Chapter three
Severus had no clout at the Ministry, but he knew a man who did. A man who, depending on the tale his grandson had told him, owed him a favour.
Old Lucius.
So Severus sent a polite owl to Malfoy Manor inviting himself for dinner, which was graciously assented to by Narcissa, with a charming note to the effect that such old friends need not stand on ceremony, dinner would be 7.30 for 8, and that Young Lucius and his sister were presently staying with them, and wasn't that nice?
He interpreted that to mean that formal robes weren't necessary, and that if he still wanted to come to dinner when he knew that children would be involved, then he was clearly a desperate man.
He was a desperate man.
He arrived promptly at 7.45, to be offered an aperitif. Not sherry, thank goodness, but a nice glass of white port. Lucius certainly knew his way round a wine cellar.
Severus allowed the worries of the last couple of weeks to fade away as he rolled the wine round the glass, inhaled deeply to sample its bouquet, and then tasted it. "Very nice," he said. "I do wish Albus would hand over the selection of wines at Hogwarts to someone more competent. I swear he chooses them on the basis of their pretty labels or exotic names."
"Oh dear," Lucius said sympathetically. "Does he use phrases like 'a cheeky little wine that will amuse you with its presumption'? Personally, I've never found presumption very amusing."
"Depressing presumption has its charms though," offered Severus.
Lucius smiled like a predator. Sharks, lions and tigers would back away from a smile like that whistling innocently. Even large dinosaurs of an aggressive persuasion would, if not extinct, do the same. In fact, if Old Lucius was that Old, he was very likely responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs. All it would have taken is one of them looking at him a bit funny, and bang, there goes the species.
Severus liked to think of Lucius as his friend; he'd hate to think of him as an enemy.
Dinner was a civilised affair, despite the presence of the children. The room was warm with no draughts whistling round his feet or down the back of his neck, there were no ghosts or poltergheists popping into existence before him and making him add too much salt to his soup, and there was no Albus trying to bully him into doing things he didn't want to do.
The food was excellent, the wines were certainly fine, and the company was interesting. He wouldn't go so far as to say pleasant, as dining with the Malfoys was very much like being the toad beneath the harrow: you knew where the points went.
Even the children had been cowed into some semblance of good behaviour. He couldn't tell how old was, but she would no doubt be darkening Hogwart's doors in the next few years. Chloe had been under the impression that she was cute and endearing, but had abandoned the lisp and curl-toying when faced with the implacable mien of the Potions Master.
Dinner having been successfully negotiated, Severus and Lucius adjourned to the study with a decanter of port, leaving Narcissa to oversee the children's bedtime.
Settled comfortably in front of the fire with a glass of exceptional port, Severus stretched his legs in front of him and contemplated the polish on his boots. This was how he should be spending his Christmas, full to the point of bursting and immobile.
"I hear that Dumbledore has gone away for Christmas this year," said Lucius, breaking into Severus' comfortable torpor.
"Hmmm."
"Care to tell me why, or is it a secret you've been sworn never to divulge save on pain of death?"
"He's purple."
"Ah that would account for it." Lucius was determined to be imperturbable; he was also dying to know what happened.
Severus left him dangling long enough to indicate that he knew that Lucius was a scurrilous gossip-monger, and that his pose of indifference was well and truly transparent. "I'm surprised that Young Lucius hasn't told you all about it, since he was the prime mover. A little addition to the cauldron in potions when Albus was covering for me, and now Albus is bright purple. For some odd reason, he doesn't seem to want people to see him in that condition, and has disappeared abroad until the colour wears off. If it wears off."
"Young Lucius did mention something about an incident in potions but conveniently forgot to mention that he was responsible."
"Bless," Severus said sardonically.
"How is he getting on at school?"
"Well enough. He has most of his year well and truly under the thumb, he's the source of most trouble, though that tends to be tricky to prove, but his flattery needs working on. He's both obvious and insincere."
"He is only twelve," Lucius said defensively. "We can't expect miracles at such an early age."
"Indeed. Still it's weakness that's worth eliminating at an early stage before it becomes a bad habit. There's no need to be sloppy just because he won't have to deal with psychotic Dar Lords. After all there are still Ministers for magic to deal with."
