Warnings: Language. Mild violence of a comedic nature.

A/N: This story, which appeared in the 2015 Severus Fest on Livejournal, was based on a pictorial prompt featuring Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape in the roles of Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones from the first Men in Black movie When I saw it, I was inspired to write my first crossover story. It is complete in four chapters, so dive right in. All my love to Teddyradiator and Bearoftone for their encouragement.

This is a work of fanfiction. No money is being made.

-o0o-

The Ministry personnel clerk sitting across from Severus Snape kept her head down for an inordinately long time, writing nonsense words and pretending to look engrossed. Severus fought the urge to hex her. She had no business putting on an act with him; the Ministry job that was on the line was hardly a bargain. No one in their right mind would want it: the pay was laughably bad and the assigned duties were so dull as to shrivel one's cerebral cortex from disuse. He had already had the privilege of being turned down for jobs far more interesting and lucrative than this one.

The interviewer finally looked up and sighed gamely. "Right, then, there's just one last question for you, Mr. Snape." She read off her page. "'Why do you hope to work as Chief Records Clerk for the Department of Magical Equipment Control?'"

As she sat with her quill poised to record his every golden word, he took a deep breath and, for one mad moment, contemplated going against ingrained habit and telling her the bald-faced truth. Madam, if you must know, I am a forty-something ex-spy with no money and no prospects. My previous position was professor at Hogwarts. In fact, I was your professor, a fact you undoubtedly remember. One of my former employers was a megalomaniac who manipulated events with almost no regard for the lives he affected. The other was Lord Voldemort.

After the war and a lengthy convalescence, I was acquitted for my part in certain events, but the Board of Governors, in its infinite wisdom, would not see fit to renew my contract at Hogwarts. I was, as they say, made redundant. From that time to this, I've been barely scraping by on a pitiful Ministry stipend. And why? Because, madam, I am toxic, and no one will hire me.

Looking at the doubt in the eye of his interviewer, Severus knew, even without Occlumency, that this department would be no exception. Suddenly, he was fed up with the woman, the interview, the whole Ministry. He let out the breath he was holding and stood up. "Madam, this position is no longer of interest to me," he said with as much dignity as he could muster. "I believe I've wasted enough of your valuable time. Good day."

He bowed before showing himself out of the office, striding down the hall as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. There was no point in returning to the Personnel office to see if any other positions were open. It was time to think of something else. Perhaps—

He rounded a corner and crashed into a witch carrying a gigantic box. They both fell down in a tangled heap while the box flew out of her hands, scattering pamphlets every which way. Workers laughed or tsked as they carefully stepped around the collision site, while Severus stood up and awkwardly began helping the young witch to her feet.

"Thank you, sir. Oh, no," she groaned when she looked around. "What a mess."

"My apologies, miss," said Severus. "Allow me." He pulled out his wand and gave a flick. Pamphlets began to drift back into the box.

"No harm done, except maybe to my dignity," replied the woman ruefully, looking down as she brushed off her robes. "I mean, what was I thinking, carrying this box by hand? I should know better—" When she raised her eyes to his face, her smile turned into a look of surprise. "Professor Snape!" she cried.

He looked at her face more closely. "Surely it's not Hermione Granger?"

"The very same," she replied with a smile. "How are you, sir? I haven't seen you since … well, not for years."

She offered her hand again, this time in greeting, and he held it for a shade longer than was proper. They easily fell into conversation there in the hallway, and before long, he found himself inviting her to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. Over tea and sandwiches, he told her the story of surviving a near-fatal injury during the war, thanks to the timely arrival of Poppy Pomfrey and Neville Longbottom, who discovered him in the Shrieking Shack, close to death. She cleared her throat at that, and tried to apologize for something or other, but he found he did not want to hear it, whatever it was; he waved her explanations away and steered the conversation to that of her life and her career track.

"Well, there isn't much to tell," she laughed. "I work for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures now, but I don't like my job." Severus dourly contemplated the irony of a world where he was perpetually unemployed while others served in positions they felt they could do without.

