Chapter Text
The Minister’s Bodyguard
The concrete footpath was uneven under her boots as she made her way down the sidestreet. She kept one hand tucked into her pocket, her fingers wrapped around her wand, while her eyes scanned each window and doorway for a threat. She didn’t expect to find one waiting for her in the coastal city of Aberdeen, so far from London, but after the day she’d already had, Hermione felt justified in her paranoia. One attempt on her life in a day was more than enough.
With a soft exhale, she turned down another sidestreet, counting the numbers on the rowhouses to ensure she was headed in the right direction. The grey granite buildings were all identical, from the placement of the white-framed windows to the same nondescript black doors that opened out to the walkway. Iron house numbers tacked into the doors were the only thing that stood out as different, the numbers climbing as she continued her hunt.
Hermione wasn’t sure what she was going to find when she got to her destination. For all she knew, the man she sought had moved off from it years ago or simply kept the house to maintain his residency in the UK. Or, she would find who she was looking for, and he would deny her even a chance to present her offer.
When she divulged to Harry whom she sought to find, he told her she was half-mad, and that it was too dangerous for her to wander the streets of Aberdeen in the evening. Especially a few short hours after almost being killed by a curse meant for her.
Hermione wouldn’t hear any of it, her mind was set on her course of action, and it was only pushed further toward it by the nearly successful assassination. If anyone in the world could do the job she had in mind, it would be the person she was looking for.
Stopping before the house bearing a ‘60’ on its black door, she took in a deep breath, her eyes scanning her surroundings. She knew Harry wasn’t far behind her under his cloak, even if he said he would let her go on her own. Ginny likely wasn't pleased that her husband was off duty and protecting Hermione’s life again when they had a newborn to tend to at home. She’d tried to reason with him, but he was just as stubborn now as he had been as a boy — perhaps worse when it came to her safety.
Shaking away those thoughts, she took in a deep breath and brought her hand up, rapping her knuckles against the door three times. The sound echoed along the quiet street, making her feel even more out in the open than she had walking along the footpath. Lowering her hand, she took a step back and waited.
The black door opened inward, revealing that the man she was looking for did, in fact, still live at his old residence. Standing in the doorway in a grey pullover and black trousers, Severus Snape narrowed his dark eyes at her, looking less than pleased to see her. “What do you want, Granger?”
“Good evening, Mister Snape,” Hermione replied, knowing that to address him as professor or Headmaster after so many years would do her parley with him more harm than good.
“It was, until you darkened my doorway,” he quipped, lips curling into a sneer. “Out with it, what does the Boy-Who-Lived need from me now?”
She smiled, not rising to the undisguised hostility in his voice. “I’m not here because of Harry.”
Snape’s eyes glanced past her, down both sides of the street, before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Then why are you here?”
That was the million galleon question that had an answer that could not be easily dissected into a simple answer. Hermione also looked up and down the street, before meeting his eyes again. Speaking of what she wanted out in the open made her nervous, not knowing who or what could be listening to her. “Could I come in? This is not precisely a conversation I would like to have out in the street.”
“No.”
There was no following explanation. Snape simply blocked the entry to his home with his body and something like a dare in his eyes for her to try to bully her way in.
“Very well.” Hermione nodded, not having been prepared for him to make her speak to him out on the street. “I am not sure if you know it or not, but I am running to be Minister.”
He rolled his eyes as if he still thought she was an errant sixth year. “I do read the paper, so I am aware. What does that have to do with me?”
Hermione sighed, standing a little straighter than she had a moment before, as she attempted to break down what she needed to say into a way that was at least somewhat safe to be said where Muggles could hear. “There have been three attempts on my life, the most recent being only a few hours ago.”
The air grew tense in that moment, his jaw tightening, and she barely perceived his fingers had shifted so that the hilt of his wand was in his hand. Snape’s words left him in an almost growl as he seemed to again assess her and the surroundings outside. “And you think I am responsible?”
“No, heavens no,” she refuted. There was a lot she didn’t know about the individuals seeking to end her life, but she knew that Severus Snape was not one of them. Firstly, because she was still breathing, and secondly, because as far as she understood, he had no quarrel with her. All of his issues came from Harry and his grievous mishandling of his private information and memories when the war first ended.
