Secret Snarry Swap: FIC: Solomon Sneed and the Case of the Mysterious Portrait Frame Title:Severus Snape Solomon Sneed and the Case of the Mysterious Portrait Frame Author:flaminia_x Other pairings/threesome: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione Rating: PG Word count: ~4000 Content/Warning(s): None Prompt: From: elmyraemilie: #5: Hard boiled detective thriller: Severus Snape, living in his tatty office a few blocks from the better part of Diagon Alley, has a visit from a red-headed charmer. Ginny Weasley-Potter claims her husband Harry is cheating on her. What happens when Snape takes the case? Summary: The prompt says it all! A/N: I love writing in a sort of film noir style, so this prompt really called out to me! I hope you don’t mind, but I have a … cough … thing for portraits, so I just had to take this opportunity to work one into this story.
Severus Snape Solomon Sneed and the Case of the Mysterious Portrait Frame
It was a cold and blustery winter day.
The wind blew through the back streets of Diagon Alley, as thin and piercing as the edge of a knife. Outside the door to his office, the battered sign announcing the presence of one “Sol. Sneed, Private Investigator” banged heavily against the wall.
Severus Snape rolled one eye irritatedly toward the door. Finding the entranceway unsurprisingly empty of clientele, his eye continued its usual rotation, glancing heavenward for a brief moment before resuming its gaze on a tidy stack of papers on his desk. Leaning back in his rickety leather chair, he placed one boot next to the papers and exhaled, a perfect ring of smoke escaping toward the ceiling. The papers had been completed weeks ago, but he had yet to be arsed enough to file them properly. He chuckled cynically to himself. There was certainly plenty of time for that. Carelessly, his hand flicked a length of cigarette ash to the floor next to his other boot.
The wind picked up, howling by his window, and the sign banged again.
Severus winced and grunted loudly. “Bloody sign,” he muttered under his breath. Boot crashing to the floor, he rose up to his full and imposing height, sent his cigarette butt flying into the coals in his small office grate, and drew his wand.
At that very moment, the door burst open, the howling wind sending a flurry of snowflakes into the entranceway alongside a tall, red-headed woman.
Severus lowered his wand, but only just. Ginny Weas—no, Ginny Potter, he thought to himself, carefully checking his Glamour Charms. How … interesting.
Her heavy winter cloak did little to disguise her figure. She moved with all the confidence a long-time Quidditch star should carry, perfectly aware of her body and how to use it. This was a woman who was used to being admired. And yet … there was a hint of insecurity about her.
His eyes narrowed.
“Good afternoon, madam,” he said smoothly.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, eyes adjusting to the dim light in Severus’s office. Noticing his wand still drawn, her lips thinned. “I was looking for Solomon Sneed. I’m sorry; have I come at a bad time?”
Snape lowered his wand, placing it on his desk within arm’s reach. “No, not at all,” he replied. “Please, do come in, Mrs. Potter.”
She flushed, so minimally that a stranger might not have noticed. “I see that I have in fact found Mr. Sneed, then,” she said noncommittally.
Severus smiled, an expanse of crooked teeth that managed to be simultaneously feral and comforting. “You have, indeed. Have a seat, Mrs. Potter. How may I be of assistance?”
He gestured toward one of the two wooden chairs that sat in front of his desk. Sitting carefully back down in his leather chair, he lit another cigarette and waited for her to begin.
Ginny moved slowly toward one of the chairs, eyes carefully taking in her rather bare surroundings. Sitting down, she paused briefly to adjust her cloak, then looked up at Severus. “I have reason to believe my husband might be having an affair,” she said, voice perfectly steady. “I haven’t been able to determine whether it’s true, or with whom. I need your help, Mr. Sneed.”
Interesting is certainly not the right word, Severus thought to himself. The great Harry Potter, cheating on his perfect wife? The press will have a field day with this one.
“And what, Mrs. Potter, leads you to believe that your husband is conducting an extramarital affair?” he asked, the smoke from his cigarette drifting casually toward the ceiling.
