Sources of Amusement

As always, I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to my two betas, JENGEORGE and NervousAboutAngels, for all of their help, as well as the staff here at The Petulant Poetess, for helping me to iron out the kinks in my story.

And, of course, all of the credit goes to the brilliant J. K. Rowling for inventing the amazing Harry Potter Universe and all of its wonderful characters. I make no money from the writing and sharing of this story.

Chapter 14

Sources of Amusement

Snape had his "digging" cut out for him. Since he was neither married nor a pureblood, he had no insight into what might be driving the Weasley whelp's behavior, so he would have to ask someone who did.

His first impulse was to turn to Lucius Malfoy. If anyone was an expert at keeping women on the side, it was Lucius. But since he had for years refused to accept Snape's owl post, much less an invitation to tea, Snape thought better of it. Why waste a perfectly good sheet of papyrus?

Draco was quite another matter. His standing in high society was rock solid. He had absolutely nothing to fear from being seen in correspondence or light conversation with what the general wizarding population would consider an unsavory character. He had also been one of the first of his class to marry. Their union had produced a flaxen haired replica of Draco about the same time the first Potter brat had been born. Perhaps Draco had already tired of his bride years ago and had by now turned to Daddy for advice.

It's worth a shot.

As he sat at the desk up in his bedroom, Snape penned an invitation to Sunday afternoon tea on his finest papyrus, with a P.S. to apologize for the short notice. Then he slipped it into a matching envelope and sealed it with opalescent green wax and an ancient Slytherin stamp that had been passed down from his maternal grandfather. Then he beckoned Morticia to take a break from her nest building. She dutifully allowed him to tie the note to her leg, but she seemed uncharacteristically aloof, not at all her affectionate self.

"What's the matter, Morticia?" he asked curiously as his attempt to caress her back was squelched by a quick sidestep. She took off in a huff, leaving a perplexed Snape in her wake. This new development was disconcerting. He had actually become quite fond of both birds and took comfort in their oddly affectionate behavior. But he brushed it off, deciding that she must be about to lay eggs, and like human females, her hormones must be taking her on an emotional rollercoaster ride.

Poor Gomez.

The next person he figured he could ask for insight into Weasley's behavior was Potter. For a brief moment he contemplated sending Potter an invitation for the same date and time as Draco, but the fleeting picture of the two of them strutting and posturing like peacocks during mating season made him think better of it. They would be so busy trying to insult and outdo each other that no useful information would be forthcoming. What a waste of perfectly good tea.

And although the thought of suffering through an hour one-on-one with "The Chosen One" still left Snape a bit queasy, he felt that he could force himself, if only for Miss Granger's sake. So a second invitation for lunch on Monday was penned but this time only on common parchment. He still sealed the note with his Slytherin stamp however. His Slytherin pride shone through even after all these years.

Now it was Gomez's turn. The owl came when summoned and dutifully stuck out his leg. He was not overly affectionate but did allow Snape to stroke his back before flying off into the stifling humidity.

Snape then sat back in his chair and realized that he had not yet indulged in the usual afternoon nap. Suddenly overtaken with exhaustion, he peeled out of his clothes and slipped under the covers. He closed his eyes but could not clear his mind of the day's events... Miss Granger hunching over a book while slowly chewing a mouthful of food... Miss Granger sitting back and laughing at one of his snide remarks concerning her derelict ex-husband... Miss Granger fiercely standing up to said derelict with regards to her children... Miss Granger's smug expression when Snape came to her rescue... The intoxicating aroma of Miss Granger's skin, tears, and Secret Recipe as she fell into an emotional heap in his arms... Her tear stained face... Her parted lips... And here he was trying to figure out a way to get her back together with her husband...was he MAD??

Merlin, help me.

Snape tossed and turned, but finally, sleep enveloped the desire and denial that tore at his heart.

But then his subconscious mind took over and began to act out his long-imagined fantasies. He and Miss Granger found themselves intertwined, his fingers tangled in her wild mane, hers attempting to unlock his many buttons. He tasted her neck and his heart raced. Her scent combined with Secret Recipe often pushed him to the edge in real life, but to his dream senses every whiff, every taste, every touch seemed magnified. His mouth moved up to taste her lips. Those soft, supple, hot lips, wet with desire for him. He pulled her closer as the bulge in his pants expanded and became rock hard. Her hands slid around his neck as their kiss deepened. His long fingers came to rest on the small of her back as their pelvis areas pressed into each other... so hard... so hot... Her breath, her hair, her swollen breasts...

