Chapter Text
Rory undid his ponytail, releasing his shoulder length curls, and dropped onto his neatly made bed. He glanced over at his younger brother, who was sat on his own bed, his duvet and sheets in complete disarray, surrounded by open books and loose parchment. “So? What did they say?”
“I’m changing it.”
“I didn’t ask you that.”
Fox impatiently tapped his quill against his ink pot, and glanced at his older – more handsome, more muscular, more successful – brother. “I chose not to speak with them. There’s nothing to discuss.”
Rory groaned. “Foxy, this isn’t the way to go about it.”
“Fox. It’s Fox.”
“Oh yeah? Since when?”
“Since forever. Check my birth certificate.” Fox flicked a piece of parchment over and carried on scribbling. “Foxy makes me sound like I’m five.”
Rory stood up and leant over, picking up one of the open textbooks. “It is the holidays, you know?”
“Don’t lose my place!”
“I’m not,” Rory said, showing that he’d got his thumb clamped between the open pages. “I have no idea how you work in this state, Foxy-”
“Fox.”
“You’re so messy.” Rory tapped a piece of parchment on Fox’s pillow. “Cauldron theory? What’s that when it’s at home?”
Fox glared at his brother and pulled the parchment away from him. “It’s a theoretical exploration of how base metals respond to various ingredients, and which combinations yield the most advantageous results.”
“And in English?”
Fox grinned and shook his head. “Have you even got a brain in that Quidditch filled head of yours?”
A flash of annoyance crossed Rory’s face. “You know my OWLs were pretty hot.”
“Sure, in some subjects.”
“Yeah, well,” Rory grumbled, picking up another piece of parchment. “I don’t know how you and Dad can stand over a cauldron all day. It’s bori…” He trailed off as a piece of parchment on the bed caught his eye.
Fox’s eyes widened as he saw the parchment at the same time, and both boys lunged for it. Rory was a shade quicker, his longer arms easily able to hold the page aloft and out of reach.
“Are you kidding me? Are you actually kidding me?”
“Give it back!”
“How long have you been doing this? Fox Snape. I’m not joking, Foxy, he’ll kill you when he finds out.”
“It’s Fox! And how would he find out?” Fox’s black eyes narrowed as he snatched the parchment back. “Going to rat on me, are you? Our wonderful Head Boy strikes again.”
Rory sighed, watching as Fox hastily gathered his work together and thrust it haphazardly into his schoolbag, casting charms against it to secure it. “Have you forgotten that Dad’s like that,” Rory crossed his fingers, “with Professor McGonagall? They’re best friends.”
“Get a grip, Professor McGonagall isn’t going to see my essays. I can’t even remember the last time I saw her outside of mealtimes.”
“And you think one of the other teachers isn’t going to dob on you?”
“Like who?”
“Professor Longbottom for a start.”
Fox scoffed. “Since when has Dad ever cared about what Longbottom has to say?”
“Professor Longbottom, Foxy.”
“You can get his name right, but not mine?”
“Mum’ll listen to him, and trust me, Dad will care about this.”
“Whatever, Rory.”
“And Mum? How do you think she’ll feel, eh?”
“It’s not about Mum.” A brief hint of panic coloured Fox’s features, but he quickly masked his emotions.
“No? Like your hair wasn’t about Mum either?”
Fox instantly ran his hand across the back of his shaved head. “It’s just a fashion.”
“A fashion forever ago, Foxy. You can admit you just want to look like Dad.”
“My name is Fox.” The younger boy scowled, his cheeks red. “And I don’t just want to look like Dad. It’s all right for you with your curls, but my straight hair looked stupid long.”
“Dad’s got straight hair, and he had it long when we were little.”
“And it looked stupid.” Fox licked his fingers and straightened his parting. “The undercut looks way better. It just looked greasy and horrible before.” He narrowed his eyes again. “On me and him.”
“Have those Gryffindors been getting at you again?”
“They wish. The only Gryffindors who get at me are the twins.”
