Rated M
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Chapter Eight: Family Dinner
It was late, but Steve was up, staring at his record player as he sat in the living room, though he hardly heard the music as it filled the apartment. He couldn't believe himself. Had he really been so impulsive today? He was going to have dinner tomorrow with a wizard, and a wizard's family. He hadn't had a family dinner since before the war. He wasn't sure he would be able to remember how to have a normal family-style meal anymore. And what on earth had he been thinking, offering to discuss Snape with a veritable stranger? Natasha Romanoff hadn't told him much about this Harry Potter fellow, but if he'd been working to clear Snape's name, he had to be fine, right?
"Taking all the stupid with you; yeah right," Steve suddenly muttered to himself, shaking his head. He raised a glass of water to a non-existent presence in the room. "Looks like you left a little bit for me, eh Buck?" He drained the glass and sighed. For him, it had been less than a year since he had lost his best friend on that fateful train heist. For the rest of the world, it had been almost seventy years. Bucky's family was dead, or old, and Steve hadn't had the heart to seek them out. The only one he had tracked down was Peggy. A few weeks ago, he had gotten up the courage to find her family, and found her in a nursing home, suffering from dementia and numerous other health problems.
Their meeting had been full of tears and laughter, and they had spent hours just catching up. He tried to visit Peggy once a week or so, seeing how close she was to her last days. He planned to go visit her tomorrow after church. It was weird, going back to the church he had always gone to back in New York and seeing how so many things had changed over the years made him feel all squirmy inside. It took some getting used to, but once he found a church in Washington D.C. he went every week. Or he tried to. Missions sometimes got in the way.
Steve startled as his cell phone vibrated on the coffee table. When he picked it up, there was a text from Natasha.
I'm at the door.
Steve sighed and considered texting her back, but since he was still criminally slow at typing on these things, he put the phone down and went to the door. It was dark in the apartment hallway, but he saw her right away. Though she was in black as always, her red hair and light skin glowed like a beacon to his serum-enhanced eyes. He silently let her in and locked the door after glancing out in the passage for eavesdroppers. His neighbor across the hall, Kate, was home tonight, and she was altogether too perceptive for her own good. She was a nurse and worked wild hours, so he hardly ever knew if she was home or not.
When Steve entered the kitchen, Natasha was making herself quite at home, whipping up some hot chocolate for herself and an herbal tea for Steve. Modern hot chocolate tended to be too sweet for him.
"Ever heard of knocking?" Steve asked as he strolled into his tiny kitchen.
"Texting's quieter," Natasha replied with a knowing smile. She tossed the packaging for both the hot chocolate and the tea into the trash-can and turned the stove on under the silvery kettle. She turned around and leaned against the counter, fixing Steve with a coy look that he usually hated.
"What?" he demanded as he folded his arms defensively.
Natasha arched her eyebrows. "Can't a girl just smile at you without you getting all antsy?"
"You're hilariously transparent," Steve retorted. "Come on. You know the way you look at me. It's like you're daring me to ask you why you look like the cat that killed the canary."
"So why don't you ask?"
"Because I hate being maneuvered into things like that. Can't you just say what it is you want to say?"
Natasha rolled her eyes at that, but her smirk was definitely fond. "I found out some things about your jogging buddy," she explained. "I just thought you'd like to know."
"About Wilson? Or Potter?"
"Potter, of course," Natasha replied as if he was an idiot. "I found out where he's living right now."
"Well … good," Steve said, for lack of something better to say. Of course, that didn't matter. He would know where the guy and his family lived tomorrow when he went for dinner. Dr. Potter wanted to meet him at the park they jogged at. Apparently, his home was in the nearest neighborhood. Steve looked away from Natasha's probing eyes and tried to act casual. Lying was still impossible for him, but misdirecting and keeping secrets was even harder.
"Don't tell me you bumped into the boy-who-lived again," Natasha demanded, sounding exasperated.
"Boy-who-lived?" Steve repeated incredulously.
"He apparently survived a murder attempt when he was a baby, and they called him the boy-who-lived after that."
"What the heck?" Steve gasped. "Who tries to murder a baby?!"
"Apparently, the 'Dark Lord' that was trying to take over the world," Natasha replied. "They called him He-who-must-not-be-named."
"It all sounds ridiculous," Steve muttered.
The Black Widow smirked. "Says the World War II hero who survived a deep freeze for seventy years and woke up like a veritable Rip Van Winkle."
Steve gritted his teeth and didn't deign to reply. Tony Stark was fond of calling him up just to exhaust the latest list of nicknames he'd come up with, like Grandpa, Mr. Rogers, Captain Underpants, and yes, Rip Van Winkle.
"That's different," Steve grumbled. "Rip Van Winkle isn't half as ridiculous as boy-who-lived or he-who-must-not-be-named."
Natasha Romanoff smirked in agreement and glanced over at the kitchen window, which was closed and the shades drawn. "At the end of their war," she commented. "This Potter guy supposedly died again, and they called him the boy-who-lived-twice after that."
Steve arched his eyebrow "Really? Boy-who-lived-twice sounds so … uncreative. Considering the last name they had for him, that one's a little …"
"Obvious?"
Steve snorted. "And silly."
"Well what were they going to call him at that point? Lazarus?"
"He really died?"
"Nobody knows. I can only dig so much into magical matters. Knowing they exist, helps; but they don't have computers or organized data, so most of what I can find out is hearsay or newspaper clippings."
"How did you find out where Potter lives then?"
"He lives in a regular neighbourhood under his own name."
Steve was quiet for a little bit while he digested that information. Potter had seemed perfectly comfortable in the regular world, only a little nervous about his son calling him a war hero out loud to a veritable stranger … And he had been invited to dinner with such cordial charm and friendliness. Potter just seemed normal.
"So," Natasha smiled knowingly at him. "Are you going to finish wrestling with your conscience and just tell me already?"
"Tell you what?"
"Oh, don't play that game with me, Steve Rogers," the Black Widow chuckled. "You won't win."
The kettle started whistling and Steve bumped into Natasha in his haste to get it and escape the conversation. Blushing with embarrassment, he backed off and let the redhead pour hot water over the powdered chocolate in one mug and a ginger peach teabag in the other cup. When the two of them were settled at the table Steve sighed and fiddled with the string of his steeping teabag.
