Finally able to put out the next chapter! :) As they say in Russian, "life is in full swing.. and the bat always hits you in the head." Oh, well... :)

Chapter 1. Scorpius Malfoy.

Greg Gregory… Well, it was bound to happen one of these days…

Couldn't forget her? Couldn't forgive him?

The memory readily served up the image of the always spick-and-span aristocrat, whose right to be called that was actually very much in doubt, since his family had lost all its fortune back in the times of the goblin wars…

How convenient that the Ministry keeps the record of the addresses: no need to spend time tracking down this portkey aficionado.

Still, something just does not add up.

Another move?

Then where will this… turn up, if Gregory turns out to be yet another dead end to distract them from the true enemy?

If nothing comes out of this, we'll shake down the Ministry; something fishy is going on with the portkeys…

Lily, make sure you count all your teardrops, for I shall exact full revenge for every one…

"He wouldn't harm Lily," James muttered in his ear as they stopped at the gate of a cozy white cottage with a disproportionately huge chimney, as though meant to accommodate a Hagrid-size Santa Clause. Scorpius noted all that in passing, more out of habit then out of true interest in Gregory's abode.

"If he hasn't yet, he'll never get another chance," Malfoy ground out through his teeth, ready to hate this house, and the chimney, and the owner. It always came easily to him: the hatred.

"Malfoy, you have the face of a killer right now," James remarked, putting his hand on his best mate's shoulder. Scorpius wanted to throw off the weight, but thought better of it: why unnecessary movements? They had made plenty of those in the last twenty four hours; they ought to save their strength…

Twenty four hours. Even a bit less. And it seems as though years have passed, turning his hair grey, like Harry Potter's during that fateful September…

Malfoy, you are about to turn into a fidgety prefect Weasley. Or into yet another Potter with their perpensity for soul-searching. Get yourself under control. Make a plan of action.

Time to sit down and think: coldly, clearly, without emotion. But that will have to wait until after the Gregory visit, because right now he wouldn't be capable of summoning the said clarity and control. If only because the house he was stood before was not just one belonging to a suspect in his wife's kidnapping, but that of a former suitor who could have, given the right circumstances (right for him), be in Scorpius' shoes right now. This was infuriating, disturbing – the jealousy; stupid and untimely. After all, it has been years…

"Malfoy, let's go," Potter, manifesting unusual acumen, simply pushed the gate – and it opened. Thus, the house sported not only a stupid chimney, but also a complete lack of any magical security. Did Gregory turned Muggle?

Well, any hope that everything would clear up easily died fast and quiet. No security, no defensive spells. He is not wary of visitors.

Lily, where are you?!

They entered the yard, squinting at rays of the rising sun bouncing off the curtained windows.

Even if it isn't Gregory, his name did not appear in the list accidentally. Could it be payback to him also – in passing?!

"Shall we ring or just break down the door?" Potter asked, a grin on his pale face, taking out his wand. Malfoy realized that he had never put away his at all.

Scorpius pulled on the door bell rope and winced: just like a proverbial pastoral bell on a cow's neck. Gregory, hippogriff take you… All of this just did not jive well with the image of the former Slytherin, making him wary.

What if it is him after all?

The door opened almost at once. Gregory stood in the doorway, neat as always, even on this early morning. He sported a dark-blue dressing-gown over a fresh shirt and trousers.

"Hello, Gregory."

"Good morning, Malfoy," the other said calmly, looking over the uninvited visitors. Yes, he and Potter must be a sight to behold: disheveled, not a wink of sleep or a speck of food all day and night, covered in soot (at least Potter, for sure) and probably something else as well, with facial expressions far from pleasant… "Just passing by?"

Gregory stepped back, letting the guests in. He closed the door and strode into the living room to the small table with coffee and a fresh newspaper. The host pointed to the chairs around the table, then waved his wand – the coffee pot and cups materialized before them.

"Make yourselves at home," Greg smiled. He was clearly curious about the sudden visit of his former classmates, yet tried not to let on. No fear, no wariness – as closely as Malfoy watched Gregory, he couldn't detect any of it. Still, his training at self-control had been as thorough as Scorpius'…

"Why did you create a portkey yesterday?" Malfoy demanded, standing by the table, looming over the already seated Gregory.

Their host raised his eyebrows in surprise, ignoring the fact that his visitors never sat down.

"A portkey? What made you think that I created a portkey yesterday?"

There, Scorpius knew right then that they had been tricked once again; that again the invisible foe had played them for fools.

Malfoy sat at the table across from Gregory.

"It isn't us; it's the Ministry where it was written with a quill on parchment that you created a portkey yesterday. Or planned to create one.

Potter also sat down, stretching his legs tiredly. Speaking of going grey, he would be a prime candidate…

"The Ministry makes mistakes frequently," Gregory said calmly, for some reason glancing at the stairs. Well, well, that's interesting…

"Where were you yesterday, around two o'clock in the afternoon?" Scorpius' eyes bore into Greg. Something wrong, Mr. Gregory? What is upstairs?

"Here," he shrugged his shoulders, and his serene gaze once again shot up the steps.

"Who can confirm that?" James spoke. His voice was muted and hard. The look in his eyes was grim and menacing.

It's ok, Potter, hang in there. We'll find them.

