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Lucius hardly spoke over their luncheon, and Severus was concerned and more than a bit apprehensive. The last time he'd seen his friend so lost in thought, or plot, as appeared to be the case, they'd had a new Minister of Magic the following week, and the Deputy Undersecretary was serving a hard labour sentence in Azkaban. It's true, the Weasley woman's non-disclosure form had put something of a wrinkle in their plans to expose her as a fraud, but so had the woman's open, charming manner. Clearly, Lucius still hoped to bring her to her knees, but Severus was intrigued by the woman's claims and was frankly quite curious what sort of woman she would match him with. Bringing about the result he desired would involve subtlety, subterfuge, and quite possibly allowing Lucius the lion's share of the cucumber sandwiches.

Severus took a cucumber sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before commenting, "I am under the distinct impression that the Weasley woman was not completely forthright with me."

"Don't you mean Hermione?" asked Lucius with an ill-tempered sneer.

Lucius had definitely been listening at the door. He couldn't have heard much during the time it had taken Hermione's assistant to prepare tea, but it didn't pay to take chances. Severus responded with a snort. "If you like. She claims her methods aren't proprietary, but made us both sign forms and refused to do any work in front of me. To me, this indicates that she is not being truthful."

Lucius narrowed his eyes in thought. "Interesting," he said, not giving anything away. "What do you propose we do about it?"

"The most conservative course of action would be to play along as if we accepted her assurances and were continuing with her service in the hope that a solution would present itself. She may be clever, but she's bound to slip up eventually, especially if she insists on being so insufferably familiar."

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Intelligence-gathering will be somewhat harder via owl, will it not?"

"There are any number of legitimate-sounding reasons for us to pay another visit," said Severus testily. "Or perhaps just me. Yes, that might achieve better results."

Lucius frowned. "Don't you think an alliance against your common 'enemy' might put her more at ease in your company?"

Severus felt a cold feeling settle in his stomach. Lucius suspected something was amiss if he was going to insist on being present at all of their meetings.

"Perhaps," he said, adding a frown of his own for good measure.

Lucius took a muffin from the tray and neatly bisected it with his knife. "What was your impression of the woman, Severus?"

Severus covered a nervous swallow by taking a sip of tea. "I really didn't have much of one," he said carefully. "She's older, of course, and the war obviously took something of a toll on her. She doesn't seem quite as anxious to prove herself as she once was, but she remains the same as she ever was in essentials."

"Really?" asked Lucius sharply. "You didn't notice anything in particular about her?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you could possibly mean," said Severus, hoping to throw Lucius off whatever scent he was pursuing.

The agitated manner in which Lucius buttered his crumpet belied his calming words. "I don't mean anything in particular, my dear Severus. Now, the woman will be sending you information on some potential mates over the next few days. If you give her conflicting feedback on your preferences, then she will have no choice but to insist on another face-to-face meeting so that she may further assess you. As I am the one who is paying for the service, your dissatisfaction with her recommendations will provide me ample reason to insist on being present."

"Very well," said Severus, rising abruptly. It was always better for Lucius to think that he was storming out rather than hastily retreating. "I will call on you tomorrow when I receive the first batch of aspiring Snapes."

"See that you do," said Lucius. "And Severus? The next time we see the widow Weasley, you would be well advised to pay closer attention to her person, since you will be in a position superior to mine for assessing her."

Severus didn't bother gracing this with a response. He tossed his serviette on the table and left through the garden. As he trudged the easy distance back to his house, he mulled over Lucius's words. He was unable to come up with a plausible reason for Lucius's request to pay attention to Hermione's "person." He had noticed her pleasingly trim and well-tailored figure, certainly, and that her hair was cut short in an impish style that set off her dimples to perfection. But surely Lucius had noticed that himself. What on earth had he meant?

His musings were cut short by the sight of a tidily-wrapped brown parcel on his doorstep. He was surprised to find that it contained dozens of files on prospective matches. Hermione hadn't been exaggerating about his being a hot commodity. He changed into his warm slippers, poured himself a cup of tea, fetched his long-neglected grading quill, and began to read, making careful notes as he went.

Those who used extraneous apostrophes in their applications were immediately rejected.

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The following day found Lucius in far better spirits. Roast beef for dinner and a particularly fine port had gone a long way toward soothing his annoyance with the upstart and her audacious shoes, and a good night's sleep had placed things in proper perspective. Clearly, the woman liked Severus tolerably well, and Severus hadn't treated him to a repeat performance of The Life and Faults of Hermione Weasley, so he can't have disliked her as much as he had expected to. No, his plan to manoeuvre the two into bed together was progressing far more rapidly than he had anticipated. And perhaps Severus could manage to mend bridges between himself and the girl long enough that Lucius could find out where she bought her shoes, since Severus was obviously something of a footwear philistine.

