Author's Note: This story is the third part of a trilogy. If you have not read the first, Past Imperfect, and the second, Present Imperfect, you won't know who some of the characters are, or what's different in this very alternate universe. The story is completely written, but I'm going to post it by chapter so I can revise and polish it a bit more as I go. As with my last story, I am blessed to have two very fine writers, turtlewexler and Fragilereality, as beta readers.
Chapter 1: Prologue
"LUCIUS MALFOY! HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT'S IN THE PROPHET? SEVERUS AND I NEED TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT NOW! OUR QUARTERS. HOGWARTS. NOW!"
It's been some years since Lucius has been woken with a Howler. The last time was about ten years ago when his lunatic sister-in-law Bellatrix, newly released from Azkaban, sent a screaming rant to Cissy accusing her of stealing some hideous tiara that belonged to Walburga. As though Cissy would wear a circlet of snakes devouring one another's tails. Honestly.
Fortunately Cissy isn't here to be awakened by Hermione shrieking like a banshee. Scorpius's wife Aurélie is having yet another baby (she's a distant cousin to the Weasleys) and Cissy is there as she has been for all the others. Five so far. Merlin. Is the woman trying to put him in the poor house? Draco laughed when Lucius said that, but one of the reasons the Malfoys have stayed rich over so many generations has been by having small families. This French Weaslette seems determined to undo centuries of fiscal responsibility in a single generation.
Lucius turns the shower on and steps under the hot spray. He wonders idly what's got Hermione's knickers in a twist, but not enough to sit down to breakfast and the Prophet without showering, shaving, and dressing first. He isn't a savage.
He is knotting his cravat when the second Howler comes. "LUCIUS! STOP FIXING YOUR BLOODY HAIR AND GET YOUR VAIN ARSE OVER HERE!"
Lucius laughs out loud at this one. Draco really did dodge a bullet with that harpy. He said as much to Severus once – which was neither chivalrous nor tactful – but Severus only smirked and said that her temper came with some compensating fringe benefits.
He takes one more look in the mirror to make sure not one gleaming platinum hair is out of place, then heads down to the breakfast room. He knows it isn't anything too serious, or Severus would have sent a Patronus or floo called.
The Prophet is folded next to his plate at the table, but he takes a sip of his coffee before picking it up, and then another. Finally, his curiosity gets the better of his perverse desire to see if he can wring one more Howler out of a hysterical Hermione, and he opens the paper.
MALFOY MIDLIFE CRISIS! the headline proclaims. The photo, taking up most of the front page above the fold, shows a tall, fair-haired wizard and a black-haired witch in dress robes standing on a balcony overlooking the Seine. The photographer must be on the next balcony over. The wizard says something and the witch looks up at him, her dark eyes smoldering, and he takes her in his arms. Capturing her lips in a searing kiss, he crushes her to him as her hands fist in his platinum hair. The scene repeats in an endless loop, witch and wizard devouring one another first with eyes and then mouths, again and again.
Oh.
The patriarch of House Malfoy, a lineage formerly free of both excessive heirs and scandals, takes one more sip of coffee, looks regretfully at his untouched croissant and eggs, and Apparates to Hogwarts.