A Modest Proposal

Severus had heard the alarm from his office and rushed in as soon as he could. There were strangers in the common room. Strangers that had not been vetted by him, who he had not met, who he had not approved.

The security protocol was his design. He had insisted on screening every new "volunteer" that Glastonbury sent down here ever since he had walked in and witnessed a sobbing, irate, grown man kicking a little girl in the stomach, punishment for being the daughter of Evan Rosier as he screamed, "My sister! My sister is dead because of your father!"

Granzela Glastonbury. The woman did Dolores bloody Umbridge proud.

Though he was famous (infamous) for manhandling students and verbally abusing them, he never, ever had raised his hand to a child. And never would do so. Ever. He knew what it was to be a powerless child, at the mercy of a grown man who could do anything. That would not happen on his watch.

He would meet them and interview them, discuss their background and experiences during the war. His real purpose, of course, was to perform Legilimency on the prospects to ascertain their real feelings and motivations. If he was satisfied that the person did not have a vendetta against his charges, he would Obliviate them and send them to the common room. If he discovered that the person posed a danger, he would lead them outside and Obliviate them there. Either way, he did not want it known that he was here. That was the last thing he wanted.

The new protocol had been in place only a few months, and Severus could have kicked himself for not realising the problem sooner. The children never said anything. He was worried they were beginning to think they deserved this treatment from others, and he would have none of that.

They did not deserve that. They would get that through their heads, or he would die trying.

And now, two unvetted persons had entered the common room, setting off the alarm. The children had panicked and placed a palm on the green brick in the wall, the one that raised a second alarm. He rushed out and into the hallway to discover the trespassers, the ones who threatened these children.

Potter. Harry fucking Potter. And the know-it-all Hermione Granger. His only consolation was that Weasley had not joined them. Two he could handle. All three might give him a stroke.

Seeing them both had been... jarring. Especially Potter. Especially since the last time he really, truly had seen Potter was on the floor of the Boat House. Crying (fucking crying!) in front of him. Giving him his memories of his most intimate secrets. (Well, almost all of them.) Believing he was about to die. He knew Potter had come to see him in hospital. Out of guilt, no doubt, and probably with a wish to talk. To talk about her. Potter had attempted contact a few times since, and always, always, he had refused. Seeing him here now, in the flesh, without warning (without fucking warning! He was going to kill Glastonbury) and scaring the children half to death... he could have hexed Potter right there if he wasn't sure it would result in him getting sacked.

No, helping the kids was more important to him than hexing Potter. But only just.

Granger... of course she would be here, tagging along, helping Potter with whatever cockamamie scheme he had come up with. Because that's what she did. She hadn't aged a day, and here she was in all her naïve, idealistic glory. He supposed it was good that not everyone had been completely shattered by the war.

Now they sat before him, and he discovered with delight that he could still intimidate them. They may be adults and war heroes, same as him, but in his eyes, they were still annoying children who broke the rules.

"You have breached my security, gawked at war orphans, and scared the shit out of them. Tell me right now why I should not Obliviate you and throw you outside on the curb this very instance."

Granger spoke up. Of course. "I'm here conducting an audit of the orphanage..."

"You said that," Severus interrupted.

"And when I was here yesterday, I was appalled at what I saw," she continued as if he hadn't spoken at all. That had always annoyed him. "Seeing children, war orphans, treated so abysmally... I was horrified. I told Harry about it, and he agreed we might be able to do something about it."

"I see you have not outgrown your precious saviour complex, Potter. It's a small comfort to know that so little has changed in the last few years."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Call it what you want, Severus, I'm here because it's the right thing to do."

Severus's eyes widened then narrowed at Potter's use of his given name. Potter seemed to notice this because he added, "You're not my professor anymore, we're all adults here, and after all we've been through, we should be on familiar terms with one another."

"We have not been through anything together, Potter," Severus replied, his emphasis on the use of Potter's last name. He hoped that Potter wouldn't bring up the memories, the ones he had given him when he thought he was dying. The memories that Potter had oh so politely decided to place in his Gringott's vault along with a note for Severus stating that he could count on his discretion and if he wanted the memories back, all he had to do was owl the bank and they would transfer the vial of memories (all of them, he promised) into his own vault. And an open invitation to have tea. Tea. With Potter. Out of the question.

"I disagree, Severus," Potter replied pointedly. And stopped there. Even Potter wasn't stupid enough to bring all that up. Thank Merlin for that.

"We're not here to step on anyone's toes," Granger interjected diplomatically. He snorted at that. "And we didn't mean to scare the children. We were not informed of any sort of protocol or anything like that, and we had no idea that we would scare them. I saw them for a minute yesterday while they were eating, through the window, and didn't realise that going inside would scare them. That was my fault, and I apologise. Believe me when I say that we are all on the same side here."

