Being summoned 'immediately' to the boss's office is a traumatic experience for almost every human adult.
Harry Potter folded the paper-dart memo and placed it in his pocket, summoning every ounce of Griffindor bravado he possessed not to run for the nearest fireplace. For him, an extra element of unpleasantness surrounding the task lurked in the ante-room and made his stomach churn even before he reached the desk of the Head of the Auror Division.
That most fearsome of creatures, guaranteed to quiver the knees of even the boldest warrior. The ex.
Swallowing hard, he pushed open the door and was confronted with the sight of two delectably-shaped buttocks in a very smart, very short skirt. Their owner straightened up from the low-level drawer she had been investigating and a mesmerising pair of dark brown eyes met his.
"Good morning, Harry," she smiled politely at him.
As usual, his throat closed over and it took him three attempts to create a sound.
"Hello, Cho," he managed.
"She's just using the floo. Would you like some coffee while you wait?" It was the same tone she used for all the important visitors who waited for the Chief Auror, bright and professional, but somehow her voice made Harry feel like a hapless teenager again. He opted to just shake his head, not willing to risk further vocalisation. Damn that girl! Or that woman, he should say, as neither of them were children anymore. It had been years since their miserable attempt at a childish relationship had fizzled down to its pathetic conclusion, and Harry could not decide whether it was a residual flood of attraction or pure embarrassment which had him squirming each time he saw her.
Whatever the reason, seeing her always wrong-footed him on his way to the main office.
A few minutes later, he was standing awkwardly in front of Chief Auror Tonks, who was scowling at a ten-foot long scroll running across her desk and onto the floor. Her hair was in a neat brown bob and she was wearing a very businesslike face.
"Blasted muggles," she muttered to no one in particular. "They really don't help themselves, do they?" She looked up and gave him her full attention. "Wotcher, Harry. Have a seat. You look flustered, are you OK?"
He cleared his throat self-consciously, gesturing towards the outer office with his chin.
"Cho," he murmured.
"Oh yes, I always forget about that," Tonks gave a sympathetic nod. Feeling emboldened by her show of feeling, he voiced a thought which had needled him since his training began.
"Ma'am, I still don't understand why one of the cleverest witches at Hogwarts is working as a secretary. She did brilliantly in her NEWTS. It makes no sense."
The empathy in Tonks's eyes dies instantly.
"Mr Potter, how many times have you been warned about making assumptions?" Harry winced. "As you should be fully aware by now, being an auror consists of one-part trying to catch dark wizards and two-parts completing paperwork about it. Administrating this department takes huge amounts of skill and dedication. Since I became Chief, I've noticed how hard the non-field staff here work – much longer hours than the aurors, incidentally. Miss Chang's arrival was something of a revolution. For the first time in 750 years we have a filing system which actually works. Ask yourself if that demands more intelligence than casting tracking spells on phials of virgin's blood from Borgin & Burke's. She has chosen a less glamorous role than you, but no less vital to our work."
Duly chastised, Harry looked at the floor, then gave what he hoped was a winning smile in order to salvage the situation.
"Of course, Ma'am. Ravenclaws, eh?" he started shaking his head when he caught sight of the familiar pin Tonks was wearing on her lapel. The one she always wore. The one with the black raven on a blue background. He swallowed. She raised her eyebrows.
"I can't imagine what they teach in the Observation and Investigation classes nowadays," she asked in a faintly alarmed tone. "I thought lesson one was to use your eyes, and lesson two was that a subject is less likely to co operate if an auror antagonises them?"
"That's right, Chief. I'm very sorry," he couldn't help but blush at his glaring mistake.
"Forgiven, Harry. Now, onto the reason why I asked you to be here," she settled behind her desk with, if possible, an even more stern expression. Harry still had difficulty reconciling this demanding boss with the fun-loving young witch who used to turn her nose into a pig snout to make him laugh at Grimmauld Place. The burden of responsibility had changed her, though he had heard that the metamorphagus still pranked people on birthdays or bachelor parties. "I hear that you have been openly criticising the working methods of the Department."