Lucius acknowledged the point with a nod. "True. True."
A comfortable silence descended on the room, punctuated only by the crackle of the fire and the faint sounds of complaining children in the background demanding another story.
"It's nice to have the children for Christmas. It wouldn't be the same without their happy, smiling faces," said Lucius, one ear cocked to the riot in the distance. "Have you any plans this year or are you trapped at Hogwarts as usual?"
"Worse than trapped," Severus said gloomily. "Albus has dropped me right in it."
"Do tell."
"Albus is apparently Father Christmas this year. You can't have a purple Father Christmas, so he's seen fit to delegate the task. To me."
Lucius choked on his port, then abandoned any sense of propriety and collapsed into whoops of laughter. "I've never pictured you as the Santa type," he said, once he'd stopped laughing long enough to speak.
"I'd rather give the Dark Lord a pedicure."
"Santa Snape. Just wait till I tell …"
"Chloe is on the list of good children," interrupted Snape. "That can change."
"…absolutely no one," Lucius finished without missing a beat. "You're a heartless bastard, Severus."
"You say that as if it were a bad thing," Severus said, smirking now he had the upper hand. Young Chloe's Christmas was now a hostage to fortune. "However, there have been a number of little local difficulties, as you might say."
"And you need some help." It wasn't a question.
"And I need some help. The House Elves have indicated that, if I want their help, I'll have to scratch their back."
"Metaphorically, I hope."
Severus grimaced. "That really isn't a pretty image. What they want is the removal – in a non-lethal sense – of Miss Hermione Granger. I gather they aren't entirely happy with the Working Time Directive."
"No one is. I'm sure Narcissa can give you chapter and verse on how inconvenient these measures are; she's certainly eager enough to tell me." Lucius stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And I suppose you look to me to effect the non-lethal removal of Miss Granger?"
"For the sake of poor little Chloe."
"Yes, alright, there's no need to belabour the point," Lucius said irritably. "And don't forget that I could procure presents and place them in a stocking myself, and entirely avoid the need to have Santa call. It's probably better than having an old curmudgeon such as yourself turning up to the house."
"But it wouldn't be the same," Severus said. "I'm sure, deep down, she'd know. And the magic of Christmas would be spoiled for her forever. She'll stop believing in fairies next, and we all know where that leads."
"You've been spending far too much time reading Muggle literature. Still, it occurs to me that I need all the help I can get persuading Chloe to be good. If I were to mention to her that I knew Santa personally, and he were to make a personal appearance on Christmas Eve….," Lucius paused meaningfully. "Then the Minister could make Miss Granger an offer she couldn't refuse."
"Nothing too drastic, I hope." Miss Granger had been quite useful to him in the past in smoothing over Ministry administration issues by having a word in the appropriate ear. There had even been lunch, where he'd been amazed to find that her vilification of the character of her immediate superior was comprehensive and inventive. He'd left the meal with a sneaking admiration for her sharp tongue, and he'd been rather disappointed that their paths hadn't crossed since.
"Tsk," Lucius said. "It's no good pining for the old days; we have to be much more restrained now. I gather she isn't entirely happy in her present position, so I'm sure a promotion to another department would be entirely welcome. Wiggins has been somewhat disobliging recently, which I am sure is down to the pressure of work, and has absolutely nothing to do with my refusal to pay him another 10 on top of his present fringe benefits; what he needs is a new assistant. Miss Granger, with her hardworking, no-nonsense approach to matters, will be just what he needs."
"I can't see Wiggins coping with actually having to raise a finger," snorted Severus. "So I'd give him six months."
"As long as that?" Lucius murmured. "You may be right. And of course, once Wiggins retires, there will be the need for someone capable to take over his department. I'm sure that if matters were put to Miss Granger in those terms, that she would see sense."
She'd certainly disliked her boss, and would jump at the chance to leave him behind, but she wasn't likely to take too kindly to being double-crossed, if that was what Lucius had in mind. "Miss Granger is refreshingly direct," he said.
"Hmmm," Lucius said noncommittally.
