Chapter 24: Exposed

Minerva watched from the upper gallery as three cloaked figures ducked through the great double doors. Sleet was falling outside, and all three looked cold and damp.

"That was great!" Malcolm Baddock tugged off his cloak as soon as they entered the school, shaking the slush off it onto the floor with happy disregard for Mr Filch's rules. "All those Ministry people sitting there listening to us!"

"It was... satisfying." Millicent Bulstrode pushed her hood down, her short brown hair ruffled around her face as she frowned thoughtfully. "Mr Savage said he thought I could be in Magical Law Enforcement."

"Mr Savage was quite correct." Severus, too, had lowered his hood. He looked a bit pale and pinched - he'd never handled cold well, that was one of the reasons he was always so bundled up in heavy robes. At least, Minerva was fairly sure that was why. "I will arrange for suitable recommendations for you, Millicent, once you have finished your N.E.W.T.s."

The girl beamed, and Minerva noted that her unfortunate resemblance to her stolid-looking father was notably lessened when she smiled. "Thank you, sir!"

"Of course." Severus glanced up, and nodded slightly to Minerva. "Back to your common-room, both of you. Your housemates will be positively panting to hear all about your exciting adventures on the right side of a criminal investigation."

"Yeah! And Cliodhna and Walter will want to know how my speech went. They helped me practice." Baddock bounced away, still chattering. "I think it went down really well, don't you, Millie? I thought I struck just the right note with the Innocent Indignation approach, especially the bit about the baby..."

Severus watched them go, then glided up the steps to join Minerva. "They both performed very well. Miss Edgecombe has been consigned to Azkaban for ten years. Leniency on account of her youth, you understand."

"I see." Marietta Edgecombe would have to be watched when she was released, something Severus had no doubt already considered. She blamed Hermione for her troubles, and ten years in Azkaban weren't likely to sweeten her disposition. "Well, I suppose it's best over. The Wizengamot accepted Miss Granger's excuses, then?"

"Having given birth two days ago was accepted as a valid excuse for a failure to appear, yes." Severus smirked. "Dolores was most disappointed at missing such a perfect chance to embarrass her in public."

Minerva chuckled. "Dear Dolores never did like Miss Granger, did she?"

"Dear Dolores doesn't like anyone cleverer than she is." Severus snorted, and Minerva concealed a smile. Severus was generally inclined to partisanship where former members of his own House were concerned, but he'd made a special exception for Dolores Umbridge. "Mr Baddock was very cheeky when she questioned him."

"For which you gave him a peppermint."

"Two."

"Good." Minerva nodded approvingly. There were times when points were not an appropriate reward for student behaviour, but sweets were always acceptable. "Since Miss Granger is still in the hospital wing, I assume your usual Saturday evening lesson in tactics is cancelled?"

"For today, yes." He frowned. "She should begin her practical work in Potions as soon as possible, though. Madam Pomfrey recommended a week off before resuming her classes, so perhaps next Saturday would be best."

"An excellent point. Since you aren't busy, then, I would like to discuss Miss Granger's situation with you." That was a trick she'd learned from Albus - make sure they aren't busy before suggesting a little discussion. It cut down on last-minute excuses.

"An excellent imitation of our former Headmaster, Minerva," Severus said dryly, but he followed her up to her 'official' office... and then, looking a little surprised, up the stairs in the wall to her own private study. "A private conference? How... forward."

"None of your cheek, young man," Minerva said, returning his smirk with one of her own. "I'm old enough to be your grandmother... just."

"A fact nobody would believe, I am certain." He inclined his head - he really could be rather charming when he was relaxed. "You've never looked your age."

"Thank you." She smiled wryly. "Having a face like a hatchet has its drawbacks, but they do wear well, as I imagine you'll find out."

He looked startled again, and she nodded, turning to the cupboard where she kept her small supply of liquor. It wasn't exactly a flattering comparison, but he was more likely to accept it than an outright compliment. They both had high cheekbones and chins sharp enough to open a letter with, but that had never caused her any difficulty with the opposite sex. It was high time Severus stopped feeling sorry for himself and started making the most of his appearance.

She poured two small glasses of an old and rather fine brandy that she saved for special occasions, and offered him one. "Will you drink a toast with me, Severus?"

He raised an eyebrow, but took the glass and nodded. "Of course. To what?"

Minerva raised her glass. "To your son," she said quietly. "May he live long and well."