"What!" the exclamation leapt out before he could stop it.
"You were overheard in the cafeteria, criticising our training procedures. Would you care to explain?" she cocked her head slightly, inviting his response.
Harry's mind whirled as he tried to understand what the problem was. The cafeteria? He hadn't been there since yesterday evening, when he had told Neville and the others about…
"Snape," snorted Harry. "I just found out that he had failed my potions theory exam."
"No, Mr Potter," corrected Tonks calmly. "You failed your potions theory exam."
Harry's head snapped up, but he managed to keep his outrage to a minimum.
"Ma'am, Snape has hated me since before I was born. Of course he failed me! And don't say that the papers were anonymous because he knows my writing! That was the only exam I failed. If it weren't for him I would be a qualified auror now," he struggled to keep the tone light and not vent the bitterness he felt. He deliberately tried not to think that the greasy old swine had also used his cunning to trick Harry's darling Remus into parenthood.
Tonks pressed a button on her desk and asked Cho to locate Harry's exam script and bring it in. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Harry's toes curled as the perfect administrator handed over a sheaf of parchment with FAIL stamped across the front in enormous, red letters. He couldn't imagine Cho failing at anything in her life. He dared not make eye contact, not knowing whether he was more afraid of seeing scorn or pity in those lovely eyes. Why did she have to be in charge of the exam paperwork too? Merlin, this was turning into a truly vile day.
Tonks opened the script and, squinting, Harry could make out a large 38 per cent scrawled at the top in a familiar hand. He bit down on his irritation. This could be a vindication, he realised, if Tonks could see how well he had really answered, he would be qualified! And with a bit of luck, Snape would be sacked for victimisation, too. He took a deep breath to calm himself.
"Ah, yes," she said, glancing at the questions. "This takes me back! Well, it seems that you answered well in the first part of the paper, except for a rather obvious omission of the side-effects of Daeninckx solution. Don't forget: two heads are not always better than one!" She turned the page and frowned. "Ah. Now here we come to the problem. Part two, the long-answer section. You chose the question on Ackerschlepper's Anti-Venin, worth fifty per cent of the marks."
"Yes," said Harry not listening properly as he tried to hide his developing elation.
"Then you proceeded to give an in-depth analysis of Adelheffner's Anti-Vermin Potion," she looked at him questioningly.
The silence following her words was deafening. Harry was sure he actually felt his jaw hit the floor. Tonks turned the script around and pushed it across the desk to Harry could see Snape's scathing red comments. 'Candidate should learn how to read,' was top of the diatribe. His shoulders sagged.
"I must have misread the question," he mumbled, so mortified it actually hurt. The Chief Auror gave him a moment's peace for the realization to sink in, before speaking.
"Though I am sure your knowledge of pest-control is an asset to your domestic life," she said as kindly as she could. "I'm afraid it would be of no help to a colleague who had just been attacked by a venomous beast."
"Mmm," replied Harry, still in a daze. Tonks cleared her throat and retrieved the paper.
"You must pay attention, Harry! I know people like to make fun of Mad-eye, but he's still alive thanks to his Constant Vigilance. That small lapse of concentration cost you the exam, but misreading information out in the field it could cost your life."
"I'm sorry," muttered Harry.
"So am I," sighed his boss, clearly not enjoying this. "Unfortunately, we still have to deal with reason I asked you to come here. You were using unpleasant language to question the competence of a Ministry-approved examiner in a public place."
"But it's Snape! Everyone knows…" began Harry petulantly, before she cut him off.
"Mr Potter! Must I remind you that you are training to be an MLE professional? That your every word and deed from now on can be seen to represent the views of the Ministry?" He had heard it a million times before, but in Harry's opinion, this particular speech sucked. Who cared? Getting no response, Tonks continued. "Whatever your personal views, we must present a united public front. To have a world-famous young role model ridiculing our operational procedures is damaging on both national and international levels. No one reads the Ministry's mission statements, but there would be a keen interest in a press article featuring the Boy-Who-Lived denouncing his superiors as…" she picked up a piece of paper from one of the many in-trays on the desk. "As a 'load of idiots for trusting that slimy Slytherin arse-bandit'."
