Who: Rabastan and Severus What: Rabbit's hatching a plan; he needs some advice from Severus as to the technical aspects When: Evening of Wednesday 17 April Where: Muggle pub (The Red Lion) somewhere in London Warnings: Occasional language, plotting of nefarious doings, ordinary beer and other pub accessories
The Red Lion, as far as Rabbit could see, had absolutely nothing to distinguish it from any other Muggle pub. Same moderately ordinary range of beers on shiny taps, same slightly sticky carpet and cardboard-coaster strewn tables, same interminable Muggle football playing on the large television screen to the varied acclaim and dismay of the patrons.
Of course, Rabbit had picked this establishment entirely for its generic normality, and the correspondingly low likelihood of there being anyone present who might have cause to wonder what he and Severus Snape had to talk about. At this hour, slotting in between when Snape knocked off work and when Rabbit would have to go in for his night shift, the pub was moderately busy, but not unbearably so, and Rabbit blended in just fine in his jeans and t-shirt, coat slung over another of the stools at the table. As he waited, he sipped at his pint of lager and idly considered the football. It wasn't quidditch, of course, but it wasn't so bad.
Pubs- Muggle or otherwise- were not typically Severus’ idea of a place to unwind after work. They were loud, sometimes crowded, and the smell was generally just this side of repulsive; not that Severus pointed that out often. It was the sort of observation that led to cracks about the size of his nose, and the shine on those jokes had worn off sometime around… oh, the first time he’d heard one.
Still, Severus would begrudgingly admit that locations like this one had their uses. No one would be listening in on their business if they were wrapped up in the dubious pleasures of a match on the telly.
Fresh from work, dressed in a dark shirt and trousers, Severus slunk into the pub without anyone noticing him at all. That suited him well enough, though it did mean having to wait a moment at the bar for someone to spot that he needed serving. Pint finally collected, he stepped around a pair of mates arguing half-heartedly about darts and pulled up a stool across from Rabbit’s. “Slumming it tonight?” He drawled, single brow arching in question.
Rabbit lifted an eyebrow right back. "This is my regular," he responded, his expression a perfect rendition of mildly affronted for approximately three seconds, before it dissolved into laughter. "Honestly," he continued, turning his pint glass on its little stained cardboard coaster, "this place is much too boring to call it slumming. But it suits the purpose. Thanks for meeting me."
The noise Severus made in response could best be described as a snort, just this side of derisive, though he did lift his pint to acknowledge the joke. Such as it was, anyway. “I can never resist an academic exercise,” he replied with a shrug. The invitation had been vague. Something about the particulars of something, most likely of a nefarious nature. These things always were. They didn’t dabble in much else, these days.
Anyway, it was more intellectually stimulating than dicing slugs, which had occupied a great deal of the afternoon. The bar was set low. Even if all they did was bat around hypothetical situations, Severus would qualify it as a success.
Rabbit's mouth twisted. "Yeah, well, with the Old Boys all in a tizzy about not rewarding initiative and reckless fucking abandon and blah blah whatever, academic exercises are all we're left with." He lifted an eyebrow, and his beer for a casual sip, and only then added, "And following orders, of course."
Orders. Right. Severus had gotten this far largely by keeping his head down and doing as directed, even though it wasn’t quite in his nature to fall in line with authority. Especially when the authority had shifted in a direction that he questioned, if only in the privacy of his own thoughts. He wasn’t sold on the current leadership structure, but neither was he in much position to do a damned thing about it.
“Cheers,” he murmured, dour, and took a slightly too-large swallow of his drink. “In the spirit of caution and adhering to the rules from on high, what is it we’re discussing entirely in hypotheticals, anyway?”
Rabbit grinned at Severus, wide and cheery and possibly not at all reassuring. "I was curious as to whether it would be possible--hypothetically, theoretically, just satisfying my idle curiosity--to make modifications to a potions ingredient that would go unnoticed during the process, but lead to untoward side effects in the final product."
