A/N Hi Everyone, What lovely reviews you all left me, thank you so much – it does really motivate me to write. Your reviews also shape my story, I should have you all listed as co-authors.
I must warn you all that from this chapter onwards the plot takes an even more ridiculous turn. Please try to suspend your belief a little (I mean you're already reading fanfiction based on characters from the Harry Potter books with a 25 yr age gap who hate each other, so I'm guessing you are pretty good at self-delusion anyway!)
Lucius knew it wasn't a good idea. He was not completely lacking in brain. In fact, in the past, he had taken pride in his keen intellect. Those days were gone. He vaguely recognised that he had become a slave to his more base instincts and that his obsession with Hermione Granger had reached a point where it was no longer healthy. Severus was correct. Lucius had damaged their relationship so irrevocably that there really was no way in which he could redeem himself. She had proven herself immune to all forms of flattery and bribery and, short of sending her the poems he had composed late one night after one too many glasses of brandy, he didn't know how else he might make his feelings clear. He had accepted that their sexual relationship was over.
That didn't mean that he had to forgo her company all together though. He liked her. He enjoyed spending time with her. He loved her sharp observations and the tangential thinking of her vibrant mind. Admittedly, he might also enjoy looking at her delectable body whilst appreciating her intellect but, he had realised, rather belatedly, that there was a lot more to Miss Granger than her excellent breasts and well-rounded backside.
If he could not be her lover then he would be her friend. Of course, he, Lucius Malfoy, could be neither. She had made that quite clear. But Camomile Jones could succeed where Lucius had failed. He wasn't blind to the irony. He realised that Hermione's main objection to his behaviour during their ill-fated relationship had been his propensity to play fast and loose with the truth and, by continuing to disguise himself as a woman in order to maintain his friendship with her he was, technically, continuing to lie. However, he was still strongly of the opinion that a lie was only a lie if one were caught telling it, and he did not plan to get caught.
Once he had suitably deceived himself he set about his preparations and donned the, now familiar, sack-like robes, favoured by Camomile. He felt a flicker of apprehension as he sipped from the bottle of Polyjuice potion. He imagined Hermione discovering his perfidy and firing hex after hex at him in an indignant rage. He pushed those thoughts to one side. He had faced Lord Voldemort before, how could he be afraid of one small potions apprentice?
He had managed to work himself up into such a frenzy of doubt and self-recrimination that he almost thought Hermione might not come. Or, if she did, she would be sure to accuse him immediately of gross deception. She did nothing of the sort. As soon as she saw his matronly form, sitting at their usual spot in her cafe of choice, she flew across the room and hurled herself into his arms.
He held her for a beat longer than was really appropriate. The soft rose scent of her hair overwhelmed his senses and he closed his eyes, breathing in her essence and allowing himself the brief fantasy that she was truly here, with him, without the barrier of deception and false pretences which he had been forced to erect. Finally, he released her and she slumped down in the chair across from his.
She looked dreadful, he was pleased to observe. Her face was pale and pinched and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes which her Muggle makeup could not conceal. Even her hair seemed dry and sad as it struggled to escape its ponytail.
"I know." She waved an all-encompassing hand up and down her body. "I know I'm a state. I just can't be bothered to care at the moment."
Lucius hesitated. He wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure how and he couldn't risk giving himself away.
"I saw the feature in The Prophet," he said. Knowing that just about everybody in the wizarding world had seen that.
Hermione snorted without humour. "You and everybody else in the country. Imagine how it feels, knowing that every person you meet on the street has seen your bottom."
"That must be terrible," Lucius acceded, dampening down a surge of rage and simultaneously feeling malicious delight over having had the journalist who had caught them on camera sacked. "You do have a very nice bottom though; if mine looked like yours I would probably pay for an advert in The Prophet."
To his delight, she laughed. "Well, you'd end up paying me; I'm now the majority shareholder."
"What?"
She nodded emphatically. "Mr Malfoy bought the newspaper so he could sack the reporter who took those pictures. Then he gave me the shares." Her face was curiously expressionless as she imparted this information and Lucius couldn't help but dig a little deeper.
"Why on earth would he do that?"
Hermione shrugged. "Guilt I suppose, and of course, he's trying to win me over. He thinks that showering me with expensive gifts will make me forgive him for his abysmal behaviour."