Hermione stirred a fresh cup of tea. "I mean, I wish I did like it. I'm the deputy director, but don't let the title fool you. I have no power over policy, much as I'd like it. Any changes I wish to make involve so many committee meetings, Wizengamot hearings, red tape and paperwork, it's not worth it. I basically do odd jobs the director doesn't want. Here! Look how busy and important I am." She had brought along one of her pamphlets to show him. On the front was a drawing of a little creature with large eyes. "There have been all these sightings of a creature no one's ever heard of before. I drew a composite picture and printed these pamphlets to distribute in the Lake District." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Next, they'll send me to the Arctic to look for Bigfoot."

All in all, Severus was charmed by Hermione Granger. In the years since the war ended, she had become a young woman of quick wit, with the sort of ease of manner Severus had always admired because he did not possess it himself. He was impressed with the way she had learned how to laugh at herself and at the Wizarding world. Also, she was unattached, and she seemed to have time for him. By the time the check came (for which he insisted on paying, though it nearly emptied his wallet, not that he let on), he was well on his way to being in lust with her.

However, he had no intention of making a move in that direction. Experience had taught him no woman of Hermione Granger's caliber would ever fancy an older man who had fallen as far down the social ladder as he had. It was only a matter of time before she forgot him and went on her way; for the sake of dignity, he wanted to be the first to do the forgetting. So after lunch ended and he escorted her back to the Ministry atrium, he made his polite good-byes.

"Thank you for coming out with me. It was very enjoyable," he said sincerely. "I won't soon forget your idea of casting Minister Shacklebolt as an American film action hero, though I rather see him as a swashbuckling pirate, not a Jedi knight."

Hermione gave a peal of laughter and assured him she had had a good time as well. Severus bent and kissed her hand with a flourish, then turned and walked to the Floos. Time spent in the company of a pretty woman had revived his spirit and renewed his sense of purpose. Severus Snape was determined to find his place in wizarding Britain. If he could not scrounge a public service job, he would start looking for a business investor. And he knew just where to begin.

-o0o-

The war had changed everything for Lucius Malfoy. Once, he had been the scion of a powerful, influential family. Now he was alone, knocking about a huge, empty house that was as useless as he had become. He had barely avoided a life sentence in prison, yet it was as if he had placed himself under voluntary house arrest. Day after day, he roamed restlessly through a mansion that had once been a seat of power; now it was little more than a mausoleum for terrible memories.

No one trusted him; no one wanted to be seen with him. He had long since been removed from the Board of Governors at Hogwarts. Ministry officials did not value his counsel, and his influence had dried up. As for the Malfoy family fortune, it had dwindled to nearly nothing; in his quest for power, he had drained is accounts in the service of a tyrant. Now he had no special acquaintances, almost no friends. He was the last, dying breath of an era that valued the purity of blood above all.

He had thought his life was over…

"… until Wednesday," said Lucius in conclusion, "when something extraordinary happened to me."

"Oh? And what was that?" asked Severus absently. It was the day after his aborted job interview. His attention was only half on Lucius Malfoy's maudlin introspection, most of which he had already heard before. Instead, his mind dwelled on the delectable Hermione Granger. Severus turned the pamphlet she had given him in his fingers, daydreaming.

Lucius, who sat in an adjoining chair, regarded Severus over his tented fingers. "I don't believe you've been paying attention at all," he observed.

"I have," Severus objected. "Last week I heard that Narcissa has chosen to … extend her stay in France," he said delicately, "to help Draco and his bride settle in. It doesn't surprise me you've been at loose ends for a while." Severus diplomatically neglected to mention the snide remarks in Pansy Parkinson's gossip column, or the half-dozen or so drunken Floo calls placed to Severus' home in the past year. Lucius was his friend, and friends overlooked such things unless tactically necessary.

Uneasily, he eyed the pensieve, which had been moved out of its customary cabinet and lay waiting, shimmering, on the library table. Severus knew perfectly well what was coming. Lucius wanted to show him something—a memory. But first, for whatever reason, Lucius felt it necessary to build the suspense, such as it was. Severus stifled a yawn and glanced at Hermione's pamphlet again.