"Bloody Hell, not again!" Snape bolted upright in the bed. This time he not only had to Scourgify his sheets and comforter, he had to take himself in hand in the shower as the memory of that lecherously real dream came back to haunt him.

Well, at least he knew he wouldn't need that Viagra prescription offer that kept showing up in his junk email.

As Snape dried off, he peered through the bathroom door into the bedroom and noticed that Morticia had already returned with Draco's reply. After wrapping himself in a towel, he crossed the room, opened the window and was greeted with a light, but obviously aggressive, peck on the wrist as he reached for the attached note. He scowled at the bird but didn't reprimand her. He would worry about her behavior later.

No sooner had he rid her of the unwanted baggage then she flew through the window to points unknown. Snape opened the note, also penned on 100% papyrus, with an antique Slytherin seal. Ever the arrogant show-off, Draco's papyrus sported a pre-printed Malfoy crest at the top in full color.

Snape was not impressed.

Snape was even less impressed when he read the reply.

Dear Professor Snape,

What a pleasant surprise to hear from you after all these years. I trust you are in good health and that your free time has been well spent.

I would love to accept your invitation to tea tomorrow, but I am a very busy man and, with such short notice, I fear that I will not have time to come to your house. I hope that you will instead accept my invitation to Malfoy Manor at the same time tomorrow.

I look forward to your affirmative reply.

Best regards,

Draco Malfoy

Snape raised an eyebrow. Busy man, indeed! Snape knew that he merely wanted the meeting to take place on his turf so he could keep the upper hand.

He wondered if Lucius would be there.

*****

Sunday at four P.M. on the dot, Snape Apparated to just inside the gates of Malfoy Manor and made his way past the perfectly manicured gardens, the snow white peacocks in full display, and up to the main house. But before he could reach for the door knocker, a house-elf appeared to show him in. The tiny, clean elf led him past the white marble staircase that spiraled so perfectly up to the second floor, past the bright, sunlit parlor, and past the mahogany paneled study with its luxuriously padded dragon-skin chairs and hand carved, ebony inlaid end tables. And finally, the tiny elf opened a set of double French doors to reveal the covered patio, just as he had remembered it from all those years ago, with the stately, ornate, formal gardens forming the backdrop.

"Amazing," echoed a familiar voice from Snape's distant past. He turned on his heel to find not Draco, but Lucius, lurking in the shadows under the eves with a firewhisky in his hand. "You haven't aged a day, old man. How do you do it?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at Lucius' insincere attempt at flattery. Then the two men came together. Lucius' hand extended as a warm smile erupted on his lips, but Snape hesitated. "I'm somewhat surprised that you're here. Aren't you afraid to be seen associating with the likes of me?"

"Whatever do you mean, Severus? My door has always been open to you. Even after enduring your silence for almost two decades!"

"My silence? I wrote to you three times after I was released from Azkaban, but the charm I used on the letters told me that they had been destroyed upon arrival. I assumed that since I had suffered a conviction which labeled me as damaged goods, so to speak, you wanted nothing more to do with me. So I stayed away."

"You cut me to the quick, old friend. I never received those letters. I swear it. Someone must have intercepted them."

Snape carefully studied the lines on this cunning and manipulative face. He saw no evidence of deception, but noticed that the skin still appeared taught and supple... must be a cosmetic charm of some kind. His physique was still slim and undeniably quite handsome, even after almost twenty years. He looked suspiciously too perfect. But looks could be deceiving, especially where vain and aging wizards were concerned. His silver hair blended quite nicely with the platinum blond. But other than that, he hadn't aged a day. Literally.

Snape wondered if Lucius needed Viagra.

"Someone... in this house... destroyed those letters. I know they arrived here before they were destroyed. My charm told me that much."

Lucius seemed genuinely distressed. "I can't imagine..."

"It was I who destroyed your letters, Severus." Narcissa's cutting feminine voice jolted both men as they turned to meet her. Her steps were so even, her posture so erect, she seemed to float through the French doors onto the patio.

"My pet, why on earth..."

"He betrayed us," she spat as her usually pristine face contorted into righteous indignation. "He is responsible for my sister's death just as surely as if he had cast the Killing Curse himself!"

