A Dish Served Cold

Chapter 18 – Intuition

“We’re cousins!” Tonks wailed. “His mum, my mum; they’re sisters! Isn’t there a law?”

“I think the law is the problem, Tonks,” Remus muttered as he turned the letter over in his hands. It was simple words on parchment, but it had the power to destroy her life.

“I think that it’s quite disgusting that a convicted felon has the power to make a bid at all.” Percy had his lips pursed in a prim expression as he spoke.

Tonks sank disconsolately onto a chair and looked up at them with an expression of woebegone despair.

“What can I do? I only have a week to find someone to marry me.” Remus looked at her with a frown, it would be incredibly difficult to find someone willing to take on a girl as lacking in grace and domestic skills as Nymphadora Tonks. She was a good friend and fun to be about, but her accident-prone nature was rather daunting to contemplate. The very thought of her in his rooms tumbling over everything he owned was cringe-worthy. Admittedly, were he not already promised to Ginny he would have thrown himself on the matrimonial grenade for the sake of their friendship, but as it was, he was helpless to assist her in this.

“Nonsense, Miss Tonks, I will of course assist you in your difficulty. We are after all both members of the Order,” Percy intoned in a pompous manner while Tonks stared at him with rising dismay. “If I didn’t help you, well, it just wouldn’t be Quidditch,” he added.

“Thank you, Lord Stiff Britches, but I will find another way.” Tonks made a face at the redhead. “I would almost rather marry Malfoy than you,” she tossed in for good measure. Percy frowned fiercely back at her. Remus watched the two ramping up to a good free-for-all with bemusement, but kept his mouth closed. This could be interesting.

“It’s all very well to be flippant, Miss Tonks, but you are in a sticky position and a rescue is quite obviously in order,” Percy insisted.

“Then I will have to find someone that I can stand for five minutes at a time, won’t I?” she shot back, disbelief writ large on her face.

“Really, would being a Weasley be such a bad thing?” Percy challenged and Tonks rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“I have nothing against being a Weasley, I’m just against marrying YOU, Percy!” she retorted with a fierce scowl.

“Nonsense, I am a perfectly respectable choice,” Percy countered with an airy wave. Remus wondered if the boy really believed that.

“You are a pompous git with a bat up your arse!” She was nearly screaming now and Remus could see the underlying panic in her eyes. She was having too much come at her too quickly.

“Whereas you are a pattern card of perfection, is that it?” His voice was calm and even and Remus could suddenly see the strength inside the rigidly proper Percy. The young man was standing there, red hair gleaming in the lamplight with his eyes turned to hard sapphires and his mouth a perfectly straight line. It occurred to Remus that he wouldn’t want Percy to ever be truly angry with him. He really was Molly’s son underneath it all.

Tonks deflated instantly at his words and looked out at him through misty eyes.

“No.” Her voice was wobbly as she tried to suppress tears. “Send in the bid then, if you must, but I won’t sign it until the last possible moment. Just in case something turns up.” There was something both touching and pathetic in her eyes. This was a woman normally cheerful and strong, but at that moment she was lost and miserable, tears welling up and mouth turned down. Remus felt as though tiny kitten claws were tearing at his heart. This law was making so many people so very unhappy and it had barely started to really hit them yet.

Hermione watched the owl winging its way through the window high above her with a wistful feeling. She wished she could fly away from this strange and tragic turning in her life as easily as the owl flew to her parents with a letter. She missed her mum and dad.

“All right there?” Harry’s voice brought her back down to earth and she smiled at him.

“Never better.” She gave him the ritual response that had marked the ending of so many of their adventures together, but her heart wasn’t in it this time and they both knew it.

“How are the wedding plans going?” Ron broke in with a question to Harry, trying to distract them from talk of Snape. Harry smiled, but it wasn’t his usual beaming look.

“They’re good. Her mother is doing most of the actual work, which is fine, since we have to study for our N.E.W.T.S.” Harry’s voice was tired and distracted, but Hermione knew it wasn’t the N.E.W.T.S causing his abstraction.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” She hooked an arm in his and looked up at him, reading the tracery of worry on his face. There were more lines than the last time she had really paid attention and she began to feel a little troubled.

“I’m seventeen, I am about to be married far younger than I would have liked to, Voldemort is gearing up to finally kill me and take over the world, my friends are being married off to Death Eaters – what could possibly be wrong?” Harry had a look on his face that she knew well: it was the one that told her that he was being brave, but that inside he was hurting. He had tossed off the list with a humorous air, but she could feel his helpless rage.

“Luna’s not a Death Eater, neither is Helena or Moira.” Ron blinked and gave Harry a look of bewilderment that was only partly feigned. Hermione sighed, but Harry chuckled and relaxed.

“Point taken.” Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder and the three of them headed downstairs and back to classes. “I am, as usual, overreacting.” The last was delivered with a wry tone that surprised Hermione. She wasn’t used to sarcasm from Harry.