He slid on his sumptuously embroidered Turkish slippers with a sigh and padded to the dining room, where he was surprised to find Severus helping himself to far more than his customary boiled egg and toast.

Lucius eyed Severus's plate, which was overflowing with bacon, eggs, beans, and even a muffin. "Are you feeling well, Severus?" asked Lucius, helping himself to a much daintier amount of food.

"Missed dinner," grunted Severus, who clearly hadn't had any tea yet. "The blasted woman sent over sixty files for me to review yesterday." He shoved a large mouthful of toast and beans into his mouth and chewed with gusto.

"Sixty?" asked Lucius doubtfully, looking at the precipitous pile of paper on his dining room table.

"Sixty from yesterday," corrected Severus. "I winnowed those down to thirty, but then a hundred more arrived this morning that I haven't even begun to look over. You'll want to eat a bit more than that. You've a hard day's work ahead of you."

Lucius opened the file at the top of the pile, and smiled broadly at the Asian beauty in the photograph, who gave him a demure smile in return and promptly folded one leg behind her head. "Work? My dear Severus, this is going to be a pleasure."

"You say that now," returned Severus, who had somehow managed to polish off the eggs and the muffin while he was reviewing the first file. "Wait until you've seen twenty files and tried to eliminate any of them. The whole process is most unscientific. No idea what that woman means by some of these choices."

Lucius was still engrossed in the file he'd selected, and Severus sighed. Lucius was only going to make matters worse.

Seven hours later, Severus had yet to prise the file from Lucius's hands.

"I absolutely refuse to allow that file among my selection. Hermione will think I have only one thing on my mind."

"Now, now, Severus, surely you wouldn't judge any woman based on aesthetics alone."

"I fail to see how I could possibly have anything in common with a contortionist."

"Rheumatism, I'd wager. She is forty, after all."

"No, Lucius."

"Compromise, my dear Severus, is necessary. I've allowed you several women who are clearly unsuitable. Madam Praetorius, for one. She's ninety if she's a day, and looks even older."

"Madam Praetorius is a researcher of the highest calibre," exclaimed Severus hotly. "We should never run out of conversation."

"All you would do is converse with her," countered Lucius. "I will not allow you to bind yourself to a woman to whom you are not the least bit attracted. Not only would it be foolish beyond words, it would also be unfair to the lady. Any partner has a right to expect a certain amount of physical intimacy, and if you couldn't bring yourself to do your husbandly duties, you'd be cuckolded before the year is out."

"Have it your way," snapped Severus, tossing Madam Praetorius into the rejected pile. "I've compromised. Now, be so good as to 'compromise' Miss Ling as well."

"I should be delighted to compromise Miss Ling," said Lucius with a feral smile, "but she was chosen for you, not for me. Leave her in, Severus. It'll make the Weasley woman think you're worldly."

"She'll think I'm a lecher," Severus retorted. "Put the file with the rejects where it belongs."

"Reject the Right Honourable Angora Jumper, and I'll consider it. Unless you plan to take Allergy Potion indefinitely to accommodate your wife's fashion misstatements."

"Judge Hackett is a highly respected ­­­­- bollocks. Fine. Hackett is out. Ling, if you please?"

"You know, Lady Pearl Sticklethwait, isn't at all right for you, either. I can't see you breeding Hinkypunks for pleasure and profit."

"Lucius," began Severus. The vein in his forehead was beginning to throb alarmingly.

"You will include Miss Ling, or you're on your own in sifting through the rest of these women," exclaimed Lucius, who was becoming improbably fond of Miss Ling, for all that she and Severus clearly had nothing in common, other than disliking cats. The woman was American, for Circe's sake. She probably took her tea with cream.

Severus's glare was venomous. "You are trying to make me look foolish in front of Hermione. Why?"

Lucius raised his eyes to the heavens for a moment before answering. "Being attracted to a beautiful woman will not make you look foolish. It will make you look as if you have usable equipment between your legs, which is more than can be said for any of your choices. Ultimately, it's your decision, old friend. Just ask yourself this: would you rather have the Muggleborn think you're quixotic or impotent?"

Severus scowled. "Add Miss Ling to the 'possible' pile."

"Delighted to, old thing," said Lucius, trying to smirk as humbly as possible.

