FIC: "The Hounding of the Baskervilles" (1/4) - RL/SS

[bronze_ribbons]

Title: The Hounding of the Baskervilles
For: almost_clara, for snupin_santa 2006. She requested "a ripping yarn, please, suitable for reading by the fire, with the rain lashing the windows and a plate of hot, buttered teacakes to hand. . .think Hound of the Baskervilles, the Great Grimpen Mire." She also indicated that "vigorous/sparkly/outspoken/awkward Tonks/Black/McGonagall/house elves/squid" would not be unwelcome.
Borrowings and allusions: J. K. Rowling, Arthur Conan Doyle, A. A. Milne, Dorothy L. Sayers, Monty Python, Jane Austen, P. G. Wodehouse, Terry Pratchett, John Fletcher, busaikko, and almost_clara herself. The resemblance to almost_clara's list of interests is not coincidental (you have no idea how near I was to committing Luna/Yoda).
Summary: Sinister games are afoot in Devon. Can Snape, Lupin, and Tonks detect who's playing before it's too late?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Non-graphic hints/mentions of suicide, incest, adultery, and cross-generational intimate relations
Total wordcount: 18,500+
The bestest betas: aunty_marion and busaikko


Chapter 1

After years of rising early and retiring late in order to supervise Hogwarts' dunderheads, Severus Snape relished the relative freedom that permitted him late breakfasts in the London rooms he shared with Remus Lupin. In spite of Lupin's lycanthropic impairment and Snape's history as Voldemort's henchman, they earned sufficient income from their post-War professions to maintain a decently-appointed flat located on Baker Street -- Lupin serving primarily as an Assistant Healer and Snape functioning as an independent consultant in the Dark Arts. Although there were those in the Wizarding World who would never see past Lupin's furry little problem, and others who would never forgive Snape for the killing of Albus Dumbledore (the headmaster's incontrovertible posthumous testimony notwithstanding), the need for their skills was too great for those in power not to take advantage of their availability.

In Lupin's case, the shortage of medical staff had become so acute near the end of the War that St. Mungo's had been willing to hire anyone remotely competent, sane, and trainable -- even individuals with infectious diseases -- and, unlike many other veterans of the battlefield, Lupin could be trusted not to help himself to the hospital's hoard of narcotic potions. He was also required to perform on call as a covert executioner for the Ministry, having mastered the ability to transform into his werewolf form at will during the latter days of the War. He had not sought this new skill, even though he had long known it was not an ability he would find difficult to acquire (given that even Peter had managed it): transforming once a month upon the rise of the full moon remained a nasty business, access to Wolfsbane or no, and he hadn't any desire to pursue the experience voluntarily, even though the non-lunar transformations carried none of the physical traumas inherent in the "natural" ordeal.

Becoming an animagus-assassin had been forced upon him, however, once the Ministry discovered that, nine months after their breakup and twelve months after Dumbledore's death, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks had captured Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy but failed to turn them in, instead concealing them in an Unplottable safe-house. In helping Minerva McGonagall sort through the late headmaster's effects, Lupin had come across too many hints of Snape's true loyalties to hand the man over to the Ministry outright. The rule of Wizarding law had always been disturbingly elastic, and as the War ground on, Lupin's already renegade perception of "justice" had flowered into a strange yet stern commitment to following his own counsel, conventional wisdom be damned.

At the end of the conflict, Dumbledore's astounding evidence had finally surfaced; it not only absolved Snape of the headmaster's murder to the degree required for a formal pardon, but it also confirmed many of Snape's other extraordinary sacrifices on behalf of the Order throughout the years. Moreover, the shortage of qualified and experienced operatives remained dire, and both Lupin and Tonks had proven themselves too essential to the success of the Order to be dismissed from their duties out of hand.

