It was difficult to persuade the other Gryffindors to allow the three of them to go on their own. It wasn't that they were feeling like going to the rescue of Sylvia, as she was a member of another house who'd done nothing to endear herself to people, but if Draco Malfoy was going to be turned into a ferret again everyone wanted to see it.
Hermione, aware of the risk of things getting out of hand, pointed out that if all of them went then they would be spotted in no time, Snape summoned from the Headmaster's study and not only would everyone be in detention until the start of the next millennium but they would miss their chance to 'have a little word'.
By the time they had been convinced, argued about the right number of people to go, conducted a brisk round of scissor paper stone to choose the three lucky students and actually made is as far as the portrait hole, Hermione was shifting from one foot to another in nervous anxiety.
At this rate her husband would be back in their rooms and she would have nothing to report but a lot to explain.
"Will you lot come on," she said. "We haven't got long."
"What do you think Dumbledore wants with Sn… Professor Snape?" asked Ron, as they scurried along the corridors.
"Dunno. He didn't say. I'll find out later though," she replied.
"He'll tell you," Harry blurted.
Hermione nodded. "Of course."
"He would never tell us anything about Voldemort," Harry said.
"I don't think Dumbledore would let him before," Hermione said. "I just don't think he's listening to Dumbledore any more. I don't think he feels he has to."
Harry just grunted.
"How are we going to get into the Slytherin common room?" asked Seamus, who'd been one of the Chosen Few.
"I though we'd stand around the doorway and wait until someone wanted to go in," Ron said, grinning cheerfully. "And then we'd ask him – politely – what the password was."
"It'll probably be something silly like Slytherins are Sexy," Hermione said. "They may pretend that they're subtle and sophisticated, but they can't resist a chance to show off."
"And are they?" Seamus asked, nudging Ron with his elbow.
Hermione looked at him, her eyes flickering leisurely over his body before returning to his face with a final verdict. "Sexier than your average Gryffindor," she said.
"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that," said a voice from in front of her. She turned round to see a group of eight Slytherins, with Draco to the fore, strung across the corridor. "I'd hate to think that my charms were fading so early in my life."
Ron snorted. "What charms?"
"And even more relieved to find that they are utterly wasted on Weasley," Draco added.
Ron grinned. "I don't know; I'm sure you'd look good in a skirt."
There was a horrified silence from both groups as they wondered whether Ronald had something that he ought to be discussing with Lavender, and what Draco would look like in a skirt and coming up with an answer that they didn't like – probably not bad.
"If you'd keep your perverse fantasies to yourself, I think we'd all be grateful," Draco said. "We have serious business to discuss. At least, I presume this was why you were coming to see me with your little entourage?"
"She's here to talk business," Ron said. "We're here to see if she's going to hex you."
The other Gryffindors nodded.
"I'm hurt by your lack of faith, Granger." Draco grinned. "Didn't you think you could handle me on your own?"
"I notice you didn't come alone," she replied.
"Gryffindors are notoriously hot-headed," he said. "And I'd rather like to get out the fact that I had nothing to do with this before I got hexed, rather than afterward and then have to listen to you babble on about how sorry you are."
"I don't think I've ever said sorry to you before," she said, eyes fixed to his wand arm in case of sudden movements. "I don't see why I should start now."
"You should be more respectful," Theodore Nott said from the safety of the back of the group of Slytherins.
"Shut up, Nott, or you'll be taking your bollocks home in a paper bag," Hermione said flatly, not even looking at him. The Gryffindors grinned. If they couldn't watch Draco being hexed, another Slytherin would do at a pinch.
"Oooh, I'm scared Mudblood," he whined in a reedy falsetto.
"Notty, try not to disgrace the name of Slytherin would you?" Draco added, sounding very much like his father. "Whilst Granger is being helpful to us, we don't call her Mudblood."
"Are you still being helpful to me, is more to the point," Hermione said.
"I am filled with a spirit of beneficence," Draco replied. "As is my father."