"She tends to believe things that people tell her, or rather, if someone breaks a promise to her, she gets very upset. And when she gets upset, she doesn't sit in a corner and sulk about things. She does things about it."
"I am well aware of Miss Granger's tendency to do things. In fact, I'm relying on them," Lucius replied. "I've had her in mind for that position for some time, but there was never any convenient way to approach her. She certainly wouldn't trust me. You, on the other hand, she respects and trusts."
Severus couldn't always tell when Lucius was lying, but that had the ring of truth, or at least 90 of the truth, which was close enough. He could see that there could be an advantage in having an entirely honest head of department at the Ministry, a bit like having the Queen take up a central position on the chess board and blocking the other players' moves. What did surprise him was the suggestion that she respected and trusted him.
"If I were you," continued Lucius blandly. "I'd take Miss Granger out for lunch tomorrow and put the proposition to her. I'm sure you have lots to catch up on."
Lunch? Well he supposed he could, though he couldn't see why he shouldn't simply make an appointment to see her.
Proposition?
Surely Lucius wasn't suggesting that he should…?
Gosh.
Lucius probably was. His voice had lingered lovingly over the word 'proposition'.
"Perhaps you're right," Severus replied, deciding to postpone thinking about that topic until he was one his own and could give it the attention it deserved. "Now what time were you thinking that Santa should come to call?"
Severus had applied his brain to the topic of Miss Granger and reached some tentative conclusions.
Lucius was a two-faced backstabbing and underhanded Macchiavellan second to none. He was also bright enough to know that stabbing people in the back is something that could usually be only done once, and you had to make sure you got it right. That meant that he was a man of his word, mostly. It was the mostly that tended to trip people up, but mostly was still statistically better than your chances with a lot of people, Albus included.
Lucius would only stab you in the back if he had a reason to do so, and try as he might, Severus couldn't think why Lucius would try and set him up with Miss Granger if all he was going to get for his pains was a slapped face.
So, the chances were that asking Miss Granger out to lunch was a good idea.
And anyway it wasn't as if it amounted to a declaration of love, or an offer of marriage, it was the conveying of a business proposition in congenial circumstances. This meant he could assess the situation without revealing his hand too obviously.
Which begged the question of whether he had a hand. He had hoped to bump into her again, that was true, but he had only considered her as someone who was mildly less irritating to talk to than the rest, and not as some love interest. Which meant he would have to assess her potential quae love interest when they met.
Lunch promised to be interesting.
He arrived promptly at 12.30, to find a harassed Hermione snapping at some underling who had, according to her, failed to appreciate the difference between his arse and his elbow, and couldn't find either of them with a map.
As diatribes go, it was quite impressive, and after another ten years to practice her art she might even be able to approach his level of eloquence.
As soon as Hermione noticed Severus, the underlying was sent off to amend the reports. He scuttled through the door, barely sparing a glance at the Terror of Hogwarts, and made off down the corridor as if a dementor were after him. Hermione smoothed her hair down, and stepped from behind the desk to shake his hand. "I'm sorry about that, but what with Christmas coming up, they've got their minds on the holiday and not on their job."
"You simply can't get the staff these days," he said, venturing a mild joke.
"You can't. I just wish you could use Imperio on them and have done."
"There's many a time I've thought that in a Staff Meeting. Allow me," he said, taking Hermione's cloak from her hand and holding it for her.
"I didn't think you'd fancy eating in the Ministry canteen," she said over her shoulder, and blushing faintly. "So I've booked a table at the café round the corner. It's nothing special, but the food's not bad."
"Which is more than you can say of the Ministry canteen."
The café wasn't far, tucked away down a little side street, and looked rather shabby from the outside. He was relieved to find that appearances were deceptive, and he wasn't being expected to eat in a greasy spoon. . Inside, the place was clean and tidy, if a little Spartan, with clean-scrubbed pine tables, and white tablecloths. There was a vase on each table, holding a fresh flower, and the Menu was written up on a large blackboard on one wall.