"But he saved Draco from prison," argued Lucius. "If he had not testified on Draco's behalf..."

Narcissa swept past her husband and stormed up to face Snape. "You used me." Her eyes shot daggers. "You used my fear and concern for my son to cement your position of favor with the Dark Lord."

"He took the Unbreakable Vow, my love," Lucius tried to persuade his fuming wife. "He put his own life in danger. Can you imagine how it would have gone for Draco if he had been the one to kill Dumbledore? With Severus' help he managed to avoid any prison time whatsoever. And as a result, he still has his honor and a place of wealth and power in wizarding society... Which is more than one could say for Severus here."

Lucius looked upon his old friend with pity, and Snape felt a twinge of resentment touch his soul.

Narcissa's hateful energy waned, but her eyes narrowed as she put the tip of her wand in Snape's face. "I would like nothing better than to hex you to Hell."

Snape appeared unmoved. "You would have every right," he admitted softly, his voice turning to velvet. "But, if it makes you feel any better, I've already been there."

Narcissa lowered her wand. "I'll never trust you again as long as I live," she hissed in a low voice. Then she turned on her stiletto heels and floated back into the house.

Lucius and Snape both let out a collective sigh. "Would you have really let her hex you, old boy?"

"What do you think?" Snape snorted with dark sarcasm.

"I would hate to see my white marble pavers stained with... anything."

Snape's lips curled ever so slightly. "Well, they wouldn't have been stained with anything of mine."

Lucius laughed. "You never change, do you?"

"Not if I can help it," Snape admitted with a smile. But as his thoughts revisited the reason why he was here in the first place, he realized just how much he had changed over the years. Not nearly as hateful or vindictive, he had mellowed considerably. And he had learned one of the most valuable lessons of all: how to forgive others... although perhaps not himself.

"Oh, by the way, Draco is running late. He asked me to stand in his stead until his arrival. He's a busy man, Severus, and you gave him almost no notice. You should be grateful that he can squeeze you in at all today. He hopes you'll understand."

So, Draco believes that his time is more valuable than mine... How humble of him.

"Actually, Lucius, it was you I was hoping to see. I didn't ask you to tea for the reasons I mentioned when I first arrived. But now that that issue is resolved, I'm just as grateful for your audience as I would have been for Draco's."

Just then, the house-elf skittered through the French doors with a tea tray. But it held not only two tea cups and the matching pot, but two tumblers with straight up firewhisky.

"Thought you might prefer a choice. After all, I gave up on tea long ago." He drained his glass and placed it on the tray, then picked up another.

Snape decided that a glass of firewhisky would indeed bring more pleasure than the tea, so he joined Lucius. They took their glasses and settled into the comfortably cushioned wicker patio chairs that overlooked the ornate formal gardens.

The idle chit chat that followed caught them both up on the previous nineteen years. Snape offered very little about his own life, since there really wasn't much to tell. But he also knew that Lucius would rather talk about himself and his family anyway. So after a couple of carefully crafted questions, Snape merely kicked back and listened.

Surprisingly, Lucius didn't have much to say about himself either, since he had enjoyed a life of leisure as he kept a low profile. But as he read between the lines, Snape got the distinct impression that Draco had taken Lucius "out of the loop" so to speak, because of his trial and subsequent probation. It was selfishly satisfying for Snape to know that Lucius, who found power so intoxicating, had been stripped of it after the war, even by his own son. So he had not gotten off completely without punishment.

And so Lucius proudly bragged to Snape about Draco's accomplishments. Snape had read several stories outlining his rise to power in the Prophet, but the blow by blow description supplied by Lucius brought many more details into focus.

Draco had written his memoirs after the war, but when no other wizarding publisher would touch the project, he started his own publishing company with what was left of the family money. And although his own book was only a mild success, he soon produced other projects that took off like wild-fire. It seemed that his talent lay not in writing, but in realizing a best-seller in the raw. He had even approached Harry Potter in hopes of an autobiography, but when Potter refused, insisting that he only wanted to get on with his life, Draco hired Rita Skeeter to write it. After her great success with Dumbledore's postmortem biography, she was anxious for a new challenge. Draco outbid her previous publisher and sealed the deal. The book made them both very rich, and his success had only grown since then.

"Skeeter wrote to me in Azkaban, requesting an interview, but I refused. Now I know why she was so anxious to speak with me."