Even so, their refusal to turn the two former Death Eaters over to the Ministry mandated some form of address, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had "detained" Lupin for treason until he agreed to prove his loyalty by cooperating with its secret campaign against certain elusive fugitives, using his werewolf form to track them down and then to "dispose" of them. Tonks's punishment for insubordination was to accompany him on such missions as backup, with orders to kill either the criminal or Lupin if necessary. For all its posturing about the sanctity of life, and its purported favouring of life imprisonment over death sentences, the Ministry no longer possessed the resources nor the inclination to hunt or house all the criminals it desired to bring to justice. There were some who even spoke nostalgically of the days when Dementors were in the Ministry's employ, although Lupin was not one of them: even though he despised his activities on behalf of the Ministry, he also believed his actions granted his victims a kinder fate than the Kiss.

In exchange for their gruesome services, the Ministry had permitted Lupin and Tonks to retain personal custody of their captives, and the two had continued bargaining for Snape and Draco's rights beyond the end of formal hostilities. They had been able to negotiate several exemptions from the Ministry's standard package of punishments for convicted supporters of the Dark Lord; Snape and Draco had not escaped being sentenced to drink the potion that permanently negated their ability to Apparate, but unlike their former cohorts, they had been allowed to retain their wands and they were permitted to resume practising magic. Moreover, the current Minister was a pragmatic man, and there remained a plethora of Dark artefacts and would-be neo-Death Eaters to contend with, not all of them addressable through judicial proceedings. Being able to refer such conundrums to Snape's attention -- at times enlisting him as an official expert-on-call, and sometimes not so officially -- enabled the overextended Ministry staff to direct their perpetually limited resources toward the all too many other problems crowding their dockets.

Tonks and Lupin had moved in together after Dumbledore's death, but within a few months they had concluded they were not romantically compatible. The experiment had confirmed, however, that they enjoyed working as a team. When their joint custody of Snape and Draco became common knowledge, speculation had been rife regarding their relationships with their two prisoners. When it became evident even to casual observers that Lupin and Snape had commenced an intimate relationship, the reactions among their acquaintances had generally ranged from cynical approval to idealistic horror.

There was little love among the three adults for Draco, but Snape still felt bound to him by the remnants of the Vow he had sworn to the young man's now-deceased mother, and Lupin instinctively strove to ease Snape's burdens whenever opportunities presented themselves. Tonks had never possessed much in the way of family feeling, but she cared deeply about Lupin and had become fond of Snape. It was primarily for their sake that she accepted the responsibility of functioning as her cousin's parole officer, checking in on him every week at the tearoom where he worked.

One October morning, Snape stood upon the rug in front of the hearth in his sitting-room and picked up the wand a visitor had left behind the night before.

"Well, Severus, what do you make of it?" Lupin asked from the breakfast table, where he sat with his back to the hearth.

Snape replied, "Your imitation of Alastor Moody is substandard." He savoured the reflection of Lupin's thin smile in the polished steel coffeepot before continuing, "Trust Longbottom to leave behind the one tool--"

"He is lucky," Lupin quickly agreed, "that he misplaced it among friends." He turned to face Snape. "I am far more interested in hearing what you think of the wand itself."

Snape scowled at his partner, but merely out of habit; there was no annoyance in his voice as he examined the wand. "Penang palm, broad silver band -- ah. Hence your uncharacteristic restraint," he tartly concluded. "I am pleased you refrained from mangling yourself into St. Mungo's this time."

Lupin protested, "Forty-one wands out of forty-two, nothing happened."

"So somehow you expected number forty-two --"

"I expect nothing," Lupin countered. "That is why I enjoy examining every wand that comes our way -- there's always a new revelation to be gained. Even from the ones that try to kill me." He nodded toward Longbottom's. "That, as it happens, is a lovely stick. I put it through its paces earlier this morning."

Snape gritted his teeth at Lupin's admission. "So why do I not see our wall newly graced with, say, a patriotic 'E. R.'?"

"First, you were still asleep, and I saw no reason to disturb you. You don't get enough rest as it is. Second, our Queen wouldn't recognize magic even if a flying Mercedes coasted into her bedroom. Third, my undisclosed services to the empire aren't going to net me a handsome stick-pin anytime soon. And fourth, my wand-chaining technique lacks precision." Lupin shook his own wand out of his dressing-gown sleeve. With a flick, he lifted the length of Penang wood out of Snape's hands. Connecting the tip of Longbottom's wand to his own, Lupin fired at the knife with which he had impaled a sheaf of letters to the middle of the fireplace mantel; as he did so, Snape ducked.