"And won't it?" Lucius dared to ask, wishing he was taking notes.
"Of course not," Hermione sneered as she looked angrily at the tea menu. "Nothing would make me take him back. Do you know, Camomile -" he once more found himself on the wrong end of her accusatory finger, he was glad she hadn't applied it to his chest "- throughout this whole debacle that wretched man, hasn't once said sorry."
"Dreadful," Lucius muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on his own tea menu. He hadn't said sorry. Did it really mean that much to her? Was that all he had to do? Sacrifice his Malfoy pride and apologise. "So if he were to apologise," he kept his tone offhand and one eye on the specials board to signal only passing interest in her response, "would you be willing to accept?"
"Of course not!" she said derisively. "The man's a snake, the only reason he would apologise would be to get back in my knickers and there's no chance of that happening again. I'm going to get a magically enforced chastity belt which is spelled to hex Lucius Bloody Malfoy at twenty paces."
Lucius felt that the waiter's interruption at this particular point was rather timely. He had experienced a stirring of hope at the mention of his potential redemption, but it seemed that, even if he were willing to apologise, she would not trust his honesty. He suppressed a sigh and ordered a much larger lunch than Camomile would normally have eaten.
"I'll just have tea thanks." Hermione gave him an odd look. "You're very hungary today, Camomile."
Lucius nodded sagely. "One of the healers at St Mungo's, a terribly nice young man, has put me on some new medication for my arthritis. One of the side effects is an increased appetite." He ruefully patted his protruding stomach.
"Oh, Camomile, I'm terribly sorry." Hermione's face took on a look of guilt. "I've done nothing but talk about myself since I arrived, what sort of a friend am I? How is your arthritis?"
Lucius wittered on for several moments. He hoped he was giving a believable account of the trials of living with chronic joint pain as he waited for an opportunity to turn the conversation back to Hermione.
"So how are your studies going?" he finally managed to ask after they had discussed his fictional indigestion, gallstones, and gout. He instantly regretted the question as her face crumpled in on itself once more.
"Not well." Her voice was small. "This has never happened to me before, Camomile. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I just can't focus. Studying has always been my escape but, at the moment, I'm just all over the place. I don't know how much more Severus is willing to take; he's banned me from the lab until I stop acting like an 'emotionally overwrought, pubescent teenager.'"
"I'm sorry." He put down his fork, which he had been about to dig into the delicious smelling cottage pie in front of him, and reached for her hand. She clasped her fingers around his and bent her head over her teacup as she struggled not to cry.
"What about your dissertation?" he asked desperately, surely you can use your time out of the lab to work on that.
"Yes, of course." She dabbed at her eyes and pasted a watery smile across her lips. "That's what I've being doing."
His relief was short lived.
"But, that's not going well either," she wailed, more tears escaping her frantic eye-dabbing.
Lucius felt a crushing guilt overwhelm him. Had he really reduced the inimitable Miss Granger to this? He felt the pink hair (which he had finally banished) had been entirely deserved.
"It's not really Mr Malfoy's fault though." She had composed herself a little. "He actually helped me a lot with my research. The thing is I'm still at a dead end. I feel as if I'm on the brink of something truly important but I can't quite reach it."
"Oh." Lucius didn't quite know what to say. He was relieved that he was not to blame for this aspect of her misery, but he didn't know how to help her either, not with without revealing himself.
"Mr Malfoy suggested I visit the Karolinska library in Stockholm, have you been?" She had dried her eyes and reached out to steal a chip from his plate.
He nodded carefully, surreptitiously moving the plate a little closer. If he could do nothing else for her, he could, at least, make sure she ate. "I have visited once, several years ago. It is a very fine collection."
"I'm sure it is." She was blatantly eating his food now. "But it's no use to me. They won't let me through the door without a letter of introduction, how ridiculously nepotistic is that?"
"Terribly," Lucius muttered, realising that not much of a response was needed. "Can't Professor Snape supply you with such a letter?"
She smiled for the first time that day. "I'm afraid he can't." She had picked up her own fork and was attacking his pie now. "He didn't actually know anything about the library, and I think he was a bit put out when Mr Malfoy suggested it, he's terribly prickly about things like that."
Lucius bit back a comment about the generally astringence of Severus Snape and smiled blandly, wishing he'd ordered two plates of food. The chip, balanced precariously on the end of Hermione's fork, suddenly paused in its journey to her mouth and she gazed at him, frowning.
