sighed deeply. He'd thought about this a lot recently. Both Lily and Hermione were Muggle-borns. Lily always had far better control over her magic than Severus ever had when they were pre-teens and that always impressed him. Her charm work was often beautiful to behold, and her Slytherin friend was quite jealous of her skills in that department. But Hermione's magic was beautiful; it was elemental. He always felt it when they were close to each other. It washed over him in soft, gentle waves when they sat cuddled up on the sofa reading; it soothed him when she held him close or when she comforted him; it pulsed through him when they made love. It was still a little unpredictable, but with Molly's help it was much more stable. But the fact remained that she was Muggle-born and powerful, and her magic was pure.
"I must concur," Severus admitted. "He had natural allies in the Pureblood families because, on the surface, it appeared that they had the same agenda. But, if you intend to make yourself immortal, you need funds," he grumbled sardonically.
Horace chuckled before recounting another of his musings. "When one thinks about it, when Tom came back, he didn't surround himself with the old guard. I can only imagine how ill-used Abraxas must have felt to die in his own bed of Dragonpox rather than at his master's side."
"You don't need to remind me about whom he surrounded himself with," Severus sneered, wincing at the thought of some of the more bloodthirsty meetings. "Apart from the Malfoys and myself―and really, you have to call our sanity into question―the others were a rag-tag ensemble of scum, thugs and maniacs. But I remember the first time that I was called to Voldemort's side after his return. Aside from his physical appearance, which was shocking enough, his whole demeanour had changed. I believed it had something to do with the transformation alone, but that weaselling shit, Pettigrew, told me that on the night that the Dark Lord killed the Potter's he was acting erratically, and it seems that erraticism remained with him from that night to his rebirth. "
Slughorn nodded. "Yes, I think that much is now obvious but that aside, I do worry about our world. The pureblood families insistence on inter-marrying to secure their financial and political status, as well as their magical purity, is diminishing their magic. The number of squib births is increasing, and the damage to their mental and physical health is irreparable. You only have to look at our own House, Severus, to see what is happening. They want the greatness, but lack the mental wit. Lord Black, however, is surprisingly intelligent considering his mother's family."
"That's rather disrespectful to Narcissa and Andromeda," Severus groused, "and Regulus was saner than most."
"Sirius was intelligent, too," Horace pondered.
A low growl developed in the headmaster's throat. "Sirius was an utter bastard. The only difference between him and Bellatrix was that he didn't favour the Cruciatus as a method of torture."
"Your assessment is too harsh, dear boy," Slughorn admonished, only for Severus to interrupt.
"I spent far too long looking over my shoulder because of him. Oh, he could turn on the butter wouldn't melt charm, but sometimes I believe he was worse than Bella―"
"Severus, really―"
"At least she was honest about being a cruel, vindictive bitch," the brooding wizard added, his knuckles whitening.
The was a moment of awkward silence before Slughorn carried on. "Perhaps reference to Lord Black's family was ill advised. But my overall point still stands. The British pureblood families―those without foreign blood unlike your line or Lord Malfoy's, or those who only encouraged distant inter-marriage like the Potters and Weasleys―are dwindling, and whilst I agree that marrying a Muggle wouldn't help matters in terms of their magic, marrying a Muggle-born, whose magic is untainted, would help improve the magic of their lines, and the other issues associated with interbreeding."
Severus smirked. Horace could never resist dropping a title into a conversation, but the headmaster resolved that should Slughorn suddenly start calling him Lord Snape―the title he loathed with a passion until it came in handy―the pillow that crossed his mind earlier would be put to good use.
"And yet now we have our own Muggle-born," the former Head of Slytherin commented.
"Indeed, we do. A lovely lad, very sharp. He will go far if his initial potential is realised."
Severus nodded in agreement. "I confess I am looking forward to watching his progress."
Horace fell silent before he sighed and commented mournfully, "A pleasure I will, unfortunately, not be able to partake in. I―"
"Horace, that was insensitive of―"
"Severus," Slughorn interjected, "it is alright, dear boy. I know what is happening to me, but I am an old man, and evidently my time has come. I just wish I could meet my end without regret, but, alas, I cannot. If only I had not had that discussion with Tom regarding Horcruxes―"
"Hindsight is a wonderful thing," Severus drawled. "If only I hadn't called Lily a Mudblood, if only I hadn't taken the Dark Mark, if only I hadn't been responsible for the deaths of others. But it all happened, and as much as I regret that every single day, I have finally realised that there is nothing I can do to change the past. My atonement is to ensure that our world is free of such prejudice."
"Maybe those sad events had to happen," Horace mused sleepily as he watched Severus sit up straight, his usual stoicism slipping back into place.
"Perhaps. I am ashamed to say this, but I often questioned my loyalty to Dumbledore and the cause. It would have been far easier to let Potter get himself killed or to hand him over to the Dark Lord on a plate. But, no matter how tempting it was at times, I couldn't do it."
"―and yet, in the end, you and Albus did hand Harry to him on a plate, but by giving him your memories, Severus, you made sure than when Tom indulged, it was poisoned. Never forget that," Slughorn yawned.
Severus looked at the wizard, who had now dozed off, with a mixture of incredulity and fondness. After a few moments, he slipped silently out of the room and headed back to his office with a newfound respect for the man he'd all too often dismissed. His only regret was that it had come too late.