Severus went very still for a long moment, a statue of yellowed ivory swathed in black. Then he lifted the glass and drained it silently, Minerva following suit. He lowered his glass, she lowered hers, and they stared at each other. After much longer than most people lasted in the face of a McGonagall stare, he lowered his eyes. "How did you know?"

Not wasting her time on denials. Good. "I've suspected since Miss Granger was questioned by the Governors. She reacted... unexpectedly... to a particular question."

"I had hoped you hadn't noticed that." Severus inclined his head, smiling bitterly. "Too much to hope for, I suppose."

"Much too much. There have been other clues, once I began looking out for them." Minerva refilled his glass, and he didn't resist. "They were confirmed when you sneaked into the hospital wing at three in the morning to see him."

Severus scowled. "I take it that, had I looked, I would have found a tabby attempting to whistle a casual tune while lurking under one of the beds in the infirmary?"

Minerva couldn't help snickering a little at that mental image. "Don't be silly, Severus. Cats can't whistle."

"You were spying on me."

"Well, technically, I was spying on Miss Granger. The fact that I expected you to be the one to sneak in to see her is neither here nor there. I might have been wrong."

"But you weren't." He swirled the brandy in his glass, staring into it unseeingly. "What do you plan to do about the... situation?"

"If by that you mean am I planning to order you to retire and make an honest woman out of Miss Granger, as Albus certainly would have, then no." Minerva poured another brandy for herself, as well. She'd probably need it. "I would, however, like to hear your reasons for refusing to acknowledge your son. I can't imagine it's anything so simplistic as wanting to remain unattached and free of responsibility so you can chase young ladies unimpeded. You've never been particularly inclined to chasing ladies young or otherwise, so far as I have observed, and I can't imagine you're planning to take it up now."

He laughed quietly at that, a bitter little 'hah' with no real humour behind it. "No. No, I have never been known for my amorous conquests."

"That was my first assumption, of course, when Miss Granger first came to me and told me that she would not name her child's father. If it had been Mr Weasley, for example..."

"Then the assumption would probably have been accurate." Severus scowled. "You are aware of his behaviour while the two of them were involved?"

"Oh, yes. But since Miss Granger didn't seem to mind, I didn't think it my place to comment." Minerva shrugged. "So, since you aren't planning to take up athletic lechery as a hobby... why not admit that Martin is your son?"

"That is none of your business," Severus said flatly, finally looking her in the eye again. "Nor anyone's but my own and Miss Granger's."

"And Martin's." Minerva met his stare with one of her own. "He will want to know who his father is, and why that father did not want him. And he, at least, has the right to know."

"But you don't."

"No. I don't. And you're certainly under no obligation to answer my questions." Minerva sipped her brandy, savouring the rich burn. "I'm not Albus, Severus. I won't trick you or awe you into giving up your secrets. But I will keep them, if you should choose to tell them to me."

He looked away, tension radiating off him. Then his shoulders slumped, just a little, and Minerva let out a breath she hadn't intended to hold. Severus Snape had never been inclined to confide in anyone, even as a child. Albus had pushed him into confession regularly, after his return from Voldemort's clutches, and it had seemed to help as much as anything did. She had suspected that he missed it, and hoped that offering him that outlet again would be a temptation he couldn't resist. "I... have considered acknowledging him. Hermione left the choice to me. But both she and the child are better off if I stay anonymous."

Minerva snorted. Severus was inclined to gloom and self-pity - not that he didn't have plenty of reason for it - and she wasn't inclined to encourage his wallowing. "Stuff and nonsense. The child ought to know his father, and Hermione will need all the help she can get, with a new baby, exams, and a career to start."

Severus looked startled. Albus had probably never said 'stuff' during their little confessionals. "She is an attractive young woman," he said stiffly. "I doubt the child will remain fatherless forever. And her pushy little friends will doubtless give her far more help than she wants or needs."

Minerva frowned. She was quite certain that Hermione had no intention of seeking out another man, at least not now. She might, of course, at some later time. But for now she was eighteen and desperately in love, and having Martin would only strengthen her attachment to the baby's father. But was Severus suggesting it because he genuinely thought she would move on, or just because he hoped she would? "And if she does? Would you really be content to entrust the welfare of your son to some stranger?"

Thin shoulders tensed, and Severus frowned. "I am confident that she would choose someone adequate to the task."

