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Attention kids! There is a 4.5 in which Tonks and Ginny plot over chocolate, only it's handwritten in my notebook. You'll have it before part 6! (hopefully tonight :D)
Title: Come Together (5 of ~8)
Author: corvidae9
Rating: R
Word Count: ~4225 this section
Warnings: crackful premises, het/slash/fem, rampant bisexuality
Summary: Hermione has a visitor, Remus checks in on his commission, Draco is suddenly out of his depth, and Grimmauld is overrun by Weasleys, the only remedy for which is running far, far away.
Author's Note: See Part I for full Summary/Notes! Questions/comments/interpretive dance, as always, welcome here. :D
I - Saturday | II - Sunday | III - Monday | IV - Tuesday | 4.5 - Tuesday Night | V - Wednesday | VI - Thursday | VII - Friday afternoon | 7.5 - Friday Night | VIII - Saturday2
Wednesday
At her desk, halfway between sitting and standing as she had been for about fifteen minutes as she wrote out a message that had extended onto a fifth square yellow sticky note, Hermione was oblivious to the quiet second person that crept up through her open office door.
"One larger bit of parchment might have done as well," observed Luna, head tilted toward the chain of sticky notes in question.
"Jesus!" swore Hermione with a start, dropping the pen (not quill) in hand onto destktop with a clatter.
"Oh! Him," said Luna, nodding. "He might be helpful, I suppose. I'm personally a fan of swearing on Ganesh."
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hermione looked up, more businesslike than rude. "What are you doing here?"
The corner of Luna's mouth twitched upward. "Scaring the living shite out of you. You?"
Hermione laughed and flopped backwards into her chair. "Working. It's the kind of thing I do well."
"I know," said Luna as she sat carefully in Hermione's guest chair. "Neville says the early outreach program is coming along beautifully and even the Ministry can't find a thing to be bastards about."
"It is!" said Hermione, her eyes lighting up. "Luna, it's brilliant. You'd be amazed at how often the parents of a Muggleborn are more relieved than anything else that they're not going mad. I mean, my own parents spent ten years pretending I didn't make broccoli literally disappear from my plate, can you imagine the grief we're sparing?"
"Hmm. You'd think they'd have learned just not to serve it," mused Luna. Hermione arched an eyebrow that Luna caught immediately, and she went on as though it had been her intention to begin with. "But we're all very proud of you both."
"Well, thank you," said Hermione, sitting up straight again to sign off on the note. "Now. What are you doing here?"
Luna smiled with a hint of a smirk and scooted back in her own chair in turn. "I came to let you know that if someone needs to use my room on Friday night, they're welcome to it, since I have somewhere else to stay."
"...Friday? Please. You know we have plenty of room. Besides, I'm not the one plan--" Hermione's confusion was nearly complete until she remembered that she was talking to Luna and tried to understand the statement accordingly. "Oh. OH!" She grinned, "And where exactly are you staying, praytell?"
"With Percy, if last night was an indication of things to come," Luna suddenly laughed. "I said 'come'."
Hermione was a grown woman, yes, and she was a gossiping-only-on-special-occasions sort of busy, serious woman who wore bad, if comfortable, shoes and didn't hold with cluttered bathroom vanities. She'd been what amounted to a field general through a bloody war and her best friends were men (and Ginny)(and Luna) who'd subjected her to a hundred times worse and more crude. That said, her face flushed red as she covered her mouth with one hand and snorted an incredulous, giddy laugh. "You didn't?!"
"Did!" said Luna, rather pleased with herself in her matter-of-fact manner. "And! He's coming to Grimmauld rather than the Ministry party, but he said he wouldn't 'stay there and be subjected to his brother's shenanigans' if he stayed with me. So we'll have to go back to his flat, I'm afraid."
Her eyes wouldn't go any wider. Hermione blinked and took this in slowly. "He's ditching the Ministry party. For our party."
"Uh huh," agreed Luna brightly. "I'm very proud of him, too. Did you want to come out and spend your lunch shopping with me? I have to be back at the paper in... an hour and a half."
Hermione quickly folded the memo in front of her and stood, holding her arm out for her owl and digging her purse out of her desk with the other.
"Absolutely. I need details."
###
Back in their school days when Sirius wanted to drop in on someone unexpectedly, he tended to use the time-honored hop out of a tree, laugh at his target's having jumped ten feet out of their bloody skin, drop an arm around their shoulders and then proceed with the wheedling. Though Remus' heart tightened a little to think of his best friends in better days, it didn't come without the thought of just how badly what he was trying to do now might've been received. Not that he hadn't considered it then, too. Because he had-- oh, yes. It hadn't been more than a fleeting idea, really, but idea enough.
So there, twenty years later, he stood on the step of Severus Snape's home, knowing that if he'd tried to hop out of a tree, he'd likely be hexed into slimy bits before his aged, lycanthropic arse hit the ground. (Besides, Sirius and James had only ever pulled the tree bit off successfully, unless you wanted to count the time Peter tried and landed face first in Lily's cleavage, which had been brilliant for all of about the ten seconds it took disentangle them. Then, she'd slapped the shite out of him.)
He was smiling at the memory when Severus opened the door, in shirtsleeves again rolled to the elbow, and a potions-spattered shop apron, not wasting any excess muscle exertion on a pleasant facial expression or even sparing a breath for a greeting. He tossed an apron at Remus and turned away from the door muttering, "If you're here to harass me, you may as well make yourself useful."