“You sounded like my husband when you said that.” She blurted the statement out before she had really thought about what she was saying and the look of horror on Ron’s face was comical. Harry however simply stared at her for a long moment and then shrugged.

“It is so bizarre to hear you say that, and that you said ‘husband’ and meant Snape is even stranger for me,” Harry admitted with an introspective look on his face. He looked over at her and met her eyes with an utterly serious expression. “Is he good to you?”

Hermione thought for a long time, trying to square what she thought Harry meant by that with the reality of her marriage.

“He tries really hard. It’s very difficult for him, but he tries.” She wished there was some way to make Harry understand what she was saying, but his frown told her that he wasn’t there yet.

“I can still cast a few good hexes, you know,” Harry growled. She sighed and shook her head, knowing it was going to be a long difficult road before she had reconciled all parties.

“Don’t, Harry.” She tried to put all the conflicting emotions and tangled dreams aside and just be there for her friend, reassuring him, but the truth was too complex and confusing to be ignored. “It will be all right.”

“Really?” Harry’s dubious tone and expression were hard to take, but she swallowed her sudden anger.

“It will. This is just something that will take time,” Hermione shrugged.

“Well, it would take me forever to get used to waking up next to Snape every morning.” Ron pulled a comical face and Hermione felt her anger surge out of control.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not me, isn’t it!” She stormed out of the Owlery with a heart full of blackest fury, leaving her two best friends behind to stare after her with chagrined looks.

“Whoops,” Helena muttered as Ron recounted the tale.

“Well, she took it all wrong,” Ron insisted.

“Let me see, you told her that her husband is disgusting and horrible and she took it all wrong?” Moira pointed out.

“Well, it’s Snape.” Ron said that as though it explained everything.

“Not anymore,” Luna countered gently. “It’s different now.” Her peaceful face and the gentle way she talked to him seemed to soothe Ron in some primal way.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” He looked thoughtful now, though it seemed a bit of an effort, Helena thought cynically. She knew he wasn’t stupid; no one could play wizard chess like him and be dumb. It was just that he was intellectually lazy, refusing to think too hard about things he found difficult or unpleasant.

“If someone talked shit about Luna, you’d go spare.” Moira drove home her lesson with more tact than usual, Helena noted. A few minutes with Moira was enough to scorch your ears, but the last couple of days had introduced Helena to a whole new vocabulary.

“Yeah, but I love Luna,” Ron replied with a moue of distaste.

“So what?” Moira bit out sharply. “Hermione’s married to him, bound for all her life to Snape. She had damn well better find some good in him or she’s going to wither up and die inside. You and Harry had better learn to get along with him or you will destroy your friendship and take away the only people she can lean on if it all goes into the crapper.” Moira’s accent granted even really bad words a certain panache and charm. Helena found herself admiring the straightforward Irish girl and wishing she were more like her. With a little less swearing, of course, but with a lot more backbone than she had had up until now.

“Moira’s right.” Helena thought about all the years she had gone it alone with only one or two good friends to lean on. “You guys are going to be even more important to her right now. She is going to really need you.”

Harry was watching Helena with those clear green eyes and there was something wise and true in them for a moment. It was like a jolt of lightning passing through her and she understood in that moment why Moira was drawn to him. She herself wasn’t sure that she could stand in the withering heat of that penetrating stare for very long. She nestled up against Neville with a soft feeling of contentment. He was far more peaceful and calm, much more to her taste than Harry. For Moira, though, that intensity and passion would draw her like a moth to a flame. They were much more equals than Helena had previously thought.

“Helena. You are a Snape, at least for another few days.” Harry grinned suddenly at Neville, who beamed back at him. “Explain to me why Snape is always so nasty to everyone.” It was a challenge and Helena groaned inwardly. She hadn’t even met her half-brother yet; he had only been out of his marital seclusion for a day and he had gone to teach class as though she didn’t exist. She would have to mostly guess from what she knew of her father.

“I’d say because he hates people for being happy and good,” she ventured and the wide-eyed stares she received back made her groan aloud this time. “Do you know how hard it was for me to learn to be nice?” she grumbled.

“Beg pardon?” Neville looked a bit shocked and she shrugged.

“I certainly didn’t learn my manners from my father, Neville.” A long pause as she tried to gather her thoughts. “Father taught us to be suspicious of everyone, proud of our lineage and ruthless in our relationships.” She wished she could read what the others were thinking while she talked – she felt utterly exposed at the moment and a little frightened. “When I got to Beauxbatons, it took me ages to learn how to talk to people, to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and to trust people. Madame Maxine was so patient and kind to me, she corrected me very gently when I forgot until it became second nature to be nice to people.” She looked around at the thoughtful faces and hoped that she hadn’t just alienated all of them.

“Poor Helena,” Neville whispered and wrapped her up tight in his arms. She sank into his embrace with a feeling of relief. He didn’t suddenly hate her now.

“So you needed a lot of compassion and understanding to become who you are now.” Harry sounded a little choked. “How would you have responded to being persecuted by the other students?”

