A/N: It is surprisingly hard to focus on this at the moment, the state of the world being somewhat distracting. I hope anyone reading this is safe and well. Thanks to Jadely31 for the kind review and to all the new followers this story, and some of my older ones, seem to have picked up, very happy to have you all here. :)
A Subtle Change
Chapter 37
Minerva felt like she was getting the hang of staff briefings. Getting the hang of the staff might take longer, but they were at least getting more tractable as they all found ways to adapt to the new normal. They'd learnt that when she cleared her throat and tried to catch their eyes that she expected their attention without having to shout for it. Even Severus seemed to have got the hang of listening quietly at this point. Twenty years too late in her opinion, but he'd got there.
"We need to arrange for Harry and Hermione's replacement wands. We can't put it off any longer. I had hoped to encourage Ollivander to come here, remove any risk of Harry being harassed in Diagon Alley, but he's been so busy and this really can't wait. Hermione and Harry can't get back to normal, or hope to complete any school work properly, without their wands."
Severus' muttered remark about Potter not completing work properly with or without a wand, Trelawney's scornful comment on wands meaning nothing in her classroom, and Sinistra's quiet assertion of the importance of theoretical subjects, were all drowned out by Hagrid.
"Let me take 'em!" The giant man blurted out. At Flitwick's startled jump beside him, Hagrid moderated his tone. "I took 'Arry to get 'is first wand, it'll be like ol' times."
The Headmistress was doubtful, she didn't quite share Dumbledore's faith in Hagrid's good sense, but there was no doubting his heart. "Alright. You can take them. I'll excuse them from classes for the day tomorrow, if you go during the week you should have less trouble. Don't let anyone bother Harry!"
"Yeh can rely on me!" Hagrid stood proudly to attention.
Minerva smiled, "I know I can." She had a feeling that, difficult as they all sometimes were, she could rely on all of them.
XXXXXXX
Percy was getting used to sleeping terribly. To dragging himself out of bed into a clean, perfectly pressed set of robes, dodging his family and his breakfast, and getting himself in to work before most of his colleagues.
There was no beating his boss in at the moment though. Druscilla Thornfield was fired up with her campaign and crackling with energy.
"Oh good, you're back from your sulk!" she greeted him with a grin that didn't soften her words in the least. "I could have done with you here yesterday."
"You cleared my working from home," he replied stiffly.
"The idea was for one day, not for you to owl in suddenly and ask for another."
"You could have said no." Percy tried to keep the events that had led to him feeling unable to come in yesterday out of his thoughts, as he handed her a pile of papers ready for her approval. He was, he was sure, the only 'head of department' subjected to such an approval process.
She shrugged, "I know when to cut my losses and let you have your own way." As she took the papers though she looked him over and her eyes narrowed in concern.
Percy could see some inquiry about his well-being heading his way and interrupted his boss with a brisk, "What did you need?"
It wasn't that he thought her concern was insincere, but he'd been fully confident that her desire to press on with her campaign would win out given the opportunity. As usual, he was correct. "The list you put together of people who've pledged support for me so far," she was instantly back on track, "Tebrin Underwood's not on it. Is that an oversight or has he really not said anything?"
"He's not come forward with any support I'm afraid," Percy had been surprised by that. "Though he has been trying to get an appointment with you for the last few weeks. You cancelled on him the first time and then told me to take him out the diary whenever I tried to reschedule..." Why she couldn't get a secretary to handle her diary Percy wasn't quite sure.
"Oh he was just going on about some staff welfare idea he really doesn't need my help with," she said dismissively.
"Are you sure?" Percy questioned. "He said it was urgent. I did tell you that at the time."
She snorted. "He's the kind of man who thinks staff welfare is urgent."
Percy knew her too well these days to believe the, probably unintentional, implication that she didn't. "I'm not sure. Maybe you should go and talk to him," he suggested.
Thornfield sighed. "He probably wants something. Get close to power and suddenly the whole world's reminding you of just how deserving they are of a pay rise, or promotion, or fully funded fact finding mission to the Caribbean."
Percy doubted very much that the conscientious Underwood was likely to be doing anything of the sort, but decided his boss was best left to it. He slipped away, barely even managing a nod of acknowledgement for Remus Lupin as they met almost in the doorway. He got the sense though that Remus wasn't really paying any more attention to Percy, then he was to him. Normally he'd have been concerned by Remus looking so distracted, but at present he had his own problems to occupy him.
XXXXXXX
Remus indeed had hardly noticed Percy, lost in his own thoughts and a little doubtful of his likely reception in Druscilla's office.
"Hello." She sounded surprised, but not displeased, and he sat down with some relief.
"I hoped you might have a minute?"
"Yeah, sure, go ahead." Her tone was a little distracted but more encouraging than he'd feared.
"It's about Harry..."
"He doesn't look right. Did you think that?" she clearly wasn't talking about Harry. Remus gathered, from her looking at the door, that Percy was the likely subject of her concern.
"I didn't notice. Perhaps he's still feeling awkward about the other day," Remus could feel himself blushing at the memory.
"What?" In contrast to his own feelings Druscilla looked like she had to dredge the memory up. "Oh, right. No I doubt it. Things move on very quickly around here, and he looked more unhappy than awkward." She looked back at him and shrugged, "I'll dig into that later I suppose. Right, sorry, you wanted to talk to me."
"It's about Harry..." he began again, pausing to give her time to get any further interruptions out of her system. Instead she looked annoyed and waved impatiently for him to continue. "He's not doing well. I've had a letter from the Headmistress saying he's been skipping classes and fighting with Severus."
"Well, under the circumstances I'm not terribly surprised. The boy's as entitled to a bit of sullen rebellion as any other teenager, perhaps more."
"It's hardly going to help him though." Remus, as the only one of the two of them who'd had to attempt to teach and care for sullen rebelling teenagers, wasn't so convinced that any of it was for the best. "I keep thinking that maybe if he knew how much Severus had done, what he'd been through for Harry, that it might at the very least mend a little of Harry's behaviour towards him. It might even help him realise that not all Slytherins are quite what he thinks."
Despite his appeal to her own Slytherin nature, Druscilla looked dubious. "You tell Harry everything Severus went through, and Severus ever finds out, he will probably kill both of you," she warned.
Remus sighed, a trifle exasperated. "No, I know that. I was thinking of practising at least a modicum of discretion."
"Well then, long as you can manage that, what's your concern? Go and talk to him." Like it was that simple.
"I intend to."
"What's the issue then? Until you've tried you don't really know if there's a problem, you may well get through to him."
She wasn't wrong he supposed, though she wasn't really helping either.