"That'll be a first then," Hermione replied.
"And hopefully the last. That kind of thing could become a habit, and then where would we be? People might take us for Hufflepuffs." Draco invested Hufflepuff with the same loathing that he usually brought to the word Mudblood.
"Nah, you'd have to develop a conscience first, and I can't see that happening any time soon," Ron said.
"Funny," Draco said flatly, and pulled his lips back to bare his teeth.
"I thought so," Harry murmured.
Draco reached out to take Hermione by her arm. The Gryffindors made a move towards their wands, matched by the nervous Slytherins. "I'm only going to take Granger into that corner over there so we can do some plotting," he said with heavy patience. "It's not as if I'm abducting her at wandpoint."
Harry and Ron kept their eyes fixed on the other Slytherins whilst she and Malfoy moved a discreet distance away. The rest of her honour guard were stupid enough to think that they needed to watch her to make sure that she came to no harm. It was mildly irritating that they should think she wasn't capable of beating ferret boy in a fair duel, and even more irritating that they shouldn't realise that the important thing was to make sure that it was a fair duel by stopping someone from hexing her from behind.
There was nothing like spending seven years fighting a Dark Lord to hone your tactics beyond the usual Gryffindor approach of charging in all wands hexing.
"So," she said. "If you're innocent, why were you on your way here?"
Draco snorted. "You don't have to be a genius to work out that, once you heard the glad tidings, you would automatically assume the worst. Naturally, this would lead to you asking me what was going on, such queries to be delivered in an unsubtle and direct manner, probably involving wands. Now, whilst I would usually take great pleasure in sneering at your lack of subtlety, my father believes that we have to put up with your appalling manners – at least for the duration of the pact."
Hermione glared at him.
"I shall also be forced into be deplorably direct in my answers to the queries that are bubbling away under that frizz," Draco continued, in that same airy tone that he had copied from his father and which made a girl want to slap him. "The Ministry leaned on Avery, who seems to have been being a bit of a naughty boy recently, which, to be fair, followed a long career of being a naughty boy, and one who was spectacularly careless on the issue of evidence, so that there was any number of opportunities for that leaning to take place. There was nothing my dad could do. Well, to be fair, there was something he could have done, but it would have cost an awful lot of money and would have tipped the Ministry off that there was something going on."
Hermione wanted to object that Lucius should have got his finger out anyway, but she could see his point. "I suppose we could use it to put more pressure of Professor McGonagall," she said thoughtfully. "You know, make her feel guilty."
"I'm aware of the concept in principle," Draco replied. "I don't have a great deal of personal experience with guilt – having led such a sheltered life – but I'm told it can be a powerful motivator. Best of luck with that."
Hermione thought that was probably true – Malfoys seemed to have guilt removed at birth. She also thought that it sounded like something that his Dad would say. In fact, she'd bet it was something that his Dad did say.
She didn't point this out; he was being useful, and she'd like that to continue.
"Are we done then?" Draco asked. "Only I've got a lot of homework to do and it's a bit chilly out here."
Hermione nodded.
"We really must do this again sometime. Always a pleasure, Granger," he said. "For you, at least."
Hermione let him have the last word, but it was a strain. Politics was a bloody business, and she could see why people turned to Dark Lording to get their own way. Imperio was incredibly tempting. Or poison.
Severus was in their quarters when she got back there. He looked exceedingly fed up, the kind of fed up that couldn't be improved by the consumption of cockroach clusters, or even brandy, though he was making a determined effort to test that theory.
"I have just spent an hour or more being sobbed on," he said, from his position in front of the fire. "And I hold you personally responsible."
"Surely it's Harry's fault," she replied, kicking off her shoes and settling onto the sofa.
"Er, why?" Severus' train of thought was pretty much derailed by the introduction of Potter into the scenario. Usually he was happy to blame Harry for everything and anything but even his fertile brain was having difficulty coming up with a connection in this case.
"It usually is, unless it's Neville's fault."