Ginny shifted minutely in her chair, but continued to look him in the eye. “It is abundantly clear that you know who I and my husband are,” she said. “I must know that you will keep whatever I say here between the two of us. I will not have any of my suppositions bandied about the press. Is that clear?”
Severus smiled grimly. “Abundantly,” he replied, deliberately echoing her earlier words. “It is the nature of my business, and of my very person, to be discreet.”
Ginny stared for a moment and then nodded. “Very well. It began several months ago. Harry became more and more withdrawn. Not unkind, never unkind. But less … present, you might say. He began to spend more time alone, in his study at home. Before, if he had to bring work home with him from the Ministry, he’d sit with me while he worked. But for the last few weeks, he’s even shut the door to the study. He’s never done that before. When I ask him what he’s working on, he’s vague, sheepishly so. Then, last week, I stopped by his office to take him to lunch. He wasn’t there, and the Head Auror wasn’t sure when he would be back. Harry’s never before kept anything from me—about work, or otherwise.”
She paused for a moment and reached into the folds of her cloak. “Yesterday, when I knew Harry had gone to the office, I went into his study. Nothing was different, or amiss, but I found this on his desk.” She withdrew a portrait frame and handed it over. “I’ve never seen it before, and Harry’s never mentioned it. It says ‘McGuffin’ on the back. I don’t have much to go on, Mr. Sneed, but I wonder if this might not be a place to start.”
Severus reached out, taking the frame from Ginny carefully. It wasn’t a particularly glitzy object: simple wood, gold paint, an unengraved plaque at the bottom, as though it were waiting for an owner to claim it. But there was an unmistakeable magical aura or trace emanating from it, neither good nor evil but powerful nonetheless.
“Yes,” he mused, turning the frame over to examine the inscription. The magic that flowed out into his hands was tantalizing, strangely familiar, even comforting. “Yes, I do believe you are correct, Mrs. Potter. This is certainly a place to start.” Snape smiled to himself. Oh, I know exactly where to begin.
“So we are agreed, then?” Ginny asked. “You will attempt to determine whether my husband is …”
“Cheating on you,” Severus said bluntly. “Yes, Mrs. Potter. I will take your case. As per usual, there is no fee until and unless I discover irreproachable evidence of your husband’s misdeeds, or lack thereof. I will, however, need to keep this frame for the time being. I am sure you can appease your husband with regard to its disappearance?”
Ginny smiled, almost as ferally as Severus himself. “Oh, you needn’t worry about that. I have no doubt I can provide him with a reasonable excuse—temporarily, of course.”
He nodded, wondering silently how she had escaped being Sorted into Slytherin. “Then I shall be in contact as soon as there is anything you need to know. You are welcome to use my Floo or Disapparate from here, rather than face the winter storm, if you so prefer.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sneed,” she said. Rising, she adjusted her cloak around her. With a last nod toward Severus, she turned and disappeared on the spot.
With a flick of his wrist, he wordlessly locked the doors, extinguished the grate, and pulled down the shades. A sign appeared on the front door: “Closed for the Holidays.” Not that any sod around here would believe I am about to celebrate anything, Severus thought mirthlessly to himself, but it is a handy excuse indeed.
Casting a Tempus Charm, Severus nodded. Carefully, he wrapped the frame in a soft cloth and tucked it under his arm. He glanced once around the office, then strode to the Floo. With a single sharp bark, he cried, “Headmistress’s Office, Hogwarts,” and in a flash of green light he was gone.
***
After the war, Severus Snape had vanished.
The Wizarding world had mourned him—on paper, at least. He had received posthumous medals of honour, been vindicated of prior crimes, all that rot. Still, a weakened, exhausted Severus Snape had wanted nothing more to do with society, and had retired to his heavily warded house to recuperate.
