Lucius Malfoy was a suspicious bastard.
He didn't have a lot of choice in the matter, to be fair. He was a member of the Inner Circle, which was almost entirely composed of two-faced, backstabbing bastards who would sell their granny for glue even if she wasn't dead. The Outer Circle, as it were, were even worse. They may not have honed their backstabbing skills in the same way, as evidenced by the fact that they weren't members of the Inner Circle yet, but they were much more keen, and being keen was a recipe for disaster.
For instance, a member of the Inner Circle would be much more likely to use any misstep that Lucius might make as a blackmailing opportunity, because removing Lucius from the game would just open the door to a younger, less stable, power-crazed loon. The Outer Circle would be running to His Lordship faster than a charging Hyppogriff, tugging at his sleeve like a three year old begging for sweeties, and grassing you up in the hopes of getting promotion via a dead – after prolonged Crucio at the very least - Wizard's shoes.
No, you knew where you were with the old crowd, because let's face it, it wasn't as if there were any promotion prospects available in the Inner Circle; Pettigrew had the Right Hand Man post sewn up, and was bloody welcome to it if the rumours about his duties were right.
So when Severus sent him a polite little note asking for a meeting he agreed, on the basis that Severus was the nearest thing he had to an old friend, but insisted on some fairly stringent precautions on the basis that the reason they were old friends is that they had joined forces in their youth to stab other people in the back. Severus was obviously not to be trusted; neither was Lucius.
Lucius chose the place to meet – a dingy cottage in the middle of nowhere, which positively bristled with wards to keep people out, and which he rather complacently imagined was impregnable. It took Hermione only ten minutes to prove that wrong, and a further five minutes to reinstate the wards so it looked just as it ought to. Lucius apparated in ten minutes earlier than agreed, to give him time to check the wards, look round for suspicious characters, and give him a good view of Severus walking along the straight path to the front door.
"Severus, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?" Lucius asked grandly, as if he were welcoming a guest to Malfoy Manor and not some fetid pit that qualified for the title 'cottage' only by virtue of four walls and a roof.
"Lucius," Severus acknowledged. "Don't you think that we should talk about this inside? Walls may have ears, but so do bushes and trees."
"You've never been one for the country have you?" Lucius said, casually dropping the wards with a flick of his wand and holding the door politely open for his guest.
"Not much," Severus replied, passing through the door. "And this place does nothing to alter my opinion. For heaven's sake, couldn't you have sent an elf ahead to light the fire? I'm going to freeze my cods off at this rate."
"You did say you wanted this meeting to be private," Lucius said. "If an elf knew about it, then five minutes later Narcissa would as well, and that would be that. She's so suspicious."
"Probably because you're so duplicitous."
"Why thank you," Lucius said mockingly. "Mind you, I think you're right about the need for a fire. We wouldn't want to risk your cods, not now rumour has it you've discovered a use for them." He cast a charm to light the fire, and settled in an armchair before the fire, stretching his long legs towards the heat. "I hear you've acquired a Mudblood of your own. Is she any good?"
The last thing Lucius saw was Severus smirking broadly as he said, "She's certainly very good at charms." Then he heard a muttered "Sexist Pig" followed quickly by "Stupefy" cast from behind him, and knew no more.
Hermione and Severus used the time Lucius was unconscious profitably. First, he was separated from his cane, and searched for spare wands. Not that this was really an issue, as Hermione cast several strong charms to bind Lucius to the chair – perhaps with a little more vehemence than was strictly called for – so that he couldn't twitch a finger. Severus then snipped off a lock of Lucius hair, from the back where it wouldn't be noticed, rather than taking the whole lot as Hermione suggested.
Lucius came round to find his chair turned sideways to the fire, and Hermione ensconced in an arm chair opposite him with Lucius' cane very prominently perched on her lap. Severus was standing behind her, with what Lucius privately considered to be a very unbecoming smirk on his face.
It's difficult to be supercilious and suave when you're tied to a chair, but Lucius gave it his best shot. "My dear Severus, is all this strictly necessary between two such old friends?"
"It's precisely because we're old friends, that I consider this to be entirely necessary."
They exchanged almost identical carnivorous smiles.
"How very uncivilised of you Severus; an accurate assessment I grant you, but uncivilised behaviour nonetheless. My robes are positively wrinkled."
"Look," said Hermione, cutting in, "when you two have finished flirting, perhaps we could have a chat about the matter in hand."
Both men cast her disgruntled glances. This was the sort of repartee that they prepared for all their lives. She wouldn't put it past them to keep little notebooks by the side of their bed, to jot down any particularly good sneers that came to them in the early hours of the morning. Severus probably used Potions lesson as a light Sneering work out, assessing whether a particular insult was worthy of repeating by the amount of tears it generated in prepubescent children.