"The Golden Trio on the side of the Death Eaters' offspring? Not bloody likely," Severus muttered.

"Two war orphans who are on the side of other war orphans," Potter retorted. "Who know that life is hard enough when you've lost your parents, especially like that, without being reduced to prisoner status. Regardless of who their parents were."

Severus decided to reply to the only part of Potter's statement that he suspected wasn't true. "You, Granger? I thought your parents were happily hidden down in Australia." He had read the extensive interviews the three had given to The Quibbler after the war. Everyone had.

Granger nodded. "They are. And they are unaware that they have a daughter. This isn't widely known, but I Obliviated all their memories of me and everything about their lives in England. Everything. I created new names and identities and memories for them and sent them to Australia for their protection. I...," her voice became shaky. If Granger broke down in his office, he was going to have a fit. Luckily for her, her voice recovered. "I cannot reverse the charms on them. I tried, and I failed. I am as good as orphaned. I have no family to speak to, no one left I'm related to. My parents are now Wendell and Monica Wilkins, not Wendell and Monica Granger, and I'm the last one left in my family. So yes, I too was orphaned by this war. By necessity."

She stared at him challengingly. Challenging him to tell her that she did not know what this was like. While Severus was usually happy to take up such a challenge, he decided that today it was probably best to let this one go.

"So what half-baked plan have the two of you come up with? I hope you've refined that skill in the last few years." He looked at them pointedly, and their eyes widened. They clearly had not suspected that he would invite them to share their proposal with so little resistance.

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They had not expected him to invite them to share their proposal with so little resistance. For Snape, this was... nothing.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment and silently agreed that it would probably sound better coming from Hermione. That Snape had not hexed Harry the moment he laid eyes on him was a small miracle. Clearing her throat, Hermione began to speak.

"From what little I have seen here, the children are in desperate need of services. Real services. It seems that the only continuity they have had here is you and Miss Glastonbury, who seems to avoid this section as much as possible. So really, it's been all you."

"And you no doubt believe that, in and of itself, is child abuse," Snape said defensively.

"No. No. That's not what I was going to say at all." He really hadn't changed. "I think what you have been doing for them is wonderful. It's a necessary but thankless job. But it's an impossible job for only one person. Even if you've been doing everything you can, and I do believe you have been doing everything you can. But you need help. You need constant counselors in here, real ones, who are well trained in treating war trauma. You need constant healers who understand the very real mental and physical problems these children have and who can see them over and over again and really, truly evaluate their progress. I went to view their medical records earlier today with Harry..."

"You should not have been allowed to look at those!" Snape said, venom in his voice, eyes blazing. "Those are confidential."

"As an auditor for the Ministry, I have access to them, as does Harry. Don't worry, I won't share anything from them with anyone else. But I noticed that many of them have violent outbursts of magic, have self-inflicted injuries, have mental problems. Learning disabilities. What Muggles would call post-traumatic stress disorder. They are malnourished, many of them. Broken bones. Bruises. I could go on and on. I'm sure this isn't anything you don't know already. And then think about their socialization. These children are terrified, terrified, of anyone unfamiliar. And with good reason, I suspect, as they seem to have all suffered from physical abuse. No doubt from some of Miss Glastonbury's 'volunteers', who I suspect she hasn't vetted as well as she claims." She raised her eyebrows at Snape, who tensed and nodded.

"That's what I thought," she went on. "Miss Glastonbury isn't the first person to lie to an auditor, and she won't be the last. Look at all these problems, Severus." He flinched again at the use of his given name, but she ignored it. "You cannot possibly solve all these problems on your own. You have been taking care of their educational, psychological, social, and medical needs for five years. You have to be exhausted. And honestly, you aren't enough for them."

"I am everything they have," he said coldly.

"She's not criticising you; you're doing brilliantly under the circumstances," Harry interjected, trying to keep the peace. He knew what happened when Snape felt insulted and had no wish to relive that experience, even now. "But we think we can help. What you need is more resources. And funding. And better management in this place. We think we can help you with that."

"All I'm really able to do right now is write a report that no one will read," Hermione said. "I don't think that helps anyone. But Harry... whatever he touches turns to gold. There was a tremendous outpouring of money to the orphanage right after the war, and that's dried up in the last few years as everyone has perceived that they have either grown up or found homes. Really all anyone donates to anymore is the Hogwarts tuition fund, correct?" Snape nodded. "So we all know that these children have greater needs than that. So we think if Harry brings attention to the orphanage, points out that there are still children living here full-time, year round, he can get people to raise money for it pretty easily."

"That will not happen when people learn who the orphans are," Snape replied.