"I am a little busy here you know," she continued as he hesitated.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get under your feet." He was beginning to wonder why he'd come here at all.
"Oh don't be so sensitive!"
"I wasn't…." Remus sighed. "Sorry, I'm just going to let you get on."
"Ok." She was pointedly not looking at him and he knew this time it had nothing to do with being busy. She wasn't reading the parchment in her hands, she just had no intention of looking him in the eye. Why? He had no idea what he might have done, but as he'd said to Arthur she was blowing cold more often than hot now.
Outside in the corridor he ran across Percy again who didn't seem any more inclined to talk to him than his boss had. Percy was politer, more courteous, but seemed just as eager to get away. Remus was starting to wonder if this was about more than Dru's clear inability to deal with relationships. It felt more like maybe the whole campaign was less than delighted by the optics of a werewolf on her arm. He'd seen some remarks in the press after they'd been spotted together at Kingsley's funeral. It was hard to actually believe Dru would think like that, it seemed so diametrically opposed to who she was, but there were any number of other people flocking around her at the moment, all giving it all they had to get her to the Minister's office. In fairness not one of them could have been expected to view his presence as an asset to that endeavour.
XXXXXXX
Druscilla left her office mere minutes after Remus had, waiting only long enough to be sure he was definitely gone. She was aware she'd been dismissive with him, she'd sent him away a little more abruptly than she'd intended. Her head was spinning with too many things, and she couldn't for the life of her see a good reason why he'd needed to talk to her about talking to Harry. It all seemed blatantly unnecessary. Her mind alighted on two possibilities - either he'd needed a sounding board because he couldn't make the decision himself, or he'd just wanted (consciously or not) a pretext to see her. Both made her uncomfortable. She wasn't in a position to give good advice to someone who had found themselves in loco parentis to a traumatised teenager, and she wasn't exactly an expert on dealing with issues involving Severus either. There were any number of people he could have got better advice and information from. Remus wasn't an idiot, he must know that. So that left the notion that he'd simply wanted to see her, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.
Lost in thought, Druscilla rounded a corner and smacked into someone coming the other way. "Oh!" They'd collided with enough force that the man had dropped his papers and she found herself a little winded. Perhaps he hadn't been looking where he was going either. Though, seeing who it was, she couldn't help thinking that that would have been as out of character for him as for her.
"Druscilla, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I hope you're not hurt?" Robert Oakes, head of the Unmentionables. Druscilla couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him this far from their underground lair, many many levels deeper than her own office - or indeed most people's offices.
"I'm fine, Robert, really." Robert was a handsome man of indeterminate late middle age, the well preserved face with it's warm dark eyes being set off nicely by a mane of beautiful silver hair. He was charming, well liked (if little known), and always unfailingly polite. Druscilla knew she should like him better than she did, but she'd never really warmed to him. He wasn't who she would have chosen to be discovered by whilst off her guard. "Goodness, we don't normally see you out of your basement." She smiled but was sure it didn't reach her eyes. "And with receptions like this who can blame you." Druscilla bent to help him collect his papers but never took her eyes off him. "I wasn't looking where I going, I'm afraid I was here in body rather than spirit."
He took the papers with a smile and rose gracefully to his feet, extending a courteous hand to help her up. "Quite understandable, you must be busy with so many things at the moment." His eyes twinkled playfully, "After all, I believe you're my competition."
It took a moment for her to realise what he must mean. "You're running for Minister?" She had to work hard to keep the surprise out of her voice. This, she thought to herself, was what happened when you let the man who was basically running your campaign work from home for a couple of days. She knew damned well that Oakes hadn't declared before yesterday, so she must have missed it holed up in her office.
"Yes." He gave her an affable smile that she didn't entirely trust. He smiled too much. "Well, we could hardly give you a clear run at it. I'm sure you enjoy the fight too much to want that." There it was. Something she couldn't name, a strange nebulous something she'd never liked, deep in those warm soft brown eyes.
Druscilla took care to take a step away from him as she rearranged herself, adjusting her slightly disarrayed robes. "That's certainly true. I'd expected more candidates to come forward to be honest." She had, so far the field was...sparse, confusingly so. She would have preferred there to be more of them, she was good at the divide and conquer, set-them-up-and-knock-them-down routine of dealing with multiple opponents. The idea of going head to head with the Ministry's most charmingly elusive department director didn't thrill her.
"Perhaps people saw the calibre of their opposition and thought the better of it." It was a perfectly crafted compliment, well delivered, respect never dipping into anything insincere.
Her lips quirked into a saurian smile. "Not you though?"
He looked self-effacing. "Well, like I said..."
"You've thrown your hat in the ring purely so that I don't have to face the disappointment of being unopposed. Most thoughtful of you." She interrupted him. She knew she was being rude now, that in contrast his words and tone had been friendly and respectful throughout.
He was unruffled. Probably, she thought, because she so clearly was. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to learn from a master of campaigning. After all we learn most from those we disagree with, do we not?"
Druscilla was reasonably sure, from his tone, that he was quoting her, and she had to concede it sounded like something she'd have said. It sounded much more sinister in his mouth than in her own head though. Tired of being on the back foot, she offered a final grimace of a smile and made her excuses. "I really must be getting on, but I suppose we'll be seeing plenty more of each other."
"I certainly hope so. Have a good day, Druscilla." She'd later wonder if he hadn't managed to curse her with those words.
Grateful to be rid of him, Druscilla hurried on, mind examining the new and decidedly peculiar information. It made no sense, Oakes didn't want to be Minister. He never left his department offices if he could help it, never showed the least interest in the rest of the Ministry, not even during the past conflict with Voldemort. Why else though would he run? She didn't buy the supposed defence of the democratic process. He couldn't have known for sure she'd end up running unopposed for one thing, there was still time left for someone else to put themselves forward. She had the oddest feeling though, that no one would.
If she was right, and her guts usually were, then that made the endorsements all the more important. There was still time left to declare one way or the other but with a field of candidates limited as this it felt more urgent to try and take an early lead. A contest between two people was unlikely to last long and the Wizengamot would likely be swayed strongly in the direction of a candidate who could prove they commanded a significant lead amongst the Ministry. She'd always taken for granted that, with their overlapping areas of interest, Tebrin Underwood's support would be something she could easily count on. So why had it not yet been offered?
XXXXXXX
Could you drown sorrows in coffee? Percy knew alcohol was more traditional but he'd never much taken to drinking and certainly not at work. Coffee seemed worth a try.
