CHAPTER FOURTEEN – THE NEXT DAY, AT MALFOY MANOR

After an entertaining conversation with the iron gate – this time it had formed itself into a Cerberus, and the translation charm hadn't achieved much in the way of stopping the three heads from constantly bickering – and a very chilly walk up the gravelled driveway, Hermione was met at the door by Dorky. The Master was expecting Madam in the library, and since the elf had looked a bit miffed last time when Severus had told it it wasn't needed, Hermione docilely let herself be guided along the corridor.

The furniture, she noticed with no small amount of amusement she was careful to dissimulate, had been arranged for the occasion in a rather different manner than last time. Gone was the table, gone were the chairs. Lucius had artistically draped himself on a large leather sofa next to the fireplace, and there was nothing for her to sit upon but the very same sofa. The low coffee table was obviously meant to allow maximum cleavage coverage, for she would have to bend forward in order to reach the food or her teacup.

'My dear Mrs Weasley!' He languidly rose from the sofa and came to meet her. 'How good of you to come. It is getting quite lonely here.'

'Even with those nice illustrated books to keep you company?' she asked, unable to pass up a perfectly good opportunity to tease him.

'Would your friend Mr Potter be content with looking at the pretty pictures in Witch Broom, if he wanted to fly for real?'

'I suppose he would, if people continue to curse his brooms. But I get your meaning. I can hardly believe, though, that you would be lacking in female company, if you really wanted it.'

'It would be quite easy to come by, if I cared for that sort of company. Do you mind sitting next to me on the sofa, or should Dorky bring a chair?'

'I'm perfectly happy sitting next to you.'

She sat down rather close to her host and allowed herself a leisurely inspection of his hair and body, while he was busy pouring their tea.

In spite of being completely immoral and a lousy judge of character, he was still more attractive than she cared to admit. Thirteen years ago, when they'd fired hexes at each other at the Department of Mysteries, it had been the aura of power and self-assurance that made him stand out among the others. Now, Hermione thought, there was something tragic about him: a patina of former grandeur, from a past era. He would've made an excellent ci-devant, a French nobleman exiled to foreign lands by a revolution he'd never understood, who had only his pedigree and the crest on his stationery to remind him of what he had once been. Not a has-been, but an old lion basking in the evening sun, dreaming memories of glorious hunts and cubs he'd fathered. He was only a little over fifty, still in his prime in wizarding terms, but Azkaban had stripped him of all dignity. Not that he'd ever admit that to himself, which was why he wasn't even trying to find it again. Instead, he was engaging in foolish power struggles with his best friend and his parole officer. In a way, it was quite endearing.

'I hope,' Lucius said, once they'd both selected the first round of sandwiches, 'that I'm not being indiscreet if I ask you how things are going with Severus.'

'Oh, not at all. We're still in the first stages of a relationship, but it all seems very promising.'

'I'm very glad to hear it, Mrs Weasley.'

'Since this is definitely a private occasion, I think you ought to call me Hermione.'

He inclined his blond head. 'Thank you. You know, don't you, that Severus and I go back many years, decades in fact. Our friendship hasn't always been an easy one, for obvious reasons…'

'I must admit, I was rather surprised that it had survived the war. Accepting betrayal isn't easy. But you saved his life nonetheless.'

'So I did.' A short silence ensued. 'Tell me, Hermione, that potion we talked about the other day, did you mention it to Severus?'

'Not yet, but I intend to do so. On a purely private basis, of course, since you told me about it off records.'

Lucius lovingly contemplated a salmon canapé before he ate it with apparent relish. It was followed by a sip of tea and a miniature egg and watercress sandwich. 'I hope you didn't swerve from the path of righteousness too far, by omitting that detail. And by changing the nature of my, erm, literary pursuits.'

'That's a difficult question. Let me answer it like this: if I caught a member of my staff, well, rewriting history, they'd have to leave immediately. Without severance pay, and without a letter of recommendation, if you get my drift.'

'But your superiors, I trust, are less draconian?'

'More, I'd say. But then, you promised that this was going to remain between the two of us.'

'Did I?'

'Not in so many words, but I'm sure I can trust you on this. If not for my own sake, then at least because you wouldn't want to get Severus in trouble.'