Until his meagre savings had run out, of course. At that point, Severus realized the need for some sort of gainful employment, but the thought of the furor that revealing his existence after years of hiding would cause was enough to make his gorge rise. And so he practiced his Glamour Charms, hid his scars and his very identity, and made his way back into Diagon Alley as Solomon Sneed, private investigator. The seedy folks on that side of town might realize he wasn’t who he said he was, if they cared enough to think about it. But few would imagine that the famous Severus Snape had returned to life amongst them. He was able to eke out a living, sleeping above his office in a converted loft. He needed precious few physical things in life; his satisfaction was derived not only from getting to put his spying skills to use without immediate threat to his person, but from learning so very, very much about the sort that hired someone like him.
And today, that sort was Ginny Potter. Severus smiled smugly as he stepped out of the Floo into his old quarters at Hogwarts. Days like today made it all worthwhile, even though it likely meant disclosing his little secret.
As he had expected, it was the lunch hour, and Headmistress McGonagall had joined the other staff members in the Great Hall. If he were fortunate, he might have half an hour or more to investigate.
Quickly, he walked to the walls on which hung all of the portraits of the previous leaders of Hogwarts and began to scan the backs of them. As he had suspected, all of the recent ones were inscribed with the name ‘McGuffin’ on their backs. However this frame had come to be in Harry Potter’s possession, it had been intended to house a magical portrait, perhaps even in this room.
Just then, Severus heard the stone staircase began to move. Realizing that Minerva must be returning to her office early, he quickly flattened himself along the wall behind the bookshelf. He only hoped she wasn’t staying long.
“I’m telling you, Minerva,” a man’s voice carried throughout the office. “I want the frame investigated. I’ve contacted the McGuffin company, but they haven’t responded to my owls yet. It’s got to be significant, yeah?”
Harry, Severus mouthed silently to himself.
“But we’ve been over this before,” Minerva answered, tartly but not unkindly. “It’s been five years. That frame has never left the wall until you took it. What makes you think it’s been tampered with?”
“I don’t know that it has,” Harry responded in a frustrated tone. “But you’re right about one thing. It has been five years, and in all that time, that frame has sat empty, and Snape’s—Professor Snape’s portrait has never appeared. You said yourself, and Dumbledore confirmed it, that that has never happened before in all of Hogwarts’ history.”
Minerva sighed, and Severus could hear her pouring out a cup of tea. “It’s true, but at the same time, the castle went through so much trauma. Surely you need no reminders of that? No, I thought not. It’s possible that something magical went awry. But you know I’ve had the best and brightest of the Unspeakables here at Hogwarts regularly since the war, and in all that time, the castle’s magic has only grown stronger. They have no suitable explanation, and neither do I. Now, you clearly have my permission to have the portrait frame examined, but—Harry, it’s been months.” Her voice took on a gentler, more motherly tone. “You won’t ever hear from me that Severus Snape isn’t worth the energy, and I admire your efforts on his behalf, but you might at some point have to accept that there might not be any answers.”
Severus let his head rest silently on the wall behind the bookshelf as he absorbed this new information. Harry wasn’t having an affair at all; he was here at Hogwarts, holed up with Minerva McGonagall, trying to figure out why the portrait of a man not yet dead refused to appear on a bloody wall. Of all the stubborn, useless—but wait, Severus interrupted himself. There’s nothing particularly secretive about this fool’s errand. Why hide it from Ginny? What is it that I’m missing?
“I know, Minerva, I know,” Harry said. His voice sounded almost miserable. “It’s just not fair, is it? After everything … well, we’ve been down that road before, haven’t we? It’d be nice to see him take his rightful place here.”
“Yes, Harry, it would,” Minerva said softly. “Hopefully, one day that will happen. But,” she said more briskly, “it’s almost time for class. I trust you can show yourself out after all these years?”
“Of course, sure,” Harry replied. Severus heard the scrape of his chair as he stood.
“Well, then. Until next time.” Minerva wished him a good day, and the grind of the stone stairwell told Severus she’d gone. A few moments and what sounded like a sandwich later, Harry had as well.