He traipsed down the to small kitchenette on the floor below. Even the term 'kitchenette' might be pushing it really. It was a box room with a sink and a kettle, a small area of the repurposed desk that was shoved against one wall had been charmed to keep anything cool that needed to be kept that way. The charm, Percy knew from experience, wasn't that good. It wasn't a room anyone lingered in so Percy tended to prefer it to the rather more comfortable and better provisioned canteen.
Someone had been in already this morning though. A copy of the Daily Prophet, open at the sports pages, had been abandoned by the sink. Percy's eye was drawn inexorably to the headline, 'Puddlemere Victory!' He'd almost forgotten there had been a match yesterday.
A bright, friendly voice cut in as he picked up the paper. "Not your usual reading material."
Percy glanced up guiltily to see a young woman from the Department of Magical Catastrophes. He cleared his throat awkwardly, "Good Morning, Laurel. No, not really. I was just waiting for the water to boil." He dropped the paper back on the table.
Laurel picked it up. Perhaps it was hers, the Magical Catastrophe offices were further along this floor. "Puddlemere are doing well," she grinned, "They've been a having a good season."
"Really? I don't follow them," Percy lied. The kettle whistled and he was grateful for a reason to turn away from the attempt at conversation. He quickly made himself a black coffee, "There's enough hot water for you as well.
"Thanks." Laurel looked a little taken aback by his abruptness. They had been in the same year at Hogwarts, though different houses had meant they'd barely spoken before joining the Ministry. They'd hardly become friends since but Percy was at least normally able to have a polite conversation while making coffee. She tried again, "Tell Thornfield I said good luck with the campaign, hope she wins."
Percy nodded, tried (and felt he failed) to smile, grabbed his coffee, and retreated.
XXXXXXX
"Oh, hello. Do come in." The sarcasm that greeted her was so soft you could almost miss it, Tebrin's friendly smile taking off all that remained of its edge.
Druscilla should have knocked. She really had meant to, but she'd been deep in thought and when Ellie, the intern, had told her Tebrin wasn't in a meeting, she had just let herself in to his office without waiting to be asked. The second time this morning she'd not been paying sufficient attention to where she was going. Best to brush over that.
She gave him a winning smile. "Of all the people I thought would leave me running to them to confirm their support I didn't think you'd do that to me, Tebrin."
The young man put down his paperwork and removed his fashionable reading glasses. "If you'd said you wanted to talk I would have been happy to come to you. What can I help you with?"
"I'm about to become Minister for Magic." The encounter with Robert Oakes had knocked her confidence slightly but she was fast shaking it off.
"And you need my help with that?" The question held a certain amount of amusement but it also lacked something of his usual openness.
"You're being obtuse." He was certainly being cagey and it made her uncertain. "You know very well I need the support of as many of the department heads as I can muster, and I rather thought you would have pledged your support for me by now. However, you haven't so I can only assume you want something."
He didn't look impressed at that statement and waved her into a chair. "Would you like some tea?"
"No thanks." It was likely to be herbal.
Tebrin looked awkward, which was unusual enough to leave Druscilla feeling likewise. "You want to talk about your Ministerial bid."
"Yes. What else?"
"Well that's not exactly what I've been trying to talk to you about." His tone was apologetic but determined.
Druscilla wanted to interrupt but sealed her lips and let him continue. No one could say she didn't know how to hold her tongue when she needed to.
"I take it you saw Ellie out there?"
"The intern, yes." Druscilla would later realise that the fact that she hadn't figured out from that remark where this was going didn't say much good about her or the situation.
"She's been working for me since some time before Christmas."
"Right." Druscilla was still clueless. "That's nice."
"Arthur Weasley asked me to take her on, she's been working with his department too." Underwood was clearly giving her every opportunity to jump in with something but she was lost. His expression hardened as hers remained blank. "Ellie told me what you did and why she had to leave your office."
Oh shit. Druscilla was aware her expression was now probably anything but blank. It felt so long ago and she'd been so busy, so stressed and so distracted by a hundred and one things that she'd all but forgotten what she'd done. The memory had resurfaced that awful day after Kingsley's death when the girl had brought her coffee, but Ellie had seemed fine then – Drusilla had just assumed everything was fine!
She tried for a conciliatory tone, "Tebrin, now is hardly the time don't you think? It was some while ago and I think we're all past it now."
"Actually I think now is exactly the time." Conciliatory didn't seem to be working as well as she'd have liked. "I am sorry for only raising this with you now but I have been attempting to see you and have been constantly rebuffed by your office, I assume this was at your say so after our disagreement in the meeting the other week."
Disagreement? She groaned internally, yes there had been a meeting where she'd cut him off when he'd tried to talk about (what else?!) staff welfare, but it wasn't that she actually disagreed with him just that she'd had other priorities. And your priorities should be everyone else's, a mutinously sarcastic little voice in her head whispered.
"Well I have been rather busy. It wasn't intentional…" she brought herself to a stop, lying wasn't going to make this better. "You're right, I thought you wanted to talk about the staff welfare scheme that I don't think is a terrible idea actually but I did not have time for. I apologise. I understand that was probably irritating for you but..."
He interrupted her. Tebrin never interrupted anyone. This wasn't good. "No, it wasn't irritating, and it wasn't the staff welfare scheme that I wanted to talk to you about!" He looked at her with a kind of baffled anger as though he couldn't conceive of how he'd ended up having this conversation. "You threw hot coffee over a 19 year old intern, you were very lucky you didn't hurt her! As it is you simply managed to humiliate her and frighten the life out of her. I've spoken to you about your treatment of your staff in the past but this is beyond the pale, even for you."
"I have apologised to her, Tebrin, I assure you the matter is resolved." Druscilla said stiffly, resisting the urge to remind him which one of them was the senior member of staff.
"And I assure you it is not. Saying you are sorry does not alter the fact you assaulted someone. Not to mention that, according to her, you've never said it."
Hadn't she? Surely she must have. She'd thrown coffee over the girl, she must have apologised for it! Wracking her brain, she couldn't actually remember having done so. "What do you want to do then? Charge me with assault?" She tried to dial back her own anger and lighten her tone. "I was somewhat provoked."
"Provoked?"
"She brought me decaf coffee."
If she'd expected understanding from the man who only ever drank herbal teas in the office and tried to persuade everyone else to try them, then she'd been very wrong.
"I'm really not sure I know how to respond to that, but I doubt I need to tell you how badly things would go for you if Ellie did want to press charges. As it happens she doesn't, but I was unhappy to simply allow the matter to drop."
"So you're here to smack on the wrist and tell me I've been a naughty girl?" Shit, shit, shit, she could feel her temper unravelling as fast as the conversation was.
