For All Intents and Purposes

Edited by: thyme_is_a_cat

Chapter 11 – Tea for Three

Hermione had once heard insanity defined as, “performing the same actions over and over again while expecting different results.” If she remembered correctly, it had been Ginny describing another one of Ron’s run-ins with too much Firewhisky. No matter how spectacularly sick he got after a drinking game with the boys, he still accepted the next invitation with unrestrained enthusiasm and ended up wondering why he was purging his stomach in the wee hours of the next morning. Hermione liked to think that she learned from her mistakes, so when Severus and Lupin again squared off again, she remained safely seated on the ground and out of the line of fire. She didn’t, however, curb her tongue.

“Severus, for Merlin’s sake—”

Lupin interrupted her. “I never stole anything!”

“Liar!”

“Severus!” Hermione dragged herself over to where her wand had fallen and snatched it off the sidewalk, but remained seated on the concrete. Still a bit woozy from shock and blood loss, she nevertheless noticed that Lupin’s wand was lying on the sidewalk several paces away from him. “He’s not even armed!”

“Heidi, he is a werewolf,” Severus spat, his wand point never wavering from Lupin’s heart.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that. So what?” Hermione asked, thoroughly exasperated. She’d never really understood what the big deal was, even in school. He’d been an excellent teacher, a valuable member of the Order, a loving husband, and she was certain that he would have been a devoted father, if given a chance. A bubble of grief suddenly burst in her chest as an unbidden memory of him rose in her mind: Lupin lying side by side in the Great Hall of Hogwarts with Tonks, his wife, both peaceful in death. It was so easy to become wrapped up in the past and to forget that neither of these men would survive that day.

She could feel their eyes on the top of her head as she stared at the stone gulley. Now was not the time to indulge in a good cry, no matter how insistently the tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. When she glanced up, Severus was staring at her with furious incredulity, and Lupin was gazing at her in wonderment.

“It was you…” the werewolf whispered softly, his eyes wandering her face almost adoringly. “You tried to stop them—”

“Shut up!” Severus shrieked at him, small drops of spit flying from his lips. His face was twisted, and his eyes were fierce and narrow. “He stole the—” He cut himself off and stood stock still for a moment, panting slightly as he visibly tried to reign in his temper. “He is a thief and a dangerous beast.”

Disregarding Severus’ trained wand, Lupin dropped to his hands and knees in a fluid, graceful motion and stared earnestly into Hermione’s eyes.

“I swear to you, I didn’t steal anything! I just move new items from one location to the other. But I might know—”

“Liar! Get away from her!” Severus screamed, his voice cracking, and before Hermione could react, Lupin was hit squarely in the chest by a jet of red light. Arms splayed wide, he flew backward across the sidewalk and landed with a thump against the side of the pawnshop. Bonelessly, he slid down the wall into a crumpled heap of ragged, brown coat.

“No!” Hermione climbed unsteadily to her feet and staggered over to the fallen man. The street tilted under her feet, and gray lights were beginning to dance at the edges of her vision. ‘Lost too much blood,’ she thought absently as her fingertips finally found the cold, stone wall of the pawnshop. She stood there for a long moment wondering if she sat back down, would she be able to get back up again under her own power? “Best not to chance it,” she muttered under her breath. Louder, she said accusingly, “He looks unconscious.”

“Good.”

“You’re being unreasonable. He’s our only lead—”

“You mean he is our culprit,” he said nastily as he approached them, wand still drawn and trained on Lupin’s inert form. “We’ll turn him over to the Aurors and let the Dementors drag the information out of him.”

“We’ll do no such thing.”

“You’d rather get the information out of him yourself?” he asked, giving her a calculating, surprised look.

Even in her lightheaded state, Hermione could read torture between his words, but the connection between lucid thought and her mouth was beginning to shut down. “Yes! I mean, no. Not that way. But I’m sure if we just talked to him…” she trailed off and tried to blink away the spots that were encroaching on her vision. The stone building was cold against her shoulder, but she gave it all of her weight. “He’s not a bad man…”

“You are insane, woman! He’s a murderous beast… Heidi?”

The ground was getting inexorably closer, and Hermione watched it with distracted fascination. She registered that Severus was calling her name, but it didn’t occur to her to respond. The ground was getting closer. Amazing.

And then it wasn’t; a strong arm under her breasts stopped her descent. She blinked lazily as she was tilted backward against something hard but remarkably unlike stone. Severus. He did smell good. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but a foul concoction washed over her tongue and down her throat, and she swallowed reflexively, coughing at the taste. More followed, and the terrible taste and her insistent coughing chased away the light-headedness.