Harry looked aghast once more. Had he actually said that? He desperately tried to recall his little rant the previous evening. He had made a real effort during the previous three years of training to keep his emotions under control and use the wearying politically-correct vocabulary which was drummed into all staff to try and avoid claims of victimization, but after leaving Remus' house yesterday he had been very distressed. He had actually called Snape an arse-bandit? Oh, Merlin, now that was ironic, given his recent conclusions about his own preferences.
"Ma'am, I'm sure I didn't say that," he tried a warm smile to placate her.
"This transcript was timed at 18:47 last night. Let me see, also present were newly-qualified Aurors Bilhash and Longbottom, a trainee healer named Hermione Jane Granger using visitor pass number 45441JK. You had mushroom soup and a pumpkin juice, which you drank straight from the bottle because there were no clean goblets available at that time. Various others were not at your table but well within earshot. I can have names, addresses and inside leg measurements within three minutes, Mr Potter." She leaned forwards in genuine curiosity. "Harry, what were you thinking? It wasn't even the staff canteen, but the public one! One quarter of British wizardry started their adult life in Slytherin house, and I'm not sure of the statistics on homosexuality, but I know that you just potentially offended huge sections of the magical community. And implying that everyone at the Ministry was an 'idiot', within the Ministry's own walls? I'm very sorry, Harry, I have no choice but to put you on report."
Harry cringed all through the subsequent lecture on how great fame required great responsibility, that he should conduct himself with honour at all times, be a credit to himself and the Ministry, what his mother would have said, etc., etc. Then, after a good deal of mental deliberation, Tonks decided to broach a subject she had internally sworn never to discuss with Harry.
"You know that we do not accept applicants for the Auror Training Scheme who are fresh out of school. We require a minimum of one year's relevant life experience – such as work with magical creatures, internships with companies or living amongst muggles for the purebloods," the young man was looking so miserable she made an attempt to lighten the mood. "They were impressed with my year as a barmaid at the Hog's Head! The panel said that if I survived a year of dangerous drunks and Aberforth's wandering hands then the odd curse in the line of duty would be no problem!"
When Harry did not laugh she ploughed on.
"Chief Auror Jones admitted you to the scheme six weeks after your NEWTs on the strength of your amazing victory against Voldemort. She agreed with Professor Dumbledore's assessment that you had faced more dark wizardry during your schooldays than some of our senior staff members had in a working lifetime, so the year-out requirement was waived in your case. In the light of Mr Longbottom's crucial involvement in the war, and in the interests of equality, he was also allowed to join on leaving Hogwarts.
"With hindsight, I am beginning to doubt the wisdom of my predecessor's decision."
Harry swallowed a cry of distress but could not hide the incredulity on his face as her words sank in. They were throwing him out? Now? After three years hard slog they were going to fail him because of one lousy exam and a juvenile outburst about Snape?
"What exactly are you saying, Chief?" he asked quietly.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Harry. Until now you have done well in all of your classes, and your exam performance has been consistently strong. You have acquitted all your fieldwork tasks with competence, and your reflexes are the finest in your year. You should be proud of yourself. However," Tonks stood and began to pace carefully up and down as she tried to explain. "I do not believe that all of life's lessons can be learned in the classroom. No one can deny that from a young age you have independently proven your level-headedness many times over, but I'm afraid your…emotional maturity leaves something to be desired."
"Are you calling me immature?" demanded Harry, his brain whirling as he tried to process what was fact, what was compliment, and what was criticism.
"Yes, in some ways. I mean no insult, Harry. You've been through hell and back in your short life and it is my belief that you need to spend some time coming to terms with what you have experienced and to decide who you are," She turned to face him, gazing down as though trying to read something in his features. Her voice dropped very low. "Exactly who is Harry Potter?"
