CHAPTER TWO: ENTER THE SPY
Lucius was not stupid, although he could or would not argue about occasional lapses like getting an ugly tattoo and being branded like cattle in the subservience of a madman, who ultimately lost. But then, even that couldn't keep a Malfoy down or in Azkaban. The point is, he did have an intelligent, working brain and it clearly indicated that openly approaching Severus for information regarding the Boy-Who-Lived was social and political suicide for someone who was still having trouble with the occasional Auror raids and wore an ugly, dark taint of his past indiscretions on his left inner forearm.
But he wasn't the consummate Slytherin, and the Dark Lord's least distrusted right-hand man, for nothing. Lucius knew practically just about every shading shadow lurking about occasionally in the Knockturn Alley and the Margin Alley. He knew all the undercurrents, shady deals, needs, greeds and breeds that would trade in just about everything money could buy, and a rare few times, some things Money couldn't really buy or recreate either. But for this once, there was no need to roll in the gutter for fun and cheap thrills. He had perfectly legitimate contact he could pump just right for the right kind of information and it would hardly even dent his fortunes. Severus Snape, Potion Master par excellence, and a regular patron-seeker, Draco's god-father and a dear family friend who was due for a birthday treat - a trip to the Amazonian Jungles for a harvesting expedition should do nicely.
So he sent an invite to Severus to join him on a potions ingredient hunt in the Americas, he had already scheduled and took off. It was in the middle of a sweaty Amazonian jungle, securely inside a warded tent that still failed to keep the annoying buzz of mosquitoes out, that he confessed to his old friend about Draco's latest fetish. And he was lucky that he had chosen to wait until they had a rich and bountiful harvest, and some spectacular wine and cold cuts and perfectly aged cheese, before he explained his new predicament.
Although less expressive than the Malfoys, Severus did indeed care deeply for the happy, golden child who radiated an innocence he himself had never tasted. And whenever possible, he had himself indulged that sweetly sly, clever and bubbly child over the years. There were exactly two people who had occupied a treasured placed in his cold, half-dead heart and one of them was dead for more than four years now, although no less mourned. In a moment of resentment, he decided that the Potter Spawn owed it to him to indulge his godson this simple desire. The older, un-lamented late Potter had tormented him long, hard and relentlessly enough that he owed this much.
And so, he did not dismiss Lucius Malfoy's unspoken request to pry the whereabouts of the hidden Potter from the old stalwarts of Hogwarts. And he considered the only three rumoured to know. Asking Dumbledore was most definitely out of question. Minerva was a fire-breathing dragoness and would consider his interest most suspiciously. She had not forgiven him for taking on the mark or his side job of spying for the Order even after four years of working together since the end of the war. So he couldn't ask her freely either. In all honesty, there was only one tongue that could be loosened enough to pry the secret without a single soul knowing. And it was as easy as taking candy from a baby.
So the two dark wizards went back to civilization, happy with their bounties, their errands, and the conclusions. Lucius went back to wait in the comfort of his glorious home, and Severus went back to Hogwarts and stocked up his ingredients cupboard. And then he went looking for Hagrid, at his crowded hut. He chatted up the giant amiably enough as he gathered Hagrid's weekly collection of ingredients sourced from the Forbidden Forest and engineered a mutual Friday night date for drinks at the pub between two colleagues.
Setting his gathered and overflowing basket aside, in stasis and well out of reach of Hagrid's drooling boar-hound, Severus allowed himself to be dragged along to the Three Broomsticks, although he insisted that as staff at Hogwarts, if they were going to get drunk, they were obliged to do it out of sight from other patrons, in a private room. And three hours, fourteen flagons and many many war stories later, as always, the talk turned to the unexpected end and the Boy-Who-Lived. And Severus instantly grew alert, although he worked at keeping his eyes half-mast, his tongue slurred and his questions barely coherent.
And it astonished and outraged all sense of propriety in him as Lily's oldest friend, that her only child was left like a bottle of milk at the doorstep of Petunia, of all people, with nothing more than a single parchment of hastily scrawled note about why the child was to be kept there. Even if Lucius hadn't asked him to, he was going with them to check the child out and make sure that vile hag hadn't killed the child for its magic already. No one in the wizarding world knew Petunia Dursley Nee Evans as well as Severus Snape did. And he would bet his best diamond self stirring rod that she was still a jealous, bitter harpy more than a woman.
He was impatient to be gone and was really glad the fifteenth flagon of fire-whiskey finally felled the half-giant into a drunken stupor. Picking up a butterbeer, he weaved his way out of the private rooms, and paid shakily at the counter, informing Rosmerta of the sleeping Hagrid in Private Dining Room No.14 and stumbled through the floo into his quarters. He summoned an elf, wrote out a note to Minerva explaining his state of utter drunkenness and desire to sleep in, and informing her that his drinking companion, Hagrid was still out for the count at Madam Rosmerta's pub and send the elf off with the note and instruction to all Hogwarts elf that the potions master not be disturbed, and allowed to sleep off his drinking spree in whatever manner he chooses. There, that would secure his privacy till Monday morning.
After a quick shower and attire change to something more befitting the Mafloys' company, even if it still was the black of mourning, a completely sober potions master floo'ed to the Leaky Cauldron and then, the Malfoy Manor from there, intent on carrying his sobering news to Lucius.