"It was quite good. Did you ever read it?"

"Don't insult me!" Snape looked down his nose at Lucius.

Lucius snorted with laughter, spewing his drink all over himself. After quickly lifting the stains with a Cleansing Spell, he called the house-elf back to replenish their drinks.

Snape now knew where to turn when his textbook project was finished which, by his estimation, would be in another couple of weeks. But to assure that no one found out that he was the true author, he kept quiet about his plans. He would hire a foreign literary agent and take on a pseudonym when he was ready. Even Draco would never know who had truly written the books.

But as enjoyable as the afternoon had been so far, in spite of Narcissa's initial reaction, Snape was no closer to his goal. So he gently tried to steer the conversation to marital bliss and romance, in hopes of gaining some insight into the pureblood way of handling such matters.

"So, you and Narcissa still manage to live under the same roof. Quite an amazing feat after all these years. My hat's off to you."

"Yes, well, she has her private wing, I have mine. And we both have a separate entrance. It comes in handy when one wishes discretion and convenience at the same time." Lucius gave off a satisfied sigh as his eyes reflected the pleasure of a recent encounter.

"I suppose that discretion is the key, is it not?"

"Quite the key," Lucius explained. "It's amazing how much she is willing to tolerate as long as we keep up appearances."

"But if you don't love her anymore, why on earth do you bother?"

Lucius' expression turned to distain. "But I do love her, Severus. Whatever made you think that I no longer love her?"

Snape's face betrayed his obvious confusion. "You've been cheating on her for years. I just assumed that..."

Lucius threw his head back in haughty laughter. "Good God, man! Sex and love have nothing to do with each other! Sex is an adventure, a hunting expedition. Copulation is just another form of entertainment!"

Snape tried not to look disgusted, but instinctively raised an eyebrow in spite of himself.

His silence urged Lucius to continue. "Ah, did you never marry, did you never find the love of your life?"

Snape began to pay close attention to the way his firewhisky slid down the sides of his glass after he swirled the liquid around.

"I gave you a book at the end of your 5th year, remember? You seemed so distraught over that Mudblood brat who later married James Potter..." Lucius' voice trailed off as he obviously remembered the details that had come out in the trial. Then he tactfully redirected the conversation. "That book was a wealth of information. Didn't you ever read it?"

Snape's expression was inscrutable. "No, I... must have lost it somewhere along the way."

"What book is that, Father?" Draco's bright voice echoed on the hard surfaces of the covered patio.

Snape stood up to greet his official host. "Draco, it is indeed a pleasure."

They shook hands warmly. "Sorry I'm late," Draco apologized in earnest.

"Not a problem. Your father was quite entertaining and informative as always."

The house-elf returned with a tray, this time containing three glasses of amber liquid and no sign of tea

Draco grinned at his father and reiterated his initial question as the three men reached for the glasses. "What book?"

"That one about charming witches. You know... I gave you a copy at the end of your 5th year as well."

"Ah, yes, Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches," Draco drawled with a blissful gleam in his eye. "I don't think I could have ever convinced Wilhelmina to marry me without the spell on page 147."

"Ah, the 'Say Yes to Anything' spell?"

"That's the one."

"Worked on your mother like the Charm that it is."

The two Malfoys laughed as Snape looked on in quiet disbelief. So they had both used spells to woo their brides into submission. With good looks, great wealth, and power, why on earth would they have needed to resort to spells and charms?

"So you lost your copy, eh?" asked Draco. "Don't worry. I'll send you another by owl tomorrow. I bought the publishing rights when they came up for renewal five years ago. It's one of my best sellers."

"Don't bother," Snape shook his head. "I think I'm past the point of needing..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus. It's no bother at all. Only I have a word of advice," Draco put a friendly hand on Snape's shoulder. "As soon as it arrives, be sure to charm it so only males can see it. If a woman ever got a hold of a copy we would all be in mighty hot water."

"I have an idea, son. Why don't you ship them already charmed, that way there'll be no danger of a copy falling into the wrong hands."

"Great idea!" Draco exclaimed with a huge grin. "That way idiots like Ron Weasley can't screw it up for the rest of us."

Snape's heart skipped a beat. This could be exactly what he had come here for. "Whatever do you mean?"