Helena blinked at the question and thought about it. Her eleven-year-old self had been nearly feral and had needed much coaxing to come out of her shell. Had Madame Maxime not protected her and seen to it that she was treated with kindness and patience, she would have been confirmed in all that her father had taught her, never understanding that it was her own behavior that had alienated the other students.

“I would have thought that my father was right about people and been awful right back to them,” she admitted. Harry looked pale and unhappy. “What’s wrong?”

“My father and godfather tormented Snape when they were in school together. They were horrid to him. I think maybe I have been a bit unfair.” Harry was staring off into space and Helena could see a lot of things coming clear.

“Is this the same godfather you blame my half-brother for having gotten killed?” Helena frowned in thought and Harry nodded. “Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but my half-brother is a grown man now; surely he is responsible for his actions and you can’t blame your godfather for all of it.” She was trying to be nice, since Harry looked awful. Moira went to him and hugged him hard.

“Your godfather was a prat, Snape’s a git, and you want things to be simple, which they aren’t. We’re all on the same side now, so give it up. You don’t have to marry the man, just be civil.” Moira’s practical advice seemed to steady Harry, because he nodded and hugged her back. The fact that they were all on the same side was an admission that Helena filed away quietly.

“What would I do without you?” he murmured to her and she grinned.

“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

Lucius leaned back against the tapestry-covered wall, a pillow behind his back, and stared up at the ceiling. Nymphadora Tonks was an interesting diversion, but he would have to figure out his next victim soon. Voldemort would never allow the purebloods to actually breed with Mudbloods or the rest of the impure, so he needed to find someone who was unprotected.

Tonks was an Auror and her loss would be noticed if worse came to worst and she actually ended up married to Draco. Not that it wouldn’t be possible to make it look like an ‘accident’ – the creature was so clumsy it would be child’s play to have her fall down the stairs or some such.
If she eluded the marital trap he had set for her, he would have to cogitate on a more vulnerable choice. As a male, Draco had more leeway to take his time and hunt, he could wait even as long as a month or two before making his next choice since Lucius had showed his willingness to comply with the law. It made him want to laugh himself sick at the gratifying way that Fudge had spoken to him at their last meeting. He had been so apologetic and grateful that Lucius was being so reasonable about it all. Moron.

Still, he was having so much fun sending out his poisonous little bids that he could hardly wait for the next one. This was the most enjoyment he had had in years.

Severus stalked away from his last class of the day with fury bubbling in his veins. Snot-nosed little wankers, daring to giggle – actually giggle – in his classes! He had handed out more detentions today than he usually did in a month, but at least it had served to put the fear of him back into the idiotic little dunderheads. His marriage to Hermione had made him a figure of fun for a few days, but he was determined to terrify the puling little brats back into line by any means necessary.

“Professor Snape?” He spun on his heel and glared down at the young woman addressing him. A pair of speaking green eyes and a mass of auburn hair framed a pretty face that held some small sparkle of intelligence. He knew she had to be somewhat smart, because there was definite trepidation in her voice and eyes. Anyone with any brains would be nervous approaching him today,

“May I help you, Miss…?” She wasn’t immediately familiar, but that was unsurprising as he paid little attention to the parade of ignorance that marched through his classes daily.

“Miss Snape,” she finished and he drew in a breath of surprise.

“Ah, you must be Taliesin’s daughter.” He refused to name her sister until he knew far more about her. While the little expression of hurt in her eyes did prick his conscience a bit, it was not enough to change his attitude.

“I’m your half-sister, Helena. I wanted to meet you and see how you wanted to deal with this.” She had set her jaw and her eyes had a familiar look in them. She had inherited the family temper and stubbornness, he noted with a distant feeling of amusement.

“I wish to deal with it by ignoring it, if possible,” he retorted. His position as a spy would be compromised if he made nice with his half-blood sister. Voldemort would not approve and that could be dangerous for both of them. Her green eyes now had an angry glint.

“I was told you were unpleasant, but I hadn’t realized that you were so nasty,” she ground out and his temper flared. Didn’t the stupid child understand the danger she was in?

“I am a professor at this school and you will keep a civil tongue in your head or you will receive detention.” His fury made her draw back and he noted the response with satisfaction. “I will treat neither you nor your fiancé any differently than any other student here.” He put a sneering emphasis on the word fiancé that he hoped would convey his disgust properly.

“I see, Professor.” She had fire in her eyes and he felt a tiny regret blooming. It would have been nice to have family. However there was her safety and his own to consider. Voldemort must never guess that he cared at all about this child’s fate or she would have the life expectancy of a mayfly.

It shocked him to the core to realize, as she stalked away from him in a fury, that he was grateful to Neville Longbottom. He was grateful that the boy had agreed to marry her and grateful that Longbottom was here to help protect her. He shook off the thought and the attendant emotion with a feeling of revulsion. There could be no worse fate than to be indebted to Neville Longbottom of all people.