With a silent apology for the Padfoot and Prongs (and yes, even the Wormtail that died long before his skin thought to), Remus slipped the apron on and followed Severus in as he tied it off.
He wasn't sorry he was doing this; he was only sorry it had taken this long to stand up to the Marauders in his head, frozen in stasis in 1981 and less forgiving than the living ones might have been.
The cat meowed hopefully and followed Remus the whole way down to the lab door, where Remus stopped to scritch his head before a dark look from Severus sent the cat strutting in the opposite direction, determined to avoid the appearance of having been scared off.
###
In the year since the war ended, Severus had seen Remus... what? perhaps twice per month at most? Once for the Wolfsbane with occasional trips in between for supplies for the infernal shop. The arrangement served Severus' purposes quite well- he profited in both cash and research and he had a reason to interact with the wolf regularly, however briefly.
It was indeed possible that perhaps in the two days since Remus had begun to seek him out for this ridiculous plan, Severus had suddenly developed a mild infatuation that was both disturbing and precious; the stuff of cheap, neatly-resolved, romantic fiction.
What was more possible and in fact, the actual case, Severus had been nursing a sick fascination for the man for years, even when he'd been busy ruining Remus' chances of ever teaching again with one well-placed bit of information about his lycanthropy; even when they'd been forced to work too closely near the end of the war. Especially then. The difference between Severus and some stupid Gryffindor (or Draco, apparently) was that he knew better than to pursue the pointless fantasy. Realistically, even if by some freakish chance Remus was interested, it would never work, never be more than a fleeting moment of hedonism before things went to hell and even his comfortable daydream was destroyed.
Severus didn't have time or pleasant distractionary thoughts enought to spare that he could afford to lose one. Thus he held this one close and guarded it jealously. Or had until the mongrel had taken it upon himself to invade his home and attempt to make him a co-conspirator, to bring dinner and pour wine and ingratiate himself with his cat.
...The cat, for god's sake. Brutus didn't like anyone. Even the neighborhood watchdogs gave the surly bastard a three-foot berth. It was a large part of the reason he and Severus got along so well.
And yet, Severus could hear the bloody smile on Remus' face as he spoke as they made their way down the basement stairs.
"So you've made progress?"
"One could say that," said Severus, unamused. "One could also say that I've wasted my time for a juvenile reason and I ought to hand you what I have and wish you luck."
Remus blinked and had the audacity to look entertained as he crossed his arms and shifted. "Are you going to?"
"I might. Look at this," Severus said, handing Remus a notebook, opened to a page filled with meticulous notes and diagrams. He let Remus read for a moment before going on over his snickering. "I believe they've designed similar in the past, but I also believe my methods are superior, not to mention more durable."
"Severus, this--" Remus looked up, eyes practically shining. "It's brilliant."
"Hardly," said Severus, narrowing his eyes. "Infusing the Wolfsbane to include time-release anti-inflammatories, analgesics and marrow-replenishing solutions while retaining full potency was brilliant. This is a mere exercise in the ridiculous."
Remus had the nerve to look at him as though he might have been speaking in tongues. "Lupin? I trust you understood that. Have you been peripherally affected by the very notes on the infernal thing?"
"All that was your idea?" Remus asked in complete disbelief.
Severus leveled a look at him that called him any number of unkind synonyms for 'idiot', though said idiot seemed only fit to continue to appear surprised. "Yes. Apparently I am singular among my peers in that I have seen what the curse does from close proximity. Enough to feel that it needed improvement. Those I correspond with-- Let us say that they were eager to prove they could, and not so much concerned that they should."
He'd said too much. Damn him straight to hell. Severus made a concerted effort to regain his look of narrow-eyed disdain, but he tucked away the look that Remus gave him in order to add it to his store of material for said pleasant dreams.
"At any rate, I'll have it for you by tomorrow evening."
"Come to the party," said Remus as if it were a statement rather than a request, and for a vague, fleeting moment the socially unacceptable teenager that dwelt in the back of Severus' mind wanted to crow about having been invited.
"Aboslutely not," Severus said, turning to the cauldron behind him. "You can stay and shred fluxweed or see yourself out."
After a long moment that was quietly dreadful for no particular reason that should matter, Remus was at his elbow, rolling up his own sleeves.
"Show me."
###
Draco,
I trust my letter finds you well and keeping yourself busy and out of trouble. I doubt that this is the case, but it does not keep me from hoping it, you understand.
I had resolved not to say anything about your latest appearance in the rag that the Wizarding world finds to be acceptable journalism, as it is your business entirely whom you choose to be seen with and who you choose to bed. even if it is Potter, the visual of which still causes me to wish for swift death or blindness Having said this, I can tell you that I know for a fact you are about to do something stupid. I could see it in your eye. You, boy, have a look that is much akin to a flashing beacon of intent for those who know how to read it, few of us though there are. For this reason, I am about to say something that you will never hear me say again, and you will never see again, given that this message will no longer exist once you've read it.
Do it.
Only the regret of not having done could be worse than the consequences otherwise. For you, that is.
As always, I am merely an owl away,
Severus
Draco watched the note evaporate, perversely more unsure than he had been before. Severus commenting on the matter though he was not aware of the details somehow lent it weight and substance; made it more real and less of a game, and he didn't know that he could handle anything other than something he could play.
