A/N- Alrighty, here is the next chapter, hope you enjoy it, as it was rather fun to write. I'm bringing in more characters, and developing others. If you were unaware, chapter 2 has been updated to something far better than before. I hope I continue to please you all with my writing and that it continues with the same quality it had in the beginning.


Breakfast was a quiet business. Another row had Donald sitting at the far end of the table, mutely spreading a thin coating of jam over a piece of toast. Severus was determined to pay him no mind. Instead he burrowed his head into the daily profit and sipped his Vanilla Bourbon tea, shipped straight from Germany. He had always enjoyed the finer things in life, though he hadn't always had access to them.

It had been almost a month since his sloppy confrontation with the Potter boy and each day he had scoured the papers for any evidence suggesting the Ministry was becoming less… ethical within their approaches. He had found none, which gave him cause to wonder if he had perhaps been a bit over zealous with his predictions. Naturally, when told this, Donald had gloated. And though there were many, many things which Severus Snape absolutely could not stand, gloating was by far the worst of them.

James Potter had gloated. Sirius Black had gloated.

Albus Dumbledore had gloated.

A huff of irritation came from Donald's end of the table… it was studiously ignored in favor of the news. Once more the paper revealed nothing of importance and it was gently folded and set it aside. His breakfast being complete Severus moved to excuse himself from the table. But Donald was there, standing rigidly next to the right of his chair and giving him a look that bore through him.

"I want to speak with you." When Severus did not move Donald gave a mewl of impatience. "Somewhere that the house elves cannot overhear."

"Donald, you are a smart man. One of the many reasons I was attracted to you in the first place. So do not insult me by claiming a lack of common sense that is reserved mostly for Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. The house elves will hear you no matter which room you wish to drag us off to, whatever you need to say may as well be said here."

"Fine," Shards of ice leaked their way into his voice, "It's about the potion."

"I am a potions master Donald, I work on many potions. You'll have to be more specific."

"The one we've been working on together, the Omnis Medela." Ah, that one.

"I thought we agreed that we would not continue until we were sure that the effects of the beetles bite and the dragonsbane would not be… unfortunate if mixed together with the base. Are you certain it will be safe?"

"No-"

"Then I see no reason to discuss it. We both agreed to contact one another if we found the solution to the problem. Other than that, it is simply for the best to let the potion lie; it is under a strong stasis spell, it will keep." Severus shook his out arm, which Donald had been grasping, and stand from the table. "I'll be in the lab, if you require anything from me." He strode to the doors that led to a hallway which would in turn lead to his private lab. As he reached them, however, something caught on the edges of his awareness.

Turning slowly around Severus gave his partner a hard stare. Donald squirmed. He only squirmed when he had done something wrong. His eyes tapered.

"Donald." His voice soft like cut velvet. "Look at me. What did you really want to say to me? Certainly the specificities of the potion would be nothing for a house elf to overhear?" Donald flushed a brilliant red, reminding him starkly of the youngest male Weasley.

"I was angry with you." Severus's heart stopped and he turned with a sharp snap of his robes. He couldn't have, even in his worst rages Donald would not have been so stupid. The journey to his lab seemed to take an eternity, though it couldn't have lasted more than a moment or two. What he saw when he reached the bottom of the stairs made him wish it had taken longer. Strewn about the space were the majority of his instruments. Most, if not all, were damaged in some way. But it was the potion, the one he and Donald had been working on for years that Severus immediately ran to. When he had last left it, it had been simmering a light blue, almost transparent. Now, the man wasn't sure if there was a name for the coloring he saw. It was as though Donald had dumped a little bit of everything into the cauldron. In fact, Severus wouldn't be too surprised if he had.

"I was angry, Sev… lover." The younger man stood at the stairs, too frightened to come nearer. Or too smart. The potions master didn't blame him; he could only imagine what kind of face he was wearing. And he had never been a forgiving man. "You were yelling at me, and I hate it when you yell, and over such a stupid thing. I had said that this persecution you so wholly believed in would come to nothing after all. But you always argue. I just-"

The black haired man didn't recognize his voice when it clawed its way out of his throat.

"You dare. You dare to blame me for the destruction of my lab? Of our work? Years! I spent years trying to find a solution for this problem with you, because of you! And this? This is how you-" He took a deep breath, reigning in the wild magic that had spiraled around him. "Get out."

"Lover?"

"OUT! You think we are lovers still? You think that after this I will give you even an ounce of my respect? Of my time? OUT Merlin damn you!" Spit flew from his mouth and Severus felt a brief moment of disgust in his inability to control himself. But he deemed this an acceptable reaction, though Donald would undoubtedly tell him that he was over reacting. As per usual. Severus bolted all thoughts of Donald from his head. The man didn't deserve to reside in it. Finally understanding that Severus was not to be coddled or convinced, Donald turned heel and fled up the stairs.

Hissing with red rage Severus cast a vial to the ground, reveling in the small, physical expression of his anger.