"Hold on." She lowered the fork. "If you visited, you must have had a letter of introduction?"
Lucius swallowed uncomfortably, the sizeable donation he had made to the libraries' coffers had meant no such letter was needed.
"Which means you could write one for me." Her face lit up at the idea as her brown eyes sparkled in his direction.
"I suppose I cou-"
"Better yet, you could come with me!"
"What?"
"You could come with me, to Stockholm." Her fork clattered, forgotten to the table, and she clasped both of his hands in hers as she looked imploringly at him. "Oh please, Camomile, say you will. I've never been before, and it's so much more fun exploring a new city with another person. I have a study budget, I can pay for us both."
"I-" The warning voices in his head were unspeakably loud. This was a bad idea to end all bad ideas; this was, without doubt, the worst idea in the history of humanity. He couldn't go with her, it would lead to ruin. He opened his mouth to deny her.
"I suppose I could go with you."
Her squeal of delight drowned out the cacophony of his own conscience as she rounded the table to fling her arms around him in a bruising hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she chanted, almost throttling him. Lucius could only pat her back and pray to any helpful deity which might be looking down on him for understanding.
"Absolutely not." With meticulous care, Severus Snape placed his stirring rod onto the workbench and began to sprinkle Lacewing flies onto the potion's surface. Hermione felt a pang of guilt. The brewing he was doing ought to have been her responsibility.
"Why not?" she asked. Trying desperately to keep the whine from her voice.
"I'm not signing off your entire study leave budget on a hair-brained trip to Sweden to visit some library I've never even heard of"
"But Mr Malfoy-"
"That man is a reprobate, as you well know."
"I do know that, but that doesn't mean that he isn't very knowledgeable when it comes to Trollish herbology. Please, Severus, I'm desperate." She appealed to his better nature, she was sure he had one.
He gave a loud sigh. "At the very least, you will have to wait until I am able to accompany you, which will not be until the end of the month."
"But Severus -"
"I will not hear of you gallivanting around the continent on your own, it's unseemly."
Hermione actually stamped her foot. "You are not my father, Severus Snape and besides, I'm not going on my own."
"Well, of course, I'm not your father, no offspring of mine would be as mindlessly pig-headed as you, not to mention clumsy…" He ground to a halt. "What do you mean you're not going alone?"
"I mean I've found someone to accompany me."
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "If you think your study budget will be used to finance the Golden Trio's annual European jolly you can think again."
"I do have other friends," Hermione said, not in the least offended by his disparaging tone. One did not apprentice under Severus Snape without growing an impressively thick skin.
"Who?" he asked suspiciously. "Ginevra looked fit to burst last I saw her."
Hermione folded her arms. "It's nobody you know."
Severus mirrored her gesture, his stature much more imposing than Hermione's. "I insist on knowing," he told her, "or I will not release your study leave budget."
Hermione took several long deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. Their purpose was twofold. She found the breathing exercises extremely calming, but she also knew Severus found waiting for her to respond irritating in the extreme. It was strange that a man so fond of the dramatic pause in his own speech would find it so intolerable in others. She truly hadn't wished to drag Camomile into this. She had been so grateful to the older witch for agreeing to accompany her; the whole trip had turned from a daunting ordeal into a wonderful adventure as soon as Camomile had agreed to come. She hated to repay her friend's kindness by exposing her to the acerbic tongue of Professor Snape. Whilst she barely noticed his caustic nature these days, she feared that Camomile was of a more gentle persuasion and might be genuinely offended by her greasy-haired mentor.
"I don't want you to meet her," she said stubbornly.
"Why on earth not?"
"Because you're rude, that's why. You'll hurt her feelings by saying something unpleasant and then I'll have no study budget and one less friend."
Severus scowled. "I am never rude to your friends."
"You called Harry an emotionally stunted renegade just last week."
"That was the truth." He pursed his lips. "If you do me the honour of introducing me to your friend I shall endeavour to be scrupulously polite."
"And you'll authorise our trip to Stockholm?"
Severus gave a curt nod. "If I consider her to be a suitable chaperone, yes."
"Oh, you will." Impulsively Hermione flung her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his bony cheek. Severus flinched, his fingers immediately coming up to rub away the evidence of her affection.
