It was nine weeks until the end of the year, eight until the last task. School had resumed last week. Time was marching on. Severus would have to have words with Potter soon about his summer options. Severus's main concern was that Black wouldn't be able to take the boy until part way through the summer holiday and that Albus' insistence on the blood wards held.
Severus had had a 'chat' with Albus about that. It had been very heated. There were however a few points that Albus had raised that had held water and had stayed Severus's hand in dealing with Potter's situation more openly. The main point Albus raised had been regarding secrecy. Severus agreed that the situation would do Potter no good if it were made public. Any reason given for Potter to be removed from his home would have to be couched a very certain way. Perhaps sick aunt and uncle, or sick cousin and the aunt and uncle needed to focus their attention, or Potter wanting to fully embrace wizarding life.
And that was the sticking point. Given Severus fully agreed with that statement, Albus had him over a barrel. Snape couldn't let the problem anywhere in the ministry where it could be solved, so Albus' blood wards argument held. For now. Severus would continue to work on the man. But in the meantime, Severus needed to put in place some remedial action. In case plans A and B failed, A being Black and B being another wizarding family. Remedial action needed Potter to be physically safe at Number Four Privet Drive in summer. While Severus was hell bent on getting Potter out, he was nothing if not thorough over his back up plans. That and a tiny bit of retribution wouldn't go amiss.
Severus knew exactly how he wanted this visit to go, he also knew that would land him in Azkaban. So he chose to tone it down a bit. Slightly. He apparated to Little Whinging. He'd never been here before. He now understood what Minerva had meant about suburban middle class muggles. The town practically oozed it. Petunia had climbed out of Cokeworth, specifically the bits they'd frequented as children. Yes, Petunia had married her way into Little Whinging. And what did she get? Vernon Dursley, the muggle's muggle.
Severus cast a notice-me-not charm on himself and walked through the front entrance of Grunnings. The receptionist was immaculately dressed, but her attire suited a bank or solicitors more than it did a drill manufacturers. Severus looked at the names of the employees on the office welcome board. All men, he noticed. He was sure they all played golf and that their wives were, like Petunia, able to hold a dinner party for six at little notice, making sure the 1980s desserts were suitably brought up to date and the fish knives were polished. Yes, there was even a Norman on the list of employees. So typically English. He chided himself for those thoughts, but could hear raucous laughter from one of the offices. He probably wasn't far off in his estimate of the social society around here.
"Debbie, get me another coffee, would you?" called a man from the office at the end of the corridor.
"Right away, Mr Dursley," answered the receptionist, getting up and hurrying to the coffee pot. Of course she was a Debbie, thought Severus.
Severus slipped down the corridor quietly. Even with the charm active, he'd prefer to not be in anyone's direct eye line for long. Vernon's office door was open. Severus slipped in. The office was big enough to have a darker corner behind a mustard coloured sofa and a potted plant. Obviously, he thought. The nineties hadn't quite made it out of the seventies for office decor around here.
Severus stood there quietly. Watching. It was 4pm. The office would empty at 5pm. Severus didn't actually know this. But he knew this in his bones. This was how all middle class suburban offices functioned. He stood motionless in the darker corner. He liked people-watching when they didn't know they were being observed. Their mannerisms, their traits, their little foibles. It told Severus so much.
A head poked around the door frame. "Dursley, the Mackintosh account needs faxing before the end of the day. Have you updated it yet? There was just that minor error on page six. Can't have that going to the taxman now, can we?"
Vernon looked up. Severus saw a momentary panic in Vernon's eyes. Ah, a man who doesn't do his work, thought Severus. "I am just putting the finishing touches to it now, sir. It'll be with Debbie before five. I do apologise for the error, it won't happen again."
"No problem at all, Dursley, we all make mistakes and this is a massive account. I'm impressed there was only that one minor point. Good job, Dursley, I knew we could count on you," said the man. Severus took in the difference in their appearances. The man speaking to Dursley had a sharp suit. Expensive, wool, cufflinks. Dursley was, by comparison, unkempt. Not on an absolute scale. He was wearing trousers and a shirt and tie, his suit jacket thrown over the back of his chair slightly rumpled. But he didn't 'wear' his suit. That's what made the difference. He looked more like a walrus the taxidermist had had an accident with. It told Severus at a glance who was the manager. "Are you and your wife free at the weekend, Dursley? My wife and I are going to The Lodge. Excellent golf course there, we can have a round and leave the ladies to the spa."
"Thank you, sir," said Vernon, fawningly, "That's most kind of you to invite us. I believe we're free this weekend, yes."