Severus waited a full ten minutes before he felt sure that the office was empty. Quickly, he Flooed back to his office to set the next stage of his investigation in motion.
***
Two days later, Harry walked through the door of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade carrying a small bag. Looking around, he spied Severus sitting alone in a private room in the back and walked over.
“Mr. McGuffin, I presume?” Harry asked eagerly, holding out his hand.
Rising, Severus accepted his hand. It was surprisingly strong, only somewhat calloused from work. Circumspectly, he looked the other man over. Harry’s shoulders had broadened, but he maintained a trim, Quidditch-ready physique. His hair had tamed only somewhat, his glasses were remarkably in one piece, and his scar had faded until it was barely visible. Harry Potter had in fact turned into quite the handsome young man. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Mr. Potter. How lovely to meet you in person. Do have a seat. Would you care for lunch?”
“No, no, thanks, I’ve eaten, though please do help yourself,” Harry said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve been looking forward to this conversation for quite some time. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“Not at all,” Severus replied. “We have quite a bit of privacy back here; no one will disturb us, so we may talk freely. You said you were interested in one of my frames?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “You see, all of the frames that house the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts come from your company. Well,” Harry paused, flushing and coughing a bit awkwardly. “I’m sure you know that already. But what you might not have known is that in the five years since the war, one of your frames has sat empty on the wall in Professor McGonagall’s office.”
Severus took a sip of his water and nodded, gesturing for Harry to continue.
“You may have heard that Severus Snape was fully exonerated after the war,” Harry said in a bit of a rush. “He was a headmaster of Hogwarts, albeit for a short time, but in all the time since his death, his portrait has never appeared. The castle has been thoroughly examined, along with anything formerly belonging to Professor Snape, but we’ve found nothing. Nothing except the empty frame. And so I come to you to find out if there might be anything you could tell us, anything that might be … faulty, or amiss, or damaged.”
“I see. That is a most intriguing story,” Severus said. “You did bring the frame with you, did you not?”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry said. Reaching down into the bag, he withdrew the gilded frame and placed it carefully on the table between them.
Severus smiled inwardly. Ginny Potter had surely missed her opportunity in Slytherin House; he would have to remember to ask her how she managed to explain the frame’s absence in a way that allowed her to sneak it back into Harry’s office on Severus’ orders. Outwardly, though, he showed no signs of amusement. Instead, he reached out, strangely anxious to touch the wooden frame once more. At his touch, the frame warmed, its magic resonating with his pulse.
He made a pretense of examining the frame, scrutinizing it with both eye and wand. “I see nothing immediately amiss, Mr. Potter,” he began.
Harry sighed loudly, shoving his hands through his hair. “But there must be … something, Mr. McGuffin, sir. Please, anything you might be able to tell me will be helpful, I know it.”
Severus stilled his hands on the warm wood. “Why, if I may ask, is this so important to you?”
“I don’t—I can’t explain it,” Harry said miserably. “He just deserves this. It’s the least I can do, after all. He shouldn’t be forgotten or ignored.”
Severus paused, looking at Harry. “So this obsession has less to do with my frame, and more to do with the person who should be housed in it,” he stated.
“On some level, yes,” Harry answered honestly, looking Severus in the eye.
“Do you think this person would appreciate your pity?” Severus asked in a coldly neutral tone.
“I don’t pity him!” Harry retorted, green eyes flashing as he glared at Severus. “He should have his portrait hung with honor alongside all of the other former Heads of Hogwarts. He deserves that recognition, for all that he did for me and for everyone else. He lived for so long in the shadows that I for one would appreciate getting the chance to finally get to know him for himself, to put the past behind us and spend time with him as adults, without the danger of being caught.”
Severus was mesmerized by Harry’s eyes. Even after all these years, their greenness was still off-putting. “Is that why you kept your little side project from your wife, then?” he asked.
“Wha–wait, what did you just say?” Harry looked at Severus cautiously, hand inching closer to his wand. “How did you know that?”