"I went to the Smithsonian today."
Natasha nodded and sipped her hot chocolate. "And?"
"I guess I was just curious … about that new exhibit."
Natasha quickly smothered a smile.
Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. "While I was there I ran into Harry Potter and his son." He paused. "They, er, invited me to dinner."
When Steve looked up, half expecting Natasha to look disapproving or skeptical, but she was smirking. "That's your big secret?" she chuckled. "This has to be the first time you've been invited for dinner at a family's house since before the war?"
Steve huffed, almost laughing. "Well, thanks a lot."
"I'm guessing you're going?"
"Well … yes," Steve replied, a little defensively. "Look, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. He seemed harmless to me. He's even got a kid … ten or eleven years old. His son called him a war hero and Potter got all shy."
"Sounds like you," Natasha teased.
"I don't get shy," Steve frowned. "Do I?"
"You deflect. You misdirect. Don't think I haven't noticed."
"I don't even realize it, if I am."
"Naturally," Natasha sighed and shook her head with a fond smile. She sipped her cocoa and Steve sipped his tea. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes. Finally, Natasha sighed audibly and smiled at him. "I think it'll be good for you," she said casually. "But don't make any mistakes about Harry Potter. Or his wife. They were bona fide war heroes. And they're wizards. Or a witch and a wizard, if you want to get technical."
"You mean, they could be dangerous if they decide I'm their enemy," Steve summarized.
"Just stay aware," Natasha smiled, finishing off her cocoa. "And keep me on speed dial." She put her mug in the sink, washed it, and set it in the drying rack.
Steve watched her in bafflement as she apparently headed to the door. "Where are you going?"
"I have work," the SHIELD spy said cheerfully.
"You just came by for cocoa and a chat?" Steve laughed, getting off his chair.
"Did you expect more?" Natasha grinned. She winked at pulled open the door. "Let me know how it goes?"
"Fine," Steve sighed.
The door closed on Natasha Romanoff's coy smile and Steve Rogers sighed and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. He glanced at his cooling mug of tea on the table and shook his head. That Black Widow was something else.
HP~W~I~N~T~E~R~HP~S~O~L~D~I~E~R~HP
Sunday was quiet, and Hermione and Harry spent the day cleaning and getting the house ready. Since the day was nice, the children played in the backyard, and judging from the happy shrieks and shouts from the small back area, James had likely invented some rowdy game for them as he usually did.
Hermione fussed with the bookshelves, dusting and rearranging them, while Harry used a dirt-lifting spell on the carpet, depositing what he got into a dustpan he carried.
"Are you about finished carpet-sweeping?" Hermione suddenly asked her husband, chuckling at the odd sight it made.
"Argh," Harry groaned, straightening his back. "I'm going to get a muggle vacuum cleaner on my next day off."
"You're off tomorrow, right?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Hmm, suppose I am," Harry mused. He dumped his dustpan into the rubbish and put it away with the broom. "My schedule's all over the place these days."
"Come on, Harry," his wife laughed. "When has your schedule ever been predictable?"
"Huh, for that matter, when's my life been predictable?"
Hermione chuckled. "You've got a point."
Harry laughed and picked up a dusting rag to work beside his wife. "I'll have to stop at Cham Avenue tomorrow for one of those devices to protect the vacuum from our magical energy … Is there any other shopping you need done?"
"I'll get you a list," Hermione assured him. "Oh, and you should stop by Sam's work tomorrow; surprise him with some chocolate chip biscuits. It was really very kind of him to guide us at the museum like he did, and he was such a help to me with the twins. You know how they can be sometimes."
"That's a good idea," Harry smiled. Sam would love Hermione's biscuits (or 'cookies' as the Americans called them) and perhaps the people at his veteran's assistance place would be able to share them as well.
"I still can't believe you invited Draco and Captain America over at the same time!" Hermione exclaimed, her grin turning mischievous.
"Well … it was a little impulsive," Harry admitted. "But Draco was so keen on meeting any of the Avengers that it seemed like too good a thing to pass up."
"I sure hope nothing goes wrong tonight."
"Don't jinx us," Harry laughed.
The back door banged, and a wildly shrieking Lily dashed inside, her hair wild and her face flushed. "Watch out!" she yelled, laughing. "A mentor's gonna get us!"
Harry laughed as Lily hid behind her daddy's legs. "A mentor, huh?" Harry chuckled.
The door banged again and Rose dashed in, looking slightly more rattled than her sister. She dashed at her father and Harry scooped her up in a hug. Following on their heels was James in his dark sweater, arms outstretched and hands contorted into claws. He had the hood up and was lurching forward like a zombie, letting out rasping breaths like an undead inferi or something. Hermione cracked up at the sight and Lily and Rose screamed, half in terror and half in excited delight, and Harry winced at the volume.
"Alright, Jamesey," he called out above the shrieking girls, groaning James, and laughing Hermione. "Game's over. You're scaring the twins half to death with that incredible dementor impression."
Grinning and sweaty, James dropped his arms and shoved his hood back. "Sorry," he apologized. "It's just me," he assured his wide-eyed sisters.
"Were you playing Escape From Azkaban again?" Harry asked.
James shrugged. "They asked," he answered.
"Sevvis liked it," Rose murmured. Harry lost his smile and his insides twisted with grief. Severus had indeed liked to play Escape From Azkaban, a game he and James initially invented after hearing about Sirius' daring escape when Harry was thirteen. The four Potter children would play either dementors or prisoners, and they would run around outdoors, shrieking and yelling and miming losing their souls when the dementor inevitably caught them and gave them a big fat kiss. It was a silly game, though Harry had freaked out a little the first time he caught the kids playing it. Hermione had convinced him to let them play. Muggle kids played cowboys and Indians or cops and robbers in much the same way, pretending to shoot each other and escape from jail etc.
"When's Sev comin' home, daddy?" Lily suddenly piped up.
Harry swallowed hard and glanced at his wife. Her smile was gone too, and she turned aside to wipe a tear while she busied herself with wiping non-existent dust from the bookshelf.