"Just me," he responded in a distant whisper, suddenly realizing that he couldn't answer properly. It was not a question he liked to think about. Suddenly he could hear a raging storm and smell the waves crashing outside an abandoned shack, as a terrified boy just minutes into his eleventh birthday told a peevish half-giant: "Just Harry."
It was decided. After a further half hour of one-sided discussion, Harry was committed to re-sitting the Potions Theory paper in a week's time, then taking a year-long sabbatical.
"Work, travel, take up knitting, start a rock band, the choice is yours," said Tonks, not unkindly. "Just do some living!"
He stumbled blindly for the door, trying to compose his swirling thoughts before crossing Cho's domain, when the Chief Auror called him back. He turned around to see her sprouting long black greasy hair and a hooked nose.
"And learn how to read!" she instructed, in a fair imitation of Snape's most threatening tone.
This time he laughed.
…….
The frying pan sizzled away on the cooker. Pip the house-elf hovered unobtrusively at the other end of the kitchen, in case her master should suddenly need her. He had explained that he was making his own snack not because he did not trust his Pip, but because humans was sometimes getting the same satisfaction as elves was when they made something delicious, which she supposed made sense.
Humans was odd creatures. Not bad-odd, because Pip was a good elf and never spoke ill of her clever master, but good-odd. She knew things they was doing was not always making sense to elves, but only bad elves was questioning them for it. Like master's baby. No boy-creature was supposed to have babies itself. But her wonderful master had told her to make a room all special for a baby, then a few weeks later had stayed out all night then come home carrying the little one inside his own self! That was good-odd. She was sure no elf had ever been lucky enough to care for such a clever wizard.
Now he was in her kitchen, using her pans and her stove to cook slices of his loomy-cheese which tasted of salt and rubber, and eating straight from the pan without no plate or no fork because that was what his little baby needed. Master's baby was very demanding. It was making him fat, but Pip was not cross about that. He had been too thin before, and if he was to grow the tiny one properly, he needed lots of good things to eat, even if it was this loomy-cheese. She had never heard of frying cheese before, but master was on his third packet this evening so it must be tasty. She watched how carefully in case he got tired of doing his own cooking and asked his Pip to do it instead.
Eventually, he got full up and was complimenting good Pip on her clean kitchen before going to lie on the sofa, rubbing his big cheese-and-baby belly and saying kind things to it. Pip was delighted that master was pleased with her and did a little jig of elvish joy around the room when she was sure he could not see. She loved master very much. She could hardly wait until master's baby was here to be cared for as well!
…….
A few short months ago, Remus Lupin's life had held little promise of a happy future. Loneliness, survivor's guilt and an increasing dependence on firewhiskey had given him an uninspiring daily routine – the royalties from his book meant that he had no need to work, but mankind's natural fear of werewolves made it difficult to get anything to merely pass the time. Even the charities he offered to volunteer for seemed concerned that he had 'had a bad war' and should enjoy his retirement, nervously thanking him for his kind offer even as they escorted him to the door.
But now everything had changed. 'Be careful what you wish for', people used to say, and now Remus understood why. He had longed for a family, and lo, unexpectedly, fatherhood had happened to him. He had longer for Harry's love and it had materialised. In theory, Remus J. Lupin should have been the happiest wizard on earth.
Of course he should have known that life was never that simple. His would-be lover and the bearer of his child hated each other with the fire of a thousand hells and Remus saw precious little chance of changing the situation. Harry believed Severus was somehow up to no good, and Merlin knew how Severus was going to react when he heard about this development. He should put it delicately to avoid putting the pregnant man under any more stress at the moment.
The memory of the young man's succulent lips touching his own earlier that evening gave Remus pleasant chills. Harry had arrived at his house in a terrible state after being forced to take leave from the MLE to address his emotional issues. Tonks was absolutely right of course, there was no way that Harry should have been allowed to plunge straight into the most demanding profession with the homely scent of the schoolroom still clinging to his robes. At the time, everyone had congratulated him on sidestepping the regulations and told him how clever he was for this great achievement.
