Likely Suspect

Dislcamer: I take no credit for the characters or their circumstances. I make no money from the writing and sharing of this story. It all belongs to the amazing J. K. Rowling.

Kudos: As always, I would like to thank my wonderful betas, JENGEORGE and NervousAboutAngels, for such a fantastic job at keeping me on message, and Writer Merrin here at The Petulant Poetess deserves the credit for catching all of the grammar and spelling mistakes that I make – a monumental task, to say the least.

Chapter 22

Likely Suspect

Hermione stretched and yawned as her fuzzy mind began to focus. Without opening her eyes, she felt around on the other side of the bed but was met with disappointment when she only found cold, empty sheets. Rolling over to face the void, she opened her eyes and realized, with a stab of heartfelt pain, that her honeymooning days were only a dream. But it felt so REAL! she thought. The deep love for her that was reflected in his beautiful black eyes, his soft, gentle touch, and, Merlin, the motion of the ocean! She could remember every deliciously exquisite detail. Could sex really be that good? It had never even come close to that with Ron.

Then Hermione's mind drifted beyond the dream to the realities of the previous day's events. She had almost managed to admit that she loved Professor Snape in his attic, but he wouldn't let her say the words. He had all but admitted that he felt the same way about her but would not allow a relationship due to his legal status. And yet, she felt surely that he was about to kiss her in spite of everything when Winky interrupted. Would he have kissed her? Passionately? Or would it have merely been short and sweet? She could only speculate.

But she could do more than speculate as to the true origins of those potions textbooks he was testing. He had written them and used a pseudonym in the hope of getting them published. Since he had lost his original textbook from school, he had needed to start from scratch to re-create the new and improved recipes from his youth. She had no doubt that, since he had taken twenty years, he had tweaked each recipe to perfection, building and improving on the changes she had seen in the Half-Blood Prince's potions book all those years ago. Now it was up to her to make sure that Harry didn't ruin everything for him. She knew that if she spoke to Harry before he saw the new texts, Harry would gladly keep Professor Snape's secret.

Hermione heaved a heavy sigh and rolled out of bed. Her time at the Ministry was drawing to a close, and she had a mountain of research to do if she could even hope to narrow down the suspects in the blackmail case. As she got dressed, a thought occurred to her. Perhaps, with Harry's help to acquire the Minister's permission, she could continue her research one afternoon per week, even after she began her teaching duties at Hogwarts. She would need to work out an accommodating teaching schedule with Headmistress McGonagall, of course. But she felt certain that, once Minerva understood what was at stake, she would surely give her consent.

With this idea in mind, as well as the need to speak to him about the soon-to-be-released potions books, she sent Harry an interoffice memo the instant she made it to her cubical, and then she headed to the Records Office to continue her research. She received his return memo shortly, agreeing to meet her for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron.

When lunchtime arrived, Hermione piled the Immigration Records books from the past twenty years up on the counter, signed the log book, and informed Mrs. Oddfellow that she would return in the afternoon. Then she headed to the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry was waiting for her. He had procured them a table in a quiet corner of the pub and was making short work of a bowl of chips when she slid into the chair beside him. She leaned in to kiss his cheek and whispered into his ear, "We need to talk somewhere with the utmost privacy."

As she pulled away, he knitted his brow. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She nodded. "It's not about me."

"Snape?"

She neither confirmed nor denied his accusation. "We can't talk here," was her only reply.

"I already ordered. Why don't you get yourself something too, and we can take it with us." Then he smiled conspiratorially and asked, "Your place or mine?"

Hermione snickered. "Isn't Ginny home with Lily?"

Harry nodded.

"Better make it my place, then."

They waited impatiently for their food as she explained her desire to continue her research to uncover potential blackmail suspects. He felt that, under the circumstances, the Ministry would happily give her continued access to the Records Office. He might even be able to keep her on the payroll on some level. Hermione didn't get her hopes up, but she knew that the extra money would come in handy since she was taking a pay-cut to become a Hogwarts professor.