"We thought not, too, so that's why we would focus on the orphanage itself. Harry, being one, is the perfect poster child for it. We think we can keep quiet just who is here. I mean, we don't like it, but we think it's better for the children if people don't know who they are, exactly."

"And I also have a lot of influence with many of the higher-ups in the Ministry," Harry said. "I make no promises, but I can talk to Kingsley and see what we can do about the management here. I'd actually like to recommend you for the job; Kingsley will probably go for it, especially if he hears what's actually going on here. We suspect he's just been getting updates from Miss Glastonbury and not looking into it further, what with all the other problems the Ministry faces. We don't think he's deliberately ignored or allowed what happens here, but that he has had so many other concerns...Death Eater trials, property reallocation, social and medical services for survivors, rebuilding Hogwarts...that he has been delegating more than he probably should.

"Anyway," he continued. "I think if we talk to him, we can perhaps get some new management here. Perhaps. I don't want to make promises I can't keep. And if you aren't interested, I'd love to hear of any recommendations or nominations you do have. If you agree, that is," he added quickly.

Snape leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and stared at them both for a long time, considering.

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The orphanage desperately needed people and money for the permanent residents here. They did need more constant counselors. They did need more constant healers. They did need better facilities. And Severus would not even admit this to himself, but... he did need help.

This job was more full-time than being Head of House at Hogwarts, and that had been the epitome of a full-time job. Head of House was a twelve-hour day on average. He worked eighteen or twenty hours per day here. Not that this was especially taxing on him; he was never much of a sleeper and had functioned on less than five hours of sleep per night for decades. But it was what he was not able to accomplish in the twenty hours per day that he worked that was so disheartening. Every time one of his current or former charges cut her wrists or dropped out of Hogwarts or was arrested for petty crimes weighed heavily on him. He took each such incident as a personal failure. Every one who did not make it was his fault. Because he should have done better.

Because he killed their parents. Directly or indirectly, he killed them.

These two... sitting here in front of him. They made it all sound so easy. They were both so sure of their capabilities. So confident of their influence. They made it sound like within a fortnight they could have round-the-clock staffing, better furniture, and gobs of money to pay for it all.

How foolish these two were. Still.

Just then Granger spoke up again. "I know we're making it all sound so easy," she said. "I don't mean to trivialise the challenges or make it sound like we can make the problems all go away with a snap of our fingers. And we know that even if we, against all odds, can even get half of this accomplished, it's still an uphill battle because we're working against years of trauma and neglect by the Wizarding world. We're well aware of this."

Severus's jaw dropped only slightly before snapping shut again. Okay, so the two had more insight and self-awareness than they had as teenagers. They had developed somewhat as normal adults. He would give them that.

"Anyway," Potter said with a smile, rubbing his hands together. "We know this is a lot to take in, and you probably need to think about it. Just let us know if and when you decide anything. We would like to have you on board going forward, but we understand if you want to keep your anonymity. We know you've worked hard for it, and we don't expect you to give it up on our account. But we'll of course give you advance notice of everything we do as we do it, and you can..."

"Wait a moment," Severus said, sitting up and leaning over the desk. He spoke slowly and deliberately. "You intend to do this one way or the other? I am not a man who misunderstands things, but for your sake I sorely hope that I have misunderstood your intentions."

"Well...," Granger said.

"It's not like that...," Potter mumbled.

"You clearly do not understand the way this place works, Potter, Granger. I wish I could say I am surprised at your lack of thoroughness, but I am not surprised at your complete lack of appreciation for a situation and your naïve notion that you can just swoop in and save the day. Albus Dumbledore may have felt comfortable leaving the lives of others in your reckless hands, but I assure you that I do not.

"These are real children with real problems...problems that not even the two of you can begin to understand. Throwing money at this problem will not make it go away. It would help, it would help a great deal, but all it would do is give me but a few the tools I need to begin to address these problems. The issues these children face, both now and after they leave, will not disappear, and there are few people equipped to deal with it, and those that are want nothing to do with them. That. Will. Not. Change. Not overnight, not with a giant cheque from the Ministry, and certainly not with by the glow of the Golden Trio. I see only two of you have signed on for this, anyway. Clearly there is already dissent in your ranks.

"You need their trust for this to work, and I can tell you right this very moment, you never will. The only reason they trusted me is because of this," he reached down to the sleeve of his shirt and rolled it up to reveal his dark mark, now faded away into a silvery-white scar. "They all remember their parents having this mark, and it tells them that I am on their side. They do not understand or remember the full significance of it. They only know that other adults they trusted had this mark, and therefore I must be one of them. Unless the two of you are willing to take this mark, I do not believe that there is any way these children will trust you. If they do not trust you, you cannot help them.