Rory laughed. “Ha, well, Head Boy or not, I can’t do much about them. Even Mum and Dad can’t do much about them.”
Fox grinned at his brother, pleased the topic had moved onto safer territory. “You know Dad wrote to Professor McGonagall last term and apologised for their behaviour?”
Rory nodded. “That was after Mum sent that Howler, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Thank Merlin she’s never sent one of those to me. I swear they aged about six years in ten minutes.”
“She might send you one if she sees what you’ve written-”
“Rory, drop it.”
“On your head,” Rory said, his hands raised in defeat. “Just, believe me, if you think Mum’s Howler to the twins was bad, it’s going to be nothing to Dad’s reaction to this.” He leant in conspiratorially. “And Dad’s Howlers are way way way way way worse.”
“Dad’s neve-”
“He has. My first year,” Rory said, quietly. “Ask anyone in the common room.”
Fox clattered down the stairs and peered into each room in turn, gripping his textbook tightly. “Dad? Dad? Dad! Can we brew?”
Severus looked up from the floor where he was sat with his youngest child nestled in his arms, pointing at pictures in a storybook. “We can, but after Malik has gone to bed.”
“It takes six hours,” Fox whined. “If we don’t get started-”
“Six? Show me.” Severus took the textbook from Fox, and glanced over the published recipe and his son’s scrawled amendments.
“It’s definitely six. I’ve already accounted for the aconite, and reduced the simmer time by addressing the-”
“Daddy?” Malik pulled at the front of Severus’ shirt. “Daddy, no Foxy.”
“Wait one minute, Malik, please.” Severus said, passing the textbook back to his son. “Your timings are correct, Fox. Tomorrow then.”
“But I need it for tomorrow.”
“You need it for tomorrow?” Severus shifted on the uncomfortable floor, holding Malik in his arms. “And tell me, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Meeting some friends.”
“Daddy?”
“Shhh, Malik. Meeting some friends? Fox, when were you intending to inform us of this?”
“Rory meets his friends-”
“I didn’t ask you about Rory, did I? I asked you about you.”
“Daddy?”
“Just forget I asked!” Fox yelled, storming out of the room and back up the stairs.
“Fox!”
“Daddy?”
Severus sighed, and stood, carrying his youngest son in his arms. “I think Daddy needs to have a talk with Foxy, Malik.”
“No Foxy, Daddy,” Malik repeatedly, seriously. “Bear.”
“Bear?” Severus looked confused, until he followed his son’s finger, pointing at the forgotten picture book. “Ah, yes, the tales of Mr Bear.” He bent and collected it from the floor, and made for the stairs. “Let’s read Mr Bear in bed,” he said, shifting his son’s weight to his hip as he carried him.
“No Foxy, Daddy.”
“No,” Severus sighed, “no Foxy.”
Severus sat opposite his eldest son. He was gripping his empty coffee cup tightly. Rory stared at the kitchen table, not daring to look up. When Severus finally broke the silence, his voice was dangerously low. “You knew.”
“I didn-”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“I wasn’t going to!” Rory hastily added, looking at his mum for support.
“Let him speak, love,” Hermione interjected, moving to stand behind her husband, placing her hands on his tense shoulders.
Rory took a deep breath. “I didn’t know he was going to do anything about it.”
“So you did know.”
“Dad…”
“I thought you both understood.”
“I do understand.”
Severus gripped the cup even more tightly. “You do, but Fox does not?”
“Severus, this is not Rory’s fault.”
“I even told him not to do it!” Rory blurted out.
“Interesting.” Severus’ voice was cold. “We have gone from ‘I don’t know’ to ‘I didn’t know he was going to do anything about it’ to ‘I told him not to do it’. Tell me, Rory, which is the truth?”
Hermione kept a firm grip on Severus, keeping him in his seat. “You’re not angry with Rory, love.” She looked at her son. “He’s not angry with you, Rory.”
“I am. He’s old enough to know better.”
