Ficlet: Strange Bedfellows
Title: Strange Bedfellows
Characters: Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Aberforth Dumbledore (hints of Lupin/Snape)
Word count: 1500
Notes: Bizzare, inconsistent, quick, unbeta'd AU scenario in which the leadership of the Ministry is contested during Harry’s seventh year, during the war on terror Voldemort. Sparked by cordelia_v’s call for Biden/McCain hurt/comfort and my inability to even entertain the thought of political RPS, once I sat down to give it a try. Just for fun, folks!
It was just past dusk when they entered the pub, on a dark and damp Tuesday evening. If a wizard didn't happen to be watching very carefully, if a wizard didn't remember how very close to All Hallow's Eve it was, he might assume that it was just coincidence that these two men had chosen to order two pints at the same time. At the same dusty, deserted pub. On a soggy autumn evening when no one else wanted to venture into Hogsmeade.
Just coincidence that they hung their traveling cloaks on the same rack. Just coincidence that they sat at neighboring tables and nodded at each other, as acquaintances would.
Just coincidence that the brown-haired wizard got up and joined the other at his table.
"Lupin," the other wizard said, biting out the word as if it were painful.
"Snape," Lupin replied pleasantly, settling back into his chair and unbuttoning his robes so that he could loosen his tie. "Fancy running into you here."
Snape and Lupin. I knew them by name, of course, and who wasn’t thinking of them, this close to All Hallow's Eve? I felt the hair in the back of my neck rise in interest and anticipation and excitement.
"I didn't say you could join me," Snape said, without much conviction.
"What's the world coming to if we can't have a drink together, civilly, even this close to the big day?" Lupin asked.
Snape paused, as if considering that. His eyes slid in my direction, then back toward Lupin, who was watching him carefully. "Very well." He signaled to me. "Two pints, then?"
"Pardon?" I asked loudly.
"Two pints," he repeated.
I held up a gnarled hand behind my ear. Snape rolled his eyes, but Lupin laughed, got out of his seat, and came up to the bar. "TWO PINTS," he repeated, leaning in towards me, exaggerating the movement of his lips and gesturing toward the tap. "What most wizards must order here, I'm sure," he said quietly, as an aside, to Snape. Lupin gave me a kind smile as I handed him the pints. Snape snorted.
I began wiping the glasses on the counter, careful to keep the two wizards in sight at all times. This time Lupin patted Snape's leg surreptitiously as he sat down.
"Snape," he said gently, as the other man sat there, hunched and tense.
"Snape," Lupin said again, laying a hand on his shoulder, and Snape jerked. Lupin glanced furtively in my direction and I shuffled over to the sink, mumbling under my breath, making a show of turning away. Never mind; I could see their reflections clearly in the glasses I was wiping.
"Snape," Lupin said again, even more tenderly, and Snape looked at him with the most pure expression of loathing I've even seen on a man's face. "That one," Snape said, an ugly curl in his lip. "That One."
"The Chosen One," Lupin said with a light laugh. "Things look good for him, I have to say. Two weeks and we'll know."
"The Chosen One," Snape repeated dully. "The Ministry should have been mine, Lupin. The fight against Voldemort. You know that."
"You're a war hero," Lupin said amiably. "You've served the Order faithfully for years, shown cunning and wisdom and leadership--"
"On my own terms," Snape said quickly.
Lupin nodded. "A maverick. Not bowing to the pressure of the other members of the Order, always thinking about the good of the Wizarding World."
"No one deserves it more than me," Snape said. "I would have brought Voldemort down. That One has no idea how to wage a war against evil. I have been there. I know. This should have been mine."
His pain was almost palpable, but the desire in his voice tipped the scale in his favor, if there had ever been any doubt. Snape it would be.
"But Nymphadora Tonks as your assistant minister, Severus? After a few years in the Auror’s department? Is she really ready to lead the Wizarding World? Skeeter has ravaged her."
Snape shrugged. "Your sort never understood cunning."
Lupin's sort never had, and I had known enough Gryffindors to realized they never would. But they had held the Ministry before, and they might again, if I didn't act quickly.
Lupin smiled a soppy sort of grin. "My sort understands you." Snape's face twitched unpleasantly, but underneath the table, they laced their fingers together.
"We could understand each other in the loo for a few minutes," Lupin said lewdly, but Snape let out a sharp breath and jerked his head in my direction. "Not until afterward, Lupin. No risks, not when we’re almost ready to appoint a new minister."