"Why don't we sit down for a little bit?" Harry suggested, forcing himself to sound calm. James' face had closed off and he tried to sneak off to his room, where he stayed more often than not. "Ah, ah; James?" Harry called. "You too, son."
The oldest Potter boy sighed heavily and threw off his sweater before he flopped on the sofa. Harry sat next to James with Rose in his lap, and Lily climbed up on the couch's arm beside him. Hermione came into the living room too and sat in the armchair. Harry sighed and looked around at his family, facing something he had avoided thinking about for weeks. Months.
"I know we all are still hoping and praying that Sev'll come home soon," Harry started softly. "I want to find him, and I want him to come home, but …"
"Dad?" James whispered, his voice sounding terribly small and young.
"We shouldn't give up hope," Harry said firmly. "I don't … I can't …" He swallowed hard and his tears threatened to run down his face.
"Sometimes things don't have a happy ending," Hermione finished quietly.
"I don't want to give up, and we'll keep up our hope …" Harry said, his voice wobbling slightly. "But you need to understand that it might be a long time before we even find out what happened to Sev."
"Dad … Are you saying Sev's gone?" James whispered, his voice wobbling with tears. The girls looked solemn and scared, but they didn't understand what was going on, being barely five years old.
"I'm saying we might not find him," Harry whispered back, closing his eyes briefly as the tears overflowed. "I've done everything I know … everything I can … I'm sorry."
"There is one more thing we haven't tried," Hermione added firmly, gracefully taking charge as she usually did.
"Yes, if we can find Snape …" Harry agreed, turning his head to wipe his tears on his shoulder. Rose reached up and wiped her father's face with a crumpled napkin from her pocket.
James looked stricken. His lip wobbled and tears rolled down his face.
"Oh, sweetie," Hermione whispered, getting up and kneeling in front of her son. James threw his arms around his mother and burst into noisy tears. Harry hugged the two girls, who were crying because everyone else was crying. They probably didn't understand that they might never see their brother again. And even if they did, Sev would not be the same. Harry almost hoped that his sweet boy was dead. It saved his imagination from conjuring horrific scenarios that Sev could be undergoing. Just last night, he had battled a nightmare inspired by some of the things he had learned about Hydra and Captain America at the museum. His son was in a lab, and the Red Skull was there, and men in Death Eater masks and Nazi uniforms had come in, firing guns that shot green light like killing curses.
James, Rose and Lily cried noisily, while their parents cried more quietly and tried to comfort their grieving kids. Harry hated this. But he and his wife had agreed that they had to let Sev go in some sense, especially for the rest of the children's sake. They all needed to grieve, and they needed to face the fact that after three months and more, it was looking more like they would never see their younger son again. Hermione had looked up some blood-curdling statistics that the muggles had on abducted children. Essentially, the longer it had been, the less likely that they would be found at all, even dead. They couldn't let the other children continue on in this limbo of probably-false hope. Better to let their little Severus go, while holding a faint hope in their hearts that they would find him one day.
"Mummy, Dad," James sobbed. "He's dead? Sev's dead?"
"He might be," Hermione whispered tearfully. "We just don't want to go on with false hope. We need to live. The sadness will always be there, and we'll never forget him, but we are already starting to heal. One day it'll be better, but you'll always feel the loss of your brother."
"I h-hope he's dead," James bawled, clutching his mother. "I h-hope he's with Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus. I d-don't want him to s-stay kidnapped."
"I hope so too, sweetheart," Hermione murmured, rubbing her son's back comfortingly. "I hope he's happy."
HP~W~I~N~T~E~R~HP~S~O~L~D~I~E~R~HP
Dinner was going to be somewhat simple. Hermione could make an incredible chicken-vegetable pasta dish, and Harry was making garlic toast and a salad. They made sure to make enough for their guests, who Harry was planning to meet at the park since the magical wards around the house would prevent Draco from apparating in and some of the wards would probably repel Steve Rogers, since he was a muggle. The wards were simple, discouraging interest rather than making the house inaccessible or something. But with Harry there, Steve ought to be able to reach the door without getting distracted by something else.
After the drama of this morning, the kids were playing quietly in the living room. Or at least, the girls were. James was sprawled on his back on the sofa, staring at a book he probably wasn't reading.
"I think we shouldn't have told them all that this morning," Harry suddenly said quietly. "We should've waited until tonight."
"We promised we'd talk it through when it came up again," Hermione sighed. "They'll be alright. Kids are resilient. Besides, having guests will be a good distraction."
Harry glanced at the clock and was alarmed at how the time had slipped away from him. Since he was meeting Draco and Steve in the same place in less than twenty minutes, he'd have to run to get there on time. Hurriedly washing his hands, Harry leaned over and kissed his wife.
"Gotta go."
"Be careful," she warned him with a smile.
"Will do," Harry smiled back, flourishing the wand he kept tucked in his pants pocket. As he passed through the living room, he warned the kids that he would be back in a half hour, and they should pick up their toys and books and make it look nice. James got up at once, subdued and not his normal self, but he knew the drill and started getting the girls to pick up their dolls and toys while he gathered the books, a sweater, a blanket, and some other things lying around. Harry slipped on his shoes and stepped out into the brisk afternoon air. Rain might be coming in, judging by the clouds, and after a moment's deliberation, Harry ducked back into the entryway and grabbed the keys. Hermione looked up from the kitchen and grinned knowingly at him.
"Stay on the right!" she warned him.
"I know, I know," Harry complained. "You don't have to remind me every time."
"Maybe not, but that's my job," Hermione smirked, and turned back to her meal preparations.
Harry got the car and drove carefully through the neighbourhood, grateful for the lack of traffic on the thoroughfare that passed the park. Driving on the wrong side of the road was maddening, especially because he hadn't even gotten a British driving lesson until he was twenty years old, and then he had to learn how to drive on American roads less than two months ago. The rules were all different and backwards, and he had to focus with all his might lest he make a fatal mistake of some sort. He was getting the hang of it, so long as there wasn't much traffic and he took it slow.
Ten minutes later, he pulled up at the park, turned off the car, and stepped out. The wind was picking up, and smelled fresh and damp. Harry took a deep breath and smiled. This was fine weather. Scottish rainstorms had nothing on the weather anywhere else in the world.