“Gods, that’s awful,” she panted, leaning her weight against the man behind her and shuddering. They were still standing, astonishingly enough, though if he had let go earlier, then she would surely have fallen. Tentatively, she tested putting her weight on her feet and found them steady enough, though the warmth against her back was profoundly comforting. She let herself indulge for a moment, breathing him in. ‘Merlin, I almost told him he smelled good. How embarrassing.’

Abashed, she pulled away and began tugging at her clothes, straightening them in fidgeting movements. This was bad. Disastrous. She recognized these signs from the beginnings of her crush on Ron: the comforting touches, the awareness of his body, the watering of her mouth when she inhaled his scent. But this was not happening because it could not happen. She had a long-term relationship, Severus was dead, and she was the mistress of her own heart and destiny. These feelings were all the result of closely working together; sexual tension, it was called. Happened all the time and was as fleeting as it was fickle.

The small rush of adrenaline that had accompanied her quiet panic had helped clear the last of the cobwebs from her brain. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she smiled up at him, pushing everything but her gratitude the to back of her mind. “Thank you. Do you usually have Blood-Replenishing Potion on hand?”

His arms were similarly crossed, as if shielding himself from attack. He nodded, his eyes glittering from behind a curtain of greasy hair. He’d lost his hair ribbon, she suddenly noticed, and he was in sore need of a shampooing.

“Lucky for me,” she said, feeling awkward. Dropping her gaze to the werewolf, she wondered where to go from here. She believed that he hadn’t stolen it; she might be too trusting in general, but Lupin just wasn’t the type to commit robbery. However, if he was running goods, then he might know who had the Starglass. He might have even delivered it himself. It was altogether possible that they had already missed the thief.

The trickiest part of the whole affair would be to not alienate Severus. Resentment and loathing radiated from his body and crackled along the roots of her hair. Though the enmity between Snape and Lupin had never been as vitriolic as that between he and Sirius Black, the two men had never been friends, and Snape had seen to it that Lupin had lost his position as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at the end of her third year. She assumed that showing too much sympathy for the werewolf would be perceived as a betrayal. For all that he was as prickly as a defensive porcupine, he had a soft, tender underbelly that was easily damaged. If anyone had “Handle Carefully” stamped across his forehead, it was Severus Snape.

She pursed her lips and then tested the water. “I think we should find out what he knows before we do anything like hand him to the authorities. You can,” she swallowed against the horrid taste that this suggestion left in her mouth, “you can, erm, pull the information from his mind. If he’s uncooperative,” she finished in a rush. “I’m sure he won’t be.”

Severus snorted in disgust, but he didn’t hex anyone, so Hermione counted that as a victory. She felt slightly less victorious when he said, “I’ll see that he isn’t.”

---

Hermione sipped from her mug of poorly brewed tea and grimaced at the bitterness, setting it back down on the chipped Formica table in front of her. Just the fact that they were drinking tea in relatively civilized accommodations and not applying Unforgivables (or whatever had lit that dark light behind Severus’ eyes) to Lupin in a dark alley had been a delicate bit of diplomacy and negotiation.

Their conversation had been quick and whispered, Lupin floating Disillusioned and still unconscious behind them. Severus had been ready to steer them into the darker shadows of a narrow alley, but Hermione had been adamant: she needed a cup of tea. She was cold. She was still feeling woozy (and she was not above playing up her disability for the greater good). She was absolutely positive that everyone would behave if they went someplace public and talked it over. Two promises had then been extracted from her: that she would let him do all the talking, and if that didn’t work, then they would do it his way. It was as much as she could have hoped for, so she had capitulated with good grace, except for the first issue.

“I had assumed you’d be doing most of the talking, since you are the Legilimens. But I want to—”

“I’m not entering that beast’s mind. We will use Veritaserum to get the information we need.”

“That is a Ministry controlled substance! Where would we get any?”

Severus had given her a condescending smirk and patted the pocket from which he’d produced the Blood-Replenishing Potion.

Hermione had then wondered what else he carried under his robes, leading her trail of thought down thoroughly inappropriate paths, and she hadn’t asked for the sake of her own sanity. His next comment had distracted her, for which she was grateful and then rather annoyed.

“You will not talk during that creature’s interrogation. I mean it, Heidi.”

“Until you’re done questioning him.”

“Until I deem it safe.”

She couldn’t have told him that she knew Lupin, and that he was a gentle, caring werewolf who wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he had forgotten to take his Wolfsbane Potion. She had also remembered that Severus had good reason to be wary of this particular werewolf, having almost been killed by him only a few years prior. Therefore, she once again had given her acceptance of his terms, albeit with much less grace than earlier. Hermione was a woman who understood her limitations, and not talking to Lupin would be a serious challenge. By Severus’ heavily lidded eyes and pleased smirk, she was sure that he knew it.