"Excellent. Your work on these accounts has been exemplary." 'Sir' left. Severus watched Vernon pause and listen for the footsteps to retreat. Vernon pressed a button on his office phone. Severus' acute hearing heard a buzzer sound in reception. Quick footsteps, heels this time, walked this way.
Debbie came into the room with Vernon's cup of coffee. "Sorry, Mr Dursley, Mr Harrison stopped me for a chat." Debbie put the mug of coffee on Vernon's desk by his right hand. Debbie turned to go.
"A moment, Miss Houldsworth, close the door," said Vernon, politely, due to the currently open state of the door.
Severus could see Debbie's face. Vernon couldn't because she'd turned to leave. Severus could see both their faces. Vernon's had changed colour to puce. Debbie's had gone white. She reached forward and closed the door softly and turned back around.
Vernon had stood up. He moved far faster than Severus thought for a man of his size. He'd picked up some papers from his desk. The ones he'd given a glance to when 'sir' had been speaking. Severus slid his wand into his hand. He wasn't sure where this was going.
"You careless bitch!" snarled Vernon, roughly shoving the papers at her. "How dare you deliberately make me look bad! Thought you could just slip one in there, did you? Did you feel I'd been getting at you for the Brown's Supplier Holdings accounts? You made errors there too."
"Please, Mr Dursley," said Debbie, her voice wavering, "It was an accident. Mr Harrison said you'd checked my data input. I thought everything was correct. I'm sorry."
Vernon grasped her wrist, hard. "I've told you before about what would happen with your carelessness, Debbie," spat Vernon, "I will again put a complaint about you to Mrs Sykes. I believe this will be your third warning. Do you get three warnings, or is it only two before you are dismissed?" he asked viciously.
"Please, sir, I beg you, don't. I've said, you know I've a house and a mortgage to pay. I can't lose my job."
"That, Miss Houldsworth, is not my problem. You should have thought about that before you were careless."
"Please sir, it's such a big account. The others only have me do the data entry, but you have me balance the accounts and run all the reports too. I'm sorry, there was just too much to do."
"This error will be fixed before you leave this evening, Debbie. And all the paperwork printed, bound and placed on Mr Harrison's desk before you go. In addition, you will complete the monthly stats for my accounts and have them on my desk on Monday morning."
"But sir, you've not run the data for those yet, I don't have the files. It would take me the weekend."
"That is your problem, not mine, I'm going to be busy enjoying my weekend, Debbie, I've done my work." Vernon let go of Debbie's wrist with a shove. Enough that she stumbled slightly.
"Get out! I don't need to spell out consequences for you objecting to any of this conversation, do I?"
"No, Mr Dursley," said Debbie, fighting tears.
It was the look of satisfaction on Vernon's face that Severus hated most. When the office grew emptier, Severus would genuinely enjoy this.
Severus waited until the last 'good evening' had been heard. Severus noted that at least two people had asked Debbie at reception if she was OK on their way out. 'Sir' had even sounded genuinely solicitous. Perhaps not all of these people deserved hexing.
Severus locked the door and cast a silencing charm. It didn't matter that Debbie was still at her desk. She'd know nothing, and if she saw Vernon when he left, well, that'd be fitting.
Severus cancelled the notice-me-not charm and waited. He'd thought about what to wear. He'd put on his best wizarding robes, black, obviously. While not his teaching robes, they still gave off a certain Bat of the Dungeons vibe. It took Vernon a minute to notice him.
"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" Vernon demanded angrily.
Severus detached himself from the wall and menaced towards Vernon's desk. He flicked the desk out of the way with his wand. There was nothing between Vernon and Severus now.
"Good afternoon, Mr Dursley," said Severus, silkily. There was menace in that tone, harmonics that said that while it might be the afternoon, it perhaps wasn't going to be good.
Vernon noticed the wand. "You're one of them! Get the hell out of here! You can't harass me, I know your sort. Who are you? I'll report you!"
"Who am I, Mr Dursley?" said Snape quietly, slowly, "I'm a nightmare, a bogeyman. In terms you might understand, if you are literate enough, I'm the ghost of summers past."
There was something about the way the wand was moving that captured all of Vernon's attention. "I'll scream! There's a secretary outside."
"Ah, yes, the dutiful Miss Houldsworth. I don't think you really want her to find out anything about this conversation, Mr Dursley. It would, how would you put it, give her ammunition. It also wouldn't do you any good, Mr Dursley, because I have soundproofed this room. Sorry, did I say soundproofed, I meant screamproofed."