After some time of silent waiting, he heard the roar of a motorcycle. He turned to watch it approach, wary as always, and was rather surprised to see that it was Steve, dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket. He wore a helmet and rode the two-wheeled vehicle with a comfortable familiarity. Harry smiled a little, remembering Sirius' fondness for the noisy muggle vehicles. He never had been able to ask his godfather how he'd enchanted the thing to fly. Maybe his Mum had actually been the one to do it, seeing how everyone talked about her genius with Charms.
Steve Rogers parked the motorcycle, turned off its noisy engine, and kicked the little stand down before he got off with practiced ease. Harry suddenly remembered the black and white video at the museum of Captain Rogers and the Howling Commandos grouped around a motorcycle even back then. Steve pulled off his helmet and tucked it into a shoulder bag, which he then slung on his back. Harry waved at him, and Steve walked over, smiling broadly.
"Am I late? Or are you early?"
"We're both early," Harry replied with a light laugh. "I'm waiting for someone else too."
"Oh? Is it the guy you were jogging with before?"
"Sam?" Harry grinned and shook his head. "Nope, not him. It's actually a friend of mine from back home. He's been investigating Snape ever since he got the idea that his godfather might not really be dead. His name's Draco Malfoy."
Speak of the devil: Harry was cut off by a sound like a light snapping noise, similar to the sound made by stepping on a twig. But Harry knew the particular timbre of the sound signaled apparition, not twigs, and he put his hand in his pocket just in case. A tall man came sauntering out of the nearby trees, his pale gray suit jacket getting blown every which way by the wind.
"Where'd he come from?" Steve muttered thoughtfully. But strangely enough, he didn't look all that confused.
"I assume you've heard of apparition?"
"Like … visions?"
Harry let go of his wand, lifting his empty hand as he flagged Draco down. The white-blond hair and trim figure were impossible to miss. "No, it's wizard teleporting," he explained.
"Oh right," Steve nodded, his blue eyes lighting up with recognition. "Severus did a lot of that in the battle. He was popping all over the place."
"Can't wait to hear about it," Harry said with a smile.
"Well, Potter," Draco drawled as he approached. He looked up pointedly at the gray clouds hovering close overhead. "You've picked a lovely evening for your dinner."
"Nothing says cozy like a warm kitchen and rain drumming on the roof," Harry replied cheerfully. "Draco, meet Steve. Steve, this is Draco. You can get to know each other while we drive." He shooed them toward the back seats as he felt the random patter of raindrops on his skin.
"Steve?" Draco repeated, looking bemused and befuddled. "That's all the introductions we get, Potter?"
As the two guests climbed into the back of the car and Harry slid into the driver's seat, Steve stowed his bag in the center seat between them and stuck out his hand. "Steve Rogers," he introduced himself.
Draco looked startled, and his gray eyes darted from Harry to Captain America in disbelief.
"You have got to be joking!" Draco exclaimed, though it wasn't clear if he was speaking to Harry, or Steve.
"I wouldn't joke about my own name," Steve Rogers replied gravely, dropping his hand once it was clear that Draco was in too much shock to shake hands.
"And I thought you'd be happy, Malfoy," Harry replied with a mischievous smile. "I don't imagine you were able to snag an Avenger in New York?"
"Not a one," Draco sighed. He reached up and combed his fingers through his pale blond hair, glancing uneasily at Captain America, sitting beside him.
"You were trying to snag an Avenger?" Steve repeated incredulously. "For what?"
"An interview, of sorts," Draco replied stiffly. He looked nervous. "I'm a private journalist."
"Relax, Malfoy," Harry laughed as he carefully turned the car onto the main thoroughfare. "Steve Rogers here knows all about Snape and wizards. He knows what I am too. Don't you?"
"Yes," Steve replied hesitantly. "A friend of mine talked to some magical police officers. Did you really die?"
Harry flinched and swallowed hard. "You could say that," he replied as lightly as possible. "Of course that would be the story that made it overseas," he added jokingly.
"There was no story," Steve retorted. "Just a few rumors, like that name: boy-who-lived-twice."
"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Harry sighed, turning left to enter the neighbourhood.
"I thought so," Steve murmured.
"Ah yes, Mr. Potter is quite the hero back home," Draco grumbled. "While I am remembered as nothing but a tragic villain."
"Hey, your Mum saved my life, so that counts for something, right?"
"True, but only because you saved my life first," Draco snorted.
"Can we not start bickering?" Harry asked cheerfully.
"Are you a wizard too?" Steve interrupted, speaking to Draco.
"I am," Draco replied, even more stiffly than before. "So … you worked with Severus Snape?"
"I knew him for roughly a day," Steve replied apologetically. "So whatever it is you wanted to ask me, I bet you two would know more than me."
"Well, considering I thought he was dead up until a few weeks ago, you clearly know more than us."
"I already knew he was alive," Harry explained, meeting Steve's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "I was the last person he talked to before he left England."
"I'm kind of fuzzy on that," Steve said cautiously. "So he faked his death? Or he let people believe he was dead when he disappeared? Or what?"
"He was badly injured and the witnesses assumed he was dead," Harry sighed, slowly turning the car and backing into the driveway. It was painstaking, and Draco and Steve seemed to notice that. They kept quiet while Harry concentrated. When the car was parked, it was raining steadily. Harry rummaged in the glove-box and pulled out an umbrella for Steve.
"What about you guys?" the super-soldier protested. "I don't mind getting a little wet."
"We have magic," Draco sniffed haughtily. "If you wish to get wet, fine by me." He drew his wand and pulled something from his pocket. With a tap of his wand, it enlarged and revealed a fine black umbrella after the wizarding style, which meant it looked like something out of Sherlock Holmes rather than modern times.
"I thought you said you couldn't use your wand outside your home?" Harry asked suspiciously, and a bit curiously.
"This wand is registered with the American Congress," Draco smiled slyly. "The British Ministry doesn't know that Lucio Greengrass of New Hampshire shouldn't own a wand, after all."
Harry laughed in surprise. "That's pretty clever. Just wanted to make sure the Aurors aren't going to be interrupting our dinner. Ready?"