The reduction in pay would not have concerned her had it not been for her desire to keep her parents' house. Most of the Hogwarts staff called the school their permanent home. Since most professors remained on staff for decades, it didn't make much economic sense to keep a separate home. Professor Snape was one of the few in its history that had actually maintained a separate residence during his teaching years. His circumstances had been unique, of course, since he needed to maintain some privacy for his role as a double agent.

"I do have one concern, Harry," she added after they had received their food in "to go" bags and were making their way into the back ally to Disapparate. "I'm almost certain that the blackmailer is a Ministry employee. We must be careful to keep this investigation as low-key as possible so the offender doesn't find out and try to thwart our efforts."

"Right," Harry replied thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought of that. If whoever it is gets wind of what we're doing, they might undermine us somehow. They could even provide false evidence that could lead us to accuse someone who is completely innocent."

"Or discredit us so no one would believe our findings."

"We're going to need to be really sneaky."

Hermione smiled and nodded knowingly. "Just like old times."

Harry grinned and raised his eyebrows. "How about your kitchen?"

"The kitchen it is."

They both Disapparated on the spot and reappeared in Hermione's kitchen. The table beckoned, but they busied themselves retrieving napkins, plates, glasses and pumpkin juice from the usual hiding places before seating themselves to share the meal.

"Okay," Harry insisted, cutting to the chase. "What's wrong with Snape?"

"Nothing's wrong. But he has a favor to ask of you. And I really hope that you'll agree, for both our sakes."

Harry's face had become a big question mark at this point. But his mouth was full, so she continued on uninterrupted.

"If all goes as planned, when our children get their class descriptions and book lists in a couple of weeks, we will be required to purchase a new Potions textbook for each of them."

"Why?" he asked crossly. "I paid good Galleons for the ones they've got. Why in the name of Merlin would they need new ones?"

"When you read through the new ones, you'll understand why. The recipes are cutting edge and all vast improvements over their predecessors."

Harry scoffed. "They couldn't be that much better... could they?"

"I've seen the manuscripts. The author is brilliant," she stated flatly.

"That good, eh?" Harry began to question her judgment, but thought better of it. "Then I guess they'll be worth the money. And who is this brilliant author?"

"The book's cover had the name Ari Shamamian on it."

Harry let go an indignant snort. "Never heard of him."

"Neither have I, but the recipes are amazing, just the same. I think the write-up said that he was from Armenia."

"Never been to Armenia." After a moment came the obvious question that Hermione had been waiting for. "But what does all this have to do with Snape?"

"Can't you guess?" When Harry's face remained blank, she continued. "Your sixth year at Hogwarts, did you follow the book, or did you take the advice that was written in its margins by the Half-Blood Prince?"

"You know the answer to that as well as I do. Of course I took the Prince's advice. He was bloody amazing. His improvements were so simple, but so effective."

"If you looked through this new textbook and saw some of the same improvements, what would you think?"

"Dunno." Harry shrugged. "Maybe that gifted potioneers think alike?"

"What if the recipe changes were exactly the same? The style, the flair, the finesse of this Ari Shamamian was a carbon copy of the changes you remember from your sixth-year textbook?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. Hermione could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. A smirk that Professor Snape would have been proud of slowly danced across his face. "Snape wrote it under a pseudonym because he's a convicted felon."

Hermione beamed at him.

"And he was afraid that I would recognize his style just as you did when you saw the manuscript."

She nodded slowly, still beaming. Then she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. "Tell no one. Not your kids, not Ron. Not even Ginny... Please. If word ever leaks out..." She shuddered briefly at the thought. "He has been working on this project, tweaking and perfecting every recipe, even inventing some new ones, for almost twenty years. If the public finds out that he wrote it, they'll reject it, no matter how good it is."

"And what fools they would be," he said as he remembered how much better his potions had turned out his sixth year when he had followed the Prince's advice. "Tell him not to worry. I won't tell a soul."

"Thanks, Harry. It will mean a great deal to him."

They continued to eat in companionable silence for a while when Harry suddenly had another question. "Hey, did you and Snape ever straighten out that misunderstanding? What was it about...flowers or something?"