"Miss Granger, might I remind you that there is a strict no-touching clause in your contract?"
"Sorry, Sir." Hermione was already on her way out of the apothecary, bent on owling Camomile as soon as possible. They were going to Stockholm!
Lucius had only just shed his disguise and was absent-mindedly rubbing the small of his back where Camomile seemed to suffer her lumbago the worst when Hermione's owl shot through the window and landed in a heap of feathers on the floor in front of him. He carefully disengaged the scroll from its proffered leg.
Dear Camomile,
I'm so sorry to bother you again when you've already done a wonderful job of cheering me up today. I'm very excited about our forthcoming trip. Unfortunately, my employer has a protective streak (he thinks he's my father actually) and he would like to meet you before you accompany me to Stockholm. Would it be possible for you to stop by the apothecary one day? I would be terribly grateful.
Yours
Hermione
He traced his fingers over her small neat signature and tried to dampen down the feeling of dread which assailed him. He wondered how likely it was that Hermione would still be signing off her letters with yours once Severus Snape had met Camomile Jones. Never a man to put off the inevitable he reached once more for Camomile's shapeless black robes.
There was no way he could know. He told himself firmly as he shook Severus' proffered hand and kept his eyes deliberately averted. As long as he didn't succumb to his friend's skill as a Legilimens there was no way he would be discovered. Severus' fingers squeezed a little tighter than was polite and Lucius risked at glance at him.
Bollocks, he was pretty sure he knew.
"Ms Jones, how wonderful to meet you." Severus' voice was oily and Lucius winced at the dripping insincerity. Hermione seemed unaware of it though. She was beaming at the pair of them like a proud mother.
"Please have a seat, Camomile." She gestured to one of the comfortable armchairs that populated the backroom of the apothecary. "Would you like some tea?"
"Yes please." Lucius gratefully took the cup she prepared for him and sipped delicately. Severus continued to scowl as he also accepted a cup and sat opposite Lucius.
"So, Ms Jones," he said her name with disdain, "how did you and Miss Granger meet?"
Lucius beamed inanely at a point somewhere over Severus' left shoulder. "Well," he simpered, "we were actually brought together by our shared love of tea."
"You were?" Severus' right eyebrow disappeared beneath his hair line.
"Indeed." Lucius nodded vigorously as he warmed to his theme. "We stumbled across each other in the café where Hermione takes her lunch."
"Indeed," Severus echoed. "And what, pray tell, do you have in common beyond a love of tea?"
Lucius bit back a facetious answer, he reminded himself that it was entirely possible that neither of his companions was aware of his true identity and the last thing he wanted to do was out himself to Hermione. "We both have an abiding love of Trollish herbology," he said primly. "I understand that it's an area into which your expertise does not really extend, Professor Snape." He resisted a smirk as he saw his barb hit home.
"It is certainly not a particular area of interest for me," Snape said. "My own interests lie more in the direction of truth serums and their application." The threat in his tone was implicit and Lucius squirmed a little in his chair, as he masked his grimace with his teacup.
"Do you have any experience with chaperoning impressionable young woman?" Severus asked.
"Miss Granger is a celebrated war hero," Lucius answered smoothly, "I hardly consider her an impressionable young woman."
"Thank you Camomile." Hermione leaned over to pat his hand. "Severus seems to have some difficulty in seeing me as anything other than the bucktoothed school girl he first met ten years ago."
"That's not strictly true, Miss Granger," Severus corrected her. "I am perfectly willing to admit that your teeth, at least, have improved over the years. It is your good sense and choice of travelling companions which I still find…lacking."
Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatic pause. "Well, it's a good job you are merely my employer and not my father then, isn't it? I'm sure Camomile will keep me on the straight and narrow, won't you?"
"Absolutely." Lucius refused to look at Severus despite the fact that he could feel the younger man's gaze boring into him. "I am very confident in my ability to keep Miss Granger safe. I may look like a frail old woman," he allowed his voice to grow a little more querulous, "but when those I care about are threatened, I can be as fierce as any lion." He rather thought he'd overdone it, but Hermione gave a delighted little squeal at his declaration. Severus looked less enamoured.
"Very well, Ms Jones, I can see that Miss Granger is quite set on this trip. Hermione, if you will excuse us for a moment, I wish to have a private word with Ms Jones."