'You are quite right. I certainly do not mean to cause you or Severus any tribulation. I just hope… Tell me this, Hermione: Is it completely and utterly impossible for your omissions ever to be discovered by somebody else?'

'Impossible? You of all people ought to know that, once a secret is shared, it's not a secret anymore. So of course it isn't impossible, but it's highly improbable. After all, neither you nor I have a particular interest in anybody else learning the truth.'

Lucius took a pensive sip of tea. 'In my current situation, that's not good enough, I'm afraid.'

'Not good enough? Now look here, Lucius: I am absolutely sure that I won't ever mention it to anybody. Which leaves you. And why on earth should you talk? It's very much against your own interests.'

'Unless you're ready to kill me here and now, which I somehow doubt, I might talk. Not because I want to, Merlin forbid, but what if they make me take Veritaserum? It's common knowledge that Severus is my friend, and your relationship with him won't remain a secret forever.'

'Neither of us wants to keep it secret.'

'Of course not, why should you? Only, with all these new-fangled political ideas, with best practices and auditing and codes of conduct – does it seem like such an outlandish idea that somebody might want to have a closer look at how Severus Snape's girlfriend is handling the case of Severus Snape's friend?'

'Hm. I hadn't looked at it that way yet, I have to admit, probably because the relationship with Severus is quite a recent development. But you've definitely got a point there.' Mimicking deep thought was surprisingly easy, she found, while you were lost in contemplation of a supernaturally delicious treacle tart. 'It seems that a memory charm would be the only solution.'

'That,' Lucius said slowly, 'would be a very high price for me to pay. Allowing for a memory to be erased, in order to protect anybody but myself would be tantamount to a sacrifice. Malfoys don't do sacrifice, Hermione, not if there's nothing in it for them.'

'You'd have the satisfaction of having done Severus a great service, by protecting both him and me.'

'I've already done him a great service, and can you detect any hints of exuberant happiness?'

'Well… no. No. Lucius, I understand that you're not in the mood to play the sacrificial lamb. But all I could do, professionally, I mean, to make it worth your while would only lead to more memory charms, so it seems we're right in the middle of a vicious circle here.'

Lucius's left hand, which only seconds ago had been holding a plate, was suddenly resting on the nape of Hermione's neck. 'Don't look so dejected, Hermione,' he said softly, caressing her ear with his thumb.

She couldn't have simulated goose bumps, but then she didn't need to. They rose up all on their own. She moved a mere fraction to the right, as if wanting to lean into him and stopping herself just in time. 'I don't mean to, but it's not the kind of thing I could laugh at.'

He pulled her closer, and after a little initial resistance she let him. His mouth was very close to her ear, as he murmured, 'We'll find a solution.'

A rustle of fabric, and he kissed her.

Hermione had always thought that the 'desperate kiss' was a mere literary fiction, and not a very original one at that. Now, however, she was finding out that it was by no means a cliché. From a purely technical point of view, it was a first-class kiss. But the tremor of his hands and the way he was holding on to her owed nothing to passion. There were ten years of loneliness in that kiss, and beatings and abject desolation. Severus had been right: re-socializing this man whose moral compass had always pointed at Lucius, centre of the universe, and who had lived through ten years of isolation, where the only human contact he'd had, had brought nothing but humiliation, was practically impossible. But maybe, with just the right amount of strictness, sex and tender loving care… They might yet turn Lucius into something vaguely resembling a human being. The potential was there; he'd saved Severus's life after all.

She ended the kiss and pulled back a little, just in time to see the naked longing in his face before the mask of studied indifference slid back into place.

'A little more of this,' he said, his voice still a bit hoarse, 'and I'd allow you to erase any memory I have.'

'I don't think we need to go as far as that.' She kissed his cheek. 'But if you consider, well, this, sufficient compensation…'

Her compassion might have soured and become pity, if he hadn't asked, 'What about Severus?' with more than just feigned anxiety.

So there was something left. She smiled and breathed a kiss on his other cheek. 'Didn't I tell you I don't have to ask his permission?'

'You were referring to tea, if I remember correctly.'

'Well, I suggest that you have tea with me tomorrow, at my place. How I choose to interpret tea is my business, don't you agree?'