"Very funny," he replied, taking a substantial swallow of his brandy. "However, in this case the fault is entirely yours. Our damsel in distress is convinced that you have been plotting with the Malfoys…"
"Which is true."
"… to arrange her marriage to Avery fils and ruin her life."
Hermione gaped at him. "What? Because she was a rude cow and pulled my hair a bit? She's demented."
Severus didn't deny the accusation, and looked as if he agreed. "As a result I spent fifteen minutes with her sobbing, clutching at my robes, and begging me to stop you from carrying out your evil plan, and a further half an hour explaining to Albus that no, we hadn't put Avery up to this and it was all the work of the Ministry." Severus smiled wryly. "I'm not entirely sure he was convinced by my assurances that you weren't a Dark Lord in the making, and that our visit to Malfoy Manor was solely to placate Lucius, as he seems to think you have a nasty streak a mile wide."
"Then Albus is demented as well," Hermione said indignantly.
"My dear girl," he replied. "You do have a nasty streak a mile wide. I rather like that in you - you're not some insipid, weak person who allows things to happen to them. You get hold of life by the scruff of the neck, and shake it till you get what you want. I have, however, promised to keep an eye on you, and Albus is busy congratulating himself about his forethought in not allowing you to marry into the Malfoy family and creating a dynasty of tyrants."
"After all I did to help Harry…" Hermione humphed. "It's outrageous."
"Welcome to the Dark side," Severus said, moving over to the decanter for a refill.
"If I'm going to take up Dark Lording, I shall need an entirely new wardrobe. More black, for starters, and a bit revealing – nothing tasteless, but something that will make men worship at my feet."
"You're not prancing around Hogwarts in your nightie," Severus replied. "You'll catch your death of cold, and I'll be the one who has to listen to you complaining, and have to make your cold remedies."
"Well, how else am I supposed to rise to power?"
"You'll just have to settle for blackmail, murder, mayhem, and imperio, like the rest of us."
Hermione gurgled with laughter. "Spoil sport."
"Always," he replied. He settled in the armchair by the side of the fire, sticking his long legs out in front of him. He held the brandy glass in his left hand, and swirled the contents absent-mindedly. "So what did you find out?"
"Draco says it's nothing to do with Lucius." Hermione shrugged. "I think I believe him."
"I can't see that there's any advantage to him in arranging this," Severus agreed. "And he's not someone who acts unless there is an advantage."
"He won't do anything to stop it either." Hermione sighed. "I'm not sure whether there is anything to be done to help her - other than hope it's a long engagement and we manage to get the law overturned before she actually has to get married."
"Certainly we might try to persuade the Ministry that it would be better if she were allowed to complete her schooling." Severus scowled at his brandy, then took another gulp.
"I did wonder whether the situation might prod Professor McGonagall into agreeing to help?"
"Yes, that is a possibility." Severus' face brightened. "I shall be sure to mention that to Lucius as a potential tactic. It'll be immensely entertaining to watch someone with no conscience attempt to play the guilt card."
"Let's just hope it works, for Sylvia's sake."
"Let's hope it works for my sake. My robes will never recover from all that weeping."
"You poor thing," Hermione replied.
"It's nice to see my wife and helpmeet giving me the sympathy and support that my suffering deserves," he said, entirely straight faced.
"Isn't it?" Hermione's smile was only half-hearted. "I wonder who's going to provide Sylvia with support though?"
Severus didn't reply, but took another sip at his brandy. It was clear that there wouldn't be many volunteers for that role. Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to care.
Hermione spent several extremely uncomfortable days being whispered about, glared at by Ravenclaws, and having first years trying to turn themselves invisible in an attempt to avoid her.
Sylvia burst into tears whenever she saw Hermione, and would then be surrounded by a group of cooing girls who would pat her on the back and offer her hankies.
It made Hermione sick. Cooing was all well and good, but what Sylvia really needed was a smack round the left ear, the insertion of a backbone, and the loan of some really decent potions books with the chapters on poison carefully bookmarked.
