Snape began rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Miss Volentier's issue with your proposed visit, Draco . . . it's rather personal."
Harry and Draco exchanged a puzzled glance, but it was Draco who spoke. "What's her personal business got to do with me?"
"Quite a lot, actually, though only by proxy."
"Proxy?"
"Perhaps I should begin another way," said Snape, clearing his throat. "You're both acquainted with the facts of life, and--"
Harry almost snorted. As far as he was concerned, Draco was a hell of a lot more acquainted with them than he was.
"I did assume from the word depravity that her problem had something to do with the facts of life, Severus," said Draco, his chin raised. "Though I can't imagine what."
Snape stopped rubbing his nose and took a long drink of water. When he set his glass down, his features looked firm with resolve. "Here it is, then. When we first dropped by the home, Miss Volentier was briefly of the mind that I had brought you there so you could meet some of the young ladies shortly to finish their education there, and . . . select one."
"Select one for what?" asked Harry.
Draco, though, had obviously caught on. "Oh. Oh. Sweet Merlin. I've heard of that, but nobody actually does it any longer. Is she daft? It's positively Victorian!"
"What's Victorian?" Harry looked from Draco to Snape and back, but it was his father who finally answered.
"Pureblooded men have been known to take squib women as mistresses, Harry. Draco's correct that it's a rather antiquated custom, but it's not unheard of, even in the present day."
It took Harry a second to connect that information to Emmeleia's initial coldness towards them, and her accusation that Snape was corrupting his sons. Then, he was pretty well horrified. "What, she thought we'd gone there shopping for one each, or something? We're only sixteen! Or supposed to be," he added with a glare at Draco.
Draco shrugged, but then his features took on a scornful cast. "I suppose that explains her letter, but what on earth was her basis for such a bizarre assumption?"
"Primarily, the fact that you look a great deal like a young Lucius Malfoy. You signed the register as Draco Snape, but as her letter demonstrates, she recognised you straight away as his son by birth."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"
Snape closed his own eyes. Obviously, he felt he'd come to the difficult part. "Shortly after your mother became pregnant, Draco, Lucius Malfoy decided he was entitled to a mistress. He met Emmeleia Volentier at a wedding of a distant cousin, and . . . took a shine to her, I suppose. He set her up in a flat of her own and visited her, shall we say, for a few months."
Draco shoved away his lunch plate so roughly that his sandwich nearly slid off it. "That's rubbish, it is. Lucius would Crucio himself before he'd ever, ever lay a finger on a squib woman!"
Ha, thought Harry, his memory whirling back to that horrible time Snape had practically shoved him into a pensieve. You don't have any real idea what goes on at Death Eater gatherings, then, do you?
He almost expected their father to say exactly that, but Snape had a different perspective, entirely. "In terms of bloodlines, hers is as pure as anyone's," he said, his eyes snapping open. "Lucius would have considered her in that light, notwithstanding her lack of magic."
"He'd risk having a child with a squib? I don't think so!"
"And there you had assured me, not too many nights past, that you were conversant with the concept of contraception. Thoroughly conversant, I think you said."
Draco bared his teeth. "Yes, I am, Severus. But even the best charms aren't always fool-proof. According to Hermione, not even . . . barrier methods are without fail."
Snape nodded, the motion a little abrupt. "I am gratified you know as much. However, certain procedures are indeed fool-proof, and she has had them."
Harry was starting to wish he hadn't had a Butterbeer, since his stomach was starting to feel kind of churny, by then. And no wonder. "You mean she had an operation or something, so she couldn't possibly ever have any children?"
"And I thought sucking someone's bone marrow out was disgusting," muttered Draco.
"Why would she agree to that?" Harry shuddered. "I mean, just so she could be somebody's mistress?"
"Ah, well I actually don't know if Lucius insisted or if she'd had the procedure prior, for reasons of her own. As for the other . . ." Severus sighed. "It's not unknown for squib women of a certain social class to participate in such arrangement. What sort of other living could she earn? Jobs for squibs are few and far between. Most such women must either make their way in the Muggle world, or forever remain in their parents' abode."
"But Filch--"
"Is, I assure you, an example of Albus Dumbledore's generous spirit. Most wizarding institutions have no positions on staff for squibs."
Draco frowned. "All right, I can see that with her history, she might jump to conclusions about what Lucius' son was doing at a squib home. But she talked to Harry and me for a while that first day, you know, after you left, Severus. And she never said a word."
"Of course not. By then, she'd concluded that her initial impression had been in error. However, when she saw you standing at the counter with Miss Miller the next time you came . . ." Severus winced slightly. "Your petite amie does bear a passing resemblance to Narcissa, you know. It seemed to Miss Volentier that the past was repeating itself in a new form. She thought that you'd brought your wife-to-be with you in order to include her from the first in your . . . selection of a squib mistress."
"That's completely sickening."
"And it doesn't make sense," added Harry. "Rhiannon rang the bell. Nobody could think her a witch, not after that."
"Miss Volentier wasn't in the reception area when that happened. In fact, I doubt she heard that tiny sound at all through the din of both of you also ringing the bell. At any rate, you may recall that Miss Volentier came back out later, and saw that Miss Miller had left the building? She took that to mean that--"
"That Rhiannon had found her backbone, yeah," said Draco. "Enough to decide she wouldn't put up with me having a mistress."
"Yes, and therefore Miss Volentier was highly disturbed to learn that Miss Miller would like to return to the facility."
"She's disturbed, all right," muttered Draco. He downed half his drink before speaking again. "What a fucking mess."
"Language," said Snape, but Harry could tell his heart wasn't in it.
"Um . . ." Harry ventured a weak smile. "You seem awfully sure of your facts. Mind if I ask how you'd even know all this?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "You really do forget who Severus used to socialise with, don't you? How many times have I told you about Death Eater gossip? Lucius must have bragged about this, I guess. Not that I ever heard a word about it, but I suppose he talked to his mates--"
"Yeah, that explains why Dad let you take Rhiannon to the squib home and never said a thing about the weird ideas that woman might be getting--"
"Plots within plots," snapped Draco. Just a moment later, it was like he'd heard himself and had come to an awful conclusion. "You wanted to cause trouble between us?"
"Draco, I do not always have a plot afoot," said Snape, clearly exasperated. "And I have nothing against Rhiannon Miller. Except for her failure to arrive on time to her place of employment, she seems quite a pleasant young woman. Now, as for Lucius, no, of course he never mentioned any sort of dalliance to me. He didn't 'kiss and tell' any more than you do."