He dusted his hands off though there was no need and tried to resume work on his accounts to no avail.
###
It'd been a relatively slow day in the office, so to speak. Kingsley had sent Ron and Tonks out to have a look at the backroom of Borgin and Burkes first thing, though for once it wasn't to inspect the proprietor, but at the old bastards' request. Turned out there was a nest of boggarts suddenly descended on it, and with a nest came a queen that was so nasty, not even old Burke could quite get a handle on her.
Ron had never seen a spider so sodding, miserably huge, venomous and terrifying in his life. He supposed it might speak not so well of him that after all he'd been through, his boggart was still a spider, but that was another thing that he'd learned to be just fine with. He also suspected that he had learned to project a spider as his biggest fear, 'cos he'd be damned if boggarts started turning into his dead friends and family, and let people make of it what they would.
They'd actually had to kill the thing rather than subdue it, and Tonks gave him the satisfaction of letting him smash underfoot the tiny wind-up polka-dot chihuahua it had become once they'd dealt with it.
Alright, after that, it had been quiet.
Ron dumped his cloak on the coat rack and loosened his boots, thinking he'd stop at the ice box for an ale, then maybe head to his room and--
"There's my baby brother," said a voice that could only be his brother. Erm. One of them. Of course, once the sinewy arms were wrapped around his shoulders and he was face to face with his brother Charlie, it all became clear. Somewhat. "God, look at you, I can't believe you're an Auror. You know it kills Mum half with horror and half with pride whenver she starts in talking about you, you little bastard."
"Hi Charlie," said Ron, patting Charlie's back. "The hell are you doing in these parts? Thought you were out at the reserve until next month?"
"Pansy told me about the thing Friday, Gin told me there was room at the house for a visitor, I took leave, and I'm here," he said with a shrug.
"...Pansy. As in Parkinson? As in Malfoy's little friend?" said Ron, brow knit. "Why would she tell you?"
"Are you sure you're old enough to hear this, lad?" said Charlie with a leer that immediately told Ron that he was not. And he said so. And then he took a beer from the icebox, threw it to Charlie, took another for himself, immediately opened it and drank what felt like most of the bottle.
Unfortunately, Charlie thought he was kidding. "She's amazing, mate. Witty, and sharp and just cutting and brilliant. And she does this thing with her--"
"No, Charlie! Just-- no," said Ron, grimacing as he took another drink and suddenly coming up with a way to deflect the conversation. "Tell me about the reserve."
"Dragons, blah blah blah," came a third voice and Ron and Charlie both looked up wide-eyed as Bill came in from the sitting room, arm pulled tight around Ginny's shoulders. "Probably picked that little girl up with his 'wanna see my scars' line? Lame."
"Bill, hey!" said Ron, "What--?"
"Same story, different person doing the inviting, kid," grinned Bill, releasing Ginny to engulf Charlie in a huge, thumping hug. "Hey, Charlie."
"And as long as it wasn't Phlegm, I was perfectly fine with that," grinned Ginny. "Though you two are going to have to spend Sunday at the Burrow with the rest of us, you know. Mum won't let you get away from her that easily."
By now, Bill had moved on to squeezing the life out of Ron, which was also fine, given that Bill was the only person allowed to be taller than him. 'Cos, you know-- he was Bill.
"Gin," warned Bill. "Don't be evil. Wasn't her fault entirely."
Charlie snorted. "Shagging your best mate tends to put a damper on wedding plans, yeah, Billy?"
Ron wanted nothing more than to stick his fingers in his ears and make a lot of loud noise. He'd heard the story once. Hell, he had to work for the 'best mate' in question. He didn't need to hear it again.
"Shut up, boy," shot Bill with no fire behind it. "It was long overdue."
The door opened once again and Ron groaned unconsciously as Fred called out, "You're so right!" Or maybe it was George.
At any rate, the other came in on his heels, adding, "You simply cannot live without us."
"Oi-- who wants food?" said the first, and Ron couldn't help but laugh as they kept talking.
"Because we're starving."
"We would've stopped for take away."
"But you wouldn't have taken it from us anyway."
"Which is a good, smart move."
"Proves you've been paying attention."
Ginny rushed them and let them catch her. "Idiots one and two!"
"Baby snot! You've been missed!"
"How's camp?"
"Drills?"
"Hoops?"
"Quidditch gear?"
"...Mmmm. Quidditch gear."
"Plenty of pretty girls?"
Both twins leered as they added simultaneously, "'Nough to keep you busy chasing balls?"
Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but it was Ron that said, "Food sounds great!"
Bill's hand thumped between Ron's shoulderblades and he muttered, "You need to relax, kid."
"Food as soon as Hermione and Neville get here," said Charlie. "Hermione promised more Italian take away than we could eat in one sitting."
"Poor little thing," said one twin, occupied in tugging on Ginny's braid.
"We'll eat her out of house and home," said the other, who was fending off her swatting hands. "Where's Harry?"
"On duty," said Ron, pretending as though he weren't leaning into Bill.
"I thought that was yesterday," frowned Ginny.
"Tonight too," said Ron. "Turns out their new arrival has ex-friends that don't want to stay gone."
"As if he hadn't spent enough of his bloody life on duty," said Charlie with a frown.
"We're always missing somebody," mused Bill.
"Percy couldn't make it, either," Ginny said with a sigh. "He's busy."