Potter was in the news again. Draco snorted into his coffee, when wasn't he? The aristocrat sat in the study adjacent to his suite. The walls were a cream color that went well with the dark red of the wood floors. Unlike his father, Draco thought studies should be free of clutter and grandeur, they should be sparsely decorated, including only what was necessary. Because of this, he had ordered his army of house elves to put only a desk, some comfortable chairs and a few bookcases. And windows. More windows than what one knew to do with. After his stay in Azkaban Draco craved sunlight more than air. He was in this room more than any other, sometimes he even slept there. Something his mother would have disapproved of, if she still lived.

Draco quickly focused his energy on something else, namely working up the energy to get dressed and head to work. It was a tedious game he played with himself, waiting until the last possible minute to get ready and only having enough time to cast a quick cleaning charm and run to the floo. But it was a game he played none the less.

"You need to get up." He told himself sternly, only to sink further into the ray of light he was lounging in. "You need to get up." His feet made a miserable twitching motion before they too settled. Draco blew out a sigh. When had he become this decadent? Putting the want of sitting in a sunbeam before his work.

'Azkaban' His mind whispered at him, and that did make him move. He sat up and rubbed his face briskly with his hands. Casting a quick Tempus charm to note the time, Draco nearly choked to see it was half past three. Only two minutes before his shift started. His overseer would have his skin as wallpapering if he was late. Foregoing the cleaning charm the young man dashed to the fire place and shouted out for the Department of Mysteries. He arrived at his destination flushed and very nearly late. Admitting that he may indeed have no other option than to be late, Draco made a mad run for the eighth floor down. If only one could apparate within Ministry walls.

Luck allowed him to catch the lift as the doors were closing and he shoved himself in tightly next to a horribly large woman and a squat man who kept muttering things to himself. Draco used the time in the lift to cast a discreet refreshing charm and was out the doors of his floor before they even properly opened.

Skidding to a stop in front of his desk he slid smoothly into the seat and attempted to look as though he hadn't just run the entire way. The Malfoy name might not mean much anymore but it still required some sense of decorum to sustain it.

"Late, Mr. Malfoy?" Hissing, Draco slid a few centimeters down his chair before remembering who and where he was and sitting up straight again.

"Really, you must acquire a better watch. That or learn how to cast a proper Tempus charm. Do you have the reports on lost witches and wizards that I asked for the other day?" Granger flicked a strand of her curly hair behind her ear and gazed at him expectantly. Surprise rocked through the pureblood. He was certain that the little know it all would be angrier with him then this. Well… she had mocked his choice in watches and that could be construed as an insult to his person.

'Or a joke' He thought darkly, though when and where she would have acquired a sense of humor was beyond him. "Yes," He cleared his throat quietly, "I'll bring them by your office as soon as I finish outlining the Boardman case." The Gryffindor Princess nodded at him and closed the door to her office.

The Boardman case was one that the Department of Mysteries had been working on for ages, and finally they had figured it out. Nicolas Boardman, mayor of a small city in the southern depths of England was a latent wizard. Something had triggered his magic and in an explosion, which could only come from years of repressed magical ability, erased the memories of everyone in his city, including his. Draco had poured over the case for almost two years, and though he was happy to finally be rid of it, he wasn't quite sure what to do with all the free time.

"Malfoy." The person in question raised his head and then fixed his face with his best sneer.

"Peterson? Is there something I can do to assist you?"

Peterson ignored him. "I wonder... how does it feel to be Grangers bitch? She's everything you despise in a person. Smart, capable, trustworthy, beautiful... Oh, and I almost forgot muggleborn." The man in front of him wore a cruel smile, something that would give him lines around his mouth later in life Draco was sure. His sandy blonde hair fell just to his ears, framing a wide set face, dark brown eyes and a nose that was far too small. Why women threw themselves at him was a mystery that even the Department of Mysteries could not solve.

"Peterson," The voice was so cold Draco thought the air around him had actually dropped a few degrees. Granger was standing behind his harasser, arms crossed over her chest and a look on her face that rivaled Lucius Malfoy at his best. "What exactly went through your mind when you decided to visit Mr. Malfoy, who works eighteen floors beneath you? I really want to know." Her eyes narrowed further if that was possible, reminding him firmly of McGonagall.

"I-"

"Oh wait, I know. You thought you could come here and torment my employee without my knowledge in some twisted way to win my favor. Even though you must know that I have wards set up to warn me when someone wishes him ill intent. But of course, you weren't really harassing him were you? Someone like him deserves what he gets and you were simply doing me a service, is that right? People like you make me sick to my stomach Peterson. Get out, and if I find you down here again without a true need for our services I'll hex you with impotence." She glared him down until; finally, he turned on his heel, red as a beet, and left.

"That was wonderful Granger," Draco began to clap slowly, "Especially the bluff about you having wards set up around me, and now that that rumor is bound to spread I'm sure I'll receive far fewer visitors than before." He gave her a small smile of gratitude, as this was acceptable. She turned her brown eyes upon him and gave him a strange, slanted look.