Severus was mildly sympathetic to this opinion when she mentioned it one evening, but told her firmly not to go lending out any of his more interesting books. She was welcome to attempt to get a trip to Azkaban if she wanted, but he didn't fancy accompanying her.
He was sympathetic in other, more practical ways, as well. He didn't chase her from their quarters – she was starting to think of them as their quarters – and made no comment about the way she'd started sitting on the sofa in an evening reading a book. Occasionally, if he'd had a particularly trying day, he would share a glass of wine with her.
But she knew that she couldn't spend all her life in their rooms no matter how much she wanted to. Ron and Harry did their best to support her, but Ron had Lavender to think about and Harry had Quidditch to think about. It was a sad state of affairs when Snape was more pleasant company than her fellow students in the common room.
Even the library was hostile territory these days, but she made it a point to sit there every night until she had completed her homework. She wasn't going to back down – she had nothing to be ashamed of.
By the time the Governor's meeting arrived, Hermione was so pleased to see Lucius that she went so far as to nod at him in greeting. More than that would not be appropriate. She couldn't be seen to be too friendly with the Malfoys – the other students were already calling her Mrs Snape and wondering if she'd been mis-sorted.
He'd condescended to nod at her in return, before being swallowed up by a group of Slytherins eager for their chance to suck up to a man who epitomised all that a Slytherin ever wanted to be. He was rich, he was powerful, and he had a mysterious ability to avoid jail for his transgressions.
Now that she'd seen the Malfoys at leisure, she was able to tell that Lucius had dressed for the occasion. Not his finest robes - that would have been vulgar - but better quality than the ones he wore at home. It made you wonder wondered if she'd seen him wearing the wizarding equivalent of trackie bottoms, the sort of thing that Muggles wore to laze around and watch telly in. Perhaps, when he didn't have guests at all, he hung around the manor in his underpants and a string vest and ate his dinner off a plate balanced on his gently rounding stomach.
Her imagination began the process of unclothing Lucius, then stuttered to a screeching halt before she had even managed to remove his outer robes. That kind of thinking was only going to lead to trouble, if only because of the wide smirk that she was wearing as a result.
Duty done, she headed off to the Library, horrified with herself and determined to expunge such speculation from her mind by a doing her Arithmancy homework.
Lucius occasionally wondered the same thing about Hermione. He wasn't impressed with the current crop of Slytherins: their flattery was obvious, their toadying lacked style, and they were all over-impressed by their own cleverness. Hermione was distressingly direct, but if she'd had seven years in Slytherin what could she have been?
He didn't think that sort of thing very often, because that might mean he was wrong about blood superiority, and Malfoys were never wrong. Hermione was an exception, and that was that.
He excused himself from his audience, and asked Draco to walk him to the meeting.
"Any news?" he asked.
"Granger accepts that we had nothing to do with Avery's offer," Draco said. "What's more, she appears to accept that there was nothing more we could do about Avery's offer."
"I do wonder quite how we ended up in a position where a mere Mudblood's opinin should be so important to us," Lucius replied.
"Look, Dad. Hermione isn't going to give up politics once she's had a taste of success. It'll be equal rights for House Elves next, or something equally ridiculous. And, because she's a friend of Harry Potter, and because she's fairly unscrupulous, she's going to get her way most of the time."
Lucius scowled.
"This means that it's important to stick close to her. It also means that we are in the best position to take advantage of this knowledge – all the other pureblood families will be cut out of power.
"I've created a monster," Lucius said.
"Yeah, well, it's not as if you haven't done it before. At least this one has a nose," Draco replied.
It was one of life's disappointments that other Malfoy's were immune to the patented Malfoy glare. Draco just grinned up at his Dad, and added, "I'm sure it'll be fine, as long as we manage to keep Granger away from the Dark Arts."
"Draco, my boy, you still have a lot to learn…" Lucius put up a hand to cut off his son's protestations. "Granger wants to make the world a better place, that's far more dangerous than a taste for the Dark Arts."