Steve Rogers looked bemused, but he didn't comment. They climbed out of the car, with Steve and Draco using umbrellas and Harry using an overhead shield spell that acted much like an umbrella. It was a good thing they used protection, because the rain was really pouring down, but there wasn't much wind, which was good. It was just rain, not a full-blown storm. When they reached the covered porch, Harry drew his wand and dried the umbrellas and anything else that got wet, like their shoes.
Steve looked suitably impressed. "Snape was telling us about magic wands," he pointed out. "He said it was supposedly hard for a wizard to do magic without one, but you should've seen him fight. It was incredible."
"I bet it was," Harry agreed. "Professor Snape was an incredible duelist, even with a wand, and most spells he did silently. Malfoy, what was it he did every day in class to make the instructions appear on the board? I never could figure it out."
Draco sniggered. "He put the instructions there before the class arrived and covered it with a concealment charm. All he had to do was cancel the concealment."
Harry blinked, feeling a bit mollified. "That's it?" he demanded.
"He could've done it with just a wave of his hand if he'd wanted. Even back then he did a few things wandlessly."
Harry shook his head. "See?" he said to Steve, who was watching their exchange with amusement. "You're not the only one in the dark about what Snape could do."
They entered the house and the girls came running to greet him as they usually did. At the sight of the two strangers, they skidded to a stop and stared with big eyes. Harry grinned and waved at them.
"Rose, Lily, these are my friends," he said cheerfully. "Want to come say hello?"
Lily hesitantly came to him, but Rose stayed in the doorway to the sitting room.
"You can hang up your coats," Harry offered, gesturing at the rows of hooks on the wall. He dried off his wet shoes, and did the same for Steve's boots before he put his wand back in his pocket and scooped Lily up in his arms. "This is my daughter, Lily," he told his guests. "Lily, this is Mr. Rogers and Mr. Malfoy."
"Hi," the girl said shyly, hiding her face in her father's shoulder. Harry chuckled and rubbed her back comfortingly. Sometimes she was the friendliest person in the room and sometimes she was shy as a garden snake. Rose had vanished, probably to tell her mother about the arrival of the guests.
"Those two looked the same age," Steve commented carefully.
"They're twins," Draco butted in, shrinking his umbrella and waving his wand over his shoes to dry them. "The other one's Rose, right?"
"Right," Harry replied, feeling a little discomfited at Malfoy's knowledge. He'd never introduced the whole family before. "I'm not even going to ask how you knew that."
"Sources, Potter," Draco laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Welcome!" Hermione's voice greeted them from the doorway to the sitting room. She was drying her hand on a tea towel and her face was slightly flushed as she smiled and gestured for them to come in. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Malfoy. And it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers."
"My wife, Hermione," Harry explained by way of introduction.
"Please, Ma'am," the Captain said a bit shyly, as he shook her hand. "You can call me Steve."
"And why the formality, Mrs. Potter?" Draco laughed teasingly. "Draco is just fine between friends!"
"Is that what we are?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.
"If that is what you wish, dear lady," Draco teased, his eyes glittering with humour. He took Hermione's hand to plant a kiss of her knuckles. She laughed and swatted him with the tea towel, and demanded he take his shoes off before he stepped on her carpet. Harry chuckled and toed off his shoes, since his arms were full of his daughter.
When shoes were off, and an oven timer started beeping insistently at them, they all poured out of the entry hall into the sitting room, and through there to the kitchen table, which doubled as their dining room since this home didn't have a separate dining area. Rose peeked at them from around the corner, and Draco offered her a peppermint. In less than five minutes, Draco was enthroned at the table with a Potter princess in his lap, chattering about tea parties and polite five-year-old small talk. Harry offered to help his wife, but she demanded he sit down and entertain the guests for a few minutes, which he dutifully did, mostly explaining to the two of them why he'd brought them both for dinner tonight.
"I wanted you to meet each other, mostly," Harry explained, shifting Lily on his lap to his other leg where it would be more comfortable for both of them. "But I need to find Snape, and … we'll talk about that after dinner."
"It's strange," Steve said slowly. "I'm still adjusting to twenty-first century logic, to be honest. But now I have to adjust to a whole other world that has always existed alongside the one I've known all my life."
"It's an adjustment," Harry agreed.
"I'm glad you thought of this, Potter," Draco commented. "I'll send you an exclusive of the piece I'll write up after my interview."
"I didn't agree to an interview," Steve said a bit sharply.
Draco started laughing. "Relax, Captain," he said teasingly. "I wasn't serious."
"He's a Slytherin," Harry warned Steve. "Don't trust anything he says."
"Sound advice, Potter," Draco smiled benignly. "But if you need assurance, Mr. Rogers, I cannot legally publish your words without your consent, and I truly have no need to get in trouble with the law at this time. I'm, shall we say, a sneeze away from Azkaban, and I have a son to think about."
"Azkaban," Steve murmured, shaking his head. "I can't even imagine what would possess human beings to create such an awful place. Natasha … the woman who picked me up at the park? She did some research into your Magical World and told us what she knew about it."
"I … suppose that's how you heard of me then?" Harry asked awkwardly.
"Yep," Steve answered. "I was a little worried when you asked me about Severus Snape right out of the blue before, so we did some checking."
"You do know that you broke the Statute of Secrecy when you asked that, Potter?" Draco butted in, sounding far too cheerful.
"I know," Harry admitted. "But …" he glanced at Steve. "We can talk more later. I had a good reason, trust me."
"Technically, Snape broke the Statute first," Hermione pointed out as she brought the salad to the table. "If he told you about magic, or performed any in front of you, he broke the Statute of Secrecy. They usually Obliviate any muggles who find out anything about the magical world."
"Obliviate?" Steve repeated uneasily.
"Erase memories," Harry explained. "It's a spell."
The Captain suddenly looked a little uneasy. "You guys can do that?"
"It's not an exact science," Hermione admitted, looking a bit uncomfortable. "But yes, erasing memories is something wizards and witches can do."
Steve glanced from Harry to Draco to Hermione, looking slightly nervous, and Harry hastened to assure him that they had no intention of taking or modifying any of his memories. He relaxed only a little, and sat at the table to ask the wizards questions about magic.