"Read: he couldn't be arsed to lower himself," said one twin.
As the other opened his mouth to answer, Percy walked in, adjusting his glasses and speaking primly, "Read: He was busy, but now is no longer. Contrary to popular belief, I can in fact put up with my siblings for short periods of time, though Merlin knows how, why or what miracle keeps everyone alive in the process."
Luna, Hermione and Neville were just behind bearing two huge boxes of aluminum trays of food, and while Bill moved to hug his brother, Luna smiled.
"I have a theory!"
Reaching back to take her hand, Percy quietly whispered over his shoulder, "Please don't." Hermione dissolved into giggles, Neville tore open a tray of bread and handed it to the nearest redhead in an attempt to hold off the impending feeding frenzy long enough for him to acquire plates and utensils, and Ron caught Hermione's eye and actually laughed, too.
Life could in fact be good some days.
"Hey! There's my girl!" exclaimed Charlie, and Ron looked up, eyes huge as Pansy Parkinson smiled as though she might be a real, breathing person (as opposed to being entirely made of snark and vitriol) and pitched herself at Charlie with what could only be described as a squeal of delight. The pit of Ron's stomach was suddenly churning, vicious in its reminding him that where Parkinson went--
"--Well. I'll stand in the corner and pretend that I'm not about to drown in a sea of garish ginger, shall I?"
--Malfoy was never far behind.
###
It was true, Where one found Pansy out of the house, one could most of the time find Draco and vice versa. This would be because the Wizarding world liked to hold grudges, and though they'd been exonerated fully and carried Order of Merlins (First Class) just like most everyone else in the room, people didn't like them. They didn't like Pansy and Draco's last names, their families, their history, and it had not a damn thing to do with who or what they were or had done.
As a result, yes. They did watch each other's back, just as they'd done from the time they were children. And so when Pansy had squealed and elbowed him and begged him to come to Grimmauld for dinner, he'd agreed... after attempting to talk, shame and/or bribe her out of it. He suspected that if she weren't so ridiculously infatuated with the dragon weasley, she might object on the same grounds he did - mainly that they'd be outnumbered in quantities that Draco couldn't remember since around the time of the last days of the war, and really, he didn't want to think about that just now either.
Truthfully, he might've left her to her own devices anyway, given she was just being grabby. After all, she'd get more than enough of her Weasley's company on Friday-- but apparently she wanted to make the most of his visit. Something about not having seen him in weeks. Draco was not impressed. Moreover, Severus' words rung in his ears, so to speak.
Do it.
The man was mad. And also quite brilliant. And a total bastard. A very cautious, wily bastard, who apparently had Draco's best interests in mind, but a bastard nonetheless.
'Do it', he'd said. What the sodding hell? And frankly, what the sodding hell would he know?
Still, faced with more Weasleys and Gryffindors than he could shake a stick at, his best friend in the lap of and feeding one, Draco had one option. A known evil-- yes. Excellent cover. Err. Reason.
"Weasel," he said, nonchalant as he sidled over to where Ron stood, apparently also trying to blend into a corner of the kitchen as his siblings sprawled throughout the sitting room and stairwells. "This is... loud."
"Welcome to my world," grumbled Ron, casting a sideways look at him that spoke of conflict so profound as to be a war zone.
"Is this really the sort of thing you grew up with?"
"If by sort of thing you mean, family that loves you even though they're fucking batshit nuts the lot of them?" said Ron, leveling a look at him directly. "Then yeah. This is exactly like that. Only there's more beer and swearing 'cos Mum and Dad aren't about."
Truly fascinated in his horror, Draco nodded, peering about him as though he were an anthropologist on a distasteful mission. "It doesn't matter how many times I've seen it happen --which thankfully are few-- it never ceases to amaze me."
"Yeah?" said Ron, stepping up the challenge in his voice. "And why's that?!"
Do it, said Severus in the back of Draco's head, and he shook it slightly. "Because-- it doesn't seem as though it should work so well. And yet, it does, and even your prude of a brother was taken back into the fold with barely a blink for the saying of 'sorry' and a slap upside his head," Draco said, realizing that he'd let the Severus voice distract him while he said something so very true, it hurt to consider.
Ron was staring. Draco's stomach roiled, angry that this game had grown out of hand.
"Yeah," said Ron, pulling away as if had stung him, too. His path, however took him only as far as the ice box, from which he pulled two more bottles and handed one to Draco. "Last one for the night. Long day tomorrow." Draco murmured thanks and Ron went on, his voice a little unsure. "You um. About sick of the noise?"
"Oh my god yes," said Draco, making it sound as if it were one long word before taking a pull of his ale.
Ron smirked and looked around in a manner that was anything but surreptitious, then hit the side of a cupboard with a fist. A compartment slid open from a spot previously hidden from view, and he pulled out a small box quickly before shutting it again. "Come on," he said, cocking his head and taking box and beer up the back stairs.
Draco, much to his own despair, followed.
###
Ginny kept her eye on Ron as he popped open his not-so-secret stash of chocolate and chessmen and led Draco up the back stairs, willing to bet he was headed for the library and quietly congratulating him in her mind.
Then there was something gooey and sticky crawling down the back of her shirt and as she contorted wildly while the twins snickered and Charlie roared his approval. "Swear to god, if you animated your leftover noodles and sent them marching down my shirt, I will --BLEECCH! Aw, HELL-- kill you dead!" Ginny shrilled, reaching ineffectually over her shoulder and then under and around her back.