Lupin nodded. "No matter who is appointed…"
“It won’t be Pius,” Snape interjected.
Lupin laughed. “With the Wizarding World in crisis and Voldemort still on the loose? No one will reappoint Thickenesse. It will be Harry, perhaps, or you. And the day after…”
Snape shifted in his seat, almost imperceptibly. "The day after, Lupin? You mean, if I'm running the ministry...or if you're number two? An assistant minister to the minister's assistant?" I peered into the glass I was wiping, watching their reflection carefully. Underneath the table, their fingers unlaced.
"I've pledged to serve Harry," Lupin said, but even I could hear the strain in his voice. "We'll defeat Voldemort together."
"Together," Snape said flatly. "You and that...boy."
"Harry," Lupin repeated.
"With your years of experience, and his... extensive knowledge of Muggle life." Snape said.
"Tonks has got a Muggle father, herself, I believe," Lupin said uncertainly. “It’s not a crime.”
"True," Snape said. "It's why she's so good at talking to the half-bloods in Diagon Alley. But it's not the kind of experience that either of us has, working for the Order for all these years. On the inside. Creating strategy, thinking about how to win the war."
"No," Lupin said. He rubbed his temples. “It’s not.”
"The kind of experience that we have,” Snape said, and I marveled at his ability to gain momentum in this way. Lupin was cracking under the pressure, fussing with the hems of his robes, frowning. “You and I.”
“We have a history together, don’t we?” Lupin said, smiling crookedly. “We get on.”
“We work well together,” Snape said softly. “We have for years. And we’re tired of pretending to support the Muggles and the half-bloods. When we deserve to be in charge. Not second in command.”
He had gone too far, I could tell--even before Lupin stood up abruptly, shaking out his robes and tossing some Knuts down on the table. Never question the loyalty of a Gryffindor; I knew that much. “I’ve got to go, Severus,” Lupin said. “I’m speaking at Flourish and Botts in support of Harry later this evening.”
Snape stood up as well, but Lupin held up a hand. “Wait for a moment, until after I’m gone,” he said. “You never know where the Prophet is these days.”
They stood there, looking at one another, until Lupin broke the silence. “I wish you well, Severus. I think we probably shouldn’t see one another until after the Ministry makes its decision.”
“I respect your experience, Lupin,” Snape said. “I will respect your experience. Your pure blood. Your ability. Your advice. Will the boy do the same?”
Lupin swayed for a moment, then turned on his heel, grabbed his traveling cloak, and pushed out of the pub, into the dark street beyond.
Snape chuckled as the door swung closed, and, very deliberately, I let my glass drop on the counter in front of me. Snape spun around, frowning at me.
“Sir?” I asked, hunching my shoulders and gesturing helplessly at the shards.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just use a reparo, you old squib,” he snapped, but he must have seen something too keen in my face, because in an instant he had out his wand, and he walked rapidly over to the counter and shoved it in my throat, under my jawbone.
Just what I’d hoped for.
“Sir,” I breathed, my voice quavering as the wand pressed into my throat.
“You’re not a squib, are you?” he asked. “And you’ve been listening to our conversation all this time.”
I shook my head, but already I could see his sharp eyes probing mine, flickering curiously with faint recognition.
“Aberforth Dumbledore,” he said slowly, pulling his wand away.
I made a half-hearted attempt to close my mind to him, but it was all there: Pius Thickenesse a few weeks ago, standing in front of a group of notable wizards and a banner that read, “Voldemort defeated! Mission accomplished!” I squeezed my eyes shut and closed my mind fully, but I made sure that Snape’s last image was of me in the background, hunched over, nodding, hands tucked into the pocket of my ancient robes, the perfect adviser.
I had created Pius Thickenesse, but I could do even more with Severus Snape.
“Aberforth Dumbledore,” he repeated, savoring the sound of my name. I could tell that Lupin was already forgotten. “I may well have a job for you in the coming weeks.”
They always think that they have a job for me; Gryffindors like my brother Albus, Slytherins like Severus Snape, even the occasional Ravenclaw like Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was hanging about the corridors of the Ministry lately, assessing his own chances of a rise to power. Albus always said that I would have been a Slytherin, had I attended Hogwarts, but I know better: the barkeeps and advisers and confidantes get to make the key decisions in the world, so long as they remain in the shadows. Gryffindor, Slytherin, does it really matter in the end, so long as I have my say?
“Ready to serve,” I said, as humbly as I could, and Snape's lips curved upward in a smile.