"She's a frisky little thing, Severus, but a little gauche. I'm sure you could so something about that with a little training."
Severus drew in a sharp breath. "Hermione darling, do remember that we need him alive."
"But not necessarily in one piece," she said, attempting a smirk of her own.
If Lucius had been free to move he would have examined his fingernails in ostensible boredom; he settled for raising an eyebrow. "Threats are so déclassé."
Hermione's smirk congealed into something closer to a snarl. "It's not a threat; it's a promise."
"So," said Lucius airily, "what did you want to discuss?" Years of training kept the tremor from his voice, but this was the closest he'd been to being unnerved since he was twenty and the Unfortunate Incident with the Boomslang, the Hufflepuff and the Wizarding Photos. A problem only solved by the application of poison at a time when he had an alibi, and since he'd obtained the poison from Severus, that didn't look to be a possible exit route from this sticky situation.
To his jaundiced eye, Severus had the look of a man thoroughly smitten; it would be years before he would regain his true Slytherin potential again. Love seemed to be wholly incompatible with a desire to rule the world and do your fellow plotters down. It was enough to make a man weep. Although, Lucius thought, this did mean that he wouldn't have as much competition in the future, so there was a silver lining to this cloud.
Severus extracted a vial from his pocket. "Veritaserum," he said. "Under the circumstances, I think we'd all feel better if this conversation were conducted honestly and openly."
"And I certainly wouldn't trust anything you said without it," Hermione said firmly. "You're a twisty sod at the best of times, and this isn't the best of times."
"Why thank you, Miss Granger is it? I'm flattered by that encomium."
"I'm sure you are."
Severus crossed over to Lucius, making sure that he didn't obscure Hermione's line of fire with her wand. "Open up," he said, holding the vial to Lucius's lips. "Don't make me hold your nose. It's not dignified."
Lucius submitted with bad grace, and swallowed the potion. Severus followed suit, and then handed the vial to Hermione, who took a large swig.
There was silence, both sides waiting for the potion to work.
"So, I ask again, what did you want to discuss?" Lucius asked.
"Making sure I can still go out with Hermione, getting one over on Albus Dumbledore, bringing down His Lordship and World Domination," said Severus, making a great effort to censor what he was saying before it left his mouth. You couldn't lie under Veritaserum, but you could certainly try and put the best face on what you were saying.
"In that order," asked Lucius, maliciously.
"Yes," hissed Severus, to Hermione's evident gratification and Lucius' surprise. He'd been expecting World Domination to feature rather higher on the list. He sighed; Severus really was a lost cause, and now he'd need to find a new sparring partner. He spared a moment to be grateful that he had a wife like Narcissa; there was nothing like being married to a whining nag to make a man see the benefits in being out on a Friday night, trying to take over the Wizarding World.
"So, Lucius, would you like to be on the winning side?" Hermione asked.
"Obviously," he returned coolly. "However, you haven't said anything yet that convinces me that yours is the winning side. How do you intend to go about disposing of His Lordship?"
"Prophecy, a prat and polyjuice," said Severus, settling on the edge of the armchair.
"Potter?" Lucius suggested.
"Is certainly a prat," Severus replied smoothly.
Hermione nudged Severus firmly. "Oi, he's my friend."
"Are you denying he's a prat?" asked Severus.
"Of course he's a prat," she replied. "You git. I'll" – the never refused to come out of her mouth – "forgive you for that."
"When you two have finished flirting, perhaps we could return to the matter at hand?" Lucius said smugly.
Hermione glared at the irritating man. "Are you willing to help us defeat He-who-must-not-be-named?"
"No," Lucius replied simply.
"Why not?" asked Severus. "You've done nothing but complain about him for years."
"I'm not going to risk my life and my Friday nights of freedom, for some woolly-minded, liberal cause."
Hermione and Severus exchanged a long look. "What if," she said, leaning forward, "the plan involved no personal risk to you at all, but merely required you to be somewhere else entirely? All we need is a lock of your hair to get someone through the door, and that's all."
"That's better, I suppose," Lucius replied, "and he is bleeding me dry, what with all the bribes and fines I'm having to pay. You wouldn't believe the amount I had to pay to get out of Azakaban last time. What with that and Narcissa's shoe bills every month, I'm going to go broke soon. But what about my Friday nights?"
Hermione thought for a moment. "Alright, how about this. You tell Narcissa that you were in fact behind the removal of His Lordship so that you could become the next Dark Lord. Obviously, you are the natural rallying point for the cause once he's dead, so there shouldn't be any problems there. You still have to have Friday night meetings, of course, to rally the troops and all that; that leaves you free to cheat on your wife to your heart's content."