"Nothing wrong with your reflexes," Lupin observed. "Although my aim's hardly that bad." The bolt of light had grazed the handle of the knife, exploding against the wall in a burst of red talc.

Snape eyed the splotch balefully. "Passable for an exercise. In a life or death situation, it would be unacceptable."

Lupin shrugged. "A good thing, then, that chaining wands is an unlikely resort at best." At a gesture from his free hand, the stain vanished.

Staring at the now-empty spot, Snape muttered, "'Unlikely' is not 'inconceivable'. You are hardly the only wizard with contact allergies, and there are crises beyond the reach of wandless spells."

Lupin sent the Penang stick spinning back into Snape's hands, his face alight. "Severus, when would I ever need two wands, given one should always do?" He lifted his own baton: in an instant, the sheaf of letters had morphed into a ripe, red apple. In response to a second swish of his wand, paper-thin slices of the apple began to drift toward the floor.

Brandishing his own wand, Snape captured the pieces of fruit mid-fall, Transfiguring them into a cream-coloured scarf. "You might need," he suggested, "to employ a stranger's wand while in disguise. Or perhaps to manipulate it from the wrong side of a curtain." He suspended the scarf vertically in the air, and then steered Longbottom's wand with his own until it hovered on the other side of the fabric.

"Spersarosea," he said. A bolt of light shot through both wands, splashing red marks onto the fabric between the wands and on the door beyond.

"However," he amended, "it currently appears suitable only as a last resort."

Lupin leaned back in his chair and chuckled. Snape instinctively tensed at the rare sound, even though he'd intended to elicit that very reaction. To mask his momentary discomposure, he growled, "So. These marks on this otherwise impeccable specimen -- did they come from your knocking it about? I would have assumed them to be a by-product of Longbottom's clumsiness."

Lupin sat back up. "Either conclusion would be logical," he conceded, rising from his chair, "but in Neville's case, I believe them to be inflicted by his new dog. Based on the spacing between the marks, I'd wager it's larger than a terrier and smaller than a mastiff. Quite possibly -- no, it is a curly-haired spaniel."

Crossing the room to stand next to Lupin, Snape followed his partner's gaze through the window, where Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, Nymphadora Tonks, and a docile puppy all waited to be admitted into their building. He inwardly winced at his squandered opportunity for a quiet breakfast. "Well, then. I'll just remove myself for a while--"

"Severus, stay," Lupin said. "I'd prefer not to be outnumbered here."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Two Gryffindors, a Black, and a canine. All more your province than mine."

"All of whom customarily meet me away from this flat," Lupin reminded him. "Their calling upon us here -- mid-week, at that -- suggests to me a matter of business. They must have Apparated here separately, and they likely need to see you."

"You will remain with me," Snape stated.

"Of course," Lupin said. He poured a cup of coffee and extended it toward Snape.

As Neville Longbottom entered the room, he caught sight of his wand and started towards it with an exclamation of joy. Belatedly registering it to be in Snape's possession, he halted in the middle of the room, consternation warring with relief for command of his features.

Snape openly smirked at his former student's distress. Lupin's automatic glance of mild reproach held a hint of an amused-in-spite-of-himself gleam. McGonagall regarded all three of them with exasperation.

"Neville, sit down. Honestly, Remus, I'd hoped you'd be an influence on Severus. Not the other way around!"

That worked so well before, Lupin mentally snarled, turning to face Snape.

Tonks snorted outright. "Like either of them are influence-able," she said. "Merlin knows I never managed to corrupt Remus."

What she said. Lupin's eyes bored into Snape's. Snape broke their connection and turned to Tonks.

"I might not concur with that," he drawled. "I hold you responsible for the honeydew-flavoured gin polluting our liquor cabinet. Dare I hope you've come to retrieve it?"

"Oh, is that where it's been? Smashing! It'll be perfect for Ginny Potter's baby shower next weekend."

Snape frowned. "She's pregnant again? Wonderful. Welcome Holy Terror Number Three..."

