Seven

Voldemort Plus Ten: 2008

The time: passing

Time flies when you're having fun. And Hermione, to her surprise, was having a lot of fun.

She discovered the joys of bullying Arthur Weasley into some semblance of efficiency rather than running round after him picking up the pieces like a good little minion. Arthur worked well and had many strengths, but he needed a firm hand. (Which explained a lot about Molly.) Hermione savoured the knowledge that she was, effectively, running the Ministry, but doing it behind the scenes – Arthur was the front man, dealing with the whingers; she was the eminence grise. There were days when she almost wished she had moustaches to twirl.

Her afternoons she spent at home with her splendid new computer, working her way through the morass of British tax systems and laws. It was frustrating, since for every day when she thought she was making progress she had another where she felt as if she'd been beating her head to a bloody stump on the keyboard, but on the other hand, it was research. She'd always liked getting her teeth into a problem, and this was a meaty one indeed. She had no answers as yet, and over the two weeks that followed the trip to Gringotts, she had begun to face the fact that things were looking bad for Lucius and, consequently, for the rest of them. But she was damned if she was going to be beaten. Severus took to saying that on her example, the symbol of Gryffindor ought to be a mule.

And then there was the company she kept.

She had lunch a couple of times with Harry and Ron in the Ministry canteen, but although she got on well enough with Harry, there was no sense of a deeper connection any more, which saddened her. Between her and Ron, there was too much history and jealousy, underscored by the loving counsel of his wife, to allow even that much. She tried to restore their friendship, but it was plain that he was only there to satisfy Harry. She was even honest enough to admit to the pair of them that, stuck in a morass of bureaucracy and committees as she was, she envied them their opportunities to go out and use real magic. Ron thought she was being patronising. They argued and parted company.

"I've been flogging that particular dead horse for far too long," she said regretfully over dinner. "It's just that they represent so much of what's been important in my life. It's hard to accept that the friendship's not really there any more." She sighed.

"They've had more than they deserve of you over the years, in any case," replied Severus. "A combination of mediocrity, luck and recklessness that would have failed ten times over without your support."

"Severus!"

"Don't bother defending them, Hermione. I saw you all grow up – remember? I can accept that you were justified in giving them all that energy and intelligence while there was a threat, but all through Auror training, too? I've been poking around, and I strongly suspect you only dropped out of the Department of Mysteries programme and joined them because they had to have your help to tie their shoelaces."

"But..."

"You wouldn't be tying Arthur's now, if it weren't for your constant need to try to bring them up to scratch."

"Well, it's a bloody good thing for us all that I am with Arthur now!"

"You'd do better to leave them behind, Hermione, before they hamper you further. And anyway, it's no use trying to resurrect something long dead."

"Oh, really?" she sniped, looking pointedly at the scar on his neck.

"Children, children," interposed Lucius. "Hermione, I think what Severus is trying to tell you, in his uniquely chivalrous fashion, is that you are, and always have been, much too good for Potter and Weasley. And that you should be glad that you are now completely at liberty to devote yourself to your own most worthy and ambitious goals – once you've seen to mine, of course."

Yes indeed, the early and rosy days of Hermione and Severus' romance were spent, not in each other's exclusive company, but with the frequent and, curiously enough, not unwelcome presence of Lucius Malfoy.

On the evening during which the preceding conversation took place, our happy couple were dining at Malfoy Manor, having already formed the habit of alternating between there and Hermione's flat. Their first evening had been spent in seclusion, indulging in the murmur of sweet nothings and the ritual disembowelment of the idiotic statements they had found, variously, in government memos viewed at Downing Street, Ministry development proposals, the daily papers, and the evening's offerings on television. The following evening, Lucius invited them to a sumptuous repast at the Manor, where the conversation flowed like wine, and the wine like water. The day after, Severus discovered that Hermione hated cooking, and that if he were not to subsist on take-away food or tinned beans while in her company, he was going to have to do something about it. He Flooed the Malfoy elves for supplies, which arrived in a large basket borne by Lucius, who stayed, but graciously did not overstay.

For her part, Hermione learned that Severus was as finicky and obsessive in the kitchen as he had ever been in a Potions classroom, and while he did not actually deduct house points for talking, she could see that the instinct remained. Even silent ogling of his hands and arms while he worked was discouraged, much to her disappointment. But while Severus was ignoring her for the two hours that seemed necessary to the construction of a salad, she didn't have to be lonely – not with Lucius for a companion. He proved to be entertaining and widely knowledgeable about many things, and despite the perplexity caused by his constant flirtatious teasing, and the knowledge that she was not as immune to it as she felt she ought to be, she had to admit that it was pleasant having him around.