"Severus, the girl was seriously involved with Ronald Weasley. A nice lad, but hardly a promising guardian and provider." Severus tensed further, and Minerva sipped her brandy again. Underhanded, yes, but she knew Severus's tendency to believe that nobody could perform any given task to his exacting standards except himself. "Besides, it's far more likely that she'll attempt to do everything herself, excel simultaneously as a mother and a career woman, and work herself into a complete nervous breakdown the way she did in her third year."

His frown deepened. He did know about Hermione Granger's tendency to overdo, and Minerva had no intention of letting him conveniently forget about it. "Surely her friends and family would not permit her to drive herself to such a state," he said, the faintest hint of doubt weakening his abrupt tone.

"They've never stopped her before, I shouldn't imagine they'll start now." Trying to stop Hermione Granger from working herself to a wraith was a full-time job, as Minerva had learned while she was the girl's Head of House. "You may have plenty of good reasons for not wanting to be a father to wee Martin, Severus, but kindly do not give me rubbish like 'they're better off alone'."

"I didn't say they were better off alone," he said quietly, addressing his hands. "I said they were better off without me."

"Do you think so?"

He touched his left arm, a gesture that had long since passed through habit to become reflex. "I don't want my son tainted by association. Nor his mother."

Did he know that his voice had softened over the words 'my son', or that there was a sort of grieved tenderness in the eyes that lifted to hers? "You worry entirely too much about that, Severus," Minerva said, her voice stern to cover her own moment of sentiment. "Your heroism during the Final Battle-"

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm the man who killed Albus Dumbledore in the service of the Dark Lord. I can live with being spat at in the street, Minerva, but I won't have my son suffer the same." The cultured formality he'd carefully cultivated started to slip, the harsh Northern accent she remembered from his childhood starting to sound in his voice. "He's just a baby, Minerva, and Hermione's hardly more. If it was ever known that we'd..." He trailed off, a faint wash of red rising in his cheeks. "She'd be a pariah. I'll not have that for her."

Minerva still couldn't be sure how he felt about Hermione Granger, although she thought the girl's chances might be better than she knew. She was sure now, at least, that Severus Snape loved his son. "They might think a little distrust from those who know no better worth it," she said quietly. "To be a proper family."

He looked away, stricken, and she was reminded forcibly of the tense, unhappy little boy sitting in the front row not so very long ago. "Just... leave it, Minerva. Please."

She nodded. "Very well, Severus. If you wish it." Now wasn't the time to push further. Later, perhaps...

"You are late." Severus had been waiting for nearly fifteen minutes, and impatience sharpened his tone when Hermione finally entered the laboratory. Her appearance came as an added shock. He hadn't seen her in her uniform since Martin had been born, and she looked... different. No, she looked the same - the same as she had before she'd been pregnant. Presumably there were some physical changes involved, but the heavy, shapeless student robes hid them. She might have been sixth-year Hermione again, innocent and earnest.

Except for her hair. Her hair was still twisted into the fluffy knot that bared her neck and added a charming gravity to her appearance. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said, smiling up at him. "I had to feed Martin right before I left, and... well..."

"I see. Of course." He maintained his composure, but he was reminded far too clearly of seeing her cradling his son to her breast the night he was born. He'd had no idea he remembered it so very clearly. "Who is caring for the child while you're here?"

"About eight house-elves." Hermione smiled fondly. "They're all hovering over him and making gurgling noises. Dilly's trying to fend the others off and keep him to herself, but she's outnumbered."

Severus found himself smiling just a little at that mental image. "They do like children, or so I understand. They'll probably spoil him rotten."

"Probably. Still, at least they seem to know what to do about babies." Hermione frowned a little. "Ron gurgles at him a lot, but he runs away whenever there's a dirty nappy to see to, and Harry will hardly even hold him. I think maybe he's afraid of breaking him or something."

Severus frowned. Harry Potter was not generally concerned with the possible consequences of handling things. If anything, Severus would have been more worried about him accidentally dropping the child than failing to pick him up. Interesting. "Indeed. Since I assume you don't wish to be away from the child for long -"

"I should get back to him in two hours at most."

"Then we shall commence. As it takes over a month to brew, you will begin with Veritaserum. You have the choice of either the traditional formula, or the variant we discussed using wintergreen..."

"Harry, are you sure this is a good idea?" Ron had been grumbling ever since Harry dragged him out of bed for their early-morning practice session. "Can't we wait for someone to try to kill you somewhere with less stairs?"