"Severus," McGonagall scolded.

"He's right, though," Tonks chirped. "They are little demons. Which is why I'll be mixing huge pitchers of melon Merlintinis to see us through."

McGonagall transferred her look of disapproval to Tonks, who blithely smiled back. Then the older woman broke down and sniggered, which in turn prompted a chuckle from Snape and a guffaw from Tonks. Lupin didn't laugh, but his lips twitched.

"What's the joke?" Longbottom hesitantly asked.

"Gillywater pacifiers," said Tonks, smirking. "Supplied on such occasions by a most respectable role model. Legendary instruments in the prevention of catfights," she added, relishing Snape's amusement as McGonagall swatted at her. Taking advantage of Snape's distraction, Lupin raised his wand and levitated the rod of Penang palm back to Longbottom.

Glancing back at his lover, Lupin felt the equivalent of a mental pout squeeze a corner of his brain. Later, he soothed. I want more playing with wands, too, but later.

This had better be good, was the reply. Turning to Tonks, Snape grumbled, "Engaging as your social plans must be, I'm surprised you had time to stop here at all. Let alone twice," he added, with a malicious glance at Longbottom. "What could be so compelling to steer you so out of your way?"

"She was right," McGonagall stage-whispered to Longbottom. "Days like this, he's just like Vector with PMS."

Longbottom's eyes widened. Lupin rolled his. Snape glared at the two women in outrage -- and then he burst into laughter.

At this, Longbottom looked even more alarmed, which only escalated Snape's mirth. Lupin stepped toward Snape and rescued the coffee cup from his grasp. In a tone of casual observation, he murmured, "Severus endures my moon swings. His are tame by comparison."

He was rewarded with a chorus of groans. "Right, then. Severus, sit. Tonks, you're incorrigible. Ah, Hudson, perfect timing." Setting a tray of delectable biscuits in front of McGonagall, the house-elf acknowledged the praise with a crisp bow.

Lupin returned Snape's cup to him and poured two more cups of coffee, one for Tonks and one for Longbottom; McGonagall accepted a glass of water. Snape held his breath as Longbottom conjured a bowl for the puppy, releasing it only after the dog placidly dunked its snout into the dish to drink from it.

As he crossed the room to the fireplace, Lupin discreetly toed the scarf so that it vanished underneath Snape's armchair. Absorbed in helping themselves to shortbread and chocolate-arrowroot wafers, neither McGonagall nor Longbottom noticed the slight shiver that escaped the seated man as the fabric slid behind his feet. Tonks refrained from comment, but bestowed a look of frank approval upon the older men. Snape didn't need Legilimency to read her thoughts: I told you so. I told him so.

He silently inclined his head at her. Yes, yes, you did. Lupin ignored her and leaned against the fireplace mantel.

"Now," he said. "Severus does have a point. It's not a holiday. It's not an anniversary. You each have a demanding job that ought to be taking up all of your time. So why are all of you here instead, and what do you need from us?"

McGonagall leaned forward. "Severus," she said. "How is your arm these days?"

Snape frowned. "No worse than usual. Should it be?"

"Define 'usual'," Tonks requested.

His eyes narrowing, Snape unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve as he spoke. "A trifle itchy. A shade warmer to the touch than unblemished skin." He pushed the sleeve back and held his arm out to them. "A nuisance. But also a useful reminder."

"Reminder?" McGonagall echoed.

"Of how many lords-in-waiting still exist," Snape softly said. "Of all the thousands who crave the reins of the world." He looked at the mark on his arm, and then gazed directly at his former colleague. "Who has you worried, Minerva?"

"We don't know who it is," she said, "but something's terribly wrong in Devon."

"Devon?" Lupin looked at Longbottom. "You moved there, what, a year ago?"

Longbottom nodded. "After my wedding," he confirmed.

"Your wife doing well?" Lupin asked. Longbottom had married a Muggle physician.

"Thriving. And so's her practice, and so's my nursery." Longbottom smiled. "I've never been happier."

"Then what are you doing here?" Snape demanded.