“And Foxy isn’t?” Rory instantly argued back, his eyes glittering dangerously. “If it was the twins then yeah, have a go at me! I can be the big bad older brother where they’re concerned, but Foxy? Foxy’s 15!”
“You’re still his olde-”
Rory scoffed. “Forget it, Dad, he doesn’t listen to me – let’s face it, he can barely stand the sight of me these days.”
“That’s not true, Rory.”
“It is, Mum. He’s been funny ever since I got Head Boy.”
Hermione exchanged a look with Severus.
“He booed me when it was announced in the Great Hall,” Rory continued.
“I am aware, and I have spoken to him about that,” Severus said, coolly.
“Spoken to him? Spoken to him? You should’ve sent him a Howler!”
Hermione suppressed a smile. “Do you think that would’ve soothed the situation between the two of you, or enflamed it, Rory?”
Rory looked down at the table again.
“Your mother asked you a question.”
“You treat him differently,” Rory said, softly. “You sent a Howler to the twins the other week. And I’ve lost count of how many you’ve sent me. But not Foxy, no matter what he does.” He looked up, and stared his father in the face. “He’s your favourite.”
“We love you all equally,” Hermione said quickly.
“You’re all an equal pain in my posterior,” Severus agreed.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Severus drawled. He eyed his son curiously. “You genuinely believe I favour Fox over you and your brothers?”
“Maybe not Malik,” Rory conceded.
“I don’t favour Malik,” Severus groaned.
“You have to remember, Rory, it’s a shock for Malik when you all come home from school,” Hermione said. “He spends months with your father all by himself-”
“You’re here as well, and Malik isn’t possessive over you.”
Hermione grimaced. “I’m here at weekends at best. You know that I’m always at the Ministry, just as I was when you were little. Malik is used to it just being him and your dad.”
“Besides,” Severus added, “Malik isn’t quite 3 years old. He needs a different amount of attention – the sort of attention you all got from me when you were that age.”
Rory scoffed. “I didn’t get treated like Malik does – you were too busy doting on little Foxy. As always.”
Severus looked helplessly at his wife. “I adored both of you, Rory. I still-”
“It’s because Foxy is more like you, isn’t it?” Rory blurted out, staring at his father intently. “With his books and his studying and his cauldrons and his stupid spells. You can say it, you know! I know you think I’m like Uncle Harry-”
“Rory, that’s-”
“It’s true, Mum. I know it’s true – I’ve heard enough from everyone over the years to know that Dad wasn’t big on Quiddit-”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear at Hogwarts,” Severus interrupted. “I like Quidditch.”
“Yeah, sure! You hate Quidditch, and you hate Quidditch players even more.”
“I hate playing,” Severus emphasised. “And I admit, I didn’t much like certain Quidditch players.”
“He means your Uncle Harry,” Hermione added.
Severus shot her a glare. “But I always had time for the Slytherin players, and I loved watching Slytherin destroy Gryffindor.” He shot another look at Hermione. “Especially when your Uncle Harry was on the opposing team.”
“Dad…”
“For someone who supposedly hates Quidditch, has it escaped your attention that I have attended your every game? That I have stood and cheered your every win? That I have applauded your efforts in every loss?” He stared back at his son evenly. “Did I not make it clear to you how I felt when you gained the post of Head Boy? The first legitimate Slytherin Head Boy since Lucius Malfoy?” He leant forward. “I am telling you, as the old Housemaster of Slytherin and as your father, I nearly burst with pride when we received the news.”
“…I wanted to make you proud of me.”
With a squeeze to her husband’s shoulder, Hermione moved around the table and embraced her eldest son. “We are both incredibly proud of you.”
“Especially after…” Rory trailed off, looking awkward. “My OWL results.”
To his surprise, his parents shared a broad smile. “We were not unhappy with your OWL results. You had a good range of Os and Es, and we didn’t expect anything more.”
“Don’t forget the D.”
Severus tapped the table. “Did you think I was astonished that you gained a D? After your reports? After seeing you brew?” He gave a wicked smile. “Of course, I use the term in the loosest possible sense.”