"Really Severus, I'm not a child," Hermione huffed.
The dark-haired wizard merely stared her down until Hermione flounced out of the room with an irritated sigh. Lucius shot an admiring glance at his friend, he had never succeeded in managing Miss Granger so well, perhaps he could learn something from Severus Snape.
The loud slam of the door reminded him that he and Severus were now alone. He set aside his teacup and surreptitiously clasped his cane a little tighter. Despite his preparations he abruptly found himself on the end of Severus' raised wand.
"Finite Incantatum."
Lucius almost gave a smug snort. Was Severus such a fool that he had forgotten that Polyjuice could not be reversed with a simple spell? It was only as Severus let out a triumphant "Ha," that Lucius realised he was scuppered. The spell had been aimed not at him, but at the glamour which had concealed his cane, making it appear to be a simple twisted wood walking stick. The spell fell away and his elaborately decorated and easily identifiable cane appeared, clutched between his nervous fingers.
"Hello, Severus." He strove to sound blasé.
"Lucius." Severus towered over Lucius' sitting form, his wand still pointing rather disconcertingly at Lucius' groin.
"How did you know it was me?"
"You touch your left ear with your right hand when you lie, you tap the fingers of your left hand against your thigh when you are nervous and, whilst you have not worn your usual overpowering aftershave, I am more than a little familiar with the scent of your shampoo."
"Oh." Lucius fought an overwhelming urge to tap the fingers of his left hand against his thigh. "Look, Severus, this isn't what it looks like."
"Really?" Severus's voice was dangerously quiet. "If that is the case then please do enlighten me, Lucius, exactly what is this?" He gestured dismissively at Camomile. Lucius had never wished to inhabit his own body more than he did in that moment.
"…an accident," he said eventually, stalling for time.
"You mean you accidentally consumed Polyjuice potion on enough occasions to befriend Miss Granger?"
"Not exactly, no. I consumed it once. Unfortunately, she befriended me during my transformation and after that thing became…well…complicated." Lucius was not used to explaining himself and found it very difficult to do.
"Indeed." Severus was looking down his long nose at him. "So complicated that you are now planning to accompany Miss Granger to Stockholm, despite the fact that she had expressed a sincere desire never to set eyes on you again?"
"Now that isn't strictly true, Severus." Lucius held up a reconciliatory hand. "Miss Granger has no desire to set eyes on Lucius Malfoy again; she is still very keen to maintain her friendship with Camomile Jones."
"Camomile Jones is Lucius Malfoy, you moron," Severus spat the words so violently that Lucius was certain he could feel drops of moisture landing on his robes. "I refuse to discuss this with you any further. I am going to enlighten Miss Granger as to your true identity."
He turned in a dramatic flurry of black robes and stalked to the door only to be stopped in his tracks by Lucius' softly uttered words, "Remember your life debt, Severus."
"My life debt is fulfilled, I worked it off in hair care products and anti-aging cream," Severus' voice was smooth, but there was a tiny hint of uncertainty.
"Really?" Lucius rose to his feet, grateful, for once, to have the upper hand. "Then why do you feel it tugging at you even now, old friend? You know as well as I do that your life is worth more than a few potions."
"What do you want, Lucius?" Severus turned to face him once more a dark scowl across his sallow face.
Lucius shrugged. "I want your word that you will not reveal my true identity to Miss Granger."
Severus gave a heavy sigh. "Lucius, I would appeal to your better nature-"
"Your word, Severus, I will not be moved on this."
"Fine, you have my word that I will not inform Miss Granger of your true identity."
"Good, then your life debt is discharged." Lucius pushed past Severus on his way to the door. "Oh wait; there is just one more, tiny thing."
"And what might that be?" Severus' tone was dangerous.
"I need a long-acting form of Polyjuice potion; I can't risk a transformation in the middle of the Trollish archive, can I?"
"That's not possible, Lucius and you know it. Polyjuice takes a month to brew and Miss Granger wishes to leave in four days."
"You'd better get brewing then, hadn't you old friend?" Lucius reached out and patted Severus' cheek. "Neither of us wishes to disappoint Miss Granger after all." With that he swept through the door and into the apothecary, feeling the best he had all week.
I know, I know…you want to know how Lucius fixed his hair…don't worry, all will be revealed in the fullness of time. Including Camomile's identity – eek!