Tebrin's temper however was as under control as it always seemed. "I'm here to tell you that, unless you can give me good cause not to, I see no reason to keep this information out of your file. I don't need Ellie's permission to file an internal complaint and I really can't see a good reason to let you get away with this."
Druscilla fell silent for a long moment. "I suppose you know what that would do to the current political situation."
"If you are referring to the fact that though these complaints are technically confidential the likelihood is high of someone in human resources telling someone else and it becoming your latest scandal and damaging your bid to be Minister at a somewhat pivotal time," he looked unhappy, "Then yes."
"What do you want?"
Tebrin's expression was simply disappointed, as though he'd hoped, but not expected, better of her. "I'm not trying to blackmail you."
"Funny, it really does look like you are."
"As I said, I wanted to deal with this before now, when no one would have noticed during all the resettling after You-Know-Who's defeat, but you refused to see me and I could not in good conscience put in a complaint without hearing your side of the story and warning you of my intentions."
"You actually believe all that, don't you? You're not trying to negotiate yourself a new job, or a raise, in return for staying quiet; you really think you're just doing the right thing."
"Not entirely. I do think you may be the best candidate the Ministry currently has to offer." He didn't look thrilled by that.
"Oh high praise, thank you!" she interrupted
"However," Tebrin continued as though she had said nothing, "Your cavalier attitude towards other people worries me, it worries a lot of people."
It was like her conversation with Dumbledore all over again. Only this wasn't a meddling old man, but a colleague she'd fought side by side with more often than not. He was also an intrinsically kind young man. A cup of foul smelling tea appeared in front of her. Chamomile. She repressed a gag, she loathed even the smell of it.
"Look I don't want to have a fight with you. You really are my preferred candidate, but it's not easy to set this aside and support you. You assaulted someone." He sounded torn, almost as upset as she was, and she realised he probably was. For all he was practical and competent he was also an idealist and the notion of supporting someone who had so blatantly violated his own moral code sat very uncomfortably with him, even if he knew the opposition was likely in many ways worse. She could use that. It wouldn't take much, a show of contrition, perhaps even the odd tear. An appeal to not be judged by behaviour brought on in difficult circumstances when they had all been so desperately worried about Harry.
Once upon a time she would have done it. Now she just sat there, the foul smelling tea assailing her nose.
"I don't have a good answer for you," she spoke after a pause. "You're right, and I wish you weren't. You know who I am, better than perhaps I would like and better than a lot of people who've worked with me. I won't waste your time telling you how sorry I am, because I think you know that beyond the odd twinge of conscience I'd not really given any of this the thought it deserved until now. Until it had consequences for me."
Drusilla remembered something her father had once told her. That so long as the consequences were bearable (he'd never been able to watch anyone suffer), then people shouldn't be shielded from the results of their actions. That that was how people learnt. He'd have been horrified if he'd been alive to know what she'd done, and he'd certainly think Tebrin was right to withhold the expected support.
Tebrin smiled at her as she rose to leave. "You don't need my support."
But I wanted it, she didn't say. I don't like living with the consequences.
She gathered what remained of her dignity and bruised pride and nodded politely to him. "Perhaps not. Thank you for your candour. If I do win then I trust you'll continue being quite so unflinchingly honest with me."
"I will." He seemed so soft sometimes with his gentle tones, people pleasing ways, and fondness for fashionable clothes and slightly flamboyant scarves, but scratch the surface and he had a core of steel. She'd seen that before, watched their opponents underestimate him and watched him go in for kill (though he'd never have seen it like that). He'd file the report or he wouldn't. There was nothing more she could say if she wasn't willing to try and manipulate his kindness, and she found she wasn't.
XXXXXXX
Oliver staggered miserably from bedroom to bathroom, bathroom to kitchen, kitchen to couch, acquiring along the way dressing gown, hangover potion and an enormous mug of piping hot tea.
He sank gratefully onto the cosy couch he'd chosen specifically because it was the softest and comfiest in the shop. Hangover cure and tea at hand on the coffee table, he'd intended to work on feeling human again but instead found himself staring across the room at a vase of sunflowers.
He was supposed to be happy. Puddlemere were winning, they had a real shot at the League Cup, and he knew he was flying well, maybe better than ever. Their match yesterday had been brilliant, challenging enough to make victory all the sweeter, with his own stopping of a penalty locking in their win.
Things blurred a bit after the win. They'd celebrated with a pub crawl and ended up somewhere in Muggle Liverpool, the team keen to shed fans and prophet reporters alike. The idea that he (or at least the team he played for) were good enough to be having to avoid fans did manage to bring at least the ghost of a smile to his unusually pale face. It had been a good night from what he could remember, which wasn't much. He did have a vague memory of promising to host a party at the weekend.
He'd got back in the early hours and fallen asleep fully dressed sprawled on top of the bed clothes. Now he felt like his head was about to explode and something had died in his mouth. Necking the hangover potion like a shot (oh that action definitely triggered a few memories from last night), he sat back with the tea, waiting impatiently for it to kick in. The sunflowers were still taunting him from across the room, reminding him that he had bigger problems than a self-inflicted headache.
Bright yellow wasn't really the best thing to look at on a hangover and the flowers were certainly bright. They were bold in a way he would never have described Percy. But then maybe he was wrong, Percy might have his hang-ups and insecurities but he was never shy about speaking out even when he knew it could only make him unpopular. In many ways he was determined to the point of uncompromising. That might indeed be the problem, he'd reached a point in his life where it had been made clear he could not in fact have his cake and eat it, that life outside of his books was in fact largely about compromise.
Oliver was no stranger to uncompromising behaviour himself. He was every bit as determined as Percy was when it came to his career, though he felt he might have more than met his match in personal stubbornness. It wasn't even like he could say he'd thought Percy would get in touch, would come back with an apology. He was both too aware of the fact that he'd said some deeply regretful things himself, and that Percy did not surrender. When Percy thought he was right he was immovable. Oliver sighed, it was one of the things he liked about Percy, that he'd always liked about him; his surety in himself and what he was doing and where he was going. It had reflected Oliver's own ambitions, taught him from an early age that it was ok to aim high and expect to make it so long as you were willing to put the work in. They'd both in their own way worked madly through Hogwarts, usually the last to bed in their dormitory and the first to rise, both set on getting what they wanted. They'd never been that close then though, Percy indeed hadn't seemed close to anyone. They'd been friendly, friends even, sharing the odd quiet table in the corner of the common room, Oliver poking tiny Quidditch players with his wand as Percy wrote endless essays and read endless books. They'd partnered up in Snape's fifth year class in a last desperate attempt to save Oliver's Potions OWL, it had even worked. Now though the same drive and stubbornness that had driven them along well together was likely the reason they appeared not to be talking, and Oliver had the horrible thought that if he didn't make some attempt to speak to Percy that the other man might not make any effort to speak to him either. The pain that came with that thought decided him. If he wanted to mend things then did it really matter so much who made the peace offering?