“But I thought-”
“Had I pushed you,” Severus said, quietly, “then I believe you could’ve gained an A. Most of my students gained As, even the very worst.”
Rory looked downcast. “Great. So I’m worse tha-”
“What your father is saying,” Hermione interrupted, “is that he could’ve demanded your return home each night via Floo, and he could’ve tutored you so that you gained the A. But doing so would’ve affected you in other ways. It would’ve affected your other homework, and Quidditch practice, and your friendships.”
“It was not worth your time,” Severus added. “For what little gain you would’ve achieved, in a subject you had no interest or aptitude in, and did not require for your NEWT studies…” He waved his hand. “We cannot all be the same. I outclass you with a cauldron, whilst you outclass me with a broomstick in hand.”
Hermione ruffled her son’s hair. “Do you understand?”
“Yes. I didn’t realise that you knew how much I hated Potions.”
“It was as plain as the nose on my face.” Severus smiled. “Rory, it was not my intention to blame you for Fox’s behaviour.” He drew a deep breath. “You are…somewhat easier to talk to than your brother.”
Rory gave a tight nod. “So you thought you’d sound me out first?”
“We thought you might be able to talk some sense into him,” Hermione said, softly. “He looks up to you.”
Rory scoffed. “He used to. Not anymore.” He tapped his fingers anxiously on the table. “He’s been hanging out with some real…oddballs. They’re changing him.”
“I think you are right,” Severus said, quietly, looking pained. “Thankfully, Rory, you take after your mother. Fox, I fear, takes after me.”
“Rory! Come in,” Hermione beckoned her son in to her office with her free hand, as she used the other to cast with her wand, sending papers flying towards the door and window.
“It’s always a bit of a head trip visiting you here,” Rory said, taking a seat opposite his mum’s large desk, and staring at the ornate ceiling.
“Are you expecting anyone else, ma’am?” The auror who’d shown Rory through the Ministry was still standing on ceremony at the door.
“My husband should be here shortly,” Hermione said, in clipped tones. “And Professor McGonagall. Please do ensure that I am not disturbed for the next hour, Stebbins.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rory swallowed hard. “Dad and the Headmistress?” He looked around anxiously. “Have I done something terrible?”
Hermione gave a short laugh, as she ruffled his long hair. “Not at all. Your father has a theory, and wishes for your input.”
“My input?”
“You are Head Boy of Hogwarts, are you not?”
“Well yeah,” Rory said, running his hands through his hair nervously. “But is this a meeting with the Minister for Magic, the Headmistress of Hogwarts and a war hero, or is this a meeting with Mum, Dad and Dad’s best friend?”
Hermione sat opposite her son and smiled. “It’s that sort of thinking which has led us to ask you here.” The Floo roared, and both stood as Professor McGonagall entered the office, closely followed by Severus.
“Son,” Severus said, brushing off his robes and heading straight over to Rory. “Thank you for coming.”
“I didn’t think I had a choice,” Rory mumbled to his father, watching as the two witches embraced each other warmly.
“That might also be true,” his father said, clapping him on his back and pulling a seat up next to him. “But I would refrain from pointing it out. Heads don’t take kindly to such thoughts, I have learnt over the years.”
Rory flashed a grin at his father.
“And that’s really what I wanted to talk about,” Severus said, as both women were seated.
“I don’t understand?”
Severus sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and his fingers steepled before his lips. “You grinned,” he said, looking directly at Rory, “when I said Heads don’t take kindly to such thoughts. Why?”
Rory looked panicked, staring from his father to his mother to his headteacher. “I don’t-”
“It’s not a trick question, Rory,” Hermione said, softly. “Your father wants to know why you found it amusing.”
“Well…” Rory stared at McGonagall for a moment, before looking down. “People in authority don’t tend to listen much. You do as you’re told. Behave how you’re expected.”
Severus nodded, a small triumphant smile appearing behind his fingers. “But do you understand the specificity of what I said?” he pressed.
“About?”
