WWN Listens
III: "Mastery"
1174 words

In a quiet part of London, Lucius shook the hand of Vermout Rosso and bid him a good day. Then he stepped out of the speakeasy and headed towards Knockturn Alley.

Though it was too late for afternoon tea, Lucius picked his way to a teahouse anyway. There was one hidden from the main street, shielded by trees and shade and an occasional degenerate. It was not unlike an alcove inside Hogwarts, or a pigeonhole cafe in Italy, so he was untroubled to sit down.

That is, until a particular curly-haired ruffarian tripped over Lucius' table and spilled his tea.

"Sorry," Harry Potter muttered, ducking his head. Lucius' tea waterfalled off the table's edge, dangerously near his perfectly polished boot. He resisted the urge to kick the silly brat away, and reached for his cane. The mess was gone in an instant.

"If it isn't Mr Potter," Lucius murmured, examining the boy on the ground. Bottle cap glasses and faded scar were not the only tell-tale signs of Hogwarts' Finest. Coldly he scrutinised the Quidditch physique, dark hair, and green eyes which glared up at him. Lucius had not known Lily Evans, but he might understand now Severus' fondness. "I see your reflexes have not kept up with you."

Potter grabbed onto a chair and hoisted himself upright.

"Glad to see you're fine," he retorted tartly, shaking a fistful of papers. "My transcript is a mess now, thanks to you!"

Lucius leaned back in his chair. "I dare say your thanks is unnecessary. We all manage with what we have - some more than others…"

Then the boy, who looked nothing like Draco but certainly acted similarly, retreated to a table further along the veranda and threw himself into a chair.

Lucius sighed and stood up.

"Is it in terrible disarray?" he asked, levitating two clean teacups and a kettle to this new disaster zone. While Lucius may have meant to pitch his voice kindly, Potter looked up with the betrayal of a spoiled house elf.

"I'm fixing it," Potter snapped, though it did not appear that he was fixing anything, least of all his attitude. The teakettle poured itself.

Clearing his throat, Lucius tried again. "Do you often trip over unmoving objects?" he asked conversationally, gesturing at the upheaval of chairs with his saucer. Potter said nothing.

Lucius lifted his cup to his lips. "The tea is rather good - worse than sharing would be wasting it."

"You're a terrible conversationalist," said the boy.

"Am I?" asked Lucius, smiling behind the rim. "Perhaps it is that one of us lacks sense of humour."

It was a late day in July, though none of the usual tourism reached here. The door of the corner bookshop - half a block away - opened and closed, and Lucius watched a ruffled witch balance a stack of books and a broom. Elsewhere, a hollow laugh and the scent of clean laundry.

A heavy sigh disturbed the air. "I hate to admit it," Potter started quietly, "but your son got me a really brilliant opportunity." If the street had been any busier, Lucius might not have heard him.

"Draco," Lucius murmured, not turning. "Yes, he does so enjoy helping people."

"It was hardly for free," Harry retorted, his face twisting at the words. "It never is, with him."

Lucius set down his cup. "Malfoys are not philanthropists, Mr Potter," he said, smiling at the boy.

For the first time, Potter reached for his tea and took a sip. As Lucius watched, the piercing gaze softened and the boy let out a breathy sigh. "You chose a good one," he murmured after a long pause. "I usually order it with vanilla."

Lucius looked away. "Come here often?" he asked casually, carefully keeping the curiosity out of his tone.

"A bit." A hand gestured to the bookshop across the way. "I live above that shop there," Potter explained. "No one comes this far into Knockturn, so I'm left well enough alone."

"The boy who lived in Knockturn Alley," needled Lucius. Then he gestured in the opposite direction with his cane. "I just came from a venue that way - I am arranging a small social for Draco. Perhaps, as you are so indebted to him, you would like to help congratulate him on receiving his Mastery."

"Mastery?" Harry asked, sounding surprised. "In what, pettiness?"

Lucius' once amused face turned bland. "Healing," he corrected.

It looked like Potter was about to laugh, then thought better of it. He finished off his tea, but even the cup could not hide his snort. Lucius' eyes narrowed.

"Sorry, it's just - Healing?" Potter's face wrinkled in amusement. "When did that come on?"

Lucius ignored the question. "I will be sending you a respondez s'il vous plait via owl," he said, pulling several Galleons out of his robes. "What flat number is it?"

"Uh," Potter paused, watching Lucius stand up. "Four." He looked a bit dazed, lost in the width of Lucius' shoulders. "Harry Potter, flat four. 95 Bagley."

As Lucius touched his cane, he murmured a simple charm to rearrange Potter's transcript in the correct order. A thin ribbon neatly secured itself around the bundle. "Do try to avoid tripping again," he teased, handing the transcript back. Briefly, an emboldened line - What steps have you taken to locate your missing Wizengamot member? - caught Lucius' eye. Then he smiled at the silly boy and departed.

Mrs Binns was idling on the steps of her shop, looking positively peeved, as Harry pulled out his house keys.

"Busy day, Mrs Binns?" he asked politely.

"Busy day indeed," she muttered, waving the question away. "Was that Lucius Malfoy with you just now?"

Harry shrugged. "I happened to run into him. Literally," he added darkly.

"Mr Potter, I am vexed," Mrs Binns announced.

Harry paused, one foot already on the stairs up to his home. The sun had started to fall, casting disturbing shadows on his landlady's face. He leant his rucksack against the railing and turned to face her.

"What for?"

"'What for?'" She mimicked, shaking a finger at him. "You know what for, boy. There you are, lounging, having a coffee with Lucius Malfoy. Of all people!"

"It was tea, actually," Harry corrected, smiling.

"Don't get smart, boy, it isn't good for politics. When was the last time you came around for a coffee with me! Weeks, I'd wager," she said grumpily.

"Don't you usually take tea?" he teased. "I'll come around soon. Swamped with work, you know how it is."

"Hooey!"

He laughed and picked up his bag. "Good night, Mrs Binns," he started to say, and then a thought occurred to him. Harry turned to see the older witch turning the OPEN sign to CLOSED. "You wouldn't happen to follow news about that missing Wizengamot member, would you?" he asked.

"Nasty business, that," she grumbled. "Worse than no money is owing money."

"What do you mean?"

Mrs Binns looked back at him, unimpressed. "Weren't you going?" she asked, and shut the door behind her. Harry stared at the CLOSED sign, dumbfounded.