XXXXXXX
Druscilla had practically staggered back to her office after the dual encounters with Oakes and Underwood (which sounded like an undertakers firm if ever she'd heard of one) and thrown herself into one of the armchairs beside the fake window. It was raining, hard. It suited her mood.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring at the rain, consumed by frustration, until Percy knocked softly at her door and slipped in.
"Yes?"
"Could you sign this..." he trailed off as she took his report off him and put it on the table without looking at it. She didn't sign anything she hadn't read and there was no way she was taking it in right now. "Are you alright?"
"Fine. Just had a difficult conversation, that's all."
He hovered and she felt compelled to elaborate. Once she started talking it all just kept coming. Percy had always been a good listener. He had perfected the kind of attentive and understanding expression that never dipped anywhere near sympathy. This time though he looked more and more distressed as she talked. "Percy, what is it?"
"I sent her there," it came out in a horrified whisper. He cleared his throat before barrelling on. "I thought it was best to get her out of your way after what happened, and she was interested in civil law so I sent her to work with my dad for a while and then with Mr Underwood. He's always so good with people, I thought she might benefit from someone a bit more..." he trailed off awkwardly.
"A bit more what?!" She felt a little flare of anger and betrayal that died at the stricken look on his face. "It's not your fault," she sighed. The end of his sentence, whatever it had been going to be, was probably accurate enough. Tebrin was 'a bit more' a lot of things than she was, all of them pleasant.
"No," Percy looked unbelievably guilty. "I should have dealt with it, and I should never have let you and Ellie get into that situation in the first pla..."
"It's not your fault!" she yelled, feeling his guilt piling upon her own. He looked shocked and she took a deep breath, reaching for calm and at least finding control. "You're not paid to protect me from my own actions. All jokes aside, you're not meant to be my conscience – I'm supposed to have one all of my own."
She knew she sounded bitter and he didn't look much happier. He tried to offer tea, or coffee, or chocolate, or whatever she might want, but she waved him away. "I've spent too long dwelling on what I want. What I need is time to think."
Percy nodded sadly and closed the door quietly behind him, the guilt having never left his face. Having meant to think through her own situation though she couldn't help being distracted by the young man. He looked miserable, he'd looked miserable even before he'd started convincing himself that her mess was somehow his fault.
A snap decision had her jumping to her feet and snatching open the door. "Wait…!" She was talking to an empty corridor, Percy had retreated and maybe it was for the best. He didn't want to talk and if she were honest with herself she wasn't really in a mood to. It was guilt as much as concern that had her chasing after him. Guilt and perhaps also the chance to avoid thinking about her chat with Tebrin. Closing the door again she retreated back to her chair, slipped off her shoes and shook loose her hair, slumping comfortably against the cushions and closing her eyes. She'd been right the first time, she needed to think.
XXXXXXX
Remus had taken the precaution of owling ahead and Minerva McGonagall welcomed him warmly. "Remus, it's good to see you. You can use my study, I'll get Harry for you. I really hope you can help him, he's got everyone worried."
"And Severus angry?" Remus chuckled.
"That's not likely to change," McGonagall's expression was stern but her eyes were kind, "But I think he's worried as well. He's got a lot of students worrying him right now." No need to ask which ones. Druscilla would have despised his house prejudice, but Remus was willing to bet Hogwarts' most 'worrying' students were likely concentrated in Severus' own house.
McGonagall's study was comfortable, a roaring fire ready with teapot on hand. He smiled to himself, if there was one place that always felt welcoming and safe it was Hogwarts. All these years and it was still the one place that always felt like home. Ironic that he was there at least in part to plead the case of the man who had driven him out of it.
Remus suspected that viewing Hogwarts as home was something he and Harry had in common. Privet Drive might be the boy's home as far as the magic that had so long protected him was concerned, but not as far as Harry was.
"Hello!" Harry greeted him as warmly as Mcgonagall had, knocking as he was already opening the door, something he certainly would not have done had it been his head of house awaiting him inside.
"Hello Harry," Remus smiled to see the boy looking a little better than on his last visit. "How was your day? Sit down and have some tea. I can send for some biscuits if you like?"
Harry shook his head, pleading a large dinner with an excellent sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Remus wondered how much of it he'd actually eaten (Harry was not a good liar) but took the fact that he could speak about food with enthusiasm as a good sign and let it lie.
The chatter was easy, laughing over students antics and exclaiming over how well Puddlemere were playing that season. Remus enjoying Harry's excitement at the prospect of a day off school in Diagon Alley with Hermione and Hagrid. Exchanging pleasantries over tea was nice, too nice for Remus to be eager to dive into why he was there. He had insisted to Dru he was capable of discretion in how he discussed things but now he was here it was more circumspection than discretion he was tempted by. It was hard to find the impulse to disturb the peace and raise difficult things, especially as this was the happiest Harry had seemed in his company in a while.
Wasn't that how it had always been though. How many times had he sat quiet while James and Sirius and Peter all did and said things he wasn't entirely comfortable with. He'd never wanted to disturb the peace, always enjoyed any chance to relax by the fire and feel included. Where had it got him though? Severus might be the reason he'd had to leave the only place he could think of as home, but what had made the man dislike him that much in the first place, could Remus honestly claim he'd had no cause at all? It was all a bit late but he'd made up his mind, he was going to try to stop at least one Potter having a more difficult relationship with Severus than was absolutely necessary.
"I heard there'd been some trouble between you and Professor Snape again." Remus tried to keep his tone neutral, but judging by Harry's face it hadn't helped much. The friendly smile was gone without trace.
"He's been his usual kind and pleasant self, been going on at me again about thinking myself above 'mere mortals', he's a complete..."
"Harry," Remus warned, suspecting that the next word wasn't about to be polite.
"Tell me I'm wrong!"
"He is your teacher, Harry, no matter what you think of each other personally you do owe him a little respect."
"How can you sit there and tell me to be nice to him, you know what he's done!"
Most people when saying that about Severus would have gone on to enumerate the, likely many, awful things he had done as a Death Eater. Harry's grievances though were on a scale both smaller and more personal, and so much harder perhaps to forgive.
"He was willing to throw Sirius to the Dementors!"