James seemed shy tonight too, and instead of joining the interesting discussion of magic at the table, he helped his mother set the table. In a few minutes, the table was set and everyone was seated. Harry was at one end of the table with his daughters on either side of him. Draco sat next to Rose with an empty seat to his left. James sat beside Lily, and Steve sat next to him, and Hermione sat at the opposite end of the table. They all fit, and Harry was quite glad he'd magically resized the table and transfigured the extra chairs. Glancing at the empty seat beside Steve, Harry felt a sudden harsh lump in his throat. He could practically see his dark-headed Sev sitting there, elbow on the table and head resting in his hand as he silently observed everything around him, despite his mother telling him a million times not to put his elbows on the table. Harry looked away quickly and busied himself with helping Lily unwrap her silverware from her napkin.
In the name of efficiency, or perhaps just to show off, Hermione temporarily enchanted the dinner things to serve themselves. Watching the dishes float around the table, Harry smiled wistfully, remembering the first time he had eaten dinner in a magical home, how amazed he had been at the Weasleys' 'flying' dishes. Steve was suitably delighted, and Draco smiled a bit condescendingly, but he didn't say anything too insulting.
When everyone was served, Steve seemed to realize he hadn't been introduced to the boy he was sitting next to. "Hi," he greeted the ten year old with a friendly smile. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name."
"Oh," James flushed to his ears. "I'm … James. I'm the oldest."
"I can see that," Steve smiled kindly. "I think James is a great name. I had a friend named James, you know."
"Um, yeah …" James agreed a little nervously. "Sir … um, if it makes you sad, about your friend, you can call me Sirius. That's my middle name."
"Are you serious?" Steve grinned.
James laughed at the pun and he relaxed considerably. "I really liked learning about you at the museum. It was brilliant!"
"Yes, I bet it was," Steve agreed, looking a little uncomfortable, but hiding it pretty well. "What's your favorite subject in school?"
Their dinner passed pleasantly enough, with casual talk and some amusing stories. Steve talked about growing up in 1920's Brooklyn, and Harry, Hermione, and Draco related some stories from their childhood and schooldays. James added some stories he knew from his godfather Ron and some other family friends, and the girls ate and babbled as they always did. Harry was glad that Draco and Steve seemed to comfortable with his family, and vice versa. It had been a very long time since the Potters had invited guests for dinner.
While the family was cleaning up after the meal, the girls had definitely gotten over their shyness and had to be settled down. The dessert of homemade chocolate pudding had filled them with energy and they dashed through the house, shrieking. Harry managed to tackle them while Steve insisted on helping Hermione clean up. James and Steve were in charge of clearing and wiping the table, (they kept chattering about the 1920's) while Hermione put the leftovers away and set the dishes to wash in the sink with a useful spell she didn't usually use because she preferred to do certain things the muggle way to avoid laziness. But when there were guests in the house, she made an exception.
With Draco's help, Harry settled the twins down in the living room with a game of checkers. They didn't really know the rules, but with Harry helping Rose and Draco helping Lily, they managed to play some sort of a game.
"How are your wife and son doing?" Harry asked, once things were a bit calmer.
"Pretty well," Draco replied easily. "Sometimes, I think Astoria prefers me gone."
Harry glanced uneasily at Malfoy, who was pointing a red circle that he wanted Lily to move next. "It's none of my business, of course," Harry said carefully. "But you know, every marriage has its rough spots. If you ever need someone to talk to …"
Draco looked up, his lips twisting in bemusement. "Sweet Merlin," he chuckled. "I forgot what a muggle you are sometimes. Pureblood families aren't as close-knit as you think, Potter. Astoria likes me gone on business because she can run the house her way. We don't fight, normally. There's nothing wrong with long-distance relationships. We're perfectly happy."
"Oh," Harry smiled sheepishly, and pointed to the black piece he wanted Rose to move, and pointed to the place he needed it moved to. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed …"
"No, you shouldn't have," Draco agreed easily. "But in answer to your perfectly polite inquiry, my wife and son are doing quite well. Scorpius is quite a precocious boy. I miss him terribly when I'm not home."
"I wouldn't be able to stand being apart from my family for weeks at a time, the way you do it," Harry admitted.
Draco shrugged. "I'm not just here for the Snape story," he said quietly. "But it's a bit … classified. Remember the letter I sent you after you moved? I told you I'd stumbled on a very interesting story?"
"You're still working on that?"
"Investigative journalism is delicate and dangerous work, Potter," Draco said grimly, moving a checker piece and then quickly apologizing and putting it back when Lily loudly protested.
"Are you in any danger?" Harry asked, instinctively glancing up at the sitting room windows. The curtains were drawn and the rain was pounding on the roof. Everything seemed fine, but since Sev's kidnapping, the whole family was a bit paranoid.
"Not right now," Draco answered with a slight smirk, watching as Rose shoved a random piece forward without Harry's attention. "But," he added, dropping the smile and helping Lily jump Harry and Rose's piece. "I could be. This is big. We're talking international intrigue."
"International?" Harry repeated incredulously, seeming not to notice that he was losing the checker-game really badly. "And … inter-cultural?" He was wondering if any conspiracy could spread between the magical and muggle worlds. After all, Lucius Malfoy had suspected Britain's current Minister of Magic of being part of that mysterious group that wanted to unite the magical and muggle worlds and rule over both. If the Minister of Magic was indeed part of that group which Draco had told them about, then it could very well be intrigue that spanned magical and muggle borders. The possibility spun Harry's brain, and made him think of a muggle, (or squib) with a metal arm and dark rune-stones.
"It could be," Draco agreed mysteriously. "It would be too dangerous for me to tell you any more than that. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Harry assured him, guiding Rose's next move. "But don't be afraid to ask for help. 'Mione and I would be glad to be of assistance if you need it."
"I'll keep that in mind," Draco answered in all seriousness, which truly drove home for Harry how very dangerous this probably was. If Draco Malfoy was actually considering taking help from Harry Potter and his family, it had to be something big. Suddenly, in one fell swoop, Draco helped Lily take four black checker-pieces.
Harry groaned dramatically and Rose laughed at her father's theatrics. "I think we're beaten, Rosie-Posie," Harry sighed. "Want to give up?"
