Fate Set Right

Chapter 17

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September 2, 1994

"Have you discovered anything in your calculations?" Severus asked as he handed Hermione a large plate with a bowl of soup and crusty bread, courtesy of the elves.

"There should be nothing for you to worry about, Severus," she replied, taking the plate and casting a charm for it to hover over her lap. "With Harry not old enough to enter the tournament, there shouldn't be a problem. It looks as if the year will be, unusually, normal. Well, except for having a bunch of foreign witches and wizards, but that's hardly going to affect possible poor outcomes."

"Good," he replied as he discarded his robes. He began to work on the buttons of his frock coat when he realized Hermione was watching him attentively. He cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, wife?"

"Just enjoying the show," Hermione replied casually.

"I was your professor dressed like this," he reminded her, slipping the top few buttons out.

"You were my professor twenty years ago. And not for that long. You've been my lover most of the time I've known you. And the buttons are quite sexy, considering I know what they conceal from the rest of the world."

"Ah, yes," he said, pausing in the buttons to loosen his collar and cravat. "Curse and battle scars, the ultimate sex appeal. The entirety of the wizarding world is missing out, aren't they?" He glanced to his wife as she giggled, just beginning to wonder if maybe soup could wait for something far more satisfying, when the wards around his office tripped. "Bloody hell," he cursed, redoing his buttons as he headed for the door to his office. "Start without me." He heard Hermione say something, but didn't quite catch what it was, already through the door.

As he entered the room, so did Moody and Draco.

"Alastor, this had best be bloody important," Severus snapped, looking at Draco sternly.

"Got a date or something, Snape?" Moody hissed.

Which was ... odd. Really odd, now that he thought about it. Alastor was never the teasing sort, per se, but he always did have a knowing twinkle in his eyes and a touch of innuendo in his voice when he spoke of Hermione to Severus. Always had. And he knew that Draco was friends with Harry, so the stern Auror act was entirely unnecessary.

A tingle crawling up Severus' neck reminded him of a time nearly thirteen years ago, when it was absolutely critical to wear many masks while walking the tightest of ropes. Something wasn't right.

"My wife has come to have lunch with me. What is it?"

"This one tried to curse Potter in the back. No greater coward, I say. McGonagall reminded me I needed to speak with you 'bout it."

"He turned me into a ferret!" Draco screeched, his voice cracking.

"Hush," Alastor snapped.

McGonagall. It was never McGonagall. Min or Minnie, maybe Minerva, but never anything less than casual. Student or not.

"Interesting," Severus said slowly, eyes darting between the two. "Thank you, Moody. I'll take it from here."

"A word later, Snape?" Alastor asked, a coldness to his tone that made Severus' eyes narrow.

"We shall see," he said. It took a moment for Alastor to leave, but he eventually did so, closing the door slowly behind him.

Severus took out his wand and immediately cast wards, silencing charms, and a few of his own spells to misdirect anyone trying to break them. He turned to Draco, who looked utterly petrified.