"Finally," Severus continued in his best professor voice. "You do not understand that the only thing standing between them and the Wizarding world is me. If I were not here, it would be the revolving door of 'volunteers' that Glastonbury brings in. Do you know how she gets those volunteers? She brings in people who have been sentenced to community service, no doubt, but she also sells 'slots' to those with a grudge against the Death Eaters and who want to take out their revenge on their children. Yes, they have been subject to abuse. Physical abuse. Lots of it. The woman who runs this organization pimps out these children as punching bags or worse. Children. Little children. This will take time, lots of time.

"I have lost so many of them these last five years to crime or substance abuse or worse. Others seem to have just vanished into thin air. And you two waltz in here with your golden reputations and influence and believe you can just fix this overnight. You think you can do this whether I participate or not and whether I consent or not. You need my consent for this to happen. You will not get within one hundred feet of this building without my consent. I don't care how many people in this world worship you as living gods, I am not one of them. I know your shortcomings and your failings and the two biggest ones you share are staring me in the face: an inability to plan and the foolish notion that your mere presence in a situation will save the day.

"I am tempted to simply Obliviate the two of you, but as I am feeling generous today, I will merely tell you to leave and abandon this ridiculous idea. Go home and pat yourselves on the back that you have decided to work for the greater good and that you do not dismiss an entire population of children just because of who your parents are. You can hold onto that and tell yourselves you are good people. But you will not pursue this plan with me, and you will certainly not pursue it without me."

He locked his cold, hard, emotionless eyes on them and spoke very slowly and angrily, the tone of voice he used when he wanted to make students cry. "Now get out of my sight."

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"Well," Harry said as they reached the door of the orphanage leading to the street outside, "that could have gone a lot worse."

Hermione just looked at him, eyebrows raised as if to say, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Really, he could have Obliviated us and thrown our arses out on the pavement. We could have forgot about all of this," he went on, trying to convince himself that they hadn't just been handed their arses by their former professor.

Hermione exhaled and leaned against the wall. She wasn't going to kid herself. They had tried and failed. Badly. She did not fail often, but when she did, she knew it. Then again, she was also nothing if not tenacious. She had been rejected by house-elves for years before she finally got laws passed to improve their conditions. She had won over Harry and Ron as friends that first year. She had helped find and destroy the Horcruxes under impossible physical and emotional conditions.

Snape's answer might be no... for now. That didn't mean that he might not change his mind.

"Well, we'll just have to give him some time to digest it and come back," she said finally.

"You're barking," Harry said, sounding more like pre-war Ron than himself. "You want to come back to him? We're lucky we made it out with our memories intact. I think I'm lucky I walked out with my bollocks intact, to be perfectly honest. When he first saw me, I was sure I was going to be at the business end of a hex."

"Do you want to help them or not, Harry?" Hermione said, cutting off his babbling. "It won't be easy, but then when have we ever taken the easy way out of anything? We see a need, we have the ability to at least try to help the situation, and we can do it. We just need to get Snape on our side."

"Did you listen to what happened in there?" Harry asked incredulously. "He doesn't want our help. And he's right, we can't do this without him on board. Blimey, I had forgotten just how scary he was. It's just been me and those memories for so long, the softer side of Snape took over, and I'd forgotten just how angry he can get."

"He wasn't angry, I think he was just defensive," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Think about it, how many people other than us have likely come in there and offered to help those children? I'd bet my wand that we're the first. Oh, we went about it all wrong!" She slapped her palm to her forehead. "Stupid." Harry looked at her quizzically. "Don't you see? He's a Slytherin. They don't just do nice things for each other...no one offers anything without expecting anything back. It's an anathema to their worldview. He fully expects there to be some sort of catch, and when we didn't explain what it was, he threw us out. He didn't believe us when we said we wanted to help. He's certain we want something from him."

"Shouldn't he know us better than that?" Harry asked. "I mean, it's not like we're strangers. He knows this is the sort of thing we would do."

"I don't think it's about that," she said sadly. "I think he mistrusts everybody, and with good reason. And now he feels responsible for those kids, so he's even less trusting than he was to begin with."

Harry nodded, understanding. "I think you're right. We needed to be less..."

"Gryffindor about it."

"Exactly. Well, lesson learnt. What do you reckon we ought to do now?"

"Like I said, give him some time to digest it, a week or two, and then come back and speak to him again. I mean, he can't get more angry after more time... can he?"

Now it was Harry's turn to give her the "Tell me you're kidding" look.

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AN: Severus is a fun but difficult character to write for. I'm having a lot of fun.

Title taken from Jonathan Swift's satirical essay of the same name.

Coming Up: We meet a few of the Death Eater orphans, and Harry and Hermione get a rude awakening as to the full extent of the problem.