"Nope!" the little girl declared, and decisively moved a red piece into the midst of the red army of Draco and Lily.
Hermione, Steve, and James entered the sitting room at that moment, and Harry looked up at his wife with a grateful grin.
"You've saved my pride," he greeted her, gesturing at the sad-looking board. He had two black circles in the midst of about ten red. He had not done well at all.
"Oh no, go ahead and finish your game," Hermione smiled innocently. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of the experience."
Harry made a pouting face from where he lay on his side on the carpet, and Lily giggled at him. James almost looked like he was going to laugh, but he managed to hold it in.
"Your move, Potter," Draco said smugly. "I'm afraid there is no possible hope for you."
"I agree, but we'll go down fighting," Harry swore. "Won't we, Rosie?" He pointed to the piece she'd just moved and helped her inch it closer to the end of the board. Just one more move and it would be kinged.
James flopped down on the floor beside them, while Hermione and Steve sat down on the sofa to watch as well. The game was over in five more turns, with the lonely piece falling before their black king gave its life dearly after jumping two pieces and attempting to run for its life. Lily cheered like she'd won a round of Quidditch, and Rose sighed sadly before she turned to her father and said frankly that she was going on Uncle Draco's team next time. Honestly, Harry was too busy grinning at the shocked Malfoy to even bother being offended about getting dumped like that. Uncle Draco indeed. The girls set up another game and Harry sat up for the adult conversation.
He nodded at James, to tell him he could be included in this talk if he wanted to be, and drew his wand. After he cast a light muffliato spell on his daughters' ears, he took a deep breath.
"Steve Rogers, I'll admit I have purely selfish motives in asking you about Severus Snape. You see … I have reason to think he could help me find my son."
Steve tilted his head to the side slightly and glanced down at James, who looked stunned. "You have another son?" the Captain asked seriously.
"Kidnapped," Harry replied quietly. "Over three months ago, a man with a metal arm attacked my home while I was at work. He shot Hermione and James, and stole my younger son. I … we haven't had any news of him in all that time."
"I guess magic can't find him?" Steve suggested.
"Their son is a squib," Draco butted in. "He does not have a magical core to respond to even the most powerful locating spells."
The Captain took a deep breath and laced his fingers together while he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You think Snape could do what you couldn't?"
"I think if anyone in the world can do it, he could," Harry explained stubbornly. "But … I wouldn't want to just burst in on him with all kinds of demands. I have no idea what he's been doing since I last saw him fifteen years ago. I don't know what he is like now, only what he used to be like. I was … sort of hoping you might know a bit."
Steve nodded. "I can help you there, but I'm afraid I can't help you find Snape. He's not even on this planet anymore."
Harry's heart stuttered in horror. "What?" he whispered.
"He's dead?" Draco demanded, his voice sounding as hollow as Harry's chest felt.
"No!" Steve almost shouted. He smiled reassuringly. "No, Snape's alive. I meant that he's not on the planet anymore. Thor and Loki took him to Asgard to finish recovering and to hide from those folks that wanted to throw him in Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" Draco snorted. "Severus Snape broke the Statute of Secrecy when he revealed his abilities to you, but I don't think he'd go to Azkaban for it."
"Who wanted to throw him in Azkaban?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "His name's cleared, his crimes forgiven … I mean, there would be an investigation into how he survived, but they wouldn't be able to legally prosecute him for anything he did in the war. Just surviving your death and going travelling certainly aren't Azkaban worthy."
"I only just learned that yesterday morning," Steve admitted. "I have no idea what went on, but the wizard people worked with SHIELD to practically kidnap Snape from the hospital while he was still in a coma, so … we kidnapped him instead and sent him to Asgard."
"We?" Hermione repeated.
"The Avengers?" Draco asked incredulously.
"Severus Snape fought the Chitauri with us and nearly died when he fought Loki all alone," Steve said firmly. "He's one of us, and we were not about to stand by and let him be thrown into a prison where the jailers take away all of your happiness and hope and even your soul. No human being deserves that; certainly not Snape. It rare you meet such a … a hero."
There was a strangely solemn silence in which no one seemed to know what to say.
"Dad always said Professor Snape was the bravest man he ever knew," James spoke up softly.
"He was," Harry agreed. "Or is, I mean."
"I'd like to know how you met," Draco interrupted.
"So would I," Hermione added. "Does he still sneer and snarl at everyone in his path?"
Steve laughed. "I don't know about everyone, but the first time I met him, he told me: 'Do you not have somewhere else to be?'." His imitation of Snape's tone and sneer were so spot-on that everyone laughed. Well, everyone but the children. James had no idea who Steve was imitating.
"And he told me his name was Dr. Salazar Slytherin," Steve added, making the adults laugh even harder. Even James grinned this time, as he seemed to realize that a muggle would have never heard of Slytherin House's founder. For Professor Snape to call himself that was awfully funny. It was almost as funny as it would be for old Professor Sprout to call herself Helga Hufflepuff.
"Slytherin of him," Harry gasped once he could talk without laughing so hard. "So I guess you two weren't exactly friendly at first?"
"The only one he was friendly with was Dr. Banner," Steve shrugged. "He and I were never exactly friendly, but after some time, we were a bit more cordial."
"Dr. Banner?" Draco repeated. "I'm afraid I am not familiar with him. He is part of your Avengers?"
"Dr. Bruce Banner," Steve explained. "Yes, he is. A few years ago, he was in a lab accident … an explosion, if you'll believe it. He should have died, but instead his body changed. Now, when he gets angry or frightened, he morphs into the Hulk. Have you heard of that?"
"Ah," Draco nodded as his gray eyes lit up with understanding. "So he is a shape-shifter?"
Steve nodded. "He can pretty much change whenever he wants to, it's calming down that's the problem. The first I heard of Snape being unusual was when he was able to calm the Hulk down with some 'chemical solution he invented'."
"A calming draught!" Harry exclaimed.
"Once a Potions-Master always a Potions-Master," Draco chuckled. "I am only surprised he used it on a muggle like that."
"Natasha told me he didn't just throw the stuff in the Hulk's face," Steve added. "She said he put his hand on him and ordered him to sleep, and he did!"