DEAD.
Title: Come Together (5 of ~8)
Author: corvidae9
Rating: R
Word Count: ~4225 this section
Warnings: crackful premises, het/slash/fem, rampant bisexuality
Summary: Hermione has a visitor, Remus checks in on his commission, Draco is suddenly out of his depth, and Grimmauld is overrun by Weasleys, the only remedy for which is running far, far away.
Author's Note: See Part I for full Summary/Notes! Questions/comments/interpretive dance, as always, welcome here. :D
I - Saturday | II - Sunday | III - Monday | IV - Tuesday | 4.5 - Tuesday Night | V - Wednesday | VI - Thursday | VII - Friday afternoon | 7.5 - Friday Night | VIII - Saturday2
Wednesday
At her desk, halfway between sitting and standing as she had been for about fifteen minutes as she wrote out a message that had extended onto a fifth square yellow sticky note, Hermione was oblivious to the quiet second person that crept up through her open office door.
"One larger bit of parchment might have done as well," observed Luna, head tilted toward the chain of sticky notes in question.
"Jesus!" swore Hermione with a start, dropping the pen (not quill) in hand onto destktop with a clatter.
"Oh! Him," said Luna, nodding. "He might be helpful, I suppose. I'm personally a fan of swearing on Ganesh."
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hermione looked up, more businesslike than rude. "What are you doing here?"
The corner of Luna's mouth twitched upward. "Scaring the living shite out of you. You?"
Hermione laughed and flopped backwards into her chair. "Working. It's the kind of thing I do well."
"I know," said Luna as she sat carefully in Hermione's guest chair. "Neville says the early outreach program is coming along beautifully and even the Ministry can't find a thing to be bastards about."
"It is!" said Hermione, her eyes lighting up. "Luna, it's brilliant. You'd be amazed at how often the parents of a Muggleborn are more relieved than anything else that they're not going mad. I mean, my own parents spent ten years pretending I didn't make broccoli literally disappear from my plate, can you imagine the grief we're sparing?"
"Hmm. You'd think they'd have learned just not to serve it," mused Luna. Hermione arched an eyebrow that Luna caught immediately, and she went on as though it had been her intention to begin with. "But we're all very proud of you both."
"Well, thank you," said Hermione, sitting up straight again to sign off on the note. "Now. What are you doing here?"
Luna smiled with a hint of a smirk and scooted back in her own chair in turn. "I came to let you know that if someone needs to use my room on Friday night, they're welcome to it, since I have somewhere else to stay."
"...Friday? Please. You know we have plenty of room. Besides, I'm not the one plan--" Hermione's confusion was nearly complete until she remembered that she was talking to Luna and tried to understand the statement accordingly. "Oh. OH!" She grinned, "And where exactly are you staying, praytell?"
"With Percy, if last night was an indication of things to come," Luna suddenly laughed. "I said 'come'."
Hermione was a grown woman, yes, and she was a gossiping-only-on-special-occasions sort of busy, serious woman who wore bad, if comfortable, shoes and didn't hold with cluttered bathroom vanities. She'd been what amounted to a field general through a bloody war and her best friends were men (and Ginny)(and Luna) who'd subjected her to a hundred times worse and more crude. That said, her face flushed red as she covered her mouth with one hand and snorted an incredulous, giddy laugh. "You didn't?!"
"Did!" said Luna, rather pleased with herself in her matter-of-fact manner. "And! He's coming to Grimmauld rather than the Ministry party, but he said he wouldn't 'stay there and be subjected to his brother's shenanigans' if he stayed with me. So we'll have to go back to his flat, I'm afraid."
Her eyes wouldn't go any wider. Hermione blinked and took this in slowly. "He's ditching the Ministry party. For our party."
"Uh huh," agreed Luna brightly. "I'm very proud of him, too. Did you want to come out and spend your lunch shopping with me? I have to be back at the paper in... an hour and a half."
Hermione quickly folded the memo in front of her and stood, holding her arm out for her owl and digging her purse out of her desk with the other.
"Absolutely. I need details."
###
Back in their school days when Sirius wanted to drop in on someone unexpectedly, he tended to use the time-honored hop out of a tree, laugh at his target's having jumped ten feet out of their bloody skin, drop an arm around their shoulders and then proceed with the wheedling. Though Remus' heart tightened a little to think of his best friends in better days, it didn't come without the thought of just how badly what he was trying to do now might've been received. Not that he hadn't considered it then, too. Because he had-- oh, yes. It hadn't been more than a fleeting idea, really, but idea enough.
So there, twenty years later, he stood on the step of Severus Snape's home, knowing that if he'd tried to hop out of a tree, he'd likely be hexed into slimy bits before his aged, lycanthropic arse hit the ground. (Besides, Sirius and James had only ever pulled the tree bit off successfully, unless you wanted to count the time Peter tried and landed face first in Lily's cleavage, which had been brilliant for all of about the ten seconds it took disentangle them. Then, she'd slapped the shite out of him.)
He was smiling at the memory when Severus opened the door, in shirtsleeves again rolled to the elbow, and a potions-spattered shop apron, not wasting any excess muscle exertion on a pleasant facial expression or even sparing a breath for a greeting. He tossed an apron at Remus and turned away from the door muttering, "If you're here to harass me, you may as well make yourself useful."