"I do have wards set up around you. Do you think I would be so stupid as to leave you unprotected while the war is still so fresh in everyone's mind? There were bound to be some young, hot headed boys thinking they could exact their own brand of revenge. Especially boys like Peterson, ones who think they are Merlin's gift to women. Though I've always thought the almost inbred beauty of your family was a far more attractive thing. If only your personalities matched it." She gave him another sideways look before holding her hand out, "You have the reports?"

Draco stared at the hand as though it would tell him all of Grangers secrets. He didn't know whether to be smug about the fact that even Granger couldn't resist his looks or irritated that she had called him an inbred when he clearly was not. He settled decisively on irritated.

"I am not an inbred." He spat while pulling open the drawer which held all of the reports Granger was so antsy to have.

Granger snorted, "Not directly as in your mother and father were brother and sister, though their complexion and hair would lead any stranger to believe so. No in a more distant way, the way every pureblood family, the Weasleys included, are slightly inbred. It's a look I was often jealous of in my youth."

"Why are you speaking with me this way? Shouldn't you be agreeing with Peterson, as a matter of fact, why were you so lenient with me when I was late this morning when normally you would have bitten my head off with some nonsense about tardiness being sinful?"

"Is it making you uncomfortable?" His superior teased, "Well, if you must know. It's this whole situation with the homosexuals. It's lending me a new perspective." That couldn't be it, so Draco told her so.

"That isn't the whole story Granger."

"Well, Pansy also told me you weren't a bad person, just set in your backward pureblood ways, the way she once was," Of course, leave it to Pansy to ruin his reputation, "The rest of the story however, is my business and none of yours. You'll simply have to make up your own ending to it, I'm sure it'll be far more exciting than the truth. Now get back to work Mr. Malfoy." She smiled at him, a mocking smile, not a kind one and once again retreated to her office.

Glaring neatly at the door Draco made up his mind to do as little work as possible. Grumbling he set about reclining in his chair and daydreaming about windows and the sky. But before he could settle into his dozing, a thought forced him to straighten once more.

When had she taken the reports from him?


Severus was in a right state, the Omnis Medela potion which had taken years to brew to its stage was proving to be far more ornery than he remembered. Couple that with the fact that Donald had, no doubt purposely, taken all the notes on it with him, left Severus in a mood foul enough to keep even the bravest of men away from him. He cursed as yet another potion fizzled into a disgusting orange color, something that would not have happened, had he brewed it correctly. Fed up with his lack of progress the man thundered up the stairs for dinner.

"Phillips!" With a crack an aged house elf appeared, he was dressed in fine pants and jacket. No elf of Severus's would look dirty and as it was the only things Severus had ever allowed Phillips to wear, it did not constitute as giving him clothes.

"Master Snape be calling Phillips? Master Snape be needing something?"

"Of course I need something silly creature, or I would not have called you." Phillips, by now used to the masters more vicious moods simply bowed and readied himself for the long set of orders he knew he was about to be given.

"Tell the kitchen elves that I want veal for dinner, lightly spiced, and bread rolls, fresh ones. Asparagus, steamed, and on a bed of rice. For dessert they are to make a pumpkin cobbler, and tell them to open two bottles of the 1787 Chateau Lafitte. And get someone to clean out my laboratory!" Phillips nodded and with another crack disappeared. Severus scowled into the empty space. Damned elf.

He settled himself at the dinner table, which seemed horribly large and empty with only he to occupy it, and immediately a house elf appeared with a glass of the 1787 and the whole bottle as well. Snatching it away from the creature the ex-professor downed the glass in one long gulp. The cup was refilled and again Severus drank it without tasting it. This continued until the food arrived and he was thoroughly intoxicated.

If the meal was good Severus didn't know, when he was in a mood like this he ordered lavish food to punish himself. Knowing full well that he would not be able, or willing to appreciate the cuisine. He must have sat at the table for hours, staring drunkenly into the distance and muttering warbled songs under his breath, before a knock echoed throughout the small manor.

"I'll get it!" He yelled at the house elves, though he was finding it far more difficult to remove himself from the chair than he had thought possible. With great effort he managed to make it to the door.

"Donald." Indeed the man was standing on his doorstep, a watery look in his eyes. Severus hated tears. He was shivering, due mostly to the fact that he had no coat.

'A deliberate thing,' Severus's thoughts told him.

But still, it was Donald, and the way he ran a hand over his chestnut hair still stirred something within him. Without a word Severus stepped aside and glowed inwardly when Donald smiled and moved past him into the house.

No, Severus was not a forgiving man.

But he was a lonely one.


Review and tell me your thoughts. And no, Draco is not gay. Omnis Medela, means all healing in Latin, or at least that is what Google translate tells me. And I am far to lazy to cross check it so that shall be that.