“I said Heads. I didn’t say that Ministers don’t give you a choice.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want to sleep on the sofa for the next week or two.”
McGonagall quickly altered her laugh into a cough, as Severus took a deep breath. “Forget your mother. I didn’t say that your Uncle Harry, as Head of the Auror department, didn’t take kindly to such thoughts.”
“Well, he’s not here, obviously.”
“And if he had been here, would I have said it?”
“You’d have said worse,” Rory muttered, and McGonagall laughed loudly.
“I can never decide if he is your boy, Severus,” she said, in her Scottish brogue, “or yours, Hermione.”
Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from laughing as Severus glared at his old colleague. “Forget Uncle Harry,” she said, “but what if I called in any of your other teachers? Would you think the same then?”
Rory frowned. “You’re saying that there’s a specific reason for Dad’s stance? Against the Headteacher?”
Severus nodded. “And do you know the reason?”
“Something to do with when you were at school, maybe?”
“And?”
Rory looked flummoxed. “I don’t know, the Head got you to do something you didn’t want?”
Severus sat back in his seat, his stare fixed on McGonagall. “Min?”
She looked stricken. “You mean to say that you haven’t discussed any of this with him?”
“I didn’t think I would need to.”
McGonagall smoothed her robes. “I thought you would be best placed-”
“For our children, perhaps,” Hermione quickly jumped in. “But if they’re not learning it at Hogwarts, then where are the other children getting their information?”
“About what?” Rory said, frowning.
“My comment was about the war,” Severus said, stiffly. “About part of the role that I played.”
“Yeah, well, we all know you and Mum were war heroes.”
“Your mother was a war hero,” Severus corrected.
Hermione glared at Severus. “He was right the first time. We both were.”
“Rory,” McGonagall said, waving her hand to silence both Hermione and Severus. “Would you mind telling me what you think your father did in the war?”
“…kept Uncle Harry safe?”
“And?”
“…fought against Voldemort?”
“And?”
Rory looked helplessly at his parents.
“I rest my case,” Severus said, coolly.
“I don’t see the need for the Hogwarts curriculum to be a stick for you to beat yourself with, Severus,” McGonagall huffed.
“It’s not about it being a stick,” Severus said, his voice getting louder. “I haven’t dragged you here to insist on some weird penance I’ve devised!”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” McGonagall sniped back.
“This is about my son!”
“Rory is perfectly well adjusted, Severus.”
Severus stood, pushing his chair out from behind him. “I’m not referring to Rory.”
Rory looked astonished. “Fox?”
“Yes, it’s about Fox! It’s about that little band of Slytherins that he’s joined up with,” Severus hissed. “And their frankly misguided views on what the wizarding war was like.”
“Come on, Dad. They’re hardly Voldemort followers,” Rory laughed.
Severus’ eyebrows raised. “Voldemort followers?”
“They’re just very pro-Slytherin, that’s all,” Rory continued. “You’ve got to admit, we hear a lot about Uncle Harry, and Professor Longbottom, and Mum…”
Hermione looked thoughtful. “But you don’t hear about the Slytherin war effort?”
Rory shook his head. “And we know it existed! We know it wasn’t just the good old Gryffindors like Mum and Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry. We know there was Dad, and Reggie Black, and Professor Slughorn, and Narcissa Malf-”
Severus snorted. “You see, Min? You see?! And this is my sensible son! Horace Slughorn and Narcissa Malfoy.” He turned back to Rory. “Are you not aware that Horace Slughorn presided over Slytherin House whilst most of its students became Death Eaters?”
“Death Eaters?”
“He doesn’t even know...” Severus trailed off, stalking the room once more. “This is how it happens, Min. This absence of information is how I was manipulated. How I was recruited!”
Hermione stood, and stopped her husband from pacing. “Severus, this isn’t the time-”
“Dad, what do you mean? Recruited?”
“I was a Death Eater, Rory,” he said, shaking Hermione’s hand from his arm. “Or, to put it in terms that you will understand, I was one of Voldemort’s loyal followers.”