So it was that Remus Lupin had been un-Disillusioned, Rennervated and hustled into a tiny diner harshly lit with florescent lamps and redolent with the scent of hot grease and burnt coffee. The tables were Formica squares of pink with yellow flecks and had obviously seen better days, sporting burns, chips and the occasionally gouged phrase. The chairs had apparently been purchased without the diner’s current décor in mind: each was upholstered in red plastic. Strips of dingy white paint were peeling from the otherwise undecorated walls, and a woman of indeterminate age with stiff, bleach blonde hair, too much makeup and an apron tied around her waist was leaning against the counter sipping from a mug of something. She had nodded familiarly to Lupin as they had taken a table at the back of the diner. Severus had corralled Hermione into the chair closest to the wall and then had sat next to her, drawing his wand under the table and pointing it at Lupin, who had sat across from them.

Hermione wrapped her hands around the mug and sighed quietly in pleasure. The tea may have been terrible, but at least the cup was warm. Next to her, Severus was pulling a small vial, which she assumed to be Veritaserum, out of a hidden pocket in his overcoat, his hard, black eyes fixed unblinkingly on Lupin. The werewolf simply sat docilely in his seat, alternating between staring vacantly at the mug of tea in front of him and shooting Hermione covert, wistful glances. From the ramrod straightness of Severus’ back and the clenched muscles of his jaw, she could tell that he’d noticed.

Severus had, indeed, noticed the looks that the beast was sending Heidi’s way and was wondering if Heidi would be very upset if he took the initiative to pluck those roving eyes out of his mangy head. Probably, because she was a good person, and her opinion of him mattered. It shouldn’t, but it did, and it was a disturbing feeling because, of the few he counted friends, it was hers that was becoming the most important. Scary thought, that. He wondered if she had any clue.

That damn werewolf was looking at her again… and she was looking at him… so, gritting his teeth, Severus jerked the vial free of his robes and grabbed the beast’s tea. Both the beast and Heidi startled, fixing their attention on the tea in his hands. Very deliberately, he added three drops from the tiny vial of clear liquid, then slid the mug back across the table.

Lupin turned earnest eyes onto Heidi and said, “This really isn’t necessary—”

“Drink it,” Severus hissed, cutting him off. Heidi was shifting at his side, surely bursting with chastisements, but she remained quiet, as she had promised. He missed the apologetic look she shot Lupin; if he hadn’t, then he would have been much less smug when, without further ado, the werewolf lifted the drugged tea to his lips and took a long swallow. It only took a moment for Lupin’s eyes to acquire a blank, glassy sheen and his face to go lax. Propping his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers, Severus regarded the werewolf through hanks of oily, black hair.

“State your name,” he said flatly, warming up with the typical opener.

“Remus John Lupin.” His response was as level and monotonic as Severus’ question had been.

“State your occupation.”

“Merchandise runner.”

That hadn’t been what Severus was expecting; he thought “unemployed” or “thief” would have been the answer. However, he could taste the truth on Lupin breath and moved onto the next question, delving into the meat of his purpose.

“Did you commit robbery on August the 22nd, 1982?”

“No.”

Severus frowned. “Did you assist in a robbery perpetrated on August the 22nd, 1982?”

“No.”

Bugger. This was not what he wanted to hear. As much as Heidi’s esteem for him was important, so was her scorn for the werewolf. So far, she hadn’t shown anything but sympathy for the bleeding creature. In fact, she was smiling at Lupin, obviously pleased that he wasn’t the one to steal from her.

“Do you associate with thieves or their assistants?”

“No.”

Severus dropped his hands to the table with a loud smack, leaning forward and scowling into Lupin’s unresponsive face. Heidi gasped at his side. “Then what were you doing at that pawnshop?”

“Picking up a shipment of goods.”

“What kind of goods?” he growled lowly. Heidi jostled his foot, and he glanced at her in irritation. Frowning, she jerked her head at the woman still leaning against the counter, who was watching them with undisguised interest. Severus leaned back into his seat and resumed his former pose of propped elbows and steepled fingers.

“Jewelry, wands, brooms, clothing, magical artifacts, books—”

“Stop, that’s enough.” Severus was silent a moment. “Does your employer associate with thieves or their assistants?”

“Yes.”

Severus hissed with triumph, his eyes gleaming behind his hair. He felt Heidi stiffen next to him, inhaling in a rush of breathy expectancy. “Did you pick up a shipment of goods the night of August the 22nd, 1982?”

“Yes.”