Characters: Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Aberforth Dumbledore (hints of Lupin/Snape)
Word count: 1500
Notes: Bizzare, inconsistent, quick, unbeta'd AU scenario in which the leadership of the Ministry is contested during Harry’s seventh year, during the war on terror Voldemort. Sparked by cordelia_v’s call for Biden/McCain hurt/comfort and my inability to even entertain the thought of political RPS, once I sat down to give it a try. Just for fun, folks!
It was just past dusk when they entered the pub, on a dark and damp Tuesday evening. If a wizard didn't happen to be watching very carefully, if a wizard didn't remember how very close to All Hallow's Eve it was, he might assume that it was just coincidence that these two men had chosen to order two pints at the same time. At the same dusty, deserted pub. On a soggy autumn evening when no one else wanted to venture into Hogsmeade.
Just coincidence that they hung their traveling cloaks on the same rack. Just coincidence that they sat at neighboring tables and nodded at each other, as acquaintances would.
Just coincidence that the brown-haired wizard got up and joined the other at his table.
"Lupin," the other wizard said, biting out the word as if it were painful.
"Snape," Lupin replied pleasantly, settling back into his chair and unbuttoning his robes so that he could loosen his tie. "Fancy running into you here."
Snape and Lupin. I knew them by name, of course, and who wasn’t thinking of them, this close to All Hallow's Eve? I felt the hair in the back of my neck rise in interest and anticipation and excitement.
"I didn't say you could join me," Snape said, without much conviction.
"What's the world coming to if we can't have a drink together, civilly, even this close to the big day?" Lupin asked.
Snape paused, as if considering that. His eyes slid in my direction, then back toward Lupin, who was watching him carefully. "Very well." He signaled to me. "Two pints, then?"
"Pardon?" I asked loudly.
"Two pints," he repeated.
I held up a gnarled hand behind my ear. Snape rolled his eyes, but Lupin laughed, got out of his seat, and came up to the bar. "TWO PINTS," he repeated, leaning in towards me, exaggerating the movement of his lips and gesturing toward the tap. "What most wizards must order here, I'm sure," he said quietly, as an aside, to Snape. Lupin gave me a kind smile as I handed him the pints. Snape snorted.
I began wiping the glasses on the counter, careful to keep the two wizards in sight at all times. This time Lupin patted Snape's leg surreptitiously as he sat down.
"Snape," he said gently, as the other man sat there, hunched and tense.
"Snape," Lupin said again, laying a hand on his shoulder, and Snape jerked. Lupin glanced furtively in my direction and I shuffled over to the sink, mumbling under my breath, making a show of turning away. Never mind; I could see their reflections clearly in the glasses I was wiping.
"Snape," Lupin said again, even more tenderly, and Snape looked at him with the most pure expression of loathing I've even seen on a man's face. "That one," Snape said, an ugly curl in his lip. "That One."
"The Chosen One," Lupin said with a light laugh. "Things look good for him, I have to say. Two weeks and we'll know."
"The Chosen One," Snape repeated dully. "The Ministry should have been mine, Lupin. The fight against Voldemort. You know that."
"You're a war hero," Lupin said amiably. "You've served the Order faithfully for years, shown cunning and wisdom and leadership--"
"On my own terms," Snape said quickly.
Lupin nodded. "A maverick. Not bowing to the pressure of the other members of the Order, always thinking about the good of the Wizarding World."
"No one deserves it more than me," Snape said. "I would have brought Voldemort down. That One has no idea how to wage a war against evil. I have been there. I know. This should have been mine."
His pain was almost palpable, but the desire in his voice tipped the scale in his favor, if there had ever been any doubt. Snape it would be.
"But Nymphadora Tonks as your assistant minister, Severus? After a few years in the Auror’s department? Is she really ready to lead the Wizarding World? Skeeter has ravaged her."
Snape shrugged. "Your sort never understood cunning."
Lupin's sort never had, and I had known enough Gryffindors to realized they never would. But they had held the Ministry before, and they might again, if I didn't act quickly.
Lupin smiled a soppy sort of grin. "My sort understands you." Snape's face twitched unpleasantly, but underneath the table, they laced their fingers together.
"We could understand each other in the loo for a few minutes," Lupin said lewdly, but Snape let out a sharp breath and jerked his head in my direction. "Not until afterward, Lupin. No risks, not when we’re almost ready to appoint a new minister."