Hermione's mind briefly flashed back to the scene in the attic, and she felt herself blush profusely. Her eyes dropped to her food as Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"Is that a 'yes' then?" he joked. "Please tell me you two finally have something going on."

She rolled her eyes as she felt her shade deepen. "No. It's not like that. We're just friends." But she couldn't hide her disappointment.

"Talk to me," he insisted.

She took in a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. "I think he feels the same way about me that I feel about him, but he won't let anything happen between us because of his criminal record. He doesn't want to ruin my career at Hogwarts before it even starts."

This time his hand covered hers with a warm and friendly pat. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. If there's anything I can do..."

"I wish I knew who on the Wizengamot gave the one dissenting vote to not allow Dumbledore's portrait to testify in his trial. I just know he would have been exonerated. If they would just listen to reason."

"If we could only have Confunded them just for a minute while the vote was taken."

"Who on that court had it out for Professor Snape?"

"No one that I know of, although several of them have a real mean streak."

"Meanness is one thing. But who would be horrid enough to send an innocent man to Azkaban?"

"It would have to be someone really, really spiteful."

"Evil to the core."

They both barked out the same conclusion at the same time. "Umbridge."

"Toad!"

"Don't you mean pink toad with a bow in her hair?"

The two almost choked from laughter. "Nothing will ever change her mind about anything!" said Harry.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione contemplated out loud. "What if we made her write, 'I will not send innocent people to jail' about a thousand times with one of those special quills of hers?"

"I doubt even that would change her mind. She has hated Snape ever since he wouldn't give her more Veritaserum to use on me that night she caught us in her office. She was pushing for a murder charge, but too many of her peers were against the idea."

Hermione's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Isn't there any way to bypass her and call for another vote?"

"No," Harry explained. "As long as she doesn't have a conflict of interest, she would have to die or voluntarily step down, or be forcibly removed for a vote to take place without her. I'm afraid that Snape is stuck with that conviction as long as she's a member of the Wizengamot."

Suddenly, another thought came to Hermione. She had been circling around this conclusion during her hours in the Records Office for days but couldn't quite see it. Now it jumped out at her like a jack-in-the-box. "You know, Harry, in all of my research, her name keeps popping up more than anyone else's. During the war she was head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission. It was her job to check up on everyone's background to make sure that they had the blood-lines that they claimed to have. Of course, the Muggle-born Registration Commission was dissolved just after Voldemort was defeated. But since then, she has gone from Foreign Relations Under-Secretary to Secretary, and then she was finally promoted to Secretary General a few years ago. That position would give her enough clout and connections throughout the wizarding world to double-check anyone's background."

Harry's eyes lit up with anticipation. "So you think Umbridge is the blackmailer?"

"At this point in time, the evidence seems to be pointing to her."

"But can you prove it?"

"Not at the moment. But if she travels on business for the Ministry, she has to file a report to get reimbursed for her expenses. That would require lists and receipts detailing where she went, where she stayed, the nature of her visit, perhaps even the names of the people that she talked with while she was there. If I can prove that she was checking up on people, that would be a start."

"Yeah, but there's no law against checking into someone's background. That would only be circumstantial evidence, and not enough to convict her."

"Did Quintsky say that the blackmailer's fee would rise as he made more money?"

"I believe he did mention that."

Hermione became more animated as she realized that they were close to a breakthrough. "What if I could prove that she was checking up on those people who were being blackmailed to see how much money they made? Would that be enough?"

"I don't know, but it would help us know for sure if we were headed in the right direction. But how can you prove that?"

She giggled at the fact that the most irritating aspect of dealing with the Records Office might actually help to put Umbridge away. "When you want to look at any book from the Records Office, you must sign it out. They keep a record of who checked out which record book and when. And you can't leave the room with the book. Umbridge could have gone in there every month and checked the sales tax payment records to see if the shopkeeper's income had increased. That way she would know when he could afford to pay her more. And we would have the sign-out log and the Records Office attendant's eyewitness report to prove that she did the research."