"No, because then there'd be too many people around." Harry turned to glare at Ron, then felt guilty. Ron was wincing as he climbed the stairs - his legs were probably hurting again, and of course he hadn't mentioned it. "Look, we'll just give it a bit longer, and if it doesn't work, we'll try something else."

"Yeah. Great. They've tried, what, five times now?"

"Four." Aside from the scarf and the cursed paper butterfly, there'd been a box of chocolates with just one poisoned one hidden in the middle, and a curse laid on his Quidditch robes to make them try to strangle him when he put them on. Embarrassingly, the cursed robes might actually have worked if Ron and Peakes hadn't been there to pull them off him.

"You're not counting the rock?"

"That could have been an accident." A small chunk of stone had nearly fallen on his head as he entered the castle, but that did happen sometimes and it hadn't really been all that close.

"But it might not have been." They finally reached the landing below the last flight of stairs. "Right. Ready?"

Harry nodded. "Ready."

The unknown assassin liked traps. Harry had been fairly sure that he or she wouldn't be able to resist laying one somewhere where only Harry or his friends were ever likely to go. So every morning he and Ron cast every trap-detecting spell they knew. The traps generally weren't that subtle - if there was one there, they shouldn't have any trouble detecting it.

So far, there hadn't been so much as a rigged stair.

Harry wasn't really paying attention - he could cast the spells on automatic now - until a sudden flare of orange light caught his eye. "Ron! I think we found one!"

Inching up the stairs, he found a grey thread stretched across the third stair from the top. It was almost invisible against the stone, and only an inch above it. Much too low to trip on. Harry followed the thread to its end and winced. Stepping on the thread would have pulled the cork out of a bottle of something roiling and purple. He wasn't sure what it was called, but he'd seen a purple cloud a lot like that during the war, and those who'd been caught in it hadn't died quickly or cleanly. Clearly the unknown assassin was starting to get more serious or more desperate.

"Nasty." Ron leaned over his shoulder to look at the bottle. "Someone really wants to hurt you, Harry... or me. Have you noticed that he or she doesn't seem to care if they get you or someone close to you?"

"Yeah." That was why they'd opted to act as bait in a place Hermione had a lot of trouble getting to, and at a time when Ginny usually wasn't awake. "Right. Let's see if we can get anything off this."

No fingerprints, but that was no surprise. Anyone walking around the castle in the middle of the night in March would be wearing gloves. Careful not to touch it, Harry flicked his wand over the string. "Repens Memoria."

Tonks had taught him that one... a spell often used by Aurors, it conjured up a brief image of the last living thing to come into contact with an inanimate object. After a moment, he found himself sharing the step with a translucent bluish figure. A girl, maybe in third or fourth year, with hair that looked sort of dark... and then the image was gone.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Any idea who that was, Harry?"

"None." Harry shook his head. "That was... less help than I thought it was going to be."

"And you can't do that spell again, for the Heads of House to look at, right?" "No. It only works once." Harry scowled. "Damn. Now we're going to have to go around looking at all the third and fourth year girls in the whole school."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Great. Either we announce that we're looking for an attempted murderer and tip her off, or we look like perverts."

"No we won't." Harry grinned at him. "I have a girlfriend already, and everyone knows you're still chasing Susan Bones. Giving you more trouble than they usually do, is she?"

Ron's ears went red. "Shut up, Harry," he mumbled.

"Honestly, Ron, if your mum ever finds out the way you've been carrying on since you and Hermione broke up..."

"Shut up, Harry!"

Harry knocked cautiously, listening for sudden wailing. "Hermione? Can I come in?"

"Come in, Harry!" She sounded a bit more alert than she usually did before breakfast - the baby must have woken her early. Again.

Hermione was sitting by her small fireplace, with Martin in her arms as usual. She smiled brightly at Harry, though, seeming pleased to see him. "Did you finish your being-a-target practice early this morning?"

"No, it finally worked." Harry sprawled in the other chair, enjoying her startled, attentive look. "We found a trap set up there this morning. We left it unsprung, and Ron's fetching Remus to take a look at it. I thought I'd let you know that the plan worked."

"And gloat because I said it wouldn't." Hermione snorted. "Oh, very well... You-Know-Who it is, then?"

"Er... yes and no. I did the Repens Memoria, and I got a look at her, but it wasn't anyone I recognized."