Snape appeared to relax ever so slightly. “Clearly, you’ve not lost all your wits, because if it were me, they would not have been attempts. You’d be dead.”
“Yes, which is part of the reason I am here,” she confessed, letting out a deep breath. “I have a job offer for you.”
For a second, his eyebrow arched, only to be replaced with a neutral mask and thin lips as he enunciated his response. “No.”
She blinked, shaking her head quickly as a frown curved at the corner of her mouth. “But you haven’t even let me tell you what it is.”
“Whatever it is, it will inevitably put me in a position where I will end up arrested, and I do not expect leniency from the Wizengamot a third time.” Snape let out a deep sigh, uncrossing his arms and putting his hand on the edge of his door as he started her down. “I have done my share of saving the world, Miss Granger. Goodbye.” He began to close the door in her face.
“Wait!” Hermione pushed forward, placing her hand on the black door to keep it from closing completely. The initial shock turned into a slight panic in her voice. “I think it’s Neo-Death Eaters trying to kill me.”
He paused in shutting the door, his head tilted to the left. “What?”
Her face scrunched up as she repeated herself. “Neo-Death Eaters—” Her shoulders rose and fell as she looked along the Muggle street again, before pleading with her eyes and words. “—Can I please come in so I can properly explain without worrying about breaking the Statute of Secrecy?”
He regarded her for a moment, and she felt the weight of his observation on her. With something like a huff, he opened the door, stepping back into his entry way and granting her passage. “Very well, but do not get comfortable.”
“I won’t. Thank you,” she said as she stepped into his house.
Severus shut the door behind her, latching a lock that seemed to trigger a set of wards over the door.
She watched the magic ripple over the back of the door as he walked around her, gesturing with his hand that she was to follow him. Crossing her hands in front of herself, as to not touch anything inadvertently, she followed him into his home. He led her through a sitting room full of floor to ceiling bookcases, where an open book lay over the arm of a dark brown armchair. She was surprised his house did not feel as foreboding as she expected. The walls were white, with rich wood accents, and where there were no bookcases along the walls, there were tasteful paintings and pictures. It was a far cry from the dungeons of Hogwarts and his house he’d inherited on Spinner’s End that she'd seen at the end of his recovery.
He stopped in the kitchen, turning to face her with his arms akimbo. “Explain yourself.”
Breaking from her observation of the neat and orderly kitchen, she closed her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts. There was so much that had happened, and she knew that he was only interested in the facts without the filigree. If she wasted his time, he would turn her out on her ear, she was well aware of that.
“As I said, there have been three attempts on my life, and I believe Neo-Death Eaters are responsible.” Hermione more than believed, she was willing to bet on it. “There have been pockets of activity from those venerating Voldemort’s ideals and trying to stir up trouble and push for ‘the Old Ways’.”
“And you’ve elected to come to me, a former Death Eater, instead of the Aurors? Why?” Severus questioned.
She held his gaze, settling into the practiced poise of a public speaker. “It is now my belief that there are members infiltrating the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; either they are aiding in the efforts, or outright making the attempts. Only an Auror would have had access to strike the second attempt.”
“I see, and what does Mister Potter make of that?” The way he said Potter sounded like a curse.
Hermione had expressed her concerns to Harry multiple times, and each time he’d pushed it away, stating that there was no way someone in his department was responsible unless they were being Imperio ’d. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, but that Harry couldn’t believe that his department, that he’d spent years rebuilding after the war, was susceptible to that kind of corruption. Being a politician, Hermione was well aware that corruption knew no limits, and that there was someone on the inside waiting for her to make a mistake.
Rather than explain all that to Severus, she shook her head, giving him the condensed version. “Already too much on his plate as the Head Auror, he says he’s doing his best to look into it.”
“Which means you could be dead before he discovers anything.” It was a statement, not a question from Severus as he rolled his eyes, his arms relaxing at his sides.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“What do you want from me?” he asked as he touched his index finger to his chin, giving a slight shake of his head. “As you may know, I have not been a Death Eater for many years.”