“I know many things, Mr. Potter,” Severus said softly, holding Harry’s gaze. “I know you have been spending an inordinate amount of time at Hogwarts lately, enough to convince your wife that you are having an extramarital affair. I know you have been stubbornly attempting to ascertain why this frame has hung empty on a wall for five years, and that you have asked every question possible of the Aurors, the castle, the frame, even the frame-maker.” Severus’s lips twitched. “But you have failed to ask the one question you should have asked at the very start.”
Harry had paled, his hands limp on the table. “And what might that be?” he asked quietly.
“Typical dunderhead,” Severus replied, but without rancor. “A portrait can only appear in a magical frame if the person it represents has actually joined the deceased. Did anyone ever actually verify that Severus Snape had died?”
“Severus …” Harry whispered woodenly.
Severus nodded once. “Well, well. It seems your powers of deduction have only marginally increased since leaving Hogwarts.” With a wave of his hand, he wordlessly removed the Glamour Charm.
“But I—you’re here,” Harry mouthed, a smile twitching at one corner of his mouth. Suddenly he looked up at Severus and beamed, eyes sparkling. “You’re here. You’re not dead.”
“Well spotted,” Severus agreed. “Now, Mr. Potter. Will you be so kind as to tell me the real reason you have wasted months of your life trying to get me to appear in McGonagall’s office instead of spending it in bed with your wife?”
“Because I—” Harry broke off, looking away and flushing most attractively. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. At first it was a puzzle, a curiosity. We all thought you were dead. Your portrait should have appeared, but the castle had gone through so much when it was being rebuilt that we thought some of the magical things were just a bit delayed. But as time went on, it just … it just didn’t seem right. It rankled. And then, the more I thought about it, the more I found I wasn’t just thinking about your missing portrait. I was thinking about you. I think in some way I always have, I just didn’t know it. It distracted me. From everything, not just Ginny. I just kept wondering what it would be like to get to know you, the real you,” he finished with a determined whisper.
Severus smirked. Well. Would wonders never cease, he thought to himself. Harry Potter, the Boy who Lusted. If they could, James and Lily would die all over again. He had to admit, though, that he had never truly despised Harry, and after a while had developed a certain respect for him. The young man in front of him had come to surprise him over the years; this was certainly an unexpected, but not an entirely unwelcome, development.
Reaching out, Severus placed a hand on Harry’s, noting with well-hidden interest how Harry’s pulse raced at his touch, how he colored slightly just below his ears. “You wish to get to know the real me, do you, Harry Potter?” Severus asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” Harry answered. “Very much.”
“I have been many things in my life,” Severus continued, his thumb stroking the underside of Harry’s wrist, his eyes never breaking their gaze. “But I have never been an adulterer. If you wish to develop an acquaintance with me, I am amenable to that. If, however, you wish to pursue this … infatuation, you will not do so behind your wife’s back. Is that understood?”
Harry winced, his eyes dropping to the table for a second before returning Severus’s scrutiny. “Understood,” he said firmly.
“Then we are agreed,” Severus said. Restoring his Glamour Charm, he rose quickly. “You may return that frame to Minerva whenever you wish. You may assure her, if you wish, that I will eventually take up residence there; of that I am certain. I needn’t have to ask you not to disclose my status amongst the living to anyone, with the exception of your wife, if she can refrain from blathering about it. In the meantime, shall we say dinner in my office on Friday?”
Harry grinned and stood with Severus, who was already walking away in a familiar whirl of black cloak. “But wait—I don’t know where your office is,” he said.
Without looking back, Severus called over his shoulder. “Ask your wife; she knows where to find me.”
Imagining Harry’s puzzled look, Severus’s lips twitched in a mischievous smile. Stepping out into the brisk air, he lit another cigarette and took a long pull, watching the smoke mingle with his frigid breath. As he turned to Disapparate, he thought to himself in satisfaction, Another case solved. And this time, I get both the man and the fee. Happy Christmas to me, indeed.