Nearly twitching in excitement, Severus asked very clearly and precisely, “Did that shipment contain a small, faceted crystal phial filled with fine, gray dust?”

“Yes.”

Heidi wrapped her fingers around his bicep and seemed to be bouncing in her seat. He flashed her a quick smile before asking the next question. “To where did you deliver it?”

“I cannot say.”

“What?” The word exploded out of him, and Heidi sagged against his side.

“I cannot say.”

“Then you’ve little use for that tongue—” A tugging on his arm dragged his attention from the vacant-eyed werewolf to the woman at his side. She was gazing up at him intently, her eyes wide and only inches from his face. Pursing her lips, she held up two fingers pointing to his eyes and then gestured to her own. He blinked at her, bewildered, then remembered the promise of silence that he’d extracted from her. Touched that she would hold to it when she so obviously wanted to tell him something, he concentrated on figuring out what she meant.

She gestured again, from his eyes to hers, and blinked determinedly. In sudden understanding, his face pinched into a frown. “I’m not entering that beast’s mind. If he can’t tell us under Veritaserum, then I won’t be able to pull it out of his thoughts, either.” She shook her head and made the gesture again, pointing definitively at her eyes. “Oh,” he said, shocked beyond words.

She was inviting him to enter her mind.

Since he had learned the arts of Legilimency and Occlumency, he had often performed Legilimency on subjects unwilling and unknowing and had, once or twice, encountered willing participants, but none had initiated it. Her doing so was an expression of trust that took his breath away and sent his heart beating frantically in his throat. “You want me to perform Legilimency on you?” he asked, needing her to confirm, unequivocally, that his suspicion was accurate. He supposed that he could simply give her permission to speak, but this gift she was willing to give him was too precious to waste. When she nodded emphatically, he released a breath that he had trapped unknowingly in his lungs.

“Legilimens,” he murmured quietly, staring into her wide, honeyed eyes and slipping into only the most shallow of her surface thoughts. To go any deeper would be a betrayal of her trust, and even the promise of access to her secrets, her true identity, was not even enough to tempt him. Well, perhaps a little, but he resisted with surprising ease.

The message that she wanted to communicate floated unexpectedly clearly at the forefront of her mind: ”He could show us where it is.”

Of course she was right. Sheepishly, he withdrew from her thoughts, blinking down into her upturned face. She was smiling brilliantly at him, aware that he’d understood what she had wanted to convey. His eyes to traveled to the curve of her lips, which were reddened and slightly chapped from their night in the cold. They parted slightly, as if she meant to speak, then pursed closed, relaxing into a wrier smile than before. He leaned slightly forward without realizing it and then jumped at the sound of a mug clattering against Formica and Heidi’s yelp of surprise as she dived for the napkin dispenser.

“Sorry, sorry!” Lupin said as he dropped napkins on the quickly spreading puddle of tea. Turning to glare at him, Severus saw that the werewolf had surfaced out of his Veritaserum-induced stupor and had managed to spill his tea. As he and Heidi mopped up the tea, Lupin shot him looks akin to horror. Severus sneered back, hiding both his relief and disappointment for the interruption.

‘What was I thinking?’ Severus thought as the images of her lips rose in his imagination. He didn’t know, and it was deeply unsettling. If he analyzed it for a moment, he could probably figure it out, but he had a feeling that it would be even more disturbing than not knowing. He pushed it away and turned to the matter at hand.

Once the tea crisis had been averted, soggy napkins piled neatly at the edge of the table, Severus fixed the werewolf with a heavy scowl. “You’ll take us to where you delivered the phial.”

Lupin frowned and leaned backward in his chair, glancing at Heidi before settling his gaze on him. “I’ll take her.” He jutted his chin toward Heidi, who was smiling softly at him. “It belongs to her, doesn’t it? You’d have handled this differently if it were yours.”

The last couple of sentences were lost as Severus focused on the beast’s first statement, and the irrational rage that always seemed to accompany dealing with the Marauders began to boil away his reason. Face twisting into a rictus of anger, he hissed, “You’ll do no such bloody thing—!”

A firm kick to his shin under the table knocked him back to his senses, though the anger was just as potent. “You’ll take us both,” he ground between clenched teeth. He could see Heidi nodding earnestly out of the corner of his eyes and Lupin’s stance relaxing as he stared at her, stupid as a moon-struck calf. He wanted to punch that trite expression right through the other man’s face and watch it burst out the back of his head.

“Very well,” Lupin said quietly, still gazing at Heidi. Leaning forward, he directed his next statement to her alone. “I’ll take you both. But I’m doing it for you.”

A/N: Did you really think that Lupin stole it? Naw…