Longbottom's expression dimmed, but his voice was steady. "One of Irene's patients died in June. A man by the name of Conrad Baskerville."

Lupin said quietly, "It seems in poor taste to ask if he was hounded to death --"

"Except that he was," Longbottom said.

A loaded silence filled the room.

Then Snape looked at Lupin. "Malicious pranks are definitely more your province than mine."

McGonagall exclaimed, "Good God, Severus, that was over twenty years ago!"

Tonks placed her hand on McGonagall's, her eyes remaining on the two older men. "Minerva, it's okay. It's just how they are."

"No forgiving, no forgetting," Lupin agreed. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Now you're talking in circles," McGonagall complained. "How in Godric's name do you live with each other?"

"Certainly not in Godric's name," Snape replied.

"Severus." McGonagall spoke through clenched teeth.

"It's a miracle," Lupin said, "you didn't kill him years ago. All those years of aggravation."

"I considered it," McGonagall admitted, "but Albus was just as maddening."

"And you wonder why Severus killed him," Lupin quipped.

McGonagall and Longbottom both stared at him. Snape settled back in his chair with an air of being understood. Tonks let out a hoot of laughter, but then said to Lupin, "Remus, love, that was in bad taste."

"As is critiquing my personal affairs," Lupin said, looking at McGonagall. "I don't need defending from Severus, Minerva. No matter if you remain perplexed at why I might prefer him to Tonks. No offence intended, Tonks."

McGonagall opened her mouth as if to argue, but then looked at Tonks, who shrugged. "None taken, Remus. You're far more fun as an ex-boyfriend." Lupin smiled back at her as Snape choked on his coffee; she grinned at her former antagonist and lobbed a napkin at him.

Recovering, Snape sat up straight and said, "Delightful as your chatter can be, I believe we are making your companions queasy." He aimed a hard stare at Longbottom and McGonagall. "Continue, please. The unfortunate Lord Baskerville --?"

"He was chased and then herded over the edge of a cliff by a giant hound," Longbottom said.

"Is that not a matter for the Dartmoor dogcatcher?" Snape responded.

"Mr. Berryfield doesn't believe there was ever a dog," Longbottom said. "He views it merely as a prank gone badly awry."

"Then who are you, Mr. Longbottom, to say otherwise?"

"Sir Conrad was not a fanciful man," Longbottom said. "He wasn't young, but his mind was sound. And Irene says there was nothing wrong with his heart."

"Ah," said Snape. "You Gryffindors. Always judging people by what you glimpse of their hearts."

McGonagall snorted. "You Slytherins. Always pretending you don't have hearts to break."

It was Snape and Lupin's turn to stare at her. Surprised but not displeased at their reaction, she continued, "Baskerville's great-niece may well be named a prefect next year. She's trying not to show it -- it's not done, not the style of her House -- but his murder's hit her very hard indeed."

Lupin said, "Minerva. The -- baronet, I presume? -- are you saying he was a Slytherin?"

"Conrad Baskerville's birth name was Constantine Malfoy."

"Oh, hell." Snape glared at Tonks. "This is where you're involved, no doubt. Will I never be free of babysitting your bloody cousin?"

"If it helps," she said, "I'm not any happier about this than you are."

"What would help," snarled Snape, "would be to knock me out of commission. Surely you have a coma-inducing hex or two in your repertoire."

"You trust me with that dicey a spell? You are a desperate man, Severus Snape."

"Enough," interrupted Lupin. "It's bad enough that other people want Severus out of commission."

"Remus, love, I wouldn't even if he meant it."

Snape continued to glare at her. "Some friend you are."

"The best, and you know it," she said. "I could have just sent the dossier with Neville."

"I assume," Lupin said, "it explains how the devil Draco Malfoy is involved. I was not aware he retained any connection to the surviving Blacks or Malfoys, present company excepted."

"He hadn't," Tonks confirmed, "but Sir Conrad's direct heir is a duck farmer in British Columbia who has, quote, 'zero desire to abandon a perfectly good business for a ramshackle money pit that should've been sold to a movie mogul decades ago'."

"I don't believe for a minute that man is the true heir," Snape declared. "He sounds far too sane."