Lucius pondered; faint lines of concentration formed on his forehead, marring the perfection of his countenance.
"And if it goes wrong," Hermione added, "there's absolutely no comeback on you at all. As far as His Lordship is concerned you were elsewhere when the attack was launched, and you can't be held responsible. As long as your Occlumency is up to scratch, you'll be fine."
Lucius liked that aspect even better. A plot that had only upside and no downside, as far as he was concerned anyway, was the sort of plot he liked. "If you don't need me at all, other than as a source of hair, what do you need me to do? I assume you've been helping yourself already; I do hope you haven't been obvious. Maurice will be devastated," he said.
"Maurice?" muttered Hermione.
"His hairdresser," Severus replied quietly. "In return for the opportunity not to be arrested with the rest of the Inner Circle, all you have to do is to get the Board of Governors to agree to some trifling changes to my terms of employment."
"I might prefer to take my chances with the Ministry," Lucius said. "It may well be cheaper than having to bribe the Governors."
"That is if you live that long. May I say that death seems the more likely option bearing in mind how accident prone Potter is: all it takes is a simple slip of the wand, and then it's too late to try and bribe your way out of things."
"Ron, in particular, is very unhappy about what you did to Ginny," put in Hermione. "And he's ever so over-excitable. Who knows what might happen in the hubbub?"
Lucius considered that Miss Granger's threats improved with practice, and hated to think what they'd be like given even more time. "Very well, I'll arrange for you to be able to leave Hogwarts at short notice, in return for a gentle hint on dates when my presence in the vicinity of His Lordship is less than desirable. Will that do?"
"That is acceptable," Severus replied. "And I'm sure I needn't remind you how twitchy Gryffindors are, and how they hex first and ask questions later. If there is the slightest suggestion that you've gone back on your word, why, I don't think I'd be able to stop them from doing something foolish."
"Are threats really necessary, dear boy?"
"Of course they are Lucius. I believe the Muggle phrase is something about a carrot and a stick. Just be grateful there's a carrot involved; it's more than I've ever had," Severus said with some bitterness.
Lucius smirked "You'd think that working for two masters would lead to twice the rewards, but somehow it doesn't seem to have worked out that way. And now the House Elf wants to be free?"
"Oh god yes." Severus was fervent in his reply. "Or I'm going to have to kill Albus, and you'll have to help me hide the body."
"Me too," added Hermione.
"Erm, the Veritaserum has worn off, hasn't it?" asked Lucius, rather nervously.
"Let's see, what was your nickname as a child?" asked Severus.
A look of profound relief spread over Lucius' face, as he wasn't compelled to blurt out the truth. "Thank Merlin for that."
"Mind you," Severus said, "I'm perfectly bloody serious about bumping off Albus."
"Absolutely," agreed Hermione.
The three of them parted on amicable terms. Which is to say that Hermione cast a delayed release on the charm tying Lucius to the chair to give them time to apparate away safely before he could get his hands on his wand.
Lucius was as good as his word. A cryptically worded Owl made its way to Severus, indicating that the Governors' meeting had gone well and that House Elves could look forward to a pleasant future.
What had actually happened at the meeting as relayed to them by Minerva the next day. Albus wasn't at breakfast, and was still in his rooms sulking about the ambush that had been practiced on him.
"Apparently, the Governors started discussing discipline, and the need to be able to dismiss troublesome teachers at a moments notice," Minerva announced to the Staff Room at large. She had a large audience; Severus wasn't the only one trapped on a long-term contract. "He painted a dreadful picture of teachers having to be suspended on full pay for the rest of their contracts, because they couldn't be dismissed for even the gravest infractions."
"I don't see how that helps," Hermione said. "Surely that just makes it easier for Albus to give us all the Order of the Boot."
"That was just the beginning. Once he'd stampeded them into altering the contracts so teachers could be dismissed for debauching the students, or stealing, or any other form of Grievous Misconduct, he then moved on to something he called Performance Related Pay."
Hermione muttered to Severus, "I bet he got that idea from his Pet Mudblood. That's Muggle talk that is."
"Thank god for that," he muttered back. "I was thinking it was some bizarre form of the Dark Arts. I had visions of a wholly perverse nature when she mentioned the word Performance."
Minerva glared at Hermione when she giggled, making her feel like she was back in class again. "If you're quite finished?" Hermione mouthed sorry and shushed as directed. "What we needed, he said, in the modern Wizarding World was flexible contracts which allowed for teachers to be remunerated according to performance and that this should be measured on a term by term basis."