“I came here to ask you to become my head of security,” Hermione explained.
“Why me?”
Finally, she could get to the real reasons he’d come to him. Hermione had thought it over long and hard, this wasn’t just a whim she’d embarked on. She knew what she needed, and she knew that he was the man who could do it with the precision and skill she needed. “I need someone who knows Dark magic, knows how to defeat it, and is suspicious of everyone and everything. I need someone I can trust to watch my back, so that I am not nearly dying every other week.”
It was quiet for a moment as he took in her assessment, before he gestured toward the small dining room table against the wall. He walked toward it himself, taking a seat and gesturing for her to follow.
Hermione took this as a good sign and followed his lead, sitting across from him.
Snape clasped his hands on the table in front of him and inclined his head. “Tell me about the attempts on your life?”
Rather than daftly ask him if he was truly considering her offer, she launched into describing the first time someone attempted to kill her since she’d begun campaigning for Minister of Magic. “The first attempt was laughable. Poison chocolates were delivered to my press secretary, addressed to me. That time there was no real danger, as I am not so daft as to eat sweets sent to me with the note from ‘a secret admirer’. ”
He scoffed in such a way that she did not think he believed her.
Placing her palm down on his table, she defended herself. “I’m not. I had them analyzed, and they were poisoned in a very unconventional way.”
“How do you mean?” Her statement seemed to pique his curiosity. “What was the poison?”
“It wasn’t a brewed poison,” Hermione explained. “It was simply the essence of Taxus Baccata mixed with Dieffenbachia for good measure.”
“English yew and dumb cane,” he said grimly. His lips twisted into a grimace, “not a pleasant death.”
The particular mixture of toxins would have caused her to start vomiting profusely, attacked her heart, causing her to go into heart failure, while simultaneously making her mouth and throat swell to the point where she would be unable to breathe. She would have either died from choking on her own vomit or from the subsequent heart attack. Since there was no known antidote other than immediate bezoar application, it would have been unlikely that she would have been saved. Whoever had done it had not intended for her to go painlessly.
“No, it would not have been,” she agreed.
Snape inclined his head for her to continue. “And the second attempt?”
Hermione pushed a stray curl back from her face as she thought back to the attempt on her life that happened a little less than a week ago. “A Taipan somehow made its way into my office drawer.”
Snape leaned back in his chair a bit, and she watched him look over her hands as if he were searching for a bite wound. “How did you evade that?”
It was the purest of dumb luck that had saved her from the deadly viper that day. She had agreed to lunch with Harry to discuss his plans for his upcoming anniversary with Ginny, and he had walked her back to her office. Just as she was about to open the drawer to deposit her purse, he had stopped her, pushing her back from her desk. If he’d not been there, she would have likely died from the snake bite before she could get hold of the antivenin. “Harry happened to walk into the office with me, and he heard the snake talking. It was angry and hungry as it had been cooped up in the dark for some time.”
“How fortunate you were to have one of the only living known parseltongues walk into your office with you,” Snape sniped, shaking his head. “And what was the most recent attempt that happened today?”
She pursed her lips, exhaling through her nose agitatedly. “It was a book.”
“A book?” Snape asked, looking at her curiously.
“Someone cursed a book and had it delivered to my home.” Hermione began, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck and pinken her cheeks. She’d not been expecting a parcel, and that should have been her first clue, but she thought nothing of having a book delivered to her. “I regret that they nearly succeeded this time.”
“Of course, books would be your downfall.” Snape scowled at her, pinching the bridge of his nose, before running his hand down his face.
She’d expected him to not be impressed by the fact that a cleverly disguised curse nearly assassinated her. The book was a first edition copy of Runes & Ones, one of her favorite Arithmancy books. She was so impressed that a copy was located that she didn’t even think to check the sender or cast any detection spells on it. She knew something was wrong as soon as her fingers touched the cover. Before she knew what was happening, she was writhing on the floor of her sitting room in excruciating pain. Again, in a stroke of luck, she’d not been alone, and Neville had the presence of mind to remove the book from her grasp and reach out to Harry for someone to perform the counter-curse.