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The following afternoon found them back in Hermione's sterile waiting room, having received an owl requesting a face-to-face meeting to discuss the ten women Severus had selected as his top choices. They were slightly early, and Severus was looking out the window. Lucius was practising his looks of icy hauteur and trying to make the receptionist shift uncomfortably in his chair with only his expression, but the man was either ignoring him or had nerves of steel. Given his employer's sharp wit, Lucius suspected the latter.

Lucius was quite proud of the short list he had threatened and cajoled Severus into compiling. It included two women with whom Severus had a great deal in common, though in accordance with his master plan, none were as attractive as Hermione, save for the contortionist. But that was, of course, the point: to have Severus meet these women and decide that Hermione was better than any of them, sweep her off into the sunset and leave the flexible Miss Ling to him.

The receptionist finally stood and left the room, to Lucius's satisfaction. He was about to see if he could find where the receptionist had stashed his wand when Severus spoke.

"Can it really be as simple as this?"

"Sorry, I haven't the pleasure of understanding you."

"Finding a bride. Is it really as easy as sifting through a pile of applications and choosing the ones that look the best on paper?"

"You're asking the wrong person, old friend," said Lucius. "My choice was between Bellatrix and Narcissa. Things were much simpler in the days when one could exclude prospective spouses based on blood status. All this modern insistence on having common interests and mutual affection is needlessly complex."

Severus gave him a sardonic smile. "Your own son married for love, and he's done better for himself than any of us."

"If they can stand to be in the same room with one another after forty years, then perhaps I will agree with you," said Lucius with a bit more vehemence than he liked.

Severus immediately sensed that he'd brought up a sore subject. "Apologies, Lucius, if I offended. It can be easy, even for me, to forget that-"

"Water under the bridge," interrupted Lucius brusquely. "As to your original query, we shall see if finding a bride for you is as simple as a few visits to Hermione Weasley. For all we know, they could all have squeaky voices and smell of cat."

"Give me a bit of credit," came a voice from the doorway. Hermione stood there with a wry smile on her face. Her ensemble was grey today, though her boots were bright red. "I do vet these women personally, and I can guarantee that none of them are offensive to the nose. And really, Severus, if you had a horror of squeaky voices, you couldn't have survived teaching for as long as you did."

Severus adopted his most put-upon expression. "May you never know the full extent of the sacrifices I made for the Order, Hermione."

This made her giggle. "All right," she said, ushering them into her office. "I hope you brought your diaries, because we have some scheduling to do. Milton? That's odd. Did either of you see where Milton went?"

Before Lucius had the chance to answer, the man in question reappeared with a steaming pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"I recalled how much Mr. Malfoy enjoyed the tea during his last visit," he said. "I took the liberty of preparing some for your consultation."

Hermione gave her assistant a hard look, which he met with a blandly professional look, and then she shrugged. "That was very thoughtful. Thank you, Milton."

Milton nodded and turned to leave, but not before throwing what was unmistakably a wink at Lucius, who choked on the biscuit he'd begun nibbling.

Severus pounded him on the back, which only forced the tickling crumbs further down his windpipe. His eyes were beginning to water, and he knew his face was turning red from the effort of coughing.

Hermione placed a glass of water in his hand, and he drank gratefully, still coughing, but eventually ceasing and sinking gratefully into one of Hermione's hideous chairs.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Weasley," he wheezed at last.

"Not at all, Mr. Malfoy," she said. Her eyes were dancing with merriment, which led him to conclude that she'd seen the cause of his distress. "Severus, if you'd be so kind as to take a seat, we may begin. Now, I must say, I'm very pleased with your choices. All of them, save one, were ladies that I would have chosen for you, and I'm glad to know we're on the same page as far as that's concerned."

"I think I know which one you mean," said Severus, "and we have Lucius to thank for that one."

Lucius, who was still trying to catch his breath, glared at Severus. Still a traitor after all these years.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Lucius. "iYou/i were responsible for Sarah Watson?"

"Watson?" said Severus, sniffing. "I meant the circus performer. I chose Watson. I should think that a Potions Master and a Mediwitch would have a great deal in common."

"Oh, no, Watson's entirely wrong for you," exclaimed Hermione. "I only included her because I wanted to see if you were choosing the women you felt you were supposed to like rather than the ones to whom you felt a genuine attraction. Sarah has many fine qualities, but your lifestyles and tastes are not compatible at all. Or did you miss that she works nights at St. Mungo's and her favourite singer is Celestina Warbeck?"

Severus blinked in surprise, and Lucius broke into another fit of coughing.

"I must have missed those bits of information," he admitted, glaring at Lucius.