The rest of the teachers looked horrified. Performance related pay? Surely this didn't mean that they would actually have to demonstrate their usefulness? Trelawney in particular looked ashen. "Surely it is impossible to measure the skills and abilities that we bring to our positions here? Who can put a price on learning?"
"The Governors can apparently," Minerva said. "To the tune of ten galleons a week, full board and lodging, and three sets of robes. Not that I'm worried. I've looked at the contracts. All we really have to do is outperform Beauxbatons and Durmstrang in exams, and frankly, we've been pissing on them from a great height for years, so that isn't a challenge. So there's no danger to our basic salary, and, for the first time, we actually get paid if we supervise a Hogsmeade weekend, or for any other extra-curricular activities. We could actually be looking at the first pay increase some of us have seen in years."
Hooch nudged Trelawney and sniggered a bit. "Extra-curricular activities, eh?" and received a glare from Minerva in her turn.
The rest of the staff murmured to themselves; that was good news. One of the biggest bones of contention between them and Dumbledore – or skinflint as they affectionately called him – was the way he expected them to work extra hours for what he called the love of their profession instead of the love of cold hard cash.
"But the best part of it all, is that, because these contracts are termly, we only have to give a term's notice. So the next time that Skinflint gets on your nerves, you can tell him to stick his job where the sun doesn't shine, and not spend the next year or so listening to him whine. "
Trelawney grasped her tea cup in her hand and rose majestically to her feet. "I would like to propose a toast. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Lucius Malfoy. A murderous, lecherous, racist bastard, but a bastard who has stabbed Albus in the back, and is consequently alright with me."
As one body the teachers rose to their feet – Hermione and Severus included – and toasted Lucius Malfoy in warm tea and weak coffee.
Severus made a mental note to tell Lucius all about his sudden rise in popularity; he would be immensely amused. And then wonder how to turn it to his advantage, though he may be disappointed to find that the well was dry when he got there. Severus fully intended to let it be known that he had been instrumental in securing Lucius' beneficence whilst the warm glow of gratitude still prevailed. After all, he still had a term to serve in this prison and he'd need all the help he can get.
Their euphoric glow at having arranged things to their satisfaction lasted precisely three days, four hours, and ten minutes.
Harry had, according to the urgent Owl he sent, been Thinking.
Hermione thought that this was likely to be a mistake, but loyalty to her friend prevented her from saying so. She needn't have worried; Severus had more than enough to say on the topic himself when presented with the letter.
"Of all the asinine, half-witted, dunderheaded, stupid things to do," he snarled. "Here we are, running around trying to bring down His Lordship, desperately trying to keep it all a secret, and what does he do? Blab about it. To Neville Longbottom of all people. I give up. I absolutely give up."
He collapsed into the armchair and put his head in his hands, giving ever sign of being a Broken Man.
"There, there," Hermione said.
"And I don't want to be humoured," he snapped.
"I'm not humouring you," she replied. "I'm expressing sympathy and solidarity with you in your time of need. Though if you're going to take that tone of voice to me, you can shove it."
Severus ignored her, in favour of continuing to complain bitterly about the stupidity of Potter. "What on earth was he thinking of? What does he think Longbottom is going to do for f-heaven's sake? It's not as if it's a secret mission to blow up His Lordship's cauldron, which is the only thing he is eminently qualified to do."
"I think Harry's worried that the Prophecy is supposed to apply to Neville and not to him."
"So he thought he'd take Longbottom along, on the off chance?" Severus snorted. "What an idiot."
"Well it's better than having to nip back next week and giving it another go if Harry turns out not to be the Instrument of Prophecy after all," Hermione said reasonably. "I know we've got enough of Lucius' hair to make any number of forays, but I do think His Lordship might notice something eventually, no matter how good Smudger is."
"I suppose so," Severus grumbled. "And it does mean that Potter can't take all the credit, can he?"
"That's my Severus," Hermione said fondly, dropping a kiss on his forehead. "Always looking on the bright side of things."
Severus wrinkled his nose at her. "Just keep Longbottom out of my way, that's all I ask."
"Somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem dear."
And so it proved.
They'd arranged another meeting at Minerva's cottage. This time Harry, Ron and Bloody Longbottom – as he was coming to be called – were invited as well.
Severus had been opposed to the meeting, wanting to know why on earth Potter "couldn't bloody well do what he was told for once in his life, instead of demanding explanations and messing around with a brilliant plot just so he could look important."
"Look," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "We can hardly say 'do as you're told when it's us' at one and the same time as asking him to go behind the back of the Ministry, Shackelbolt, and Albus; it'll just confuse him."