The handwriting was appalling and he had difficulty making out what was available. Handwriting standards were clearly declining, and not just handwriting: newsprint seemed to be smaller, and people were allowing signs and notices to become dirty and blurred. It was a damned nuisance, that's what it was.
Squinting, he could just about make out that one of the dishes was salmon en croute. That would do, though he would have preferred venison.
Their food arrived soon after they ordered it, and it was good. The pastry was light and flaky, the salmon moist and tender, and the sauce was delicately flavoured. It wasn't up to last night's standard, but then neither was he going to get food poisoning, which was a distinct possibility in the Ministry Canteen. The only people who ate there were those too poor to afford anything better, or those who had cast iron digestions.
"How are things at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked. "How's Minerva?"
"Spitting tacks," he replied. "Albus has shuffled off on holiday leaving her a mountain of things to do, and very little time in which to accomplish it."
"Albus doesn't normally go on holiday," she said. "Not at Christmas."
"He isn't normally purple either."
Hermione listened with gratifying attentiveness as he outlined the steps that led to the empurplement of the Headmaster. "His hair was a lovely shade of Lavender. That was quite tasteful really, but the rest of him – bright purple!"
Hermione giggled. "I wish I'd seen it. I don't suppose anyone thought to get a picture of it?"
"I suppose we should have done, for medical research purposes at least. It's not everyday that someone turns themselves purple."
"I'm surprised he went on holiday though. I shouldn't think a purple Albus would stand out more than usual, bearing in mind some of the robes he wears. Did you see the last one he wore to the last monthly Ministry meeting? Orange and pink. I swear the man's colour blind."
"I don't think so," Severus disagreed. "I think it's a deliberate attempt to revolt the other members of the Committee so much that they rush through the meeting. They used to take hours, but now they're under 45 minutes even with coffee half way through."
"I wonder if the same tactics would work for me at my next Departmental Meeting," Hermione mused. "God, they're interminable."
Severus took the opportunity to cast an eye over Hermione. The hair was the same and simply refused to be tied down. Her figure was trim, and there was an overall impression of enthusiasm and vitality that was rather attractive.
Enthusiasm that could be put to better uses than sitting in an office and supervising morons.
"And how are things at your end?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be. Reminding her of just how annoying her boss could be would put her in the right frame of mind to listen to Lucius' offer.
"Oh, the same. Too few staff to do too much work, and a boss who thinks that leading by example means sodding off for long lunches and leaving the office early. Mind you, we do get more work done when he's out of the way. He's got a dreadful case of meeting-itis. We have to have a meeting to discuss everything, and sometimes a select group has to have a pre-meeting meeting to set the agenda, and then we have to have a post-meeting meeting for the debrief. I think on one occasion we had the pre-meeting before the post-meeting and forgot to have the meeting at all."
"It sounds almost as bad as Hogwarts," he said,
"Only almost," she teased. "Why isn't it worse?"
"There aren't any children or dangerous chemicals involved, which adds an whole layer of terror to the whole experience that no amount of meetings can match."
"I suppose you have a point," she replied.
The conversation lapsed for a while, as they both concentrated on their meals. Now he'd planted the seed, all he needed was the perfect opening to bring up the subject of an Offer She Couldn't Refuse.
"Are you staying long in London?" she asked.
"I'm going back after lunch, well via a couple of bookshops actually."
"Flourish's have a sale on, so you should be able to pick up some bargains."
He had to get her off the topic of books quickly, fascinating though it was, or they'd be there for the afternoon before he could casually mention his real errand. Oh well, subtlety would be wasted on the oh-so-direct Miss Granger anyway; he may was well be blunt.
"My trip into town was specifically to see you because I've got something a proposition for you. Actually, Lucius has. Well, both of us really."
She goggled at him, which wasn't very encouraging.
"A transfer to Wiggins' department, in return for a favour."
"Oh, thank goodness. For a moment there I thought you were winding up to suggesting a threesome."
Severus choked on his salmon. "What?"
"You didn't seem very certain which one of you was making the proposition," she pointed out calmly. "It was a perfectly logical inference to draw."
"Erp."
"So what do I have to do to get out of this hell hole?"
Severus was having some difficulty lifting his derailed train of thought back on to the rails. "Erp." Threesome? Threesome?