“Yes well, fortunately I had company at the time, and Neville was able to prevent any real damage other than the contact burn on my fingers.” Hermione showed him her fingertips, which were still puckered and red. “The counter-curse was done by Harry. My attackers likely didn’t expect I would have anyone at home with me and that they would be successful, but here I am, still alive.”
“And your attacker is getting smarter,” Snape stated matter-of-factly. “Each attempt is getting more and more targeted to you specifically.”
Hermione was of the same opinion. “I thought that myself, which is why I came to you.”
“My answer is still no,” Snape leaned back, arms crossed once more.
Hermione thought about what his objections could be, other than being arrested, of which she would make sure wouldn’t happen. “Is it because you think I won’t compensate you for your time? I am offering an actual job with payroll on my team.”
“I am not interested in your charity.” He rolled his eyes, gesturing with one hand to his home, “I make do well enough on my own as you can see.”
It was her turn for her eyes to narrow, her shoulders rolling forward as she shook her head. “It’s not charity. It's a job. A job I don’t think anyone else in the world is more suited for.”
“Flattery will get you no closer to my agreement,” Severus said, his words not concealing how unimpressed he was with her.
“It’s not flattery. It's facts!” she stated firmly. She believed in what she was saying, and she needed him to know that. “I don’t think anyone else has the skills, ability, or perception to keep me safe.”
“Then drop out of the candidacy.”
Snape said it like it was just a simple matter.
As if he didn’t understand what that would say to those who were after her, or even worse, what it would say to those who looked up to her, believed in her. If she backed down, or gave in, it would tell every other Muggleborn with dreams of being something more in the Wizarding World that it was too dangerous to do so. Hermione was not blind to the fact that her candidacy had a lot more than just policy change riding on it.
“Then they win, and everything I stand for will be for naught.” Hermione frowned at him disappointedly. “They will think they can scare any other Muggleborn they come across, and it will only get worse. Every Muggleborn who believes in me will think I’m a coward. I didn’t fight a war as a child to be scared off as an adult.” She ground out the last words, her fingers curling into her palms.
Something shifted in those black eyes that had been staring her down across the table. It was hard to put a finger on, she wasn’t sure what it meant, but she knew his expression had changed. Whether for better or worse, she wasn’t entirely sure.
Again, he folded his hands in front of him on the table.
“What does this position entail, being your head of security?”
Hopeful that perhaps he was actually considering taking her up on her offer, she swallowed back the anger that his suggestion of dropping out had arisen in her. Taking a steadying breath, she spoke calmly so that she could make her expectations clear.
“You would be responsible for my personal safety in all aspects,” she began. “This will entail securing all locations I am to go to, and checking them over for curses, traps, etcetera. Additionally, you would be expected to accompany me at all public appearances to ensure my safety. To help you do this, you would also be responsible for overseeing, hiring, training any additional security you decide you need to assist you, and you will be provided a budget to do so.”
He arched an eyebrow suspiciously at her. “So, you want a bodyguard.”
When he put it that way, she had to agree. She felt the position was so much more than that, but in the simplest terms, he was correct. “In essence, yes, but you would have the ability to have others assist you.”
“And you would actually listen to my recommendations?” Snape asked her as if he assumed she would not. Considering her history as a student listening to him, she suspected he had just cause to ask if she would take his recommendations seriously.
“Yes, I would defer to you in all matters of security,” she agreed, nodding.
He said nothing more, but she could see that he was thinking it over. Prudently, she kept her mouth closed, knowing from past experiences that it was the best choice. While he mulled over what she offered him, Hermione glanced around the kitchen, taking in the functionality of the room, noting it did not have the same aesthetics as the sitting room they’d passed through had. It was functional and orderly, and reminded her of his lab at Hogwarts.
He finally broke the silence, drawing her attention back to him.
“This sounds like an around the clock job.”
She expected it would be many long hours, especially the closer they got to election day, with her having to see so many people and go so many places.
“It would be, but you would be compensated for your time,” Hermione explained.
Severus tapped his finger against his dining room table. “So you’ve said. What is the salary?”