"I was afraid you had. I don't want to have to start all over again, but we may have to if it turns out you've only been paying attention to their job descriptions. I'm assuming that's why Lucius had to force you to include Grace Ling, correct?"

Severus scowled. "She's not at all my type."

Hermione's quill was poised over Grace Ling's file. "Why? Because she's Asian? Petite? An entertainer?"

"She's beautiful," said Severus impatiently. "The last thing I need is a wife who might run off with someone else the moment I lose my temper."

Lucius froze mid-cough. Hermione's eyes widened perceptibly. Severus flushed crimson, aware that he'd made a highly personal and embarrassing revelation to the last woman on earth he wanted to know about it. She'd seen his memories. She knew to what failed relationship he was referring, and so did Lucius.

To Hermione's great credit, she paused for only an instant. "My apologies if I failed to communicate this clearly, Severus," she said in a tone that was so professional and businesslike that Lucius could have kissed her. For her sensitivity towards Severus, of course. "These aren't just women that I've chosen, these are women who have received a very frank assessment of you and expressed interest anyway. If these women were looking for a dazzling social butterfly, they wouldn't have selected you. They chose you because they're looking for something more than roses and teddy bears. They're looking for quality, not flash."

Severus sat in stony silence.

Hermione poured three cups of tea and handed one to Severus. "Now, I suggest that you take another look at these ten files. Nine, if we exclude Sarah Watson. Look at their interests. See if their pictures attract you. You've had two hundred women express interest in not quite three days. You're not going to run out of options anytime soon. Be choosy, Severus. You deserve the best. And speaking of which, Grace Ling stays. She's one of those you have to meet to believe. Here are the additional thirty files that arrived this morning. I've already removed the celebrity chasers and your former students at Hogwarts. There's a private room just there where you can look at them. You're my final appointment of the day, so take your time. Mr. Malfoy and I will be here when you're finished."

Severus clutched the pile in his hands and followed her wordlessly into the next room. She emerged a moment later, closed the door behind her, and returned to her desk.

Lucius watched her with newly opened eyes. This was a woman with an acutely developed skill for dealing with people. This was a woman with enough tact to make even Severus Snape go along with her suggestions without receiving a tongue-lashing. This was a woman who was wearing a pair of buttery lambskin boots that looked fine enough to lick.

He shook his head. He was becoming dangerously distracted. It would not do, especially when the full measure of her formidable skills would be focused on him for the next ten minutes at least.

Thankfully, she settled herself and her distracting shoes behind her desk and gestured to the tray Milton had left. "Biscuit, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Lucius," he corrected, taking a biscuit and giving her a close-lipped but polite smile. He held up his teacup, which was part of the set he'd so admired the day before. "Such a charming pattern. Wherever did you find it?"

Her glare took him by surprise. "Nowhere that would be of interest to you."

"Now that's hardly fair, Hermione. I may call you Hermione, may I not?" He continued without waiting for a response. "If you think I'd disdain artistry of this sort merely because it happens to adorn a teacup, then you misjudge me."

She met his eye. "The set came from a Muggle antique store in Barnes. I would be happy to give you the owner's card, if you like."

Lucius was so surprised he couldn't bring himself to sneer. It had never occurred to him that Muggles, even of the antique variety, could produce anything like this. The unfortunate trip recently he'd taken through London's outskirts had been populated with a very different sort of Muggle. He had seen more mauve velvet and vulgar jewellery on that escapade than he'd seen in his entire life. However, the only thing he allowed to register on his face was another polite smile. "That's very kind. Thank you, Hermione."

She gave him an appraising look before she opened a drawer to search for the card she'd promised. He could tell he'd risen a point in her estimation and just managed to keep himself from preening.

He took the card and glanced at it briefly before sliding it into his Mokeskin wallet and nodding at her. She busied herself with refilling his cup of tea- milk first- and sat back, regarding him with a shrewd look.

"I confess that I am surprised that Severus sought your help in narrowing down his choice of bride," she said at last. "Most long-time bachelors prefer the process to be intensely private."

"Severus and I are very old friends," said Lucius, savoring the delectable tea. "I suppose he feels beholden to me for giving him the initial push he needed."

"Perhaps," she said. "Or perhaps he's not really interested in the proceedings."

Lucius gave her in his most charming, affable expression. "Come now, Hermione. Have you ever known Severus to be openly enthusiastic about anything? Grumbling is how he expresses interest."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Malfoy. I am concerned that you are steering your friend through a process in which he is not invested for motives that are all too easily guessed."