Greg shrugged his shoulders as Malfoy was getting more and more suspicious. What are you hiding, Gregory?

"Who can confirm that you did not create a portal at fourteen hundred hours yesterday?" James almost growled, leaning forward. "Gregory, no beating around the bush…"

"As I see it, I have no choice," the other smiled, glancing at the stairs again. Then at the wand that the two friends held tight in their hands. "And it doesn't make sense to ask you what happened…"

"Gregory," Malfoy said quietly, but even a deaf person could hear a threat in his tone.

"My wife can confirm this," their host's eyes flashed, as though he was holding back a smile.

"Wife?" Scorpius was genuinely surprised. He mentally flipped through the pages of newspapers he'd read recently, but failed to recall the relevant information. "When did you get hitched?"

"I got married in July."

Malfoy knew at once why he'd missed it: in July the four of them went to Greece, and were too occupied for reading newspapers and society chronicle. The sun, the sand, the ancient ruins they roamed… And his Lily, dressed in a sundress, her hair billowing like flame in the breeze…

Lily.

He shook his head, feeling his heart constrict with longing in his chest. He doesn't have a heart! He oughtn't.

Well…

"Where is she?"

"Who?" for the first time Scorpius saw Gregory look puzzled.

"Your wife," Malfoy clarified, leaning back in the chair. "Who have we been talking about here?"

"You spoke of Lily…" James said quietly, watching his friend with a puppy-like understanding.

"Potter…" Scorpius was about to do a cuckoo sign, hoping to make James snap out of it.

"Malfoy, you just spoke her name," Gregory remarked politely, and his civility was more nauseating than Potter's empathy. "Has something happened to her?"

"Something will happen to you," Scorpius promised, ready to kill himself for speaking his thoughts out loud. It is not the time to show weakness. Because should he allow even a moment of weakness, he will not be able to get it back together. And right now, he has to be steady as a rock, for she needs him. Lily needs him more than ever. "It will happen to you, should you fail to prove that you weren't on Diagon Alley last night, that you did not create a portkey, and that the Ministry blokes had all gotten sloshed and muddled things up…"

At that moment, as though in answer to the unasked question, light footsteps sounded on the stairs. Scorpius did not even notice himself getting up: his eyes were glued to the slender form with flowing ash-blonde hair, clad in nothing (as was easily guessed) but a man's shirt.

She froze in the middle of her descent, staring at the early guests. Her eyes, a moment ago half-closed sleepily, opened wide in surprise; her hand stilled on the railing.

"Good morning," Gregory said calmly, making Scorpius start and look away.

"And to you," she also looked away, taking her husband's hand. "I didn't know we had visitors."

"Well…" Greg clearly did not know what to say – he simply took off his dressing-gown and handed it to his wife. She put it on unhurriedly and only then looked back at Malfoy and Potter. "I believe we all know one another."

"Well, hello, Scorpius," the girl said, bravely meeting his icy stare. "Long time, no see."

"Hello, Liana," he grinned. "Or should I call you 'Mrs. Gregory' now?"

"As you wish," she shrugged her shoulders as she walked to the table and sat down. Greg sat next to her, she smiled at her husband, took his coffee cup and took a sip of the now cold coffee, watching their guests take their seats. Potter was clearly also surprised, and Malfoy could barely hold back a nasty smirk: life is an interesting thing. He and Gregory appear to share their taste in women… Funny… "Why are you here?"

"You see, they are very keen on knowing what I was doing yesterday around two o'clock," Greg said calmly, pouring her more coffee. Liana smiled at him gratefully, her eyes on the coffee pot, but Scorpius noticed that at Gregory's words her ears reddened red and she blushed scarlet.

"Honeymoon still in progress?" Malfoy remarked caustically. His tone was caused by his sudden realization that they now had zero chances of finding something to go on here. In reality, he didn't give a fig about Gregory and McLaggen's nuptuals. Or anything else, for that matter, because he was no closer now to finding Lily.

"Scorpius, is something wrong?" Liana was watching him closely – as she used to back at Hogwarts.

He was sat in the cozy parlor of this peaceful cottage, filled with love, under Liana's attentive gaze… Later, he could never quite explain to himself why, but he spoke, dropping words like rocks into the liquid, water-like coziness of Gregory's living room:

"Lily was kidnapped by someone who wants to strip me of everything I love. Xenia was with her. A portkey was used."

This was all: three curt phrases that summed up his life. Three phrases that were tormenting him, literally gnawing on his insides. Because it is his enemy. It is his mistake – somewhere, in his past he did something wrong, left some business unfinished, failed to make his enemies understand that touching him or his loved ones was certain death. It is him who failed to destroy an enemy – and that makes it his fault.

Liana watched Scorpius closely, practically reading him like a book or a research paper. Once she was dear to him, once… Then there was the Astronomy tower, and the wind, and her tears. And emptiness inside, where something else had begun to grow…

He straightened abruptly in his chair, frowning. Liana's thoughts seemed to flow in a similar direction. Her face was a tad frightened – and yet, it was as though she had been given an interesting problem to solve, a riddle she was eager to crack.

Their eyes met, and she almost whispered:

"Two days ago I received a letter, asking for a clandestine meeting. It was signed 'Tobias Parkinson'."