Severus subsided to a dull mumble, which Hermione chose to take as agreement, because the alternative was moving to the next stage of their Relationship by having a Blazing Row. The Making Up would no doubt be spectacular, but it was a distraction they could well do without. The Unwritten Code of the teacher – that you present a united front to the children no matter what – applied in these circumstances, and the bickering would have to be postponed to a time when she had the luxury of Sulking.
Minerva had gone on ahead to open up the cottage to receive visitors. Her wards were a damned sight trickier than Malfoy's, and they didn't want to have to reassemble the Instrument of Prophecy or any of his friends before they could get started.
Hermione was a little nervous. This was the first time she'd seen the boys since she'd told them about her and Severus and by now they should have sobered up, and had had a chance to consider things. Things could be a little dicey for a while.
They apparated in with a crack, to find Harry, Ron and Neville huddled together in conversation. They shot apart guiltily, and Hermione could well imagine what they'd been saying, an opinion confirmed by the curious glances Neville kept throwing her way when he should have been concentrating on the planning.
Neville wasn't too distracted to make sure that Hermione was seated between him and Severus, and that he was closest to the door in case he had to make a run for it. Which was silly really. Severus was extremely unlikely to hex Neville – she wouldn't go so far as to say impossible - but if he did, it would take more than a head start to make a clean get away.
"Right," said Harry, trying to take control of the meeting. "As we're all here, I think we should get started."
"I'm afraid, Potter, that as usual, you've gone off a little prematurely." Severus managed to invest that simple statement with a great deal of meaning, and Harry flushed unbecomingly. "There is another person who has yet to arrive; the most vital part of the whole plan."
Harry flushed again, but not from embarrassment this time.
"'Ello," came Smudger's cheerful voice from the doorway. "I can tell you're talking about me; my ears are burning."
"Mr Sm-Smith," Minerva said, recalling the name Hermione had given to the boys just in time. "How good of you to join us at short notice."
Smudger nodded in greeting to Hermione and Severus, then walked up to Neville and said, "Mr Potter, I presume, I've heard so much about you."
"Erm, erm, I'm not Harry," said Neville, still shaking the hand that was offered to him. "I'm Neville Longbottom."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Smudger said, still in that airy, cheerful tone. "I just thought you were a lad with the mark of destiny on you. Naturally I assumed you were Harry Potter."
"Gosh, really," stammered Neville, sitting a little taller in his chair.
"Absolutely. 'Ere, you're not having me on are you, and pretending not to be Harry Potter?" He winked at Neville. "One of those need to know thingies."
"I can understand why you could make that mistake, Mr Sm-Smith," said Severus at his most bland. "They do have very similar expressions, but you can put that down to the overlay of Gryffindor bravery. They're all so very eager to be heroes you see."
Severus and Smudger exchanged smug glances, whilst they were glared at by the Harry and Ron. Minerva was used to Severus and his jibes, and didn't even flicker. Hermione had decided she was going to apply for political asylum in Slytherin anyway because she preferred green to red, the sex was better, and had no intention of being a hero. Neville, bless him, thought he'd been paid a compliment, and was puffing his chest out.
"Well it's up to us Slytherins to keep them alive with our wiles and deceit then, isn't it?" Smudger said.
"Bloody right," said Minerva, shocking the boys with her bad language. "I don't want anyone getting themselves killed. Which means you three will do as you're told." She glared at Harry, Ron and Neville. "And you two will stop trying to wind the children up."
"Yes, miss," the boys chorused, united in their return to the classroom.
There was a twitch, as Harry very nearly raised his hand to ask a question. "So who is Mr Smith, and what does he have to do with the plan?"
Smudger sat down, and stretched his legs before him. "That's a very good question lad; it's good to see you've got your head on right."
Harry preened a little. Hermione realised that Smudger, as Severus' second in command for years, had long since mastered the art of herding cats with the simplest of nudges here and there. Smudger was Slytherin down to the bone, and whilst he may seem to be cheerful and chummy, he was just as sly in his way as Malfoy.
She wondered quite whose idea it had been to overthrow His Lordship after all.
Smudger winked at Hermione, and she had the feeling that Severus wasn't the only one who practised a bit of legilimency on the sly.
"I, lad, am the key to getting you past His Lordship's guards," Smudger replied. "And that's all. It's entirely up to you what you do once you get in there."
"So you're just going to waltz up to the guards and tell them to go away," Ron said in disbelief.
"Pretty much. I don't want to give too much away, but that is the general idea. All I will say is that I might not look like this on the night in question, ok?" Smudger managed to pull off a look of almost Dumbledorean sincerity and wisdom.