"Oh dear," Hermione said a bit absently, wiping drool off her son's chin. She wasn't even looking at Harry. "Definitely a she, though?"

"Yeah. A student, probably third or fourth year. Maybe fifth." Harry scowled. "Not in Gryffindor, I've seen them about often enough to recognise them."

"So it could be a Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin." Hermione joggled Martin, who waved a curled fist vaguely. "You'll just have to look at them all, I suppose."

"Yeah. Do you have any suggestion on how I get a good long look at three quarters of the fourteen-year-old girls in the school without looking like I'm trying to pick them up or tipping her off that I'm looking for her?" Harry scowled. She wasn't even offering to help.

"Oh, that's easy," Hermione said, in her best know-it-all patronising tone. "Just get one of the teachers to cooperate, and drop in on the third and fourth year classes with a fake note for them. Then while they pretend to read it or write a reply, you look around the room. It'll look perfectly natural."

She hadn't even looked at him. Harry kicked absently at the carpet. "Yeah, I suppose that could work. You're going to be back in classes on Monday, right?"

"Oh, and it's going to be such a relief!" That sounded more like the old Hermione... fussy and a bit sharp. "I didn't want to take the time off, really, but Madam Pomfrey said it was important to bond properly before I started classes again. And I did manage to get all my homework done, at least." As usual, she managed to make finished homework sound like a narrowly averted catastrophe. "Have you and Ron been studying? And using the schedules I gave you?"

"Yes, Hermione, we've been studying." Harry grinned. "Not totally sticking to the schedule, but given how basic our Defence classes have been, we thought we could put the time to better use on Transfiguration and Potions."

"Well..." He could tell that Hermione wanted to scold him for neglecting an important class, but knew quite well that he was right. She looked torn between fussing and approval. "As long as it stays basic, I suppose you're right to spend more time on the subjects that challenge you the most..."

"Yeah. We're going to make you proud, I promise." Harry snickered. "Even if Ron's still sleeping with his homework under his pillow."

"Oh, for goodness' sake. He's so superstitious about studying, he always thinks there's some sort of trick to it instead of just working at it properly." Hermione's usual speech on the virtues of hard work was cut off by a grizzling noise from Martin, who immediately had her full attention. "He's hungry... Er, Harry, would you mind turning around?"

Harry leaped to his feet. "I should get to breakfast, anyway. Thanks for the suggestion, I'll see Remus about it as soon as I eat something. He'll play along." He could quite happily have gone his whole life without ever watching Hermione doing that, although he had a disturbing suspicion that Ron enjoyed it.

Fourth year, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. It was the third class Harry had visited today, and he had a routine now. Apologetic tap on the door, stroll over to the desk, handover of the 'note', then a slow scan of the room while Remus pretended to read it.

For a moment he thought it was another waste of time, then a girl in the third row lifted her head. She looked a little different in full colour, but he recognized her instantly. The same face, with the same eyes narrowed in intent concentration - eyes which lifted to focus on Harry's face before he could look away. For a split second her face twisted in pure loathing, and then their eyes met and her expression went blank. Did she know that he knew? "Remus," Harry said quietly. "We have a winner."

Remus looked up as the girl stood up, still staring at Harry. "It can't be..." Remus said softly, but Harry was already moving forward.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" he asked, sliding his hand into his pocket to grip his wand. "Like, I don't know, maybe you'd like to tell me why it is you want me dead?"

The girl looked up at him - she was around Hermione's size, now that he saw her closely. "No," she said mildly. "Not really."

Her wand was lying on the desk, and her hand flicked towards it. Harry reached out to grab her wrist, forcing her hand away from the wand with little effort - and then pain suddenly filled his world, and he looked down to see her other hand pressed against his stomach, clenched tightly around the handle of one of the standard silver knives from the student potions kit. The handle was the only part of the knife that wasn't buried in his stomach, and as he looked down in shock she twisted the knife hard. His knees buckled and he almost fell.

"Harry!" Someone was pulling the girl away, and someone else was clutching his shoulders and lowering him to the floor. He looked up into the worried face of Remus Lupin as his head started to spin. "Harry, don't worry, we'll get you to the hospital wing right away..."

The wound was burning, and his vision was getting blurry. It didn't feel right. "Remus," Harry said thickly. "Knife poisoned. Feels... poisoned. Bezoar in my pencil case, get it..."

And then everything went black.