“Name your price,” Hermione told him plainly. She was willing to pay what he thought was reasonable for such an endeavor. She was asking him to upend his whole life for her, to step back into the public spotlight, and to keep her alive. To her, that was worth any amount of money she had available to her.
“That is an odd way to negotiate,” Snape chastised her. “What if I asked for something outlandish, such as 500,000 galleons a year?”
Hermione felt a smirk start at the corner of her lips, but she flattened it out, meeting his eyes with a serious gaze. “I’d ask you if you’d like it half upfront, or all in monthly paychecks.”
Severus Snape’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “That is an unjustifiable amount, it would be madness to put yourself into debt like that.”
Money was not something she ever liked to discuss, at least when it came to her own personal finances. She’d come from affluence, having lived in the upscale neighborhood of Hampton Gardens as a girl, and attending private school long before ever coming to Hogwarts. Her parents had been well off, and as a result, she inherited quite a bit from them when they passed away a few years prior. But even before inheriting that money, she’d made herself more than comfortable, putting her brilliant mind to different projects that had yielded her a passive income twice what she made as a ministry worker. She was not as wealthy as say a Malfoy or a Fawley, but she was more than able to handle a salary of that proportion and not go under.
Now she just had to convince him of that without sounding like a braggart.
“I have done well for myself with my research, patents, and regular steady employment for the last twenty years, Mister Snape.” Hermione told him plainly. “I will pay you what you feel is justified for the job I am asking you to do. If it is 500,000 galleons a year, then I will make it work. So, as I said, name your price.”
There was a pressure to his gaze, and Hermione considered he might be trying to read her mind. If that was the case, he would find her words were true and then some, and so she did not look away from him, holding his gaze with the same determination that one stared down a dangerous creature. She had nearly a decade in training on how to do exactly that, and while he was scary, Snape had nothing on some of the creatures she'd seen.
His lips twitched. “What is the median salary for an Auror?”
Being unprepared for that question, she had to lean back in the chair, looking up and away from him, as she tried to recall if she even knew the number. She knew Harry had talked to her about it once before when pay raises went through the department but it had been some time ago. Squinting, she gave him the best estimate she could remember. “Around 55,000 galleons a year, if I remember correctly.”
“Then I will take 75,000 a year, as I am being forced out of retirement, since they cannot do their jobs,” Snape stated frankly.
Hermione let out a quiet sigh of relief. “So you’ll do it.”
“I expect you to do as I say when it comes to your safety,” Snape said firmly. “If I say something is dangerous, you will not do it. If I say someone is not to be trusted, you will not trust that person. If you cannot listen to me, then you are wasting your money and risking your own life.”
In her mind, that was perfectly reasonable of him to ask. “Understood. I will also of course pay for your accommodations in London, and other expenses you incur on my behalf due to relocation.”
He shook his hand at her, as if dismissing her words. “When do you need me to begin this endeavor?”
If she were perfectly honest, she would have liked him to start yesterday, but Hermione knew she needed to be reasonable. This was an urgent matter, but rushing Severus Snape was not in her best interest, and she knew that. “Tomorrow afternoon, I will hold a press conference about the book attempt. I would like you to be there. And would like to sign the contract with you for the position before that, if we can. I will have my secretary write it up.”
“Tomorrow is acceptable, I have some affairs to get in order,” he told her in such a way that she thought it best not to ask what those affairs were. “If that is all you needed, I would like for you to leave.”
“That is all I needed, yes.” Not wanting to overstay her welcome and have him decide he didn’t want the position, Hermione rose to her feet as he did. She extended her hand to him to shake on the agreement.
His hand took hers, giving her a firm handshake, before he drew his hand back and turned to lead her out of the house.
Hermione followed him, stopping just before she stepped out of the door. “Thank you, Mister Snape.”
“Snape or Severus will be fine,” he corrected her.
She smiled, inclining her head in acceptance of his request. “Then I insist you call me Hermione.”
“Goodnight, Miss Granger.”
“Goodnight, Severus,” she replied, stepping out onto the street already feeling much safer than she had when she arrived.