With a silent apology for the Padfoot and Prongs (and yes, even the Wormtail that died long before his skin thought to), Remus slipped the apron on and followed Severus in as he tied it off.
He wasn't sorry he was doing this; he was only sorry it had taken this long to stand up to the Marauders in his head, frozen in stasis in 1981 and less forgiving than the living ones might have been.
The cat meowed hopefully and followed Remus the whole way down to the lab door, where Remus stopped to scritch his head before a dark look from Severus sent the cat strutting in the opposite direction, determined to avoid the appearance of having been scared off.
###
In the year since the war ended, Severus had seen Remus... what? perhaps twice per month at most? Once for the Wolfsbane with occasional trips in between for supplies for the infernal shop. The arrangement served Severus' purposes quite well- he profited in both cash and research and he had a reason to interact with the wolf regularly, however briefly.
It was indeed possible that perhaps in the two days since Remus had begun to seek him out for this ridiculous plan, Severus had suddenly developed a mild infatuation that was both disturbing and precious; the stuff of cheap, neatly-resolved, romantic fiction.
What was more possible and in fact, the actual case, Severus had been nursing a sick fascination for the man for years, even when he'd been busy ruining Remus' chances of ever teaching again with one well-placed bit of information about his lycanthropy; even when they'd been forced to work too closely near the end of the war. Especially then. The difference between Severus and some stupid Gryffindor (or Draco, apparently) was that he knew better than to pursue the pointless fantasy. Realistically, even if by some freakish chance Remus was interested, it would never work, never be more than a fleeting moment of hedonism before things went to hell and even his comfortable daydream was destroyed.
Severus didn't have time or pleasant distractionary thoughts enought to spare that he could afford to lose one. Thus he held this one close and guarded it jealously. Or had until the mongrel had taken it upon himself to invade his home and attempt to make him a co-conspirator, to bring dinner and pour wine and ingratiate himself with his cat.
...The cat, for god's sake. Brutus didn't like anyone. Even the neighborhood watchdogs gave the surly bastard a three-foot berth. It was a large part of the reason he and Severus got along so well.
And yet, Severus could hear the bloody smile on Remus' face as he spoke as they made their way down the basement stairs.
"So you've made progress?"
"One could say that," said Severus, unamused. "One could also say that I've wasted my time for a juvenile reason and I ought to hand you what I have and wish you luck."
Remus blinked and had the audacity to look entertained as he crossed his arms and shifted. "Are you going to?"
"I might. Look at this," Severus said, handing Remus a notebook, opened to a page filled with meticulous notes and diagrams. He let Remus read for a moment before going on over his snickering. "I believe they've designed similar in the past, but I also believe my methods are superior, not to mention more durable."
"Severus, this--" Remus looked up, eyes practically shining. "It's brilliant."
"Hardly," said Severus, narrowing his eyes. "Infusing the Wolfsbane to include time-release anti-inflammatories, analgesics and marrow-replenishing solutions while retaining full potency was brilliant. This is a mere exercise in the ridiculous."
Remus had the nerve to look at him as though he might have been speaking in tongues. "Lupin? I trust you understood that. Have you been peripherally affected by the very notes on the infernal thing?"
"All that was your idea?" Remus asked in complete disbelief.
Severus leveled a look at him that called him any number of unkind synonyms for 'idiot', though said idiot seemed only fit to continue to appear surprised. "Yes. Apparently I am singular among my peers in that I have seen what the curse does from close proximity. Enough to feel that it needed improvement. Those I correspond with-- Let us say that they were eager to prove they could, and not so much concerned that they should."
He'd said too much. Damn him straight to hell. Severus made a concerted effort to regain his look of narrow-eyed disdain, but he tucked away the look that Remus gave him in order to add it to his store of material for said pleasant dreams.
"At any rate, I'll have it for you by tomorrow evening."
"Come to the party," said Remus as if it were a statement rather than a request, and for a vague, fleeting moment the socially unacceptable teenager that dwelt in the back of Severus' mind wanted to crow about having been invited.
"Aboslutely not," Severus said, turning to the cauldron behind him. "You can stay and shred fluxweed or see yourself out."
After a long moment that was quietly dreadful for no particular reason that should matter, Remus was at his elbow, rolling up his own sleeves.
"Show me."
###
Draco,
I trust my letter finds you well and keeping yourself busy and out of trouble. I doubt that this is the case, but it does not keep me from hoping it, you understand.
I had resolved not to say anything about your latest appearance in the rag that the Wizarding world finds to be acceptable journalism, as it is your business entirely whom you choose to be seen with and who you choose to bed. even if it is Potter, the visual of which still causes me to wish for swift death or blindness Having said this, I can tell you that I know for a fact you are about to do something stupid. I could see it in your eye. You, boy, have a look that is much akin to a flashing beacon of intent for those who know how to read it, few of us though there are. For this reason, I am about to say something that you will never hear me say again, and you will never see again, given that this message will no longer exist once you've read it.
Do it.
Only the regret of not having done could be worse than the consequences otherwise. For you, that is.
As always, I am merely an owl away,
Severus
Draco watched the note evaporate, perversely more unsure than he had been before. Severus commenting on the matter though he was not aware of the details somehow lent it weight and substance; made it more real and less of a game, and he didn't know that he could handle anything other than something he could play.
He dusted his hands off though there was no need and tried to resume work on his accounts to no avail.