Draco considered this. Lucius wondered quite when his son had grown up, and, though he felt a strong sense of gratitude that he actually had, was sorry to have missed so much of it. "Then we'll have to find something to distract her, won't we?" Draco said. "And quickly, because I think she's nearly read all of the books in the Hogwarts library, and the NEWTS will only hold her for so long."
"The traditional distractions are power, money, knowledge and sex," Lucius mused.
"Zabini?" Draco said.
"Do we really want to bring the two of them together?" Lucius asked. "He's the only student in your year who has even a smattering of Slytherin about him. That's something of a risk. I would have thought the Nott boy was a better candidate."
"Millicent still has Notty chained to the bed, and isn't likely to take kindly to being asked to share. Bless her. And Zabini is bright enough to see the opportunity that Granger represents, but not bright enough to realise how to manage her. He'll think she's ripe for taking advantage of, and should be grateful he's taking an interest in her, and it will all end in disaster."
"For him," Lucius said.
"For him," Draco agreed. "But it would probably keep her occupied for at least a term or two."
"And this suggestion owes nothing whatsoever to Zabini's current interest in Miss Parkinson?"
"Not as such, no," Draco replied. "Pansy is a little irritated with me about l'affaire Granger, but not sufficiently irritated to do anything more serious than flirt with Zabini – though he's too stupid to realise that. However, if I were to take such obvious steps to remove my alleged rival, then Pansy would feel that her standing in Slytherin House has been restored, and I might get a little peace and quiet."
Lucius' lip twitched. "You do know that any peace and quiet will be a temporary affair?"
"Oh yes," Draco replied. "Isn't that half the fun?"
"But only half," Lucius said. "One really shouldn't underestimate the delights of seeking and holding of power – which is the only reason that I am prepared to spend even a minute in the company of an irritating old… why Albus, there you are – I was just telling Draco how much I look forward to these little meetings."
The Headmaster walked down the corridor to greet Lucius, flanked on either side by Professor MacGonagall and Professor Snape. Lucius nodded at them politely.
Albus looked like a man who had sucked a sherbert lemon to find only lemon and no sherbert. "I'm sure you were, Lucius," he replied, pleasantly enough. "I can't tell you how much I enjoy our get-togethers."
Lucius nodded. "I can imagine – it must be terribly dull here in the winter. You're so far removed from civilisation here in the wilds, that even such a familiar face as my own must be a welcome break from your routine."
"And I suppose that, in your book, civilisation begins and ends in England, and Wiltshire at that," said Professor McGonagall.
"Indeed not," Lucius replied. "I'm sure that Edinburgh and… many other places in Scotland… have a great deal to offer the discerning wizard – after all, it has produced many fine witches."
Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare. Lucius rarely laid on the flattery with a trowel, so when he did, it was a sign that he was Up to Something. "Shall we?" She gestured to Lucius that he should precede her through the open door to the meeting room, and he demurred politely as any gentleman should.
"That wasn't very subtle," Severus said quietly to Lucius as they brought up the rear.
"No, but it will make the next three hours slightly more entertaining as they try to work out what I'm up to," he replied, equally quietly. "I must have something to keep me amused through this…"
"There will be tea and biscuits," Severus replied.
"Dare I hope for cake as well?" Lucius asked.
"No, but I have a decent bottle of brandy in my quarters – I can attest to the quality as you gave it to me – so you have that scant consolation to look forward to." It was tacitly understood that Lucius would also be providing a detailed account of his attempt to lure Minerva into their clutches – it was very good brandy, and Severus hoarded it like a miser.
The other Governors had already taken their places round the large table at the centre of the room, as had the other Heads of House. Pomona Sprout was busily loading her pipe with tobacco, and Lucius cast a discreet anti-smoke charm to prevent the smell from lingering on his clothes. He was sure she did it on purpose. He could live with it in return for a chance to peer down her ample cleavage. Lucius loved his wife dearly, and admired her pale beauty that matched his own so well, but it couldn't be denied that Pomona Sprout had a certain earthy charm.