"Hermione, that's great," he said with reservations, "but I still don't think it's enough to convict her. We need iron-clad proof."

A determined line formed on her lips as she knitted her brows together. "What if I could tie every blackmail victim's arrival with a trip by her to their homeland, then regular visits to check on the tax rolls that coincide with the blackmailer's rates increasing? What if we could get deposit records from Gringotts that matched the amounts that she was getting paid?"

"All of those things put together might be enough, but there is one snag. She's on the Wizengamot, and it takes a unanimous vote by them to subpoena bank records from Gringotts. Although I'm sure she would not be included in the vote for conflict of interest reasons, who knows what sort of influence she might be wielding on the other members?"

Hermione sighed dejectedly. Umbridge was so highly regarded and so deeply entrenched in wizarding society that she would be almost impossible to bring down. They would have to catch her completely by surprise. They would need to dig deep into her past, and they would require utmost secrecy as they did so, or she would retaliate to such an extent that their lives would most likely be left in ruins.

"We may have a rough road ahead," she stated with a mischievous grin on her face.

He wagged his eyebrows at her and smiled. "That never stopped us before."

*****

Later that night, Hermione IMed Professor Snape to relay Harry's promise of secrecy, which he was relieved to receive. But other than that, she heard nothing else from him for the remainder of the week. She assumed that Draco had continued to check up on his progress and that he had to at least appear to be brewing like mad every time he happened to drop by.

*****

Snape had indeed been grateful for the news that Potter had agreed to keep his secret. Perhaps tolerating the boy was worth the trouble after all. In retrospect, he really wasn't nearly as infuriating as an adult as he had been as an adolescent.

Now he needed to placate Draco and get the texts into publication so his fortune could be earned sooner rather than later. He knew without a doubt that he had amassed enough proof that the new texts were indeed a breakthrough so that Draco would go to extremes in promoting them. He would never acquire the kind of money the Malfoys had, but he figured that by Christmas he would be rich beyond his own modest dreams of avarice.

And so he found himself with a folder full of carefully hand-written notes (he couldn't let on that he owned a computer) and a box full of phials, both archaic and modern, in Draco's waiting room on Monday morning. He was not kept waiting this time. In fact, Draco had been impatiently pacing his office in anticipation of his arrival and burst through the door as soon as Snape announced himself to the receptionist.

"Get us some coffee, Melinda. Severus, if I recall, you prefer yours black and strong. Come, come. Put this stuff down here and sit. Make yourself comfortable. Look!"

Draco handed Snape the prototype texts already bound in forest green leather with a moving photo that featured a scale, a sliver knife on a teak chopping block, and a bubbling cauldron, all resting on a black marble-topped work-table. The Gothic letters embossed in sliver across the top read, "The Art of Potion Making, Book One." Across the bottom, also embossed but in black letters, read the words, "By Ari Shamamian."

"Couldn't resist throwing a little Slytherin pride into the color scheme. The author didn't specify a design for the cover, so I felt free to use my discretion. What do you think?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Classy. Have you already started production?"

"No, no. I was waiting for you. What's the final verdict?" He sat perched on the edge of his desk, his eyebrows raised so high on his head that they almost disappeared into his hair-line.

Snape gazed with pride at the books in his hand. He caressed the leather bindings and carefully opened the one on top to the title page. But to see someone else's name there instead of his own brought him just a twinge of pain. He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. No one would ever know of his brilliance, his hard work, his sacrifices. Just as with everything else he had ever done, he would remain anonymous, fading silently into the background.

Just then, Melinda came in with their coffee. Snape nodded his silent gratitude, but Draco ignored her, and she left as quietly as she had come in.

"Well?" Draco became impatient with his apparent lack of enthusiasm. "What. Do. You. Think?"

Snape took a sip of his coffee and sighed wistfully. He so enjoyed stringing Draco along. After a pregnant pause, he finally eased Draco's apprehension. "I wish I had had these when I was in school. Hell, I wish I had been able to teach with these. These recipes are far and away an improvement over the old texts."