Hermione smiled as she leant up against the doorframe of their bedroom. The sight of Severus, sitting back on their bed whilst engrossed in a pile of parchments, was rather endearing and somewhat surprising given that he was wearing so little―at least for him. Although he was completely relaxed around their chambers, unless he'd just come out of the shower, was in bed, or they were engaging in some form of carnal activity, he never lounged around half dressed. Being headmaster, he was often called upon unexpectedly, so it was prudent for both of them to be respectably attired, even if they were just sprawled out on the sofa reading. But tonight he didn't seem to care, and Hermione certainly wasn't complaining.
"Hey, you," she said affectionately.
Severus looked up. "Good evening," he purred, putting the two pieces of parchment that he was holding onto his lap.
"Can you check these?" Hermione asked, holding up her three vials as she sashayed over to the bed.
Looking over the top of his glasses, he gestured for her to hand them over as she perched herself on the edge of the bed beside him.
Upon initial inspection, he remarked, "As expected they are acceptable. However," he drawled, scrutinising the middle vial, "the clarity of this one is much better than these two". He uncorked the vial and sniffed the stopper, and was taken aback by what he found. "How did you manage to increase the Periwinkle without the Runespoor Eggs becoming too volatile?"
"I triple filtered the Lethe water, changed the stirring pattern and used powered Periwinkle divided into eight which I added after every third rotation. Here are my notes."
"Ingenious," Severus whispered before looking up at her enquiringly. "And how many attempts did it take before you were successful?"
"Bastard!" Hermione growled lightheartedly, slapping his bare thigh and smirking as he flinched. "I worked it out. I think it's more stable now, so if it is―"
"Sweetheart, don't you think we've already tried?"
"You don't know what I'm going to say!" Hermione protested, looking affronted.
"Au contraire, my love, I know exactly what you are going to say, but I, as well as my researchers at Prince Industries, have tried to modify this mind soothing potion on numerous occasions, and―"
"―but did you have a base like this?"
Severus put the vials down and cupped her cheek, gently stroking his thumb over her skin. "No, but you have more than enough to worry about without trying to modify a potion, which―"
"But there's no harm in investigating further, is there?"
Severus waved his hand over the parchment on the bed, which immediately tidied itself into a neat pile that he levitated to one of the large armchairs in the room. "No, but―"
Hermione once again interrupted him. "But if I―"
The raven-haired wizard's eyes bored into his witch, and as he shook his head emphatically, he pulled Hermione onto his lap. "You will not be taking this any further, and the next time you feel that you are having trouble coping, please talk to me and not Molly."
Hermione's mouth opened, but no words came out. Hanging her head, she muttered despondently, "You have enough to worry about."
Severus placed his finger under her chin and lifted it until their eyes met. They looked at each other for a moment before he spoke, his velvety voice purring his exasperation. "Hermione Granger, I have nothing more important to worry about than you. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
Hermione tried to hang her head again, but Severus wasn't having any of it. His fingers pushed into her hair, holding her curls away from her face as he looked into her eyes again.
"It's not that I can't cope," the curly-haired witch told him, "but I suppose I'm worried that I'll let something slide unintentionally."
Severus jerked his head towards the pile of parchment now lying on the armchair as he dropped his hands to rest on her hips. "I know that feeling well. But getting back to you, I know you want to work on this potion; I know you want to help the Longbottoms, but because you are close to Neville, you will become too involved, and you can ill afford the time. However, I will file the patent for your improvements and present your notes to my researchers. And if it works, I'll sign all profits over to you."
"You don't have to do that," Hermione protested. "It all goes into the same account now, so―"
"Point of principle, sweetheart. As your Potions master, I would be well within my rights to withhold any profits from you, but that was a very elegant piece of work, and it goes into the same account now, so―"
Severus tickled her sides as he teased her, and was rewarded by Hermione's squeals of laughter, which only stopped when he captured her lips and flipped them both onto their sides. After a few moments of greedy, passionate kisses, Hermione tried to retaliate for being tickled, but found herself pinned to the bed with both wrists being held above her head by one of Severus' large hands. His other hand was busy undoing the buttons of her blouse whilst he kissed her insistently, leaving her utterly breathless.
Massaging her bra-covered breast, Severus kissed down her throat before letting go of her wrists and rolling them both over so that Hermione was on top of him again. "I'm really proud of you," he whispered, kissing her temple as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.
"I love you," she whispered, her breath tickling his neck sending shivers through him.
"I know," Severus moaned, attempting to stifle a yawn, "and I love you, too."
Hermione pulled back to look at him. "You better take your glasses off before you fall asleep."
Severus huffed lightly before putting his hand on the back of her head and kissing her gently. "I suppose so as I don't think I'm going to get much work done now."
"No, I don't think so either," Hermione agreed with a wicked grin as she shuffled backwards down his body.
He knew what she was going to try and do, and stopped her. "Not tonight, love. I'm too tired."
His witch pouted, her bottom lip defying him to capture it between his teeth. "But, I want to do something nice for you."
"You can," he said, lifting her hand and kissing her palm gently. "Come to bed, and I'll show you exactly what you can do for me," he purred, pressing his lips to hers once again, and her hand over his boxers.
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The Headmaster's Wife