"Shall we begin?" Albus asked, and they got down to business.
The meeting was every bit as dull as Lucius had feared, and he did nothing to enliven it. He asked serious questions about serious issues, and interminable questions about trivial ones. After an hour, they had covered barely a quarter of the agenda and it looked like they might still be there until midnight.
Albus cracked first, made some vague noise about old men and weak bladders and left the room. Shortly afterwards, a House Elf delivered a note to Professor McGonagall. She tsked in irritation. "The Headmaster sends his apologies, but he is unable to return – a sudden emergency."
There were faint murmurs of sympathy though gritted teeth, as everyone faced up to the fact they'd been left in the lurch yet again.
"Dear lady, if I might make a suggestion?" Lucius said.
Minerva nodded, clearly not trusting herself to say anything in the face of such rank provocation as Dear Lady when she was already peeved by Albus' defection.
"Is there anyone who has any objections to any of the other proposals on the Agenda?" Lucius fixed the other Governors in turn with a look composed of three parts hauteur to one part death threat, and they all lowered their eyes and shook their heads. "I think we can safely assume that the other measures are all passed nem con, then – and that concludes our business here, don't you agree gentlemen?"
They did agree, and were quite glad to agree – and not just because agreeing was likely to be conducive to their continuing to be in good health. Getting out of a committee meeting an hour early gave them an hour of their life that could be spent much more profitably. Even painting the back bedroom was more interesting than a Governor's meeting, though it wasn't likely that any one of them would be doing anything more useful than stopping off at the Hog's Head for a cheeky half and a packet of pork scratchings.
Snape escorted Sprout and Flitwick out of the room before they had a chance to realise that Minerva wasn't among the hordes stampeding for freedom, leaving Lucius and Minerva facing each other across the table.
"The last time I saw a room clear that quickly, Albus had asked for volunteers to teach sex education to the seventh years," Minerva observed. "Now, why have you gone to so much effort to talk to me?"
Lucius found persuading Minerva of his good intentions to be harder than he had expected. It was fortunate he wasn't a sensitive soul, or he might have taken offence at the way she kept her hand firmly on her wand throughout their discussions.
"I am here to make you a proposition…"
Lucius didn't know whether to be amused or offended by the look of horror that crossed Minerva's face. He was aware of the rumours about his sexual peccadilloes, had even started some of them himself, but the idea that he would go to this much effort to proposition a Witch some twenty years his senior was ridiculous.
"…on behalf of certain interested parties, who think that you have just the qualities we are looking for," he continued.
"What sort of qualities?"
"Honesty, probity and a reputation for taking no nonsense."
"I find it hard to believe that those qualities are in any way sought after by you, or any of your acquaintance," Minerva replied.
"Indeed not." Lucius acknowledged the truth of the remark with a faint smile. "However, desperate times call for desperate measures – we would like you to stand for Minister for Magic."
"You think I should be Minister? Why? What on earth are you up to? And who is we?"
Lucius thought she was taking it rather well, all things considered. She hadn't rejected the idea out of hand, which meant that he had a negotiating position.
"The present Minister is a fool, and this plan of forced marriage will lead to nothing but misery for all concerned," he said.
"You've never minded him being a fool before, and you were happy enough to take advantage of the Marriage Law yourself not so long ago," Minerva shot back.
"His stupidity has never been anything other than politically convenient in the past; now he's being politically inconvenient, and it has to stop." Lucius' fingers tightened round his cane in a careful show of anger. "It is outrageous that I should have been forced to enter into such an arrangement, to treat my son as nothing more than cattle to be traded as breeding stock."
"And that's why you bid for Hermione Granger is it? As a mark of protest against the law?" Minerva scoffed.
Lucius arched an eyebrow. "As if there were the faintest chance that the Order would allow her to marry into my family…"
Minerva frowned. "And that's why you chose her? You knew we'd intervene?"