"More's the pity," Tonks agreed. "If only he'd been willing to move to England, you wouldn't now have spaniel hairs on your carpet."

Snape glared at the puppy, who ignored him in favour of flopping on top of Longbottom's boots. Lupin said, "The great-niece and her family --?"

"Already manage 300 acres in Herefordshire. They raise cattle and harvest mistletoe."

"And such are the charms of Devon," Snape declaimed, "that there was no tempting them away from their bovines and parasites." McGonagall snickered in spite of herself. Longbottom looked troubled. Lupin shrugged, as if to say, "Yes, and?"

Tonks simply continued speaking. "Sir Conrad had apparently considered all the likely scenarios when drafting his will, and concluded that Draco was the relation with the least reason to refuse relocating to Baskerville Hall. The duck farmer will retain the title and official ownership of the property, but Draco is to live there and represent the family's interests when appropriate."

"Appropriate?" Snape rolled his eyes. "Draco Malfoy and appropriate?"

Tonks replied, "Yes, well, I am here to beseech you to accompany him. The better to get him settled --"

"You mean, the better to keep him out of trouble," Snape retorted.

"I thought as much," said Lupin. "We can read up on the rest of it later. When will Severus need to be in Devon?"

"Draco is due in London tonight. I thought I'd bring him by tomorrow, and by then I'll also have the portkey for you both."

Snape grimaced. "Better than being confined in a car with the brat, I suppose."

"Definitely," Tonks said. "I was trapped with him in an Austin once. Not even sharing a broomstick with Moody was that bad. Smart boy, Draco, but never keen on practising."

"He'd best be keen on taking care of himself," Snape grumbled.

"He's better at it than he used to be," Longbottom said.

There was a stunned silence. Then Lupin asked, not unkindly, "How do you come by that, Neville?"

"Irene likes him," Longbottom said, "and she likes the tearoom. We make a point of stopping there whenever we're in Hogsmeade. If he still has a problem with Muggles, he's become rather good at hiding it."

Tonks and Snape exchanged eloquent glances. Tonks considered her obligatory visits to the White Leaf a bane of her existence. She had even suspected old Moody of engineering the placement precisely because she could be counted upon to chip or crack at least two pieces of china during each visit, no matter how cautiously she handled herself and her tableware.

Lupin regarded his former student with increased respect.

"That's generous of you, Neville, considering."

"I know what it's like to be judged on who I was instead of who I am," Longbottom said.

McGonagall nodded at him in approval. Snape and Tonks simultaneously opened their mouths -- and then shut them.

Lupin appeared amused. He said to them, "Likely Draco regresses around you both." Offering Tonks more coffee, he added, "After all, you behave better when you're away from family."

She shook her head, both at the coffee and at Lupin. "If you'd only told me right off you'd once slept with my mother, instead of all that 'too old, too dangerous' blather --"

Lupin said to McGonagall, "You see what happens when I try to be a gentleman?"

Snape muttered, "That wasn't why she was after you in the first place."

"Thus speaks a kindred spirit," Tonks cheerfully retorted. "I can count on you, then?"

"Do I have a choice?" Snape groaned. "I will be staying at Baskerville Hall, I presume?"

"Just until we sort out the mystery about the dog," Tonks said.

McGonagall said, "The family will be grateful to you, Severus."

Snape threw her a cynical look. "Malfoys are about entitlement, not gratitude."

McGonagall said, "Violet Bonnefaux and I will call upon you for tea."

Snape closed his eyes. "Spare me, Minerva. Even in Devon, I'll have better things to do than chitchat with adolescent great-nieces."

"Of course you will," Lupin said, "but you shouldn't turn down the chance to see what more you can find about Sir Conrad's relations and enemies. Especially given you're far more familiar with the Malfoy family thicket than any of us."

"I don't consider that an asset," Snape wearily said.

Tonks stood up. "How very un-Slytherin of you, Severus," she said. "I never thought I'd hear you deplore possession of knowledge."