Lucius was thoroughly annoyed that she had seen through his cover story so quickly, and he was determined to keep her from digging any deeper into his motivations. He didn't particularly care what the woman thought of him, as long as Severus was happy and she was out of his hair, and he felt no particular embarrassment over his disdain for the obviously inferior. Perhaps it might do her a bit of good to be reminded exactly how far in over her head she was.

"Hermione," he said taking the tone with which he would lecture a pampered pet who had soiled the carpet, "is it so difficult to believe that I might have reformed my opinions somewhat in the past twenty years?"

"Yes," she replied, her tone still friendly, but not without a hint of the fire Draco said smouldered beneath her serene facade. "Actions generally speak louder than words, Mr. Malfoy, and you have no Muggleborns and only a handful of those of mixed blood in your immediate social circle. While you have been known to donate to causes that do not discriminate based on blood status, you have never attended any of their social functions where there would be people of mixed heritage. Moreover, the only time you were unable to avoid encountering a Muggleborn in a social setting, you drank heavily, were intolerably rude, and embarrassed your son and his family."

So we were playing at frankness, were we? He knew that game. "It also ensured that everyone present would think twice before inviting you to any future functions," he said. "Don't let's make this conversation about my perceived attitudes when it's really about the limitations of your business model that you failed to take into consideration."

Her eyes sparkled, which made him wary. "My presence at your grandson's wedding had nothing to do with my business. I was there because Draco wanted me there, though apparently friendship wasn't his only motivation when he insisted that attend. He succeeded in tweaking your nose quite a bit, didn't he? I really ought to thank the two of you for making me an unavoidable topic of conversation. The only effect your tirade had on my business was to increase it fifteen percent."

Lucius crossed his legs indolently and sipped his tea. "So you admit that your aspirations to a social circle in which you are unwelcome are wholly mercenary?" His voice was mild and coaxing.

Hermione lowered her eyelids fractionally and gave him a pitying look. "Is it really so difficult for you to believe that I have absolutely no social interest in people of your ilk?"

"Actions speak loud than words," he reminded her, "and you have set yourself up in a business that depends on people of my 'ilk,' as you so charmingly put it. You require our custom in order to keep you in ostentatious shoes, antiques, and this ghastly office. You expect me to believe that you don't actively seek exposure to the very class your very existence exploits?"

She gave him measuring look for a moment, then a tight smile. "Mr. Malfoy, you incorrectly assume that this business is the only means I have of supporting myself. I do this work because I find it diverting and satisfying, not to make myself wealthy. Between my and my late husband's pensions and the licensing fees from the technologies I developed in my researching days, I don't need to work to afford the little luxuries I allow myself. In fact, as prejudice against Muggleborns dies along with its most virulent proponents, I am confident, nay hopeful, that this business will decline. I look forward to the day that I may close these doors for good."

Lucius managed to quiet the roar of triumph that was threatening to escape from his mouth. "So this isn't so much a business to you as the opportunity to expose poor, unenlightened Purebloods to your Muggleborn ingenuity and spunk in the hope that they will re-think their own superiority," he said, putting all the scorn he could muster into the statement.

The woman had the audacity to smile blithely at him. "If that's what some of my clients take with them from their experiences with me, who am I to judge?"

"Mrs. Weasley, you are either hopelessly naïve or indescribably narcissistic if you believe that mere exposure to yourself will change anybody's mind."

She didn't attempt to contradict him, thankfully, but opted to nibble delicately on a biscuit. "Have you ever considered remarrying, Lucius?" she asked suddenly.

"I barely escaped the bonds of matrimony with my estate intact the last time," said Lucius, slightly heady from the rush of forcing his formidable opponent to another topic. "Why on earth would I consider hobbling myself once more when there are so many agreeable extramarital opportunities?"

"Private companionship, for one," she said. "You may not have thought of this before sacrificing Severus on the altar of your plotting, but I iwill/i find him a wife who will please him beyond his wildest dreams. When that happens, your best friend will not be as available to you as he once was."

"My dear Mrs. Weasley," he countered with a confident smile, "I'm counting on that." He froze suddenly, realising that perhaps he'd given too much away, but the woman was looking at him with that confounded pitying look again.

"If you say so," she said doubtfully. "But if you should find yourself alone one evening when Severus is home with his family and doesn't have time to help you plot the downfall of someone else whose existence offends your sensibilities, I hope you will keep me in mind."

An image of himself sliding off one of her red boots flashed unbidden into his mind, but he dismissed it with a small shake of his head. "I beg your pardon?"

She made an impatient noise. "I meant my services as a marriage broker. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see how Severus is doing."

Lucius tried not to be obvious while imagining how high up her boots went.

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