"Miss Granger… Mrs Snape, I should say… rather took matters into her own hands, which really wasn't a surprise, though her choice of husband certainly was. I rather expected her to be Mrs Weasley by now."
"I think she and Severus make a lovely couple," Minerva said.
Lucius paused. "Do they?"
"They do," she replied firmly. "And I'm not going to be involved in anything that might allow you to split them up."
Ah.
Lucius was accustomed to people thinking the worst of him, it was mostly very convenient that they should do so, but he was intrigued to find that he was plotting against Severus rather than with him.
Here, then, was the heart of Severus' difficulty in persuading Minerva to be their candidate, and here, too, was the reason that he couldn't explain that difficulty to Lucius.
"Perhaps they do make a lovely couple," he said eventually, making a note to keep an eye on the pair of them when next he had a chance. Romance between the two of them seemed an unlikely prospect, but it might provide the distraction that he had been searching for and one that would last much longer than Zabini ever would.
"Certainly I think that Hermione would have been wasted on a Weasley," Lucius continued. "That, however, is not the point. The point is that my son wishes to marry Pansy Parkinson and no one else. The point is that there are other, innocent witches, who don't have a Severus to rescue them, and the Ministry is putting increasing pressure on the Pureblood community to comply with the law."
"You expect me to believe that you give a damn about innocent witches?" Minerva asked, her voice dripping sarcasm.
"No," Lucius replied. "But I expected you would."
Minerva opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and snapped her mouth shut again.
Lucius knew she was hooked. All he had to do was reel her in.
Hermione spent the next few hours after seeing Lucius sitting in the Library. She was dying to know what was happening but thought it better to stay out of the way until Lucius had gone home and she could talk to Severus in private. He was likely to be much more informative that way, and she wouldn't have to put up with the superior Malfoy attitude that made you want to slap him.
Like father, like son.
So, it was a bit of a shock to finally make her way back to their rooms late that evening to find that Lucius occupying her spot on the sofa. He was not only sitting in her place, but was drinking a glass of wine, and chatting to Severus as if they were the best of friends.
They probably were the best of friends, she realised. Severus had more in common with Lucius than he ever would with any of his colleagues here, no matter that they had turned out to be on opposing sides. It made her feel oddly disgruntled, almost jealous.
She hesitated only for a moment, and then plonked herself down on the other chair, the guest chair, the one that Lucius should be sitting in. "So," she said.
There was a fleeting impression that Lucius was disconcerted by her presence, which would have been heartening, but it was gone so quickly she couldn't be sure. "So, indeed," he replied.
Hermione didn't ask any of the questions that were trembling on her lips, but ran through a list of things that she could do to Lucius that would cause him vexation and irritation, would be utterly untraceable, and would not interfere with her current plans for world domination.
It wasn't a long list, but she could make it her life's work to add to it.
Her lack of reaction forced Lucius into making the opening conversational gambit. "Minerva McGonagall has agreed to be our candidate," he said.
"Really?" Hermione said.
Severus scowled. "No."
"I may be interpreting the text a little, but that did seem to be the gist of our conversation," he said. "Sylvia's plight, being accompanied by much wailing and shedding of tears, has touched that stony spinster heart of hers, and she is considering the suggestion that she should be our compromise candidate for Minister."
"Only considering? Your famed powers of persuasion must be fading," Severus said.
"You did want me to stop short of Imperio, didn't you?" Lucius enquired, raising an eyebrow. "I seem to recall those being the terms we agreed. She will say yes, though. I'm sure of it. She just needs time to get used to the idea."
Severus grunted
"There's no need to thank me." Lucius smiled.
Hermione doubted whether Lucius had ever helped anyone in his life unless there had been something in it for him. Judging by his smile, which broadened when he looked at her, he could at least guess what she was thinking. So she smiled back. From the outside this would all look very pleasant, and not at all like the congregation of alligators that it was. The only question, was who was going to end up being turned into a handbag?
Not her, for one. Hopefully it would be the Minister. The soon-to-be-ex-Minister.
Now there really was something to smile about.