###
It'd been a relatively slow day in the office, so to speak. Kingsley had sent Ron and Tonks out to have a look at the backroom of Borgin and Burkes first thing, though for once it wasn't to inspect the proprietor, but at the old bastards' request. Turned out there was a nest of boggarts suddenly descended on it, and with a nest came a queen that was so nasty, not even old Burke could quite get a handle on her.
Ron had never seen a spider so sodding, miserably huge, venomous and terrifying in his life. He supposed it might speak not so well of him that after all he'd been through, his boggart was still a spider, but that was another thing that he'd learned to be just fine with. He also suspected that he had learned to project a spider as his biggest fear, 'cos he'd be damned if boggarts started turning into his dead friends and family, and let people make of it what they would.
They'd actually had to kill the thing rather than subdue it, and Tonks gave him the satisfaction of letting him smash underfoot the tiny wind-up polka-dot chihuahua it had become once they'd dealt with it.
Alright, after that, it had been quiet.
Ron dumped his cloak on the coat rack and loosened his boots, thinking he'd stop at the ice box for an ale, then maybe head to his room and--
"There's my baby brother," said a voice that could only be his brother. Erm. One of them. Of course, once the sinewy arms were wrapped around his shoulders and he was face to face with his brother Charlie, it all became clear. Somewhat. "God, look at you, I can't believe you're an Auror. You know it kills Mum half with horror and half with pride whenver she starts in talking about you, you little bastard."
"Hi Charlie," said Ron, patting Charlie's back. "The hell are you doing in these parts? Thought you were out at the reserve until next month?"
"Pansy told me about the thing Friday, Gin told me there was room at the house for a visitor, I took leave, and I'm here," he said with a shrug.
"...Pansy. As in Parkinson? As in Malfoy's little friend?" said Ron, brow knit. "Why would she tell you?"
"Are you sure you're old enough to hear this, lad?" said Charlie with a leer that immediately told Ron that he was not. And he said so. And then he took a beer from the icebox, threw it to Charlie, took another for himself, immediately opened it and drank what felt like most of the bottle.
Unfortunately, Charlie thought he was kidding. "She's amazing, mate. Witty, and sharp and just cutting and brilliant. And she does this thing with her--"
"No, Charlie! Just-- no," said Ron, grimacing as he took another drink and suddenly coming up with a way to deflect the conversation. "Tell me about the reserve."
"Dragons, blah blah blah," came a third voice and Ron and Charlie both looked up wide-eyed as Bill came in from the sitting room, arm pulled tight around Ginny's shoulders. "Probably picked that little girl up with his 'wanna see my scars' line? Lame."
"Bill, hey!" said Ron, "What--?"
"Same story, different person doing the inviting, kid," grinned Bill, releasing Ginny to engulf Charlie in a huge, thumping hug. "Hey, Charlie."
"And as long as it wasn't Phlegm, I was perfectly fine with that," grinned Ginny. "Though you two are going to have to spend Sunday at the Burrow with the rest of us, you know. Mum won't let you get away from her that easily."
By now, Bill had moved on to squeezing the life out of Ron, which was also fine, given that Bill was the only person allowed to be taller than him. 'Cos, you know-- he was Bill.
"Gin," warned Bill. "Don't be evil. Wasn't her fault entirely."
Charlie snorted. "Shagging your best mate tends to put a damper on wedding plans, yeah, Billy?"
Ron wanted nothing more than to stick his fingers in his ears and make a lot of loud noise. He'd heard the story once. Hell, he had to work for the 'best mate' in question. He didn't need to hear it again.
"Shut up, boy," shot Bill with no fire behind it. "It was long overdue."
The door opened once again and Ron groaned unconsciously as Fred called out, "You're so right!" Or maybe it was George.
At any rate, the other came in on his heels, adding, "You simply cannot live without us."
"Oi-- who wants food?" said the first, and Ron couldn't help but laugh as they kept talking.
"Because we're starving."
"We would've stopped for take away."
"But you wouldn't have taken it from us anyway."
"Which is a good, smart move."
"Proves you've been paying attention."
Ginny rushed them and let them catch her. "Idiots one and two!"
"Baby snot! You've been missed!"
"How's camp?"
"Drills?"
"Hoops?"
"Quidditch gear?"
"...Mmmm. Quidditch gear."
"Plenty of pretty girls?"
Both twins leered as they added simultaneously, "'Nough to keep you busy chasing balls?"
Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but it was Ron that said, "Food sounds great!"
Bill's hand thumped between Ron's shoulderblades and he muttered, "You need to relax, kid."
"Food as soon as Hermione and Neville get here," said Charlie. "Hermione promised more Italian take away than we could eat in one sitting."
"Poor little thing," said one twin, occupied in tugging on Ginny's braid.
"We'll eat her out of house and home," said the other, who was fending off her swatting hands. "Where's Harry?"
"On duty," said Ron, pretending as though he weren't leaning into Bill.
"I thought that was yesterday," frowned Ginny.
"Tonight too," said Ron. "Turns out their new arrival has ex-friends that don't want to stay gone."
"As if he hadn't spent enough of his bloody life on duty," said Charlie with a frown.
"We're always missing somebody," mused Bill.
"Percy couldn't make it, either," Ginny said with a sigh. "He's busy."
"Read: he couldn't be arsed to lower himself," said one twin.