"Yes, yes, that's what Slughorn said as well. And that professor from Durmstrang, what's his name..."

"Moskovich?"

"Right. Moskovich, raved about it also. This is marvelous... great news. I'll make a fortune on these books."

Snape had seen that look in Draco's eyes before. Greed, pure and simple. As if he didn't already have an obscene pile of gold in his Gringotts vault. But, in this case, Draco's greed spelled wealth for him as well. "You should try to procure world-wide publishing rights to these. Every house-hold should buy a copy. You should promote it that way. If you need proof, I brought along quite an assortment of..."

Draco sprang up from his desk and snatched the books from Snape's hands in one fluid motion. "I knew you'd come to that conclusion," he interrupted. His exuberance was infectious. "Marabell!" he shouted to the room at large.

Instantly, a tiny elf popped into the space beside Draco's desk. She bowed low and announced, "Marabell at your service, Master Draco."

As she straightened herself up, Draco shoved the two large tomes in her face. "Here, take these to production at once. I need twenty thousand copies ready to be delivered by the end of the week." With another pop, she was gone, and he turned back to Snape. "If they are well received at Hogwarts, we'll produce enough for all of the English speaking countries, and then I'll get them translated."

"They should be well received," Snape reassured him. "They are likely to revolutionize the Potions business."

"I imagine that even St. Mungo's will want several copies."

"Don't forget every wizarding Apothecary shop in Britain."

"If I approach the marketing aspect correctly, even people who don't have school-age kids will want a copy." Draco could hardly contain his enthusiasm. He clapped his hands together and rubbed in an almost sinister fashion, like a picture of the Muggle, Scrooge. Then he regarded Snape with a touch of pity. "I don't mean to give you the bum's rush, but, thanks to you, I've got loads of work to do. So..." Draco extended his hand, but Snape didn't reciprocate.

He raised an eyebrow at Draco's rudeness. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Draco's face went blank for just a split second, but then he smirked. "Right, right. The other half of your fee. Sorry. Honest mistake."

Snape only snorted as he gathered his notes and laid them carefully on top of his box of little glass phials.

Draco whipped out his checkbook and sprawled out the script that would allow Snape to make another sizeable deposit into his meager Gringotts account.

"That's more like it," he commented as he took Draco's check. This time, he gladly extended his hand to shake.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Severus."

Snape smiled. "Likewise. I trust you'll keep me in mind if Mr. Shamamian writes any more books?"

"You can count on it. And I'll send you a couple of copies once I have plenty to spare."

*****

As the week progressed, Hermione and Professor Snape corresponded at night via email. They continued to skirt the issue of seeing each other face to face. But Hermione so desperately wanted to see him, to touch him, to feel his arms around her, even if the results were only a friendly hug. His mere presence in the same room brought her such joy that an actual romance would most likely give her heart failure. A friendship would be better... for both of them. Or so she kept telling herself.

Thursday night, their usual IM banter was in full swing when Hermione had an idea.

MuggleBornWitch: Now that you have a bit more time to spare, perhaps I can interest you in dinner at my place this Sunday evening.

Snape grunted as he read her message. He had almost kissed her that day in the attic. His heart ached just thinking about it. He couldn't put himself in such a predicament again.

HalfBloodPrince: After the incident in my attic, I'm not sure that dinner alone with you is such a good idea.

MuggleBornWitch: We won't be alone. My children will be here. Hugo keeps talking about you. He would love to see you again. And he is running low on his potion. Wouldn't you like to deliver it in person?

Snape sat in his chair and stared at the screen. If her kids were there to watch their every move, wouldn't that be enough to keep them from temptation? Or would he feel as if he was being tortured all evening because of her very presence in the room? He had promised to be her friend. If he was going to keep that promise, he would have to get used to being near her and keeping his libido in check at the same time.

HalfBloodPrince: As long as your children will be there, I guess no harm should come of it.

MuggleBornWitch: You'll find out when you come on Sunday.

Snape chuckled at her reply. For a Gryffindor, she certainly could display her share of manipulative Slytherin traits.