Draco shook his head and made a face that flirted with contempt. "I was in a bar in Diagon Alley a couple of months ago and I overheard Weasley lamenting over the fact that his wife, that Mud...sorry...Muggle-witch Granger, was no longer responding to the spells he had learned from the book. He swore that the book was still in its hiding place, so he knew she hadn't found it. But nothing worked on her anymore."

Snape's mind began to race. No wonder she married Weasley. Now it was all beginning to make sense.

"Perhaps her blood is so muddy," Lucius offered with a snicker, "that such subtle magic simply can't get through."

"I suppose anything's possible!" Draco mused. "Anyway, he was talking with Theodore Nott, and Nott advised him to get a little side action, if you know what I mean." He winked at Snape. "Then the next thing ya know, he's parading around town with that harlot, Lavender Brown, on his arm for the entire wizarding world to see."

"Fool!" observed Lucius.

Snape couldn't argue with that.

"Now the moron wonders why she wants a divorce!"

"Has he no sense of honor? He's a pureblood, for Merlin's sake!"

"Yeah, but he married Hermione Granger, remember?" Draco reminded his father with a sour face.

Snape thought he saw Draco's skin begin to crawl.

Draco continued. "I would have gotten tired of her long ago."

"I would hope that you would know better than to marry such filth in the first place!"

"Now, Father, we're not supposed to be prejudiced against Muggle-witches and wizards anymore, remember?"

"Ah, yes, the politically correct term we are now expected to use." Lucius' voice dripped with disdain. "Now, you see, Severus, why Draco sequesters me here most of the time. I may cause embarrassment if he lets me out in public too often."

Snape was becoming more uncomfortable by the second as he found it increasingly difficult to play along with this blood-bashing charade. Grasping at straws, he decided to see if they could give him a bit more insight into Weasley's motives. The sooner he got what he came for, the sooner he could leave. "But there are children involved. Wouldn't that make a difference?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about the kids." Draco took on a worried look. "Scorpius tells me that Rose is smart as a whip and very talented." Then his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I think he actually likes her." His face distorted in disgust.

"Merlin's minions, I just hope he doesn't want to marry her," interjected Lucius as both he and Draco gave a shudder. "I couldn't stomach being related to the Weasley clan... not to mention that Mud-bl..."

"Father!"

"Sorry." Lucius shrugged and then paused to take a swig. "Children definitely change things," he continued. "When Narcissa first found out I was cheating, she wanted to leave me, but I threatened to keep her away from Draco for the rest of her life, and she consented to stay. Women are such sentimental creatures. So loving, so easily manipulated. Aren't they, son?"

Draco gave a knowing smile. "And thank goodness for that. I had to hold Scorpius hostage to keep Wilhelmina. But she knows now that it's a perfect arrangement, really. We share the house, we share the child, but we both see whomever we wish on the side."

"And since you're still married, you keep your wealth and your status," added Lucius.

"Of course, that shouldn't matter for Weasley," Draco chimed in. "He has neither!"

The two Malfoys broke into hideous laughter that made Snape feel almost nauseous.

The house-elf appeared again with tray in hand, only this time the three full glasses were accompanied by the firewhisky bottle so they could serve themselves.

"Can you imagine what my life would be like if divorce were a matter of course with wizards like it is in the Muggle world?" Draco asked Snape.

His eyebrows went up as he gave a barely discernable shake of his head.

"I'd be Knutless, with three or four ex-wives and three or four fat alimony checks to write, and Merlin knows how many children to support... And I'd be working my arse off for nothing!"

"Yes, this arrangement is much better," Lucius explained. "The mistress knows her place and doesn't ever expect or even hope for wedding bells. And if she decides that she doesn't like it, she can leave. There will always be another source of amusement to spring up and take her place."

"Here, here!" Draco raised his glass.

"To never-ending sources of amusement!" toasted Lucius.

Snape's heart wasn't in it, but he forced himself to join in for appearance's sake.

Their three glasses clanked together, and the Malfoys drained theirs with cheer.

Snape finished his in two gulps and gave a slight bow. "And with that ah... happy thought, I must leave you. Draco, Lucius, it has been a delightful afternoon."

"Thanks for coming, my old friend," Lucius smiled warmly.

"It was my... pleasure, I assure you," Snape replied with at least the appearance of sincerity.

"Don't wait nineteen years before you come back. You're welcome anytime," added Draco.