"Wandless magic," Hermione murmured thoughtfully. "And in English, not Latin … Interesting."
"Well, we don't know that he didn't whisper in Latin and this Natasha didn't pick it up," Harry mused.
"You say Banner was the only one Severus was friendly with?" Draco demanded. "Why?"
"Severus and Dr. Banner had been together for months before they joined us," the Captain suddenly pointed out. "Neither of them trusted any of us, and for that I'm really not surprised. But we fought together in New York, and in the end, even though Snape told us he wouldn't stand a chance, he faced Loki alone and barely survived. SHIELD did a pretty good job of covering up his involvement, but those magical police tried to arrest him anyway, and … well, I'm not sure now why they wanted him."
"This goes back to my story on international intrigue," Draco pointed out grimly. "I believe there are people in governments and intelligence agencies all over the world who have a common agenda."
"Conspiracy theory?" Hermione asked with a smile that was only slightly patronizing.
"Is it a mere theory if one has proof?" Draco demanded, scowling impressively. "I know it sounds crazy, but more and more, I have seen that there is a pattern, and links, and strange goings-on … Did you know? Your son is not the only squib to go mysteriously missing. In France, a squib girl went missing about a month before your son did."
"France?" Harry demanded incredulously.
"Were there any answers?" Hermione asked.
"Same as with your son, a muggle armed with magical defenses broke into a home, murdered the parents and one sibling, and took the squib. I heard this story and investigated, because of what happened to your family. It seemed a bit of a strange coincidence, wouldn't you agree?"
The silence that followed was uneasy and weighted. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look full of meaning. But they wondered what this all meant. Their son had been kidnapped by some international group of criminals that operated at the top levels of world governance? It seemed ridiculous, but if Harry's early years had taught him anything, it was that he was rarely involved in anything normal or believable.
"You're investigating this?" Steve finally asked, looking grim and worried. "On your own?"
"I wouldn't trust anyone else," Draco smiled condescendingly. "And if you breathe one word about this to anyone else, you won't live long enough to regret it. I've come too far to let a careless slip of the tongue bring down my work, and possibly my life and the lives of my family."
"Easy, Draco," Harry warned. "Steve here has a history in fighting world-takeovers. Have you been to that new Smithsonian exhibit? It is quite interesting."
"Nazis don't exactly go around starting wars these days," Draco retorted drily. "Thanks, but I'll reserve my caution for the super-soldier."
"If you feel like you should erase those memories," Steve said hesitantly. "I would give you permission."
Harry, Draco, and Hermione exchanged significant looks.
"Maybe," Hermione said slowly. "We could simply put a spell on you preventing you from saying anything about it, even accidentally."
"A taboo," Harry agreed, lighting up. "You're brilliant, 'Mione."
Steve nodded uneasily. "I wouldn't want to upset your investigations … but what if there are non-magical people involved too? What are the rules about that?"
"It depends on what I find out," Draco said sternly. "But I have reason to believe that these people are both magical and not, and are located in multiple countries. I believe that they have surface agendas and existences, but also have hidden agendas and possibly hidden bases as well. I cannot tell you what I have found out, but basically, if there is a group that exerts great influence over the world in general, either magically or not, secretly or not, there will be infiltrated agents within it."
Steve Rogers swallowed hard, looking pale. "You're saying … even SHIELD could be compromised?"
"They could be compromised too," Draco agreed. "In fact, I thought they were actually part of the whole cabal before I realized that they must have been infiltrated right at their founding."
Steve gasped sharply and Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances.
"That's impossible!" Steve protested. "A friend of mine, Peggy Carter, she was there when SHEILD was founded! She would have noticed something!"
"Is this Carter woman still alive?" Draco asked curiously.
Steve hesitated, and then nodded. "She's in a nursing home, though. Her mind is going."
"There are potions to help a failing mind regain sharpness for a time," Draco said dismissively. "If you can help me, I would truly appreciate being able to speak with her. Imagine: one of SHIELD's founders! This could be just what I need to uncover the next layer of intrigue …"
Draco trailed off and Steve looked conflicted. "I ... I was going to go see her tomorrow ..."
Hermione reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "It's a lot to think about," she said gently. "And it's a lot for us too. If you need a few days …"
"No," Steve interrupted. He straightened up and took a deep breath, giving Hermione a polite smile. "I need to find things out too. When SHIELD wanted to take Snape away and hand him over to his jailers like he was worthless, I started suspecting that something wasn't right. All this is … it's just affirming that feeling. Something is not right in SHIELD. There are other things; little things not really worth mentioning, but … I think we need to look into it."
Draco met Steve's eyes and nodded solemnly. "We can go over the details later," the gray-eyed wizard said. "For now … we just want to hear everything you can tell us about what shenanigans my godfather was up to when he saved the world from a Norse god!"
"Hard to believe Thor and Loki and Asgard are all actually real," Harry muttered. "Does anybody here know much about Norse Myths?"
Hermione smiled and straightened up, looking so much like her eager schoolgirl self that Harry had to smile fondly. Of course she would know all about all mythology. If it was in a book, she knew about it, or could find it out in record time. Rose fell asleep in her father's lap and Lily climbed up on the couch with her mother, blinking sleepily and likely not understanding a word of their animated conversation thanks to the muffliato charm. While they chattered about Norse Myths, Thor and Loki, and Severus Snape's role in stopping an alien invasion, the tense atmosphere relaxed, and Harry almost forgot about Draco's alarming news.
But somehow, Harry realized that Draco knew who had taken his son. And he wasn't saying more than dire hints and dark allusions. That, more than anything, made Harry's heart clench with fear. What could be so dreadful, that made Malfoy so afraid of exposure, to the point that he actually threatened to kill one of Earth's great heroes to protect himself and his family?
It couldn't be good, whatever it was.
HP~W~I~N~T~E~R~HP~S~O~L~D~I~E~R~HP
I'm hoping this family dinner was everything it should be. Next chapter will start the next leg of the Winter Soldier plot, namely: the Fury Assassination. Things should snowball from there. I'm anticipating going really quickly once I hit the main movie plot. Not really having to think about where the story is going is really helpful. :)