"Yes." No denying the painful truth of that one. Remus wasn't thoroughly convinced Severus might not have thrown him to them as well while he'd been at it.
"He got you fired, he exposed you because he didn't get his own way!"
"Yes, he did." That wasn't one of Remus' favourite memories either. He'd encountered too much rejection for it to sting as much as it likely should have, but there was still a painful twist in his stomach every time he thought about the end of his teaching period at Hogwarts.
"He's a nasty git!"
"Yeah, he is." Remus wasn't about to argue with what he'd often thought himself. "He's also bloody brave, and he's paid a heavy price for the terrible decisions he made." He sighed, "To say Severus is complicated is rather understating things."
Harry rolled his eyes but stopped arguing. He was quiet for a long moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Did Dumbledore ask Snape to keep an eye on me while I was..."
Remus spared him from finding the words. "Well, yes, Severus was our man on the inside. He was the only way we had of knowing what was going on."
Harry frowned thoughtfully, "I think I remember seeing him."
Oh god, Remus had been desperately hoping that Harry didn't know who had destroyed his beloved wand. This was, he felt, one of those rare situations where the truth could only make things worse. There would be no explaining such an act. Remus still wasn't entirely sure why Severus had done it. The protestations that someone would have had to do it and that this way the Dark Lord didn't get to examine the wand that once defeated him, rang a bit hollow to Remus' ears. They were unlikely to sound any better to Harry. "Oh?" he kept his tone neutral.
"It's going to sound mad." Harry snorted, "But I'm used to sounding mad so I suppose that doesn't matter. I told you I wasn't exactly...with it...by the end. I kept passing out, and everything hurt, and it was just so hard to concentrate..." Harry stopped and looked down to where Remus had placed a hand on his arm, and Remus recognised with sadness the look of someone who people avoided touching. He'd looked so like his father though, so like James when he'd been beaten by something, that Remus couldn't help it.
"Go on." Remus encouraged, squeezing his arm.
"I woke up, or at least I think I did – maybe none of this actually happened, and there was someone in the cell with me. A death eater, or at least they were in the mask and robes. They'd woken me up and they made me drink some water they'd brought. It was a man," he shook his head like he thought it sounded even madder out loud, "And I thought it was Professor Snape. He only spoke once, just told me not to die." Harry snorted, "I mean that doesn't actually sound like anything Snape would ever say to me, but it was his voice and frankly it seems an even stranger thing for me to have dreamt up."
Remus was so used to thinking of Severus as his own worst enemy that the fact he might have for once done himself some good in somebody's eyes was a bit of a shock. Especially given what he'd been expecting to have to try and explain just a moment ago. He smiled. "That was him. He told the Order about it, assured us all you were still alive. It wasn't at Dumbledore's behest though. It was not, to put things bluntly, a risk he would have been likely to suggest Severus take. We needed Severus in order to have any hope of rescuing you, Dumbledore wasn't about to sanction anything that might blow his cover before we were ready."
"Then why did he help me if it wasn't because Dumbledore asked him to?"
What could Remus say? That he'd suspected at the time that it had been some bizarre attempt on Severus' part to make him feel better? That for all the animosity they might still bear each other he felt they had both found through their work for the Order a level of respect for each other that, at least in his own case, verged on a reluctant fondness for the 'nasty git'. Severus sometimes reminded him of a wild animal, utterly vicious when he felt threatened but safe enough so long as you gave him the space he needed...and you didn't go after his young Slytherins. Remus even wondered if so many years teaching hadn't softened Severus towards all of his students, even Harry Potter, meaning that he really hadn't wished to see the boy suffer. It was Severus though, who on earth knew what his motives had been.
"Don't ask me to fathom Severus, I've never managed to do that."
Harry snorted with laughter, "Bit of a waste of time?"
"Probably. And I wouldn't mention it to him if I were you," Remus warned, suddenly remembering Dru's one piece of advice and imagining exactly how awfully Severus might react to such a thing.
Harry pulled a face, "Not ruddy likely!"
"You don't have to like him, Harry, but the level of animosity you bear him isn't healthy. Whether you think he deserves it or not, it's no good for you. You're also depriving yourself of the chance to learn from one of the best potions masters I have ever come across. I can't imagine he's an easy teacher..."
Harry snorted, "Understatement!"
Remus bit back a laugh and tried to look serious, "Well, perhaps. But he is incredible talented, he knows his subject inside and out and if you want to be an Auror you need that Potions NEWT. He can help you get it."
Harry looked evasive.
"Harry…?"
"Yes, ok!" Harry almost snapped, "I'll make more of an effort to attend his classes." The use of the phrase 'make more of an effort' wasn't lost on Remus, it wasn't really much of a guarantee.
"Harry..." Remus was sure Harry was holding something back. He wanted to say more, wanted to tell him how worried he was for him, but something in the way the boy was avoiding his eyes reminded him too much of the way things had ended with Druscilla. He couldn't stand the idea of having another important person in his life unwilling to talk to him. Coward as ever when it came to keeping happy the people he cared for, in the end the best he found he could manage was, "Perhaps I could come back and see you when you've been to get your wand. You can tell me about the trip?"
Remus couldn't help the warm feeling of relief when Harry nodded immediately with a smile, eyes meeting his own again. "That'd be nice. Please do."
XXXXXXX
Percy was working late, even his boss had left. By the end of the day she'd looked about as miserable as he felt. All he could think about was that traitorous little thought he'd had back when he'd first sent Ellie in Tebrin Underwood's direction. He'd known there'd be hell to play if Underwood found out what Druscilla had done and he'd just shrugged and let it go. She'd given him a job, rescued his career when he'd thought it was over, and even if the job hadn't quite turned out the way he'd wanted or expected he still owed her for that. He was also aware that his best chance of actually being treated like the department head he was supposed to be was to get her into the Minister's office. It was the only way 'his staff', which was a laughable phrase at present, were ever going to stop answering directly to her and start answering to him. It might be his own career he'd unthinkingly sabotaged along with hers.
The knock at the door had a tone to it that suggested it wasn't the first. He smoothed his robes and hurried to answer it.
Stood outside in the empty room where his (well, the department's) secretary sat in more civilised office hours, was an uncomfortable looking Oliver Wood.
"Oliver," Percy breathed, for a moment completely lost for words. Oliver looked handsome in a deep blue shirt and jeans, cloak slung over his arm, and all Percy wanted to do was kiss him. He didn't. "Erm, come in." He gestured Oliver inside, closing the door after him.
"Hey." Oliver's voice was soft, uncertain.
"Hi."
Oliver swept forward suddenly, taking Percy's hand between his own. "I'm sorry for what I said the other night. I was out of line, I shouldn't have made those remarks about you running away from things."