*

Severus stopped in the doorway as he returned from the bathroom. Hermione lay asleep in the dim glow of the streetlights through the curtains, naked but for his green silk tie. Looking at her, he couldn't quite believe his luck.

"I know you're there," she said, and stretched provocatively, deliberately acting the wanton for him.

How privileged he was. No one else saw the woman beneath the smart robes and the officious manner. No-one except perhaps.... He suppressed the unexpected wish that Lucius were there to share his pleasure in the sight. He shook his head. Close as their friendship was, some territories were best left unexplored.

Hermione opened her eyes.

"Well? Are you bringing that body back to me or not?" she asked impatiently.

"Why don't you like Lucius?" inquired Severus, fitting himself against her lush curves and pulling the duvet up.

"What makes you think I don't like him?" She snuggled close and idly ran her fingers to and fro across his stomach.

"He's concerned. You never go to the Manor without me, despite his invitation."

"That was serious? All that 'come freely, go safely' stuff? I didn't think he really meant it – I'm just not sure I'm really all that welcome, being what I am, and all..."

"Lucius never says things like that lightly, Hermione. And as for your being a Muggle-born, well – you ought to have seen by now that all the Pureblood guff he used to spout was just code for deep-seated elitism. Lucius is an intelligent man: he's seen pureblood families produce everything from incompetence to insanity, and he's witnessed the contrary in you and in me."

"Exceptions to rules?"

"You are exceptional, and you know it. And besides, Lucius' 'rule' is that everybody, regardless of bloodline, is beneath contempt unless and until they can prove otherwise. Hhhnnnghhhh!"

Hermione's hand was getting busy lower down.

"Shut up about Lucius. I've got something pretty bloody exceptional here and it's far more interesting. Now kiss me."

There were times, Severus reflected, when following orders was a joy.

*

During those two weeks of relative calm, the Prime Minister was having (as he would never have admitted within a mile of any journalist and still further where the Cabinet were concerned) one sod of a time. His popularity was sinking by the day, half his party wanted to oust him, the country, under the guidance of the press, was becoming ever more forgetful of his achievements as fuel prices rocketed and winter hove into sight. He was a desperate man. Severus watched the signs with unease.

"Can't you push that Granger girl into acting more quickly?" the PM complained, two weeks to the day after the Gringotts meeting.

"She is rather difficult to get hold of, sir," said Severus, force of habit leading him to Occlude his memories of the hold he'd had on her early that very morning. "And when I do see her, she informs me that bureaucracy takes time and that Mr Malfoy is being obstructive."

"Well, time is running out, and Mr Malfoy can just..."

" I understand you, sir. I will do my best."

"Tell her I want a meeting with Arthur Weasley tomorrow evening. No wriggling out of it. And I want that portrait back in his frame so I can get messages delivered pronto in future."

"Yes, sir. Oh, and by the way, sir, I'm going to need your signature on a few things so I can finish dealing with that army matter." Which sidetracked him for a little while, at least.

*

Hermione jumped when the alarm on her Floo pinged. She hurriedly shut down the computer before the surge of magic could induce silicon carnage.

"I take it we've run out of time?" she said as Severus stepped through.

"Astute as ever, Hermione."

"Well, it would be a little out of character for you to nip out for a quick bit of hanky-panky during office hours," she teased, and started to gather her papers together. She squeaked as she was seized from behind and lightly bitten on the nape of the neck.

"Don't tempt me, woman," Severus growled. "But as it is, Lucius will be here soon, and..."

"...and won't mind a bit if you two want to carry on," continued Lucius, dusting Floo powder off his shoulders. "Don't mind me." He picked up Hermione's teddy bear and took its place in the armchair, according them a look of polite attention.

"Pervert," said Severus.

"Do we want a cup of tea before we start?" Hermione offered.

"Let's get right to it, shall we? Hermione, do you have anything at all that can help?"

She sighed.

"Short of Lucius declaring independence of the Crown and digging a rather large moat, no. Or not yet. As it stands, I'm beginning to wonder whether it might not just be easier to cave in, hide as much as we can, and pay the minimum. I'm sorry."

"We will have to do better than that, Hermione," said Lucius, for once dropping his humorous tone. "I will not pay anything to a Muggle regime from whose inept attempts at administration I benefit not one jot. Neither will I be responsible for setting the precedent which lays the belly of the wizarding world bare for their greedy Muggle knives."

"Then I need more time, and perhaps some constructive ideas – ones which don't involve overthrowing the government. Ye gods," Hermione continued impatiently, "surely it can't be that bad? How much money are we talking about, anyway?"