Lucky for Rabbit, Severus wasn’t looking for reassurance. He wouldn’t buy it, anyway. Instead, he cocked his head to one side, measuring, and hummed a long, basso note of consideration. “In theory,” he said, after a beat, “Yes. There are a number of… we’ll call them volatile ingredients… that are changeable on their own, never mind with human influence. They’ve been blamed for any number of hiccups in end products.”
Nasty things, too. Part of the challenge, Severus supposed. He did enjoy trying to beat the odds.
"Those sound like the sorts of things that might get rigorously tested beforehand to try and reduce the likelihood of fuck-ups," Rabbit noted. That was certainly how he'd do it. Then again, what did he know? He'd never been that interested in potions, preferring the alchemy of people to substances. "Especially in a situation where the quality of the product needed to be relied on, like--" He shrugged, as though hunting for an example, and coming up with: "Mungos, for instance. What about taking a more trusted ingredient and making it volatile?"
“Accounting for variables is critical, but sometimes it’s all too easy for mistakes to happen,” Severus remarked, idly. Carelessness was an enemy to Severus’ chosen profession, but. That wasn’t to say accidents couldn’t be manufactured to look careless. That was a trick he could get behind, actually.
And maybe a trick he’d employed in school, once or twice. Slip something into a cauldron when a classmate was gossiping or making moon eyes at another classmate, and. Well. Oops.
He considered the example, which in no way appeared as randomly pulled from the air as Rabbit would probably like, and made a thoughtful noise. “Could be done. Timing would matter a great deal, though.”
"There, of course, lies the challenge," Rabbit noted, still conversational and slumped on his school with a faint--and possibly unconscious--smile quirking at his mouth. This was all casual and theoretical, after all. "The closer to the end product you get, the greater the scrutiny, whereas when the raw ingredients are warehoused or in transit, meddling would be easier but possibly less effective. What would be your preference?" That smile quirked a little more. "Hypothetically speaking."
“Hypothetically,” Severus drawled, long fingers ticking over a coaster, shredding pieces of it from the edges, “If we’re still on the topic of Mungo’s… just as an example…” He paused, the tick of an eyebrow betraying something like amusement, “I’d suggest tampering with the ingredients. They do a lot of their preparation and brewing in house, so it’s even more difficult to impact their end product. The only things they farm out are those they need in quantity, and those tend to be your more generic potions and salves.”
Rabbit drummed his fingers against the edge of the table as he turned all that over in his mind, considering angles, options, resources, intersections with other objectives--and smiled. "There are a number of restricted ingredients that are imported chiefly for Mungos use, aren't there? They store them somewhere in the Ministry, making use of the greater security." Greater, that is, unless you happened to have ways it could perhaps be got around. Rabbit tilted his head and asked, "Is this tampering the sort of thing you could provide instructions regarding?"
“There are,” Severus answered, nodding. Black market sales worked around a lot of restrictions, but the quantity that the hospital needed meant they had special dispensation for quite a few ingredients that no one else could get their hands on without risk. Severus worked around that as best he could, but Mulpepper’s dabbled in… less-than-legal potions anyway.
The question didn’t come as a surprise, considering the direction of their conversation. “I could… though it would likely be easier to demonstrate.” Easier, less likely to create a paper trail, whichever. Both.
"Easiest of all to do it yourself," Rabbit suggested, offhand and smirking. An inclusive smirk, for once, like he was extending an invitation to something harmless and wicked. Though a moment later he shrugged, leaning back a little. "Though I appreciate the risk isn't everyone's cup of tea. It's fine. Demonstration would be fine."
The suggestion presented something of a dilemma, Severus would admit. On the one hand, it felt very much like the sort of freedom he hadn’t been allowed much yet, an extension of trust that said someone recognized he was capable of doing a thing and didn’t need to be monitored like a bloody first year to get it done. On the other hand, there was risk if he were to be caught.
Then again, there had been risk for a while. This was just a different facet of it.
“If you’ve a way to gain the access I’d need,” he said, after a beat of weighing his options, “I could be persuaded away from academic exercise and into something a bit more tangible.” The bare hint of an answering smirk pulled up one corner of his mouth.
"Good man," Rabbit declared approvingly, and lifted his beer a fraction toward Severus before taking a swig. "I'll see what I can arrange."