Percy couldn't help but notice that Oliver was apologising for upsetting him, but he wasn't actually saying that what he'd said was factually wrong. How could he when it wasn't? He met his eyes with a rather forced smile, "That's fine," he managed stiffly. "I was a little heated myself."
He was gratified that Oliver seemed encouraged by the stilted response, smiling and stepping a little closer. "Look, I'm having a party Friday night, celebrate winning against the Harpies. I know it's just one match, but everyone's had precious little to celebrate recently so we thought it was a good excuse to let our hair down a bit. Come over, it'll be fun and I'd like it if you were there."
"I'm not sure..." It sounded like the last thing Percy wanted to do.
"I really am sorry." Oliver squeezed his hand, looking up at him with appealing eyes. "Please come."
"It's not that. It's just," Percy sighed. "I'm not really feeling like a party. All those people and..."
"Right," Oliver gave a rather forced laugh, abruptly cutting him off, "People, yeah, don't want to give them any ideas by being seen with me."
"That's not it..." What Oliver clearly didn't understand, and Percy couldn't find a way to explain, was that actually his major objection was the idea of an evening in the company of a bunch of rowdy Quidditch players. He'd never enjoyed parties, or crowds of people, and after everything lately it was the last thing he was in the mood for.
"No, you're right," Oliver cut across him again, "It's better you don't come, I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He managed to sound both resentful and sincere in equal measure.
Percy opened his mouth to speak and Oliver cut right across him again, like he didn't think anything Percy had to say was likely to be something he cared to hear. "Actually, I really need to go, I'm sure you've got stuff to do here." He dropped a kiss on Percy's cheek that lingered long enough to remove most of the sting from the cheery, "I'll see you around then."
He was gone before Percy could find his voice.
XXXXXXX
Buoyed up by the success of his chat with Harry, Remus stopped by Druscilla's favourite take away and risked a second unannounced visit for the day. He'd noticed she was always happiest to see him when he was bearing food, she really didn't seem to do a terribly good job of feeding herself.
"Oh, hello." She looked surprised and almost a little guilty, piles of paperwork spread out on the table and desk in her living room. "I wasn't expecting to see you."
He smiled ruefully, "I brought dinner. I was hoping we could have a chat maybe?"
She looked wary but resigned. "Come in. You know where the kitchen is. You probably know it better than I do."
"That wouldn't be hard."
She laughed, "Perhaps not. I think we'll have to make do with trays on the sofa, the table's a bit out of commission at present."
"You're working late."
"I didn't get enough done in the office but I wanted to come home." She didn't offer more information but she did help him serve up the food and produced a bottle of wine. "I could use a drink," she smiled grimly. "How did it go with Harry?"
"Good, I think." He sighed and stabbed at his food, "I'm not sure, I think he was happy to see me but I don't know if I got through. It feels like there's things he's still not saying."
"That's to be expected." She shrugged, "I don't remember being forthcoming as a teenager, were you?"
He realised he'd never told her what he'd got up with James and Sirius and Peter when they were teenagers. He had a feeling she'd be amused by the story of three unregistered animagi and a werewolf roaming Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest.
She did laugh at his story of a near miss with a well-meaning witch who thought Sirius was a stray and after tempting him in to her backyard with some sausages very nearly trapped him in a shed, intending to try to track his owners. Peter had saved the day by running across the yard and sending her running screaming back into the house. Druscilla's amusement seemed a little forced though. Maybe it was just the way he told it, it was hard now to conjure the same feeling for those escapades knowing what Peter would become and where they would all end.
Remus waved their dishes to the kitchen with a flick of his wand and took her hand. "Are you alright?"
"It's been a bad day."
"Oh?"
She took a swig of wine, "I met my competition."
"Who are they?" he asked, eagerly, "How many?"
"Just the one. There's still time, but I have a feeling it's a two horse race - and this one might be a little off her oats!" She gave a grim little laugh and poured herself more wine.
Remus wasn't used to her looking unsettled by anything at the Ministry and couldn't imagine what could have phased her now. "Who's the other contender, they seem to have you a little shaken?" he asked carefully, not liking something about her expression. She looked resentful somehow, like she didn't want to be talking about this to him, but then she'd started it.
"Robert Oakes, he's the head of the Unmentionables."
"I don't think I've heard of him."
"Not many outside the Ministry have, he's...well he keeps to his department."
"You don't care for him?"
"No."
"Not good at his job? Or is it more personal?"
"He's good at his job as far as anyone knows, I mean the Unmentionables do keep very much to themselves, hard to know what they might be up to," she laughed. "No, it's him, there's something about him I just don't like. He's charming, polite, everyone who meets him likes him, though I don't think anyone outside the Unmentionables would claim to 'know' him." She sighed, "It's hard to explain, but no I don't like him, and there's something odd about him running for Minister."
"Why?"
"It's just odd, that's all. He's never shown the slightest inclination to leave his basement before." She frowned, sipping her wine and clearly choosing her words. "He said something about not wanting to give me a clear run at the position. It just sounded a bit personal. As though it were the thought of me in the office that was making him run. Now I'm no stranger to people hating my politics but if someone was going to suddenly change their entire career path just to stop me, I wouldn't have predicted it being him."
"Maybe it's not about you," Remus suggested gently.
"Maybe. Awful as this is going to sound though, I'm not convinced."
He wasn't sure if she was simply being egocentric or if she had real cause to think something quite so odd. Either way it seemed best to let it drop. He gestured over to the paperwork. "Were you working on your campaign."
"Erm, no." She looked a bit awkward. "I've been trying to trace Natalie Andrews, the Ministry mole who got away. She still hasn't been apprehended and well..."
"She embarrassed you, you're not going to let that go are you?"
"She had me put the wrong man in Azkaban for a night, not the best thing I've ever done. First and last time I dismiss another woman as a brain dead bimbo. I have a feeling I got what I deserved for doing that."
"Isn't it the Aurors' job to find her though?" Remus asked.
"Kingsley was working on it personally. I took it on after...well, after. Rashid's got enough on and he's not even formally got the job yet. I thought it might make me feel better if I could find her, put something right that I'd fucked up. Spend some time working for other people rather than myself."
"Dru, she fooled everyone, it's wasn't just you."
She shrugged.
"Is there something else bothering you?" The question he'd wanted to ask Harry made it out this time.
"Yes."