"Put it like this," said Severus. "Lucius could probably pop Bill Gates in his pocket and rattle him around with the loose change."

She goggled.

"And we don't want the PM getting any idea of the fact. In his present mood, he'd fall on a toddler's lunch money, given half a chance, and the last thing we want is him getting the idea that Lucius is representative of our community as a whole."

"Too kind, dear boy."

Hermione was still gaping at Lucius. He smirked.

"Sorry," she said. "I just.... Isn't that kind of money a bit, well, does it actually mean anything above a certain amount?"

He shrugged.

"It's a way of keeping score."

"And of maintaining stability," Severus said. "Without you –"

"I think the less said about that, the better, don't you, Severus?" Lucius remarked firmly, giving his attention to the bear and toying with its worn fur. "You know, Hermione, I think I'm going to take this little fellow home with me. He's been looking quite dejected since his eviction from the paradise of your bed."

"Lucius!!"

"What? I can't have the bear?"

Severus sighed.

"Just to return to the matter in hand for a minute, the PM is insisting on a meeting tomorrow. I've undertaken to pass on the message as best I can, and I have to be seen to succeed if my place at Number Ten isn't to be compromised. Hermione, if you can't find anything useful, at least try to cobble together some good reasons for delay; I'll speak to the goblins to ensure they're more disobliging than usual; and Lucius – brace yourself."

*

The office was rather crowded. Not only were the PM and Severus there, but a retinue of five HMRC inspectors had been invited to attend. They did not, for the moment, know what the meeting was to be about, but Severus was already working on ways of keeping their mouths shut. The opportunities for breaches of security made him shudder. He had tried to persuade the PM that a smaller team – perhaps two people – would be more appropriate, all things considered, but the PM was in a truculent frame of mind and had decided that a show of strength was the thing. The man had no idea. Fortunately, one could rely on Arthur and Hermione to be civilised.

Oh, bugger. He'd overlooked the one little fact that Lucius was not a man constitutionally inclined to sit in his garden shed waiting for the bomb to drop.

"And who is this, Mr Weasley?" the PM was saying, while the tax inspectors tried unsuccessfully to mask their shock at the emergence of three people from the fireplace.

Severus' hand was ready to whip the wand from his pocket at the slightest wrong move, even as he gave Hermione a brief glare and she returned a helpless shrug.

"I am Malfoy," said the gentleman.

"Ah!" said the PM, a trifle uncomfortably. "I understand you are the person who is to lead the way in the new arrangement between our communities."

"Do you, indeed?" Lucius enquired. "And you are...?"

Hermione's eyes were dancing; Severus relaxed a little while Arthur made an anxious introduction or two. Lucius was going to be playful. This didn't necessarily make him safe, but the potential for actual violence was reduced. Malfoy arranged himself artfully on a chair. He leant his cane just so against the arm and flicked his hair casually back over his shoulder.

"Shall we begin, then?" he said, gesturing for the others to be seated.

Having demonstrated that he was in charge, he then seemed quite content to let everyone else conduct the business.

Hermione, watching Lucius while the PM delineated the task at hand, was mightily amused by his behaviour. It put Arthur in the shade and neatly tumbled the PM down a rung or two in the pecking order. She very much doubted whether this would achieve anything other than pissing off everyone, but as they had no other game to play for the moment, there was at least some entertainment to be derived. One person at least seemed very taken with the performance.

"Angela Westwood, head of the HMRC team," said a woman who, at around forty, looked far better than Hermione had ever done, even on days when she made an effort. A beautifully manicured hand, along with a sunny smile, was bestowed on Lucius. "I am here to help organise everything to everyone's satisfaction."

Her poise, in the face of the revelation that there was such a thing as magic and that two real wizards and a witch were sitting in the same room as her, was admirable. But then, thought Hermione, this was a tax inspector – a money-seeking missile with all the human warmth of an alligator.

"To help. How very kind," purred Lucius. His eyes gleaming, he gave the fingers a caress that brought a full-lipped answering smile.

Stupid bitch, thought Hermione, who disliked the woman on sight.

"Allow me to introduce my associate, Hermione Granger," Lucius was saying.

"Ms Westwood," Hermione acknowledged.

"Mrs, actually," she was corrected in an open and friendly manner. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger."

Which established quite neatly how they were going to get along, Hermione thought.

Once everyone was settled around the table, the PM invited the HMRC team to outline their procedures. Mrs Westwood began issuing her unpalatable message from between perfectly painted lips.

Lucius yawned.