Harry and Ron exchanged glances. "Look, I don't know you from Adam," said Harry. "And yet you expect us to trust you and not ask you tricky questions, like who you are and how you're going to pull this off. I'm really not happy about that. Not happy at all."
"Harry," said Hermione. "I know what the plan is, and I can tell you that it's almost guaranteed to work. We've got plans of His Lordship's mansion, we know that most of his Death Eaters won't be around, and we've got a way in past the guards. We just can't give you much more detail until the night of the attack, because that will be putting not just his life at risk, but someone else's." Not to mention, very specifically not to mention, that if Harry knew that Malfoy was involved he'd have a fit. "We're not asking you to trust Mr Smith at all. We're asking you to trust me. Because if Mr Smith lets us down, he knows that I'll hunt him down and skin him alive. Very, very slowly."
"You know, you're a really lucky bloke," Smudger said conversationally to Severus. "I mean she's a Gryffindor and all that, so her threats are a bit direct, but she's got definite promise. She really sounds like she means that."
"She does," Severus said dryly. "And if she didn't, you know I would."
"Of course, mate. I wouldn't have it any other way." Smudger looked hopefully at Hermione. "You don't happen to have an older sister do you? Just a couple of years older, that you could introduce me to."
"I'm sorry, no," Hermione replied.
"Thank god," Severus muttered. "I couldn't have borne teaching two of you." And was promptly elbowed by Hermione to Smudger's immense amusement.
The smile was wiped off his face when Harry asked, "So you're saying Mr Smith is trustworthy?"
"Oi," said Smudger in outrage. "You take that back."
"No, Harry," Hermione replied. "I'm saying that Mr Smith is a Slytherin, whose interests happen to coincide with ours in this matter, and who can be relied upon to do his part in getting us into His Lordship's lair. He is not trustworthy at all."
"Oh, I see," said Harry, who very clearly didn't.
"Right," Minerva said, applying Staff Meeting tactics – if you haven't secured your colleagues agreement, just steam roller over them and pretend you have, because at the end of the meeting they won't remember – "Let's move on shall we. What are we going to do once we're past the perimeter? I believe that is the technical military term."
Harry and Ron nodded. They knew that perimeter was the proper word; they were highly trained Aurors.
"I suggest," Severus said in tones of someone suddenly having a stroke of inspiration, "that I escort Mr Potter and Mr Weasley into His Lordship's presence at wand point as my prisoners."
"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?" sneered Harry.
Hermione wouldn't be surprised to find that Severus dreamed of holding Harry and Ron at wand point, though that hopefully didn't extend to handing them over to His Lordship. It was probably why the idea – and it was a good idea – sprang so readily to mind.
"If you've got any better ideas," Smudger said. "I, for one, will be glad to hear it. After all, if you can come up with something safer, I'm all for it."
Harry muttered something under his breath, but no one asked him to repeat it.
"Neville and Minerva should stay outside to make sure no one sneaks up on us from outside," Smudger said, once it was clear that Harry wasn't going to contribute anything useful. "And they can come and join the fun once it all kicks off. At that stage we'll need all the help we can get."
"Erm, what about me?" Hermione asked. "Where do I fit in?"
"I'm not taking you in there," said Severus in horror. "You might get hurt."
"So might you," Hermione said. "And you don't see me saying you can't go."
"Yes, but you're a Gryffindor," he said. "You'll do something daft, and rush in and be brave and get yourself killed."
"Severus, I've been keeping bad company recently, so you can rely on me to try and find something – or someone – to hide behind when the hexes start flying. I will not hurl myself into the fray expecting a good heart and intentions to prevail, and I can assure you that I have absolutely no qualms about hexing anyone in the back. And I am damned well going, so you'd better get used to the idea."
Severus blinked at her, surprised by her vehemence, and then bowed to the inevitable. "You promise you'll be sensible."
"Absolutely," she said crisply.
"I don't suppose, I've got any choice, short of stupefying you," he conceded. "Alright, so I escort Ron and Harry into see His Lordship at wand point. Hermione will follow on behind as back up."
"She could always wear Death Eater robes," Smudger offered. "She could pass herself off as a Minion. It'd be safer that way."
Severus nodded. "Then all you have to do is take off your mask at the critical moment. I don't want you being hexed by anyone on our side by accident. Some of your friends may get a bit trigger happy in the excitement."
"Oi," protested Ron. "I'll have you know we're trained professionals."
"That's what worries me," replied Severus. "The Inner Circle are trained killers."
"Who will we come up against," Harry asked.