Remus had always thought the best way to get people to talk was simply to be quiet and give them space. Drusilla eventually responded and once she started it didn't stop for a while. By the time she'd done pouring out the encounter with Terbin Underwood the wine bottle was mostly empty and Remus was convinced he'd got to the bottom of what was really bothering her. She'd risen to her feet and begun pacing as she told the story. As she fell quiet Remus rose and went to her, taking her empty wine glass from her and squeezing her hand to soften what he knew she was hardly likely to want to hear.
"I suspect you only feel so bad because you know he's right."
Instead of refuting this she gave him a fleeting sad smile. "Well, obviously." Her expression hardened. "I wish you wouldn't do that!" she burst out suddenly.
"Do what?"
"Act like you know me! Or worse, prove that you do! You look at me and I feel naked," she scowled at him and took a decided step back, "And I don't like it!"
He could hardly help himself from slightly recoiling as well at the forceful nature of her tone. He'd felt repeatedly that she was pulling back, signalling a full on retreat from whatever intimacy, whatever support, she'd allowed to grow between them. He knew her too well to think fighting her now would do anything but determine her on her course, and with a heavy heart he prepared to withdraw. "I don't want to make you feel that way. I'll leave you in peace."
"Thank you."
Her curt dismissal, not even close to cross any more, had him stood in shock for a moment before he could make his feet do what he'd offered and leave her to what he could only hope was more peace than he was likely to find himself.
XXXXXXX
Returning from a late cup of tea in Minerva's sitting room, where she'd suggested they remove themselves to if they were going to carry on their new tradition of chatting over tea in the evenings, Severus got yards away from his own rooms before he heard a muffled crash.
Bloody Peeves, he'd thought the Baron had kicked him out the dungeons for good after the last time. He sighed and considered ignoring it, then stopped still as his ears detected something else. Footsteps. Something neither poltergeists, nor ghosts, had. Severus realised there was something far worse than either lurking in his dungeon, and it was likely to be one of his own students.
"For god's sake," he muttered, tired and irritable. This he couldn't ignore.
Whoever it was they weren't being terribly discrete and tracking the noise was not difficult. Two corridors away he quickly came across the culprit. Pansy Parkinson, apparently as thoroughly wrapped up in herself as she was in her cloak, stumbling slowly in the direction of the Slytherin common room.
Severus was actually speechless for a full 3 seconds, thankfully the girl was far beyond noticing.
"Got lost looking for your Astronomy class perhaps?" he hissed, remembering all too clearly catching her and Draco earlier in the year. The fact she was now notably alone did not soften his annoyance. Her attitude indeed did her no favours. The girl looked more frustrated than fearful at having been caught. Sullenness and unsteady footing making her resemble a first year.
It was that thought though that stopped anger in it's tracks. He was suddenly brought to thinking of all the dangers that lurked after dark for a young unaccompanied girl with no one left who really cared what became of her – a fact that was pretty publicly known. Her vulnerability, and her lack of awareness of it, were frankly a little terrifying. He'd lost enough people, he wasn't adding her to the list.
"Come with me," he snapped, whirling round and heading for his office. He could have sworn he heard her sigh as she trailed after him.
They were both silent until they reached their destination. His instinct was to put the desk between them, establish firmly that she was in a world of trouble. The problem was she was in a world of trouble whether he pointed that out to her or not.
"Sit down," he barked, conjuring a chair by the small fireplace and poking his wand at the dying embers so viciously that it roared up the chimney and forced him to step back. Pansy notably did not, she just sat and stared at the flames.
Severus rooted about in a cupboard and came up with a potion that should ward off the worst of a hangover. He poured it into a goblet and thrust it at her. "Drink that."
She took hold of the potion, continuing to sit in silence. He wasn't sure if it was inebriation, stupidity or complete disinterest.
"Miss Parkinson, quite apart from your being underage, there are any number of reasons why you would be ill advised to carry on wandering about alone at night."
"I thought Hogwarts was safe for all students?" She found her voice in a cruel parroted imitation of something McGonagall had been saying the other morning.
Her sarcasm was endlessly irritating and part of him was dying to say something along the lines of 'there's a reason people don't like you', but he was aware that technically he was being paid not to say things like that to students.
"Your night time ramble has not been contained within these walls!" He realised he never had discovered how any of the students had got out of school last term. It was hard to imagine her and Draco managing to access the passage under the Whomping Willow and Severus certainly had other suspicions. As then however, they weren't his priority. "You're wearing your cloak and I can smell the alcohol on your breath." She wisely did not try any further denials. "And if I were you I'd drink that potion or tomorrow morning is going to be even more unpleasant than it is already."
She looked sullen but downed the potion. At least she still seemed to have some limited sense of self preservation functioning.
"What were you thinking?"
She shrugged, that same complete disinterested unconcern threatening to drive him to distraction.
"Let me lay this out for you in the most forthright of terms, Miss Parkinson. You are alone. Unprotected. Outside of these walls anything could happen to you, especially if you choose to wander about inebriated in the dark!"
"Oh right, 'cos drunk women who venture out at night are just asking for it, aren't they?!"
Somehow he struggled to buy 'Pansy Parkinson: Angry Feminist'. Angry certainly, but the idea that she might be aligned to any kind of philosophy at all beyond whatever served her best in the moment was verging upon preposterous. Not unlike the situation. He should yell at her, throw her in detention, and then deduct enough house points that her fellow Slytherins would lynch her and save him having to try any longer to keep her from getting herself into any further unpleasantness. Instead he took a deep breath and tried to think of some way of saving idiotic teenagers from themselves. Hardly his speciality, just ask anyone who'd encountered him as a teenager.
"Pansy, you are old enough and angry enough to have realised that life is not fair. It is never going to be fair. You are at risk whether you like it or not. You cannot continue to behave the way you always have because I cannot guarantee your safety if you do, and certainly no one else is lining up to do so." Her belligerent look was melting into the kind of firmly pressed lips and unblinking stare that suggested she was trying not to cry. He looked at his watch, it was nearly 1am, they were both tired and angry and both had a class first thing in the morning. "Go to bed. If you're not at breakfast tomorrow morning I will throw you in detention for the rest of the school year instead of the week."
She nodded, starting to sniffle.
He opened the door and marched her out, relieved to get her back to the common room entrance without any actual waterworks.
She didn't look at him as she passed through the doorway.
"Drink some water!" he admonished as the wall sealed shut behind her.
XXXXXXX
A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I'd love it if you let me know what you think. This story's my baby (I mean it's been running long enough I could have raised a child in this time…) and even though the updates have been sporadic lately I'm still working on it and I know where I'm going. I thought more time at home due to the pandemic would help but actually it's just been hard to focus on anything, I'm pulling things back together though and will have another chapter out as soon as I can. Stay safe everyone. x