The same house-elf who had been waiting on them all afternoon appeared to show him out. As they approached the front door and were out of earshot of the Malfoys, the little elf reached up and touched Snape's arm gently. "Tolky is sorry that Severus Snape had to endure such evil talk about Muggle-borns. Tolky knows that Severus Snape finds it offensive."

Snape looked down at his quivering ears and tennis ball eyes with astonishment. "But, how do you..."

"Winky is Tolky's friend," he whispered. "Winky tells Tolky that Severus Snape is trying to help Miss Granger. Miss Granger has done so much to make house-elves' lives better. If Severus Snape is Miss Granger's friend, he is our friend, too."

Snape couldn't help but smile.

"Tell Winky that Tolky says hello."

Snape nodded. "I will." Then he slipped out of the front door and headed home.

*****

When Snape made it home, he informed Winky that he had met Tolky which delighted Winky to no end. It turned out that Tolky was Dobby's brother. They had all known each other for decades, and Tolky was one of the elves that Winky would visit when she had free time. Snape came away with the distinct impression that Winky and Tolky rather liked each other.

That evening he kept his computer dialog with Miss Granger limited to small talk. Although he now had a solid theory explaining Weasley's behavior, he didn't want to mention what he had unearthed until after he had a chance to talk with Potter.

But when the noon hour arrived on Monday, Snape's doorbell remained silent. Winky was busy readying their sumptuous lunch as she set the table and put the final touches on the main course. But the minutes continued to tick slowly by.

"If he's not here by 12:30, Winky, you may have his share. No doubt, I would prefer your company over his anyway."

"Winky hopes nothing has happened to Harry Potter. Winky thinks Harry Potter would not slight Master Severus like this on purpose."

"Only time will tell. I wouldn't give a rat's arse, if I didn't need to speak with him about Miss Granger's predicament," Snape commented acidly. "Oh, to hell with him. I'm starved. Let's eat!"

Snape transfigured the chair to elevate Winky up higher so she could more easily reach the food, then he pushed the chair in for her and was just about to sit down himself, when the doorbell finally rang. "Sit there, Winky," he instructed as she began to climb down from her tall chair. "I'm up. I'll get it."

He slowly made his way through the study to the front door and opened it with a scowl. "You're late!"

"I'm sorry," Harry explained, feeling rather like he was back in school. "I Apparated to the wrong place. I thought I could get here by Apparating to the playground I recalled from viewing your memories in the Pensieve, but I ended up at the old, run-down playground in my aunt and uncle's neighborhood instead. So I had to go back to the office and look at a map to figure out how to get here."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

Potter started laughing, and Snape couldn't help but let the hint of a smirk dance across his lips as he stepped aside to let Potter enter.

"Mr. Potter, you remember Winky. She was Barty Crouch's house-elf."

"Good to see you again, Winky."

"And Winky is happy to see Harry Potter."

"Winky, could you please set another place at the table?"

"Oh, no, Master Severus, Winky will eat in the kitchen," she said as she pushed the tall chair aside to make way for an unaltered chair for Potter to sit in.

"I insist, Winky. I'm sure Mr. Potter will be relieved to have another person at the table." He stole a glance at Potter and noticed a touch of surprise on his face.

"Are you a mind reader now?"

"Of course not, but I remember our history all too well."

"Right."

Another place setting magically appeared across the table from Winky's, and the two men settled down in their chairs. With a wave of his hand, Snape directed the bread basket towards Potter, who gratefully took it and pulled out a freshly baked roll. Then came the roasted chicken already sliced, the mashed potatoes, and the rich, brown gravy. Some green beans mixed with toasted almonds rounded out the meal.

"Wow!" commented Potter, "this is quite a spread for lunch. I won't be able to eat dinner tonight."

Vivaldi's Four Seasons kept the mood light as they enjoyed the exquisitely prepared meal.

"Winky, as always, you have outdone yourself."

Winky gave Snape a broad smile. "Winky knows that Harry Potter is a very special guest."

Snape would never have admitted that out loud, but he knew in his heart that it was true.

"Why, thank you, Winky. I really appreciate that," Harry replied graciously. He nodded his head towards the elf, but stole a quick glance at Snape and noticed his lip curling slightly. Harry tried not to let the smile that flirted with his lips grow into a full blown grin.

Several more mouthfuls were chewed and swallowed in a rather awkward silence before Harry spoke again.

"Ron tells me that you and Hermione seem to be spending a lot of time together lately."