"What do I have to do?" she asked again, watching him with some amusement.
There were all sorts of things she could do for him, and he was trying very hard to stop thinking about most of them.
"I assume it's something to do with House Elves?"
Somehow the thoughts of threesomes and House Elves and what Hermione could do for him got all mixed up, with very unpleasant results. This did mean that his brain could start ordinary thought processes again, and he regained the use of his mouth. "Yes, indeed. House Elves. I need their help for a very important project on Christmas Eve, which means that they may well exceed the Working Time Directive for that week, and I need you to authorise it." It wasn't a good idea to explain that the House Elves wanted her gone. She might get upset, and that would ruin any chances. Any chances of getting her to approve the overtime, that's what he meant. Yes, indeed. Overtime.
"How much over?" she asked. "We can make allowances for the odd hour here and there. We're not unreasonable."
"About six months."
"What the hell do you need that much overtime for?"
He realised with horrid certainty that he was going to have to come clean. There may be a few women who thought Potions Masters in swirling robes were sexy, but he doubted if any of them could be persuaded that Potions Masters in pillocky red suits with a pillow stuffed up their front were sexy in any way, shape or form. "I'm playing Santa this year," he mumbled.
"You're WHAT?"
"Keep your voice down," he hissed. "It's supposed to be a secret."
"Sorry, I could have just sworn you said you were being Santa this year. I assume you mean at the Hogwarts staff party or something."
Severus shook his head.
"You mean the real Santa? Bloody hell."
"So you can see," he said earnestly, "that it's vital that I have the overtime, because otherwise British children will be doomed to disappointment and misery on Christmas day. You couldn't live with that on your conscience could you?"
"I suppose not." She prodded her lunch around her plate for a moment. "Well, let me see the time cost estimates and I'll get them approved this afternoon."
"Erm, time cost estimates?"
"Yes, you know, the estimates of how many Elfhours you'll need, broken down into skilled and unskilled labour, with timings for breaks and rest periods." He looked blank. He hadn't thought about any of that. "You have got a plan, haven't you?"
He shook his head. "Up until yesterday, I hadn't even got a suit that fitted."
"Well, how are you going to get the presents to the children?"
"Sleigh," he said uncertainly.
"Well, that's just silly. It'll take forever to do it that way."
"It's traditional though."
"It may be traditional, but I don't see why you should do it the hard way and knacker yourself and the Elves, when you could do it another, easier way. It's not as if the children are supposed to see you; who'd know if you cheated?"
When she put it like that, he could see her point. He'd been too busy running himself ragged trying to get things sorted out, that he'd never stopped to think if there were an easier way. Organisation, that's what this little enterprise needed and as much as he hated to admit it there was one sure fire way of getting this whole muddle organised: Hermione 'I have a timetable for sleeping' Granger.
"It's all been very badly organised," she said, shaking her head.
"I suppose you think you could do better?" he asked, hoping to provoke the requisite response.
"I'm sure I could," Hermione said, rising to the challenge.
"Prove it."
Hermione's face was a picture as she realised she'd been conned. She was a Gryffindor, and a woman of her word and never backed down in the face of insuperable odds, and was now irretrievably committed to sorting out this chaos.
"You could have just asked me for my help," she said.
"I could have, but this way was more fun." For the first time since Albus had broken the news to him, Severus Snape smiled the happy smile of a man who was off the hook.
And, once the presents were delivered, it was entirely possible that a Hermione flushed with the success of showing him how it should be done might be amenable to being flushed in other ways.
She made him pay for lunch; it was worth it.
My thanks to the following contributors:
"Severus liked to think of Lucius as his friend; he'd hate to think of him as an enemy" from Terry Pratchet's description of Chrysophrase the troll.
Hypnobarb for the I'd rather give the Dark Lord a pedicure line
JustJeanette, for the phrase: "Organisation, that's what this lttle enterprises needed and as much as he hated to admit it there was one surefire way of getting this whole shomozal organised: Hermione 'I have a timetable for sleeping' Granger... "
Mt Straycat, Theatresm, and others for suggested vocabulary.