"Mr Malfoy?" inquired Mrs Westwood.

"Do forgive me. You were saying?"

"We will need to have full access to your accounts, lists of assets, and other financial records...

"Accounts?" said Lucius vaguely.

Severus rolled his eyes. Arthur looked as though he was going to start sidling back towards the fireplace. Hermione took a deep breath and sternly controlled her features before gently explaining to him the phenomenon of book-keeping.

"Oh!" he said, light evidently dawning. "Oh, my dear Mrs Westwood, I'm afraid I never trouble myself with things like that."

She gave him a look like that of a particularly smug piranha scenting blood.

"You'll have to speak to the goblins about all that sort of thing," he continued, fiddling with the head of his cane.

Westwood blinked, and Hermione noticed one of the others mouthing "Goblins?" with a disbelieving stare.

"See to it that Gringotts is informed, would you, Miss Granger?" said Lucius. He uncrossed his legs and stood.

"Certainly," she replied and made a note of a date the following week when she might be inclined to pass on the message.

"And now I really must be going. Delightful to meet you all. Delightful. Oh, and Prime Minister? You do realise what it means that you are undermining one of the cornerstones of the pact between your... society... and ours?"

"I do, Mr Malfoy," said the PM gravely.

"I thought not. Well, adieu. Come along, Miss Granger, Arthur."

The Granger woman lingered a minute in order to wave a little stick at them all.

"You are hereby placed under a geas," she announced. "Until such time as I release you, none of you will be able to speak of this in the hearing of anyone not currently in this room. Any attempts at communication of this matter, no matter what form such attempts may take, will be understood by others as mere gibberish." She smiled. "And you don't want to end up looking stupid, do you?"

There was a brief pause after she left.

"Goblins?" said the junior HMRC inspector out loud this time.

"What's Gringotts?" said another.

"A geas," snorted Angela Westwood contemptuously. "What rubbish."

"Mr Snape," sighed the Prime Minister, pinching the bridge of his nose, "would you please furnish Mrs Westwood with the necessary information and directions?"

"Certainly, sir. Just as soon as I manage to pin down Miss Granger again and get them myself."

*

Reviewing the encounter, the PM felt less complacent about his plans than before. Malfoy might be your typical upper-class twit, unable to glue his mind to anything serious, but somehow he had managed to get out of the meeting without submitting to any definite plan of action. The ghastly Westwood was going to plague the life out of him until he could give her something concrete, and in addition, she evidently thought he was consorting with lunatics.

He picked up a sheaf of documents, only to discover that sections of text were missing. Damn printer on the blink again. He threw them back onto the desk and seized on the newspaper that he hadn't yet had time to read. Same thing. Bloody wizards!

"Snape!!!" he bellowed.

*

They reconvened in Hermione's flat.

"Whose was the Random Erasure charm?" asked Severus.

"That was me," said Hermione. "There's tea in the pot if you want it."

"And some rather good chocolate biscuits," added Lucius. "They almost make up for the Muggles having produced such –" He searched for a word. "– people."

Severus helped himself and sat down at Hermione's other side.

"That was one of mine, you know," he admitted, rather pleased that she had used one of his creations.

"I know. I caught sight of it in your old Potions book before Harry had to hide it, and I never seem able to forget a potentially useful spell. It's going to affect everything that's brought into his office, you know."

"Really?" Snape was interested. "Then you've improved on it. My version was very specific – just aimed at particular documents. Potter's and Black's essays, usually."

"Chocolate Olivers," said Lucius contemplatively, reading the tin. "More chocolate than biscuit. I ought to look into buying the company."

"So what did you do to him?" Severus enquired, snaffling another before Lucius ate them all.

"Oh, he won't notice for a day or so, but I used another of yours – the Phantasm hex? He'll start seeing things out of the corner of his eye before long. You really were a very creative little boy, you know. And you?"

"Doxy eggs in the back of his desk drawer. They'll mature in about four days."

"That's a little direct for a Slytherin, isn't it?" asked Hermione.

"Simplicity has a beauty all of its own," he said piously. "Hermione, I'm loath to go on the offensive too soon, but would Arthur be prepared to drop some of the protections if necessary? The odd dragon-sighting, for example? Nothing that won't be dismissed by the papers as coming from the lunatic fringe, but which the PM will know for what it is."

"I should think so. What with Lucius breathing down his neck and that Westwood creature slavering in front of him, he seems pretty much ready to do anything I tell him to."

"That's my girl," Lucius approved.

"Our girl," he was corrected.

"Does that mean I get the last biscuit?" she said, leaning back into the sofa cushions between them.

*