Have you seen this creature? demanded the title.

Oh, yes, he thought. And would like to see her again, more's the pity.

Lucius regarded him steadily, without the rancor that might usually be stirred up after having been ignored. The look he leveled at him was unsettling, and Severus again wondered what was brewing.

"Perhaps it is time, as they say, to show rather than tell." Lucius stood abruptly and gestured Severus toward the table where the pensieve lurked, its silver depths quivering with dark potential.

Here it was at last. Severus stayed where he was. "Show me what, exactly?" he asked.

Lucius sketched a smile. "Something … unusual."

With a mistrustful look, Severus stood and crossed the room to the table. He stepped forward and dipped his head carefully—

—and came face-to-face with a huge, bug-eyed monster that stood upon four legs; its massive arms, claws extended, reaching for Severus while it bared its fangs … three impossible rows of fangs … and lunged straight for him.

Severus jerked his head out of the pensieve. "Holy fuck!" He staggered back, arms pinwheeling, until he knocked against a shelf and fell to the floor in a pile of fallen books. "What the bloody hell was that?"

Lucius delicately adjusted the ascot at his throat. "Do I have your attention now?" he asked.

-o0o-

He helped Severus to his chair and plied him with a large brandy to steady his nerves. It took more than a few gulps before Severus found his voice. "What the bloody hell was that thing?" he demanded. "Did you see that thing? Is that your memory? Did you witness—?" He clamped his lips together to keep from babbling like a third-year. Drawing a deep breath, he straightened his coat and looked the other man in the eye. "Lucius, has that memory been tampered with?"

Lucius frowned and his lip curled in distaste. "I'm insulted. This is Malfoy Manor, not a flea circus. It is my memory, and it is genuine, I assure you. What you saw was an authentic … erm, creature." He smiled. "When you're ready, I'd like you to see the rest. Certain events will be easier to discuss with you if you review the rest of this memory firsthand." He helped Severus to his feet again. "Have you recovered your wits yet?"

"Yes." Annoyed, Severus shrugged off the solicitous hand.

"Then come along." Lucius gestured at the pensieve. "This time, I'll join you and explain along the way."

Severus' first impulse was to say no. He was sure he had just been the victim of a prank of the sort concocted by a bored, housebound man. He was reluctant to let it happen again—Lucius was smirking enough already. But curiosity won out over pride. Without a word, he took a step to the bowl, took a deep breath and entered the pensieve again.

Lucius was as good as his word, taking his place by Severus' side at once. This time, Severus managed to take in the fact they were standing in a forest full of old-growth oak and elm trees so densely populous, they all but blocked the sun overhead. However, he spied the manor through a small break in the trees, providing much-needed orientation. They were on Malfoy land.

In the gloom, the creature was even taller than before, now that it had extended its backward-jointed legs to full height. The arms ended in hands with long, sharp claws. And the rows of teeth below maleficent, yellow bug eyes … Severus noted he had counted correctly: three rows, long ones. He shuddered.

Then the creature opened its mouth more fully and roared. Only Lucius' hand on his arm kept Severus from leaping out of the memory a second time.

"Steady, old boy," murmured Lucius.

From behind them, the Lucius Malfoy belonging in this memory stepped into view. This Lucius' initial reaction was gratifyingly human, Severus noted smugly. But a second later, smugness turned to grudging admiration: memory-Lucius had pulled his wand and began throwing hexes with lightning speed. At first, wand fire merely bounced off the tough green hide, seeming only to cause the creature more anger than pain. But at last a stray bolt entered the creature's open mouth, where it seemed to hit a vulnerable spot. The creature was flung backwards with a cry, crashed against an elm and fell to the forest floor.

A new voice spoke from behind them. "Now that," it said, "was bloody brilliant."

Memory-Lucius whirled, wand at the ready. From behind a tree stepped a Muggle in an ordinary black suit and tie. In his own way, the new man was as appalling a presence as the unconscious monster at their feet, for no Muggle had set foot on Malfoy land since Roman times.