As the other opened his mouth to answer, Percy walked in, adjusting his glasses and speaking primly, "Read: He was busy, but now is no longer. Contrary to popular belief, I can in fact put up with my siblings for short periods of time, though Merlin knows how, why or what miracle keeps everyone alive in the process."
Luna, Hermione and Neville were just behind bearing two huge boxes of aluminum trays of food, and while Bill moved to hug his brother, Luna smiled.
"I have a theory!"
Reaching back to take her hand, Percy quietly whispered over his shoulder, "Please don't." Hermione dissolved into giggles, Neville tore open a tray of bread and handed it to the nearest redhead in an attempt to hold off the impending feeding frenzy long enough for him to acquire plates and utensils, and Ron caught Hermione's eye and actually laughed, too.
Life could in fact be good some days.
"Hey! There's my girl!" exclaimed Charlie, and Ron looked up, eyes huge as Pansy Parkinson smiled as though she might be a real, breathing person (as opposed to being entirely made of snark and vitriol) and pitched herself at Charlie with what could only be described as a squeal of delight. The pit of Ron's stomach was suddenly churning, vicious in its reminding him that where Parkinson went--
"--Well. I'll stand in the corner and pretend that I'm not about to drown in a sea of garish ginger, shall I?"
--Malfoy was never far behind.
###
It was true, Where one found Pansy out of the house, one could most of the time find Draco and vice versa. This would be because the Wizarding world liked to hold grudges, and though they'd been exonerated fully and carried Order of Merlins (First Class) just like most everyone else in the room, people didn't like them. They didn't like Pansy and Draco's last names, their families, their history, and it had not a damn thing to do with who or what they were or had done.
As a result, yes. They did watch each other's back, just as they'd done from the time they were children. And so when Pansy had squealed and elbowed him and begged him to come to Grimmauld for dinner, he'd agreed... after attempting to talk, shame and/or bribe her out of it. He suspected that if she weren't so ridiculously infatuated with the dragon weasley, she might object on the same grounds he did - mainly that they'd be outnumbered in quantities that Draco couldn't remember since around the time of the last days of the war, and really, he didn't want to think about that just now either.
Truthfully, he might've left her to her own devices anyway, given she was just being grabby. After all, she'd get more than enough of her Weasley's company on Friday-- but apparently she wanted to make the most of his visit. Something about not having seen him in weeks. Draco was not impressed. Moreover, Severus' words rung in his ears, so to speak.
Do it.
The man was mad. And also quite brilliant. And a total bastard. A very cautious, wily bastard, who apparently had Draco's best interests in mind, but a bastard nonetheless.
'Do it', he'd said. What the sodding hell? And frankly, what the sodding hell would he know?
Still, faced with more Weasleys and Gryffindors than he could shake a stick at, his best friend in the lap of and feeding one, Draco had one option. A known evil-- yes. Excellent cover. Err. Reason.
"Weasel," he said, nonchalant as he sidled over to where Ron stood, apparently also trying to blend into a corner of the kitchen as his siblings sprawled throughout the sitting room and stairwells. "This is... loud."
"Welcome to my world," grumbled Ron, casting a sideways look at him that spoke of conflict so profound as to be a war zone.
"Is this really the sort of thing you grew up with?"
"If by sort of thing you mean, family that loves you even though they're fucking batshit nuts the lot of them?" said Ron, leveling a look at him directly. "Then yeah. This is exactly like that. Only there's more beer and swearing 'cos Mum and Dad aren't about."
Truly fascinated in his horror, Draco nodded, peering about him as though he were an anthropologist on a distasteful mission. "It doesn't matter how many times I've seen it happen --which thankfully are few-- it never ceases to amaze me."
"Yeah?" said Ron, stepping up the challenge in his voice. "And why's that?!"
Do it, said Severus in the back of Draco's head, and he shook it slightly. "Because-- it doesn't seem as though it should work so well. And yet, it does, and even your prude of a brother was taken back into the fold with barely a blink for the saying of 'sorry' and a slap upside his head," Draco said, realizing that he'd let the Severus voice distract him while he said something so very true, it hurt to consider.
Ron was staring. Draco's stomach roiled, angry that this game had grown out of hand.
"Yeah," said Ron, pulling away as if had stung him, too. His path, however took him only as far as the ice box, from which he pulled two more bottles and handed one to Draco. "Last one for the night. Long day tomorrow." Draco murmured thanks and Ron went on, his voice a little unsure. "You um. About sick of the noise?"
"Oh my god yes," said Draco, making it sound as if it were one long word before taking a pull of his ale.
Ron smirked and looked around in a manner that was anything but surreptitious, then hit the side of a cupboard with a fist. A compartment slid open from a spot previously hidden from view, and he pulled out a small box quickly before shutting it again. "Come on," he said, cocking his head and taking box and beer up the back stairs.
Draco, much to his own despair, followed.
###
Ginny kept her eye on Ron as he popped open his not-so-secret stash of chocolate and chessmen and led Draco up the back stairs, willing to bet he was headed for the library and quietly congratulating him in her mind.
Then there was something gooey and sticky crawling down the back of her shirt and as she contorted wildly while the twins snickered and Charlie roared his approval. "Swear to god, if you animated your leftover noodles and sent them marching down my shirt, I will --BLEECCH! Aw, HELL-- kill you dead!" Ginny shrilled, reaching ineffectually over her shoulder and then under and around her back.
DEAD.