Actually, that was not strictly true. One person had been heard sneering that rules were in place for a reason and that breaking them would only lead to trouble for all concerned. But Harry's friends had all been too busy celebrating to listen.
Severus had been right, though naturally Harry had seen his sulking as a deliberate attempt to rain on his parade. Dear Severus! He had been so content throughout his pregnancy, quietly relishing the attention Remus was paying him and their unborn child. As he got further along he would need more support from the other parent, too. Now Harry would have nothing to do all day and would demand lots of his time as they tried to build a relationship. He was not looking forward to seeing Severus today.
Remus wondered how he got himself into these situations.
…….
As Lupin left after an eventful visit, Severus flopped back onto the sofa, propping his feet up on the arm and arranging the familiar nest of cushions to support his aching body. The baby was overexcited today, as she had just learned how to kick Papa's right kidney whilst twisting and dancing to some crazy rhythm which only she could hear. The potions master disapproved of parties in general, so to have a long-haul one going on inside himself was rather disconcerting.
Snape groaned as her wiggling pushed on his bladder again and stroked the bump gently in an attempt to sooth the little monster within. To no avail. The contact from outside served only to encourage her.
"Quiet in there, my treasure!" he chided softly. Though he was feeling tired and battered, he couldn't be cross with the baby. It was delightful that she seemed to be so healthy, in fact. It must be due to the energy from all that delicious Halloumi. His mouth started watering at the thought of the chewy Greek cheese and he set Pip to frying another hearty batch in olive oil before lying back on his cushion-sculpture and reflecting on Lupin's visit.
So the infernal little Potter pest had set his cap at the werewolf. This was not part of the plan. Normally, he would have laughed aloud on hearing that he had been proved right and the boy had been suspended or however they chose to phrase it for being emotionally incontinent and possibly unbalanced. Not that Lupin would ever describe it in those terms. But now, instead of having two fathers at her beck and call, the baby would have to compete with the scar-headed menace for Lupin's love and attention.
Severus cursed himself for not considering the possibility of the werewolf acquiring a lover. He had been so broken-down when Snape had seduced him, it was hard to imagining any sane person wanting stable their broomstick next to his. Yet clearly, Potter was not quite sane.
And what was Lupin thinking, hooking up with the disturbed child of his dead best friends? Snape was certain that this time, his would not be the only voice of disapproval. At his age, the randy old wolf really ought to know better. He summoned his trusty notebook and began another list.
What would Lucius do?
1) Kill Potter.
2) Torture Lupin.
3) Have a pedicure.
No, no no. That would not do at all. He couldn't go around casting Unforgivables in his condition. He crossed out the list, except for the pedicure part, which he decided to bear in mind for later.
What he needed were allies. He had never been one to palm off his dirty work onto other, less competent people; but then he had never been heavily pregnant, emotional and exhausted before.
He began another list.
People whom I trust, who are certain to object to the Potter/Lupin situation
1) Dumbledore.
2) Weasley Matriarch.
3) Me.
Hmm. Not a terribly long list. The criteria were too stringent, of course. He had learned long ago that misplaced trust could lead to disaster. Still, the three names could be very powerful forces in his favour if handled correctly.
Cuddling his bulge while revelling in the knowledge that he was perfectly within his rights to protect his child's future, Snape began some good old Slytherin plotting.
…….
A/N: Hello, hello and welcome back to the most unoriginally-titled HP fic on the internet! Four months to update? That's disgraceful even by my slacker's standards. I have some evil ideas for next time, so the next part won't be so long in coming.
A big hug and a tub of your favourite ice-cream to anyone who's still there! (Will bribe for hits, I have no shame). Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I had some gorgeous reviews for previous chapters and thank you for your views on the eventual pairings. I still haven't decided, so if you want to stick your three knut's worth in, then I'd love to read it!