"Lucius will be otherwise occupied," Smudger said. "If we do it in the next fortnight, Avery is on holiday. So the Lestranges, Nott, Macnair, Crabbe and Goyle, maybe a couple of others will be there. And Pettigrew, of course, but he'll bolt given half a chance."
"Bellatrix Lestrange is mine," said Neville harshly.
"No, lad," said Smudger. "She's not. She'll eat you alive. I think we'll leave her to Severus."
"It's personal," Neville said.
"Even more reason to leave it to Severus here," Smudger said patiently. "Look lad, Bellatrix makes Malfoy look like a Hufflepuff. She's vicious, she's potty, and she's bloody handy with a wand. Severus here has years of experience of dealing with people like that, and you haven't. All you've got is your hate, and if you hate her you're just going to make mistakes, and get yourself killed, and probably a couple of your friends as well. And the end result is that she'll get away. Do you want that?"
Neville shook his head mutinously. "No," he muttered.
"If it's that important to you, there's bound to be a couple of minutes after it's all over and before we call in the Aurors, and you can take her into a quiet corner and hex her till the blood comes out of her ears," Smudger said. "You can't say fairer than that."
"I couldn't do that," Neville said, shocked and revolted. "I just want her to be locked up. For good, this time."
Smudger shrugged. "Well then, it's not really personal is it? If that's all you want, it doesn't matter whether Severus hexes her, or you, as long as she's dealt with."
Neville sighed. "I suppose."
"Good boy," said Minerva.
"Right," said Harry. "So we get in. Professor Snape's job is to get Bellatrix. Hermione, and Ron lay down covering hexes, and I go for His Lordship. Seems simple enough."
"And Neville and I will keep an eye on things from the outside, and stop anyone from sneaking up on you," said Minerva. "And if the worst comes to the worst, we can always call in reinforcements."
"If we're really lucky, we can hex any rats who decide to desert a sinking ship," Smudger said. "Pettigrew in particular has always got right on my nipples; it's be a pleasure to sort him out once and for all."
"Something in it for everyone then," said Ron cheerfully, to Harry's obvious discontent.
"You said something about having maps," Harry commented, determined to assert his authority over the meeting. "I think we ought to have a look at them, and see what's what."
Smudger rummaged in his robes, and produced a couple of dog-eared pieces of paper. The plans were crudely drawn, on what was clearly the magical equivalent of the back of a fag packet. "'ere you are, lad."
"They're not very clean," sniffed Harry.
"Well no, but then they were drawn under conditions of utmost secrecy and I thought a bit of dirt would add a bit of camouflage," Smudger said civilly, but with an underlying edge of narkiness.
"Let's spread them out on the table," Hermione suggested, determined to keep the peace. "That way we can have a good look at them and familiarise ourselves with the layout."
The others gathered round the table to look over the plans of His Lordships lair, leaving Smudger and Severus behind. There was no need for them to learn the layout, having spent many a tedious Saturday night listening to long speeches and wondering why they couldn't have comfortable seats.
Severus sighed. "I just hope she's going to be alright," he said quietly to Smudger. "It's just, you know, I've never been particularly lucky, and it all seems to be too good to be true." Severus was aware of a cold, hard hand clutched round his intestines.
Smudger patted him on the arm. "You might not be lucky, but is she?" he asked sensibly.
Severus thought about it. She'd been up against His Lordship as a First Year. She'd been petrified by a basilisk. She'd turned herself into a cat, sort of. Yes, she had a habit of getting herself into difficult scrapes – largely down to Potter and Weasley – but she also had a habit of getting out of them; she was lucky.
"I suppose so," he said slowly.
"She must be," Smudger replied. "After all, she's ended up with you. How much luckier can one girl get?"
Severus had to smirk at that.
Harry looked up from his deeply technical conversation, full of terms like enfilade and ambush and tactical advantage, and frowned. Harry might not be able to hear what Smudger and Severus were discussing, but he disapproved of Severus smiling on general principles.
Hermione stabbed her finger down on the map, and asked Harry a question, forcing him to turn his attention back to the discussion.
"And I suppose we've got prophecy on our side," Severus said sourly, not liking seeing his girlfriend in such close proximity to The Prat. "So we can hardly fail. And if you believe that I'd like to sell you a potion that can turn lead into gold."
Smudger grinned. He'd always appreciated Severus' cheerful outlook on life.
"And if… when we're successful, it does mean that there are fewer people to share the glory with," Smudger said. "There's only a certain number of Orders of Merlin you know. I only hope we're alive to enjoy it. A posthumous Order of Merlin is no good to anyone. It's no use pulling the totty when you're no longer able to enjoy it. Mind you, sod's law says that's what'll happen."