Lupin nodded. "No matter who is appointed…"
“It won’t be Pius,” Snape interjected.
Lupin laughed. “With the Wizarding World in crisis and Voldemort still on the loose? No one will reappoint Thickenesse. It will be Harry, perhaps, or you. And the day after…”
Snape shifted in his seat, almost imperceptibly. "The day after, Lupin? You mean, if I'm running the ministry...or if you're number two? An assistant minister to the minister's assistant?" I peered into the glass I was wiping, watching their reflection carefully. Underneath the table, their fingers unlaced.
"I've pledged to serve Harry," Lupin said, but even I could hear the strain in his voice. "We'll defeat Voldemort together."
"Together," Snape said flatly. "You and that...boy."
"Harry," Lupin repeated.
"With your years of experience, and his... extensive knowledge of Muggle life." Snape said.
"Tonks has got a Muggle father, herself, I believe," Lupin said uncertainly. “It’s not a crime.”
"True," Snape said. "It's why she's so good at talking to the half-bloods in Diagon Alley. But it's not the kind of experience that either of us has, working for the Order for all these years. On the inside. Creating strategy, thinking about how to win the war."
"No," Lupin said. He rubbed his temples. “It’s not.”
"The kind of experience that we have,” Snape said, and I marveled at his ability to gain momentum in this way. Lupin was cracking under the pressure, fussing with the hems of his robes, frowning. “You and I.”
“We have a history together, don’t we?” Lupin said, smiling crookedly. “We get on.”
“We work well together,” Snape said softly. “We have for years. And we’re tired of pretending to support the Muggles and the half-bloods. When we deserve to be in charge. Not second in command.”
He had gone too far, I could tell--even before Lupin stood up abruptly, shaking out his robes and tossing some Knuts down on the table. Never question the loyalty of a Gryffindor; I knew that much. “I’ve got to go, Severus,” Lupin said. “I’m speaking at Flourish and Botts in support of Harry later this evening.”
Snape stood up as well, but Lupin held up a hand. “Wait for a moment, until after I’m gone,” he said. “You never know where the Prophet is these days.”
They stood there, looking at one another, until Lupin broke the silence. “I wish you well, Severus. I think we probably shouldn’t see one another until after the Ministry makes its decision.”
“I respect your experience, Lupin,” Snape said. “I will respect your experience. Your pure blood. Your ability. Your advice. Will the boy do the same?”
Lupin swayed for a moment, then turned on his heel, grabbed his traveling cloak, and pushed out of the pub, into the dark street beyond.
Snape chuckled as the door swung closed, and, very deliberately, I let my glass drop on the counter in front of me. Snape spun around, frowning at me.
“Sir?” I asked, hunching my shoulders and gesturing helplessly at the shards.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just use a reparo, you old squib,” he snapped, but he must have seen something too keen in my face, because in an instant he had out his wand, and he walked rapidly over to the counter and shoved it in my throat, under my jawbone.
Just what I’d hoped for.
“Sir,” I breathed, my voice quavering as the wand pressed into my throat.
“You’re not a squib, are you?” he asked. “And you’ve been listening to our conversation all this time.”
I shook my head, but already I could see his sharp eyes probing mine, flickering curiously with faint recognition.
“Aberforth Dumbledore,” he said slowly, pulling his wand away.
I made a half-hearted attempt to close my mind to him, but it was all there: Pius Thickenesse a few weeks ago, standing in front of a group of notable wizards and a banner that read, “Voldemort defeated! Mission accomplished!” I squeezed my eyes shut and closed my mind fully, but I made sure that Snape’s last image was of me in the background, hunched over, nodding, hands tucked into the pocket of my ancient robes, the perfect adviser.
I had created Pius Thickenesse, but I could do even more with Severus Snape.
“Aberforth Dumbledore,” he repeated, savoring the sound of my name. I could tell that Lupin was already forgotten. “I may well have a job for you in the coming weeks.”
They always think that they have a job for me; Gryffindors like my brother Albus, Slytherins like Severus Snape, even the occasional Ravenclaw like Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was hanging about the corridors of the Ministry lately, assessing his own chances of a rise to power. Albus always said that I would have been a Slytherin, had I attended Hogwarts, but I know better: the barkeeps and advisers and confidantes get to make the key decisions in the world, so long as they remain in the shadows. Gryffindor, Slytherin, does it really matter in the end, so long as I have my say?
“Ready to serve,” I said, as humbly as I could, and Snape's lips curved upward in a smile.