Snape corrected her. "I didn't say it wasn't an advantage. I merely have found Malfoys to be invariably far more trouble than they're worth. Nevertheless, I will hie me south and west. It may be beyond my powers to keep Draco safe from demonic hounds, but I can at least endeavour to deter the neighbours from tossing him to them outright."

Lupin helped McGonagall rise from her chair, and then held out his hand to Tonks. "The dossier," he requested. "I'll study it this afternoon."

She gave him the packet and pecked his cheek. "You're a peach," she said. She blew a kiss toward Snape as well. He glowered at her.

"Don't you dare call me that," he said.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she said breezily. "Ta, honeysuckle!" Longbottom and McGonagall both shot her incredulous looks, but they then collected themselves and murmured their farewells to their hosts while Tonks kneeled at the door, studying the splotch of red talc.

The puppy sauntered up to her, inquisitive. "See that?" she said to it. "Our boys were chaining wands earlier. You can tell from the way the powder clumped in this upper streak."

Snape's sour expression changed to one of approval. "Well-deduced, Madam Auror. Your competency reassures me."

Smiling, Tonks stood back up. "Hard to believe, I know, but I am good at my job."

"When one has eliminated the impossible --"

"Heaven forfend, Severus. You are impossible. Don't you go getting yourself eliminated."

"I'm not trying to get myself killed," he said drily. "You might speak to my flatmate about his experiments, though."

"Oh?" Tonks frowned at Lupin. "Being 'careless' again, are we?"

Lupin opened the door for her. "Don't be daft," he said, lightly. "Just keeping Severus on his toes."

Tonks smiled at him, but then looked past his shoulder, back at Snape. "We'll talk."

Snape nodded. "Good day, Tonks. Minerva. Longbottom."

"Thank you, sir," the young man replied. "Come along, Quibbler."

Hearing this, Snape looked as though he had bit into something distasteful, but he held his tongue. Once the door closed behind their guests, however, he said, "It's an improvement over amphibians, but anyone naming their pets after third-rate periodicals --"

Lupin placed a finger on Snape's lips. "An in-joke, Severus. I hear Neville rescued it from a bin behind a stationer's. Besides," he added, "it strikes me as a 'Quibbler'. It doesn't quite gambol about with the gravitas of a Pompey. Or a Godric, or a Constantine--"

Snape parted his lips and drew Lupin's finger into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue and savouring the other man's sudden intake of breath. Releasing the finger, Snape circled Lupin's wrist with his left hand, pulling him down into Snape's lap with the other.

Lupin pressed his face against Snape's neck, inhaling the scents of his lover's hair and skin and clothing. "I've all the faith in the world in your ability to sort this out," he said, "but I can't say I'm easy in my mind about it. It's not like Minerva, Tonks, or Neville to trouble us over trifling affairs."

"That," Snape declared, "is a marvellous description of Draco. I shall call him 'Trifling Affair' throughout our sojourn there."

"I'm sure you'll call him worse before you're done," Lupin said. He nuzzled Snape's ear, enjoying the way Snape's fingers tightened around his wrist as he did so. "Perhaps, with Neville and Irene about, he'll grow up enough to be less of a beast to you."

"More likely he'll be worse," Snape said. "Payback for my treatment of Longbottom, or some other folderol."

"I can't say I understand," Lupin answered, "how it's Neville who stirs up your less admirable manners. But so do I, and look at how we are."

"Miserable," Snape agreed, stroking Lupin's cheek. "Completely ill-suited. Utterly doomed."

Lupin shifted, reseating himself to straddle Snape's lap fully, thigh to thigh. He leaned in again, his hands reaching up to undo Snape's collar.

"Go ahead and laugh, Severus. With Tonks and Quibbler in the mix, I fancy this case will not be altogether devoid of entertainment. Even so," he said, "what little we've heard suggests to me a serious ugliness deciding it's time to surface. A new cursed canine of Dartmoor? A healthy and wealthy wizard mysteriously run to death? Draco Malfoy, suddenly tenant of a minor, isolated castle? I may be stabbing at shadows, Severus, but this has the stink of a long-festering scheme. I give you my word as a wizard that I shall be very glad once you return safe and sound to these rooms."

Chapter 2