"Not to us," Severus said, looking at the three boys with an evil grin. "After all, they do say it's the good that die young."
Smudger snorted. "You may not be good, my lad, but neither are you young anymore. Middle aged, is what you are."
Severus glared at him. "I'll have you know, I'm in the prime of my life," he said indignantly. "Compared to a Muggle, I'm barely into my twenties."
Smudger grinned unrepentantly. "You always were easy to wind up, Snapey."
Severus sneered half-heartedly, "Just be grateful I've mellowed with advancing age, and no longer feel the need to hex everyone I meet."
"It's not like you've suddenly matured over the last couple of weeks, you know. I'm sure it was barely a month ago that you were offering to slice Grytpype-Thynne's bollocks off, and use them as potion's ingredients."
Severus smirked at the memory. "Well, he asked for it."
"I'm not arguing about that. I've been tempted to do it myself, a time or two. You know that he got me banned from playing darts, the bastard."
Severus nodded. He knew. Everyone knew. And anyone who didn't know, soon would, given five minutes of their time. Mind you, when it came to darts, Grytpype-Thynne had a point; Smudger was a bloody danger to anyone in a hundred yard radius. "It's a pity the Prophecy doesn't call for His Lordship to be eliminated in a game of darts really. We could have polished him off years ago."
"Nah, you can't see His Lordship settling down to a game of darts. Not without cheating anyway. He's always struck me as a bad loser. Worse than Malfoy."
"True. True. And I bet he wouldn't stand a round. Even Malfoy's been known to do that," Severus said.
"I bet old Bumbledore's just as bad when it comes to sticking his hand in his pocket when it's his turn," Smudger prodded, knowing what the response would be.
"Bloody right," Severus agreed. "What's the difference between Bumbledore and His Lordship?"
"Dunno, mate."
"One's a power-crazed lunatic who wants to rule the world, and the other one has a beard."
Smudger dutifully sniggered, though it was probably the hundredth time he'd heard the joke. He thought Severus deserved a medal for putting up with the Greater Bearded Tit alone, regardless of his work as a double agent. All those poisons at his disposal, and his hand had never twitched. Mind you, for once he seemed to be getting jam now and not tomorrow.
He nudged Severus in the ribs. It seemed that the Instrument of Prophecy had made his mind up, and they had to treat the situation with the gravity it deserved. After all, it wouldn't look good in their memoirs if they were sniggering like schoolboys at this crucial moment in History. He wouldn't put it past the boys to be truthful and accurate in what they chose to record for Posterity, rather than being sensible and making sure that they showed to best advantage.
"So," Harry said slowly, surveying the map now covered in scrawls and scribbles. "We're really going to do this."
"I think so mate," Ron said.
"Well now that that's settled, I think we could all do with a nice cup of tea." Minerva moved towards the kitchen. "Could you give me a hand Hermione dear?"
It was just on her lips to suggest that Neville could help her make tea, and why should she be volunteered to do it, just because she was a girl, when Hermione realised from the tension in the air that the boys still had a certain amount of posturing to go through before things could truly be called settled. "Fine," she said, rolling her eyes.
Once Hermione had gone, and the rattle of crockery could clearly be heard in the kitchen, Severus said, "I want it clearly understood that if anything happens to Hermione as a result of someone in this room being careless or gung ho, I will make the rest of your short life extremely painful."
The boys nodded. "And the same goes if you or your mate here turns out to be unreliable," Harry said. "Just so we know."
"He's reliable," Severus said. "In fact, if it all goes pear shaped, I want him to make sure that Hermione is safe."
Smudger nodded, looking serious. "If that happens, I'll stupefy her from behind, and get her out if at all possible. My word on it."
"Not unless it's really hopeless though," Ron said. Severus and Harry glared at him. "Look, in the first place, she's a grown woman and has a right to make her own mind up what she wants to do, and in the second place, I think she'd be bloody useful to have around, and in the third place, I really don't want to explain to her why she was plucked out of things at the height of the battle if I haven't actually snuffed it."
"He's got a point there," Neville said. "You know what she's like; we'd never hear the end of it."
Smudger winced. "I can imagine she'd be a bit forceful about things. So, very much something to be done when all hope is lost, and explanations won't be possible without the aid of a ouija board."
The boys nodded.
Hermione was surprised by the air of unity that prevailed in the room when she returned with the tea things. It was fortunate that she didn't know precisely what they were united in; she would have been extremely cross. As it was the meeting broke up with considerably more amity than the one with Lucius, and a damned sight more than anyone had expected at the beginning, though that didn't stop Severus complaining about Potter in bed later that night.
Hermione stopped him in a most effective and agreeable manner; it was probably what he was angling for all along.