Snape nearly choked on his food. "A lot of time together?" he asked, obviously quite irritated. "Since the beginning of March...and that has been how many months, four?...we have dined together three times, twice for lunch and once for dinner. Does three times in four months define 'a lot' to you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry was obviously taken aback by Snape's hostile reaction to his attempt at small talk. "No, sir."

"He just seems to show up whenever I'm there. And he's always quite determined to ruin her day." Since the conversation had taken this particular turn, Snape figured he may as well begin the interrogation that he had planned from the start. He had already suffered through enough pleasantries for one weekend. "Can you tell me why that is, Mr. Potter?" Snape placed his knife and fork down on his plate with a clank. "You know him better than anyone else. Why is he treating her this way? What on earth has she done to deserve such cruelty?"

Potter sat back in his chair, too shocked to reply. His mouth hung open and his eyes stared widely at Snape in total disbelief. When he finally came to his senses, his first thoughts were in defense of Ron. But then the reality of the situation began to sink in. If Hermione had been in distress and his best friend had not been the cause, wouldn't he also try to get to the bottom of the problem? He then put two and two together and realized that Snape cared for Hermione and was trying to help her. He wanted to see her happy just as Harry did. He wanted to see her get her children back.

Then another thought occurred to him as Harry's mind began to race through the long-forgotten memories of Snape's that he had viewed in the Pensieve those many years ago. Snape had come from a tumultuous home. He had looked pale and sickly in those memories. But he was obviously an intelligent and sensitive boy, not to mention talented. There were so many similarities between the young Snape and Hugo that Harry unconsciously gasped as he realized it. Snape saw himself in Hugo, and he didn't want the boy to suffer the same fate because of his parents' failures. That's why he was so willing to brew Hugo's potion and why he was so adamant that Hugo consume it. Hermione had tried to convey that very idea to him in Diagon Alley a while back, but he wasn't sure then. Now it made perfect sense.

"You haven't answered my question, Mr. Potter!"

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I...I don't know, sir. I really don't understand it. It's not like Ron to act this way."

"I came to the same conclusion on Saturday afternoon after his vulgar display ruined another perfectly good meal. This is why I invited you here. I felt that he must have a reason for acting with such cruelty. He must have a goal, something he wants. I was hoping you could shed some light in that regard. Has he said anything to you? Mentioned any ulterior motives?"

Harry began to push the mashed potatoes around on his plate and let out a huge sigh. "No, not really. Everyone in his family has tried to pressure him into letting Hermione see the kids, but he won't budge. He's got the lot of them mad at him. But it doesn't matter. He's determined not to let her see them."

Snape's thoughts drifted back to the previous day's conversation at Malfoy Manor. To get their wives to stay, each had to hold his child hostage. That must be it. "Do you think he wants her back?"

"Well, if he does, he's got a warped way of showing it... parading around with Lavender Brown." Harry's voice betrayed a hint of disgust.

Snape's mood softened. He knew that Potter had been pulled between his two best friends for decades, and he imagined that it had not been an easy tightrope to walk.

"Are you no longer his partner in crime, his confidant?"

"Not in this instance. He knows I'm on Hermione's side this time... Besides, I'm not a pureblood. Keeping a woman on the side is something I would never condone, much less actually do."

"Well, it's nice to know, with all that you've suffered, that there is something left of your moral fiber." Snape thought about that ridiculous book that both Malfoys had had to resort to in order to get and keep their wives. "You didn't stoop so low as to use some cheesy spell book to woo your bride, did you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry knitted his brow with a puzzled look. Then it dawned on him. "Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches?"

Snape didn't mention the brand new copy that Draco had sent over that morning by eagle owl post that was still wrapped in brown paper on the sofa in his study.

"Not you, too?" Snape didn't even try to hide his disgust.

"No, no...Ron gave me a copy after sixth year, but I wanted real love, not some coerced, twisted form of..."

Snape could almost see the light bulb turn on over Potter's head.

"Hermione was never really in love with him."

"Obviously."

"She loved him like she loves me, as a friend. They were never really suited for each other."

Snape raised his eyebrows and nodded knowingly.

"They should never have been married in the first place."

"Bingo! Good job, Mr. Potter. Winky, bring this man his prize. He's earned it."

Winky looked at Snape in an utter state of cluelessness.

"Dessert, Winky. Time for dessert." Snape gave her a quick wink.