"As I was saying, Mr Dursley. I know all about you. I know your darkest, deepest thoughts. I know everything you've ever done." Severus looked him in the eye and made a very gentle foray into Vernon's mind, one he wouldn't notice and wouldn't in any way harm him. "I know about your bonuses Mr Dursley. The ones you get by having your secretary do your work. She's bright, isn't she? She'll be an accountant one day, a good one, but right now she's free labour under your grubby thumb. You square it away as an apprenticeship when you talk to your wife about it. But in reality it's extortion. Why doesn't she complain about it, Mr Dursley?"
Vernon didn't look away. He was too busy staring in shock about the truth coming out of the wizard's mouth.
"Ah, yes, there it is. The day you saw her slightly prang the bumper of the regional manager's car. The day you solicitously asked her if she was OK but found out she didn't have insurance. The day you decided to use her."
"How did she contact you? How are you doing this?" asked Vernon, worried for the loss of his cash cow.
"And now you hold that over her head along with dismissal without a reference. You're a bully, Mr Dursley. I don't like bullies."
Vernon swallowed, beginning to realise this situation might actually be problematic.
"What do you spend your bonuses on, Mr Dursley? I'm sure your wife enjoys your new car every other year, the expensive dinners, the weekend retreats. You've had a lot of those in the last four years while there's just been the two of you at home, haven't you? I'm sure Petunia wouldn't want to miss out on those anymore!"
"Leave my wife alone!" shouted Vernon, taking half a step forward before paying very careful attention to the wand.
"Oh, so there is a subject that bothers you enough to grow a spine," said Severus, maintaining the calm, quiet, and above all menacing tone to his voice. "You have a son too, I believe."
"Leave Dudders alone!" screamed Vernon. "Miss Houldsworth! Miss Houldsworth!" Vernon barged past Severus and lumbered to the door. He pulled, but it didn't budge. He banged his fists, but nothing happened. He turned around, panting, leaning heavily on the door behind him.
Severus hadn't moved, just turned around.
"What do you want?" Vernon whimpered.
"Ah. There we are. The point of negotiation, Mr Dursley," purred Severus. "Well, there are many things I want, but only some of those are legal. To be fair, very few of them are legal now I come to think about it. And some are far too messy to clean up after too." Vernon tried to make himself take up less room as Severus slowly advanced back towards him.
"I suppose I should bring you back to my original point, Mr Dursley," said Snape. "I'm the ghost of summers past. The long days which your nephew would spend in the cupboard under the stairs as punishment. The even longer ones he'd spend outside doing back breaking chores. The days where you didn't feed him. The days he was locked in a room with bars on the windows. The days your wife fed him through a catflap. The days you slapped him round the face. The days you let your son abuse him. I know your sort, Mr Dursley. You get other people to do your handiwork, bar the odd arm grab, slap, pinch, cuff around the head. But I know you instigated it all, Mr Dursley."
"You can't prove a thing!" blustered Vernon. "You've got to have proof. I didn't do those things."
"Proof?" asked Severus. "Proof like this?" Severus concentrated just a bit more. He could see the images in Vernon's head. Severus focused on an event, and Vernon saw it in his mind's eye. Severus raised his wand to his own temple. A thin stream of memory came out, a memory of a memory. Instead of placing it in a vial he flicked it onto a piece of paper on Vernon's desk. A still image of the key part of the memory was formed. An image of Vernon slapping Potter around the face.
Vernon licked his lips. "What are you going to do with that?" he asked, calculating if he could afford to buy the wizard off.
"For now, Mr Dursley, nothing. Consider it insurance. You know there are many of these images I could make. You know I could send them to the police, to social services. I could put copies up in your golf club, on lampposts on your street. Your whole family would suffer the shame and ignominy of living with a child abuser."
Vernon didn't say anything. He didn't breathe. He forgot to blink.
"But like I say, Mr Dursley. I'm the ghost of summers past. None of these things happen anymore, do they? They don't happen in the future, do they Mr Dursley."
Vernon shook his head an infinitesimally small amount. He dared not look anywhere other than Severus' face.
"You do understand this relationship we now have together, don't you, Mr Dursley? I know you know how blackmail works. You seem to have spent a while practising on Miss Houldsworth."
Vernon still didn't move.
"Speaking of which, I think Miss Houldsworth deserves a bonus, Mr Dursley. I believe you're up for a rather large one soon. Such excellent accounting Miss Houldsworth does for you. You will be giving her your bonus this time. All of it. And in future, you'll be giving her a commensurate amount for the amount of your work she does. I will know, Mr Dursley."
Vernon nodded, frightened. The man had come in, threatened his work, his wife, his son and Vernon couldn't see any recourse.
"I see you've got the picture, Mr Dursley. I'll see myself out. I think you'd like to apologise to Miss Houldsworth for your deplorable behaviour on your way out, don't you?"
Vernon nodded slowly.
Severus apparated away.