"Where did you come from?" demanded memory-Lucius.

"Belfast," replied the Muggle calmly. He nudged one of the four legs with the point of a black shoe.

The man's reserve seemed to make Lucius angrier. "You are trespassing," he snarled, "and the punishment for such behavior is severe. I don't know how you managed to make your way onto this property, but—"

"It's funny, but you actually seem angrier at me than this fellow. Very unusual, for a civilian. I like that. Too bad you won't remember a thing about it in a few minutes." He pulled what looked like a brass cigarette case out of his suit coat, opened it, and spoke into it without preamble. "This is Agent Green. I'm going to need a containment team at Sector 882-29-H, and bring a plasma cage, size eight." He eyed the immobilized mound again. "Better make it a nine." He signed off and stepped before Lucius, whose wand was steadily trained on the Muggle. Lucius sneered.

"Place your hands where I can see them and explain yourself at once," he ordered.

"Or you'll poke me with a stick? Dearie me." Agent Green raised nothing but his eyebrows. "You're looking for answers, boy-o, and you know what? I don't blame you one bit." From his breast pocket, he pulled a metal wand of some sort. It was silver and tipped with a tiny red light. Briskly, the Muggle flicked open a pair of dark glasses and put them on. "The answer to all your questions may be found … right … here."

But the sneering memory-Lucius, who had evidently interpreted the other man's actions as threatening, slashed upward with his wand and cried "Expelliarmus!" Agent Green's wand jerked out of his hand and spun end over end until Lucius caught it deftly. Both men stood staring. Agent Green was the first to recover.

"So that's how it is! What are you doing in an unauthorized sector, boy-o? Don't go anywhere. I'll need to see your license and registration." He spoke into his metal box again. "Headquarters, we have an unregistered alien in Sector 882. Send a containment unit and—"

"If you are referring to me, I can assure you, I am neither unregistered, nor am I an alien," Lucius informed him. "I am a pureblood."

"'Course you are." Agent Green studied Lucius from head to toe, taking in his frock coat, embroidered waistcoat, buttoned trousers and boots. "Nice outfit there, Mr. Dickens," he remarked with a smirk. "Next time, study the century you're slated to visit before you land. Where do you hail from, Pureblood? Sirius? You sure look like Sirius."

Severus winced in sympathy for the clueless Muggle. It was the final insult. Lucius' Stunner knocked the agent backwards and he crashed into a tree and fell to the ground, just as the crew from Headquarters arrived. They were armed with peculiar guns that shot green rays instead of bullets. Before memory-Lucius could Apparate, he was overwhelmed and fell unconscious on the forest floor before the surroundings turned opaquely black.

"That's the end," said the real Lucius beside Severus, and they ascended out of the pensieve together.

Back in his library chair, Severus shook his head, amazed in spite of himself. "What happened afterward?" he asked. He accepted the glass Lucius handed him, but did not drink.

"The next morning, I found myself lying on a sofa here at home. They had retrieved that silver wand I took from the Muggle agent. In my pocket was a card." Lucius reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a plain white business card. "I am to visit this address at noon tomorrow." He tapped the card with his wand and an identical card joined the first, which he handed to Severus. "And I want you to come with me."

Severus frowned at the card. "What the hell is MIB?"

"I have no earthly idea."

"Well then, what do you believe you'll find there?"

"Opportunity!" replied Lucius earnestly.

"You're joking." Apart from the intimidatingly large creature from the pensieve, the thought of Lucius Malfoy venturing into London on a Muggle's errand was the most surprising idea of the whole day.

"Severus, weren't you listening to me at all? I'm so fucking sick of this house, this life. What's the use of preserving blood status when your own blood can no longer bear to live in the same country as you? I'm sick of looking into the faces of my former colleagues and seeing nothing but my old choices reflected back at me. I want to be a new man, with a new challenge, and this might be it." He clapped a hand on Severus' shoulder as if to say, I know you feel the same.

And Merlin help him, he did.

Still full of misgivings, Severus tucked the card in his pocket.