"Oh," she whispered sheepishly. Then she disappeared into the kitchen with a snap of her fingers.

"Did Miss Granger ever admit to you that she found the book?"

"Did she tell you?"

"No, she hasn't mentioned anything to me about it. But my sources tell me that the book's spells no longer work on her, which leads me to believe that she found it and figured out a way to counteract their effects."

"Your sources?" Harry eyed him suspiciously.

Snape's look was inscrutable. "What has she told you?"

"This has to be off the record. If she knew I was telling you any of this..."

"I'll never breathe a word."

"...she would kill me."

"My ability to keep secrets is, as you know, legendary."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he sized up Snape's sincerity. Then, after a moment, he finally admitted, "She found the book shortly after Hugo was born. But instead of destroying it and confronting Ron, she learned how to counteract the spells. Then slowly, over the course of the following months, she got a much more accurate sense of what Ron was really like as a husband and father, how he had been using her and controlling her, and how the spells had affected her decisions. I think her original plan was to wait for Hugo to enter Hogwarts before leaving him, but when he started his blatant affair with Lavender, she just couldn't take it anymore."

"His blatant affair... What a fool." Snape's irritation with Weasley showed plainly on his face. "It is horrid enough that he betrayed her with his infidelity, but did the thought ever occur to him to act with discretion in order to spare her feelings?" His irritation grew to resentment as he rose from his chair and began to pace the room. "For Merlin's sake, even the Malfoys have enough sensitivity to use discretion when it comes to their mistresses. At least that way, their wives can go out in public while maintaining their dignity."

Harry observed Snape's reaction with great curiosity. Snape found it repulsive that Ron was cheating, but more importantly, he clearly cared about Hermione getting hurt. Since when did Severus Snape care about anyone's feelings, especially Hermione's?

"I don't think he considered her feelings at all in the matter. He just wanted..." Harry was too embarrassed to finish his sentence.

"A good SHAG? Is that what you were going to say?" Snape was incensed.

"Don't get mad at me," Harry pleaded defensively. "I'm not the one who hurt her."

"And she did get hurt, trust me."

"I know. I was there. It hurt me to find out. I can't imagine what it did to her." Harry could almost feel his own heart breaking as he recalled that day in Diagon Alley. But he was astounded when his eyes met Snape's and he saw his own sorrow reflected there mixed with the hatred that he knew was aimed squarely at Ron. At that moment he knew that Snape's feelings for Hermione ran deep, very deep indeed.

"I'm not a pureblood, Professor. And usually Ron doesn't act like one either. But lately, when he's not with Lav-Lav..."

"Lav-Lav?" Snape looked as if he were becoming nauseous.

"... he's taken to hanging out in a bar with other purebloods. I know how they talk in there, and I can't stomach it, so I stay away."

"Lav-Lav?" Snape appeared as if he were about to puke.

"Don't ask," Harry finally advised him.

Snape made an attempt to recover his composure. "It seems that the wizarding world has yet to rise above their prejudices, even after all these years."

"It would seem so." Harry paused for a moment as the injustice of it all sank in. "I wouldn't be surprised if those blokes have been filling his head full of malarkey about what a pureblood marriage is supposed to be like, with a loving wife at home with the kids and a mistress or two on the side. Ron just never imagined that Hermione would leave him."

"Could he be trying to lure her back by using his children as bait?"

"As revolting as that sounds, I suppose it's possible."

"Other purebloods I have known have used similar tactics."

"I don't know if Hermione will ever go back to him though, now that he has humiliated her in public."

"Not to mention the fact that she doesn't love him," Snape stated with an air of triumph.

"I wish they could both simply calm down and talk this out. It would be infinitely better for the children."

"So true, but have you seen their attempts at communication lately? It's a farce."

"Yeah, all they do is yell at each other. They can't calm down long enough to listen."

"Their emotions get in the way of the words." As soon as he had uttered the phrase, Snape saw a possible solution to the communication problem. He wasn't sure what would come of it, but he knew it was worth a try. "What if all they had were the words and nothing else?"

"What do you mean?" Suddenly, just from the different tone in Snape's voice, Harry felt hopeful.

"What if we could take the emotions away, the body language, the elevated aggression? What if the volume knob could be turned off completely?"

"How in the world are you going to accomplish that, Professor? With a spell? A new potion?"

"No, Mr. Potter. With a Muggle device... the computer."