A/N: You lucky, lucky people! This whole chapter is full of Harry-Lucius interaction. It's one of my favorites.

Thank you:

Neinna Celebrindal, Wolflady, alliekatgal (Lucius nice? I rather think that Lucius takes care of his own, nice or not), tinkita, Spear and Magic Helmet, Purple Raveness, Adele Sparks (Good name for Harry's tempter, no? You're the only one who seems to have picked up on it. Cheers!), Sky ( I love Nicholas. Breaks my heart to see him go, but he has performed an invaluable service for Harry.), vote-Larry4prez, Shawnsgoddess, StarryGazer ( Graceless? Fluffy? Oh no! I think an integral part of Lucius' charm is his grace.), Laimerkain ( I never stopped writing this fic. I was just really stumped on chapter 13. It's coming along though.), and cocopops.

It is half-past two in the morning, three weeks after Nicholas' funeral. Harry should be asleep. Harry should have eaten dinner. Instead Harry had graded papers meticulously and Harry had visited Hagrid and Harry had taken a long walk, which ended when he discovered that he was either going straight into the Forbidden Forest or straight into the lake. His feet seemed to know no other paths and he couldn't honestly say that he objected to either one, but Hermione and Ron wouldn't appreciate having Harry's funeral upon the heels of Nicholas'. It is out of consideration for them that he returns to the castle. Back in his room and faced with the conclusion that life at Hogwarts is impossible to continue as normal, Harry has one choice left.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out Lucius' card. The card is showing signs of wear. The corners are rounded. The upper left corner is dog-eared. The body of the card is curved from the folding of Harry's pants as he sits or walks. Harry fingers it, biting his lips. Taking a deep breath, he throws the card into the fire.

He steps into Lucius' office to come face-to-face with the man himselfin silk pajamas no less. "I thought you said I'd have to wait a few hours," Harry teases.

"I was not expecting you," Lucius replies with a wry smile. Harry raises an eyebrow.

"So if you had been expecting me, you would have made me wait?" Lucius looks down at his pajamas ruefully.

"I would have been better dressed." Harry surveys Lucius, stroking his chin as if he was in deep thought.

"I like the way you're dressed." he says after a moment.

"Thank you, but what the devil are you wearing and why does it have so many zippers?" Lucius asks, frowning in the general direction of Harry's favorite shirt. Harry sticks out his tongue. "Don't show me that unless you're going to use it," Luciuis warns. Harry blinks.

"My father is the type of animal that circles its prey just long enough to catch the scent and then strikes without warning," Draco said, his face grave and thoughtful.

"Animal? Why do you call your father an animal?"

"My father lacks indecision and doubt and I don't care what any scientist tells you. It is indecision and doubt that separate us from the animals. Does the wolf doubt its ability to catch its prey? Does the hunted animal have to ponder whether or not it will run? No. My father is sure and he is swift and that's what makes him deadly."

"And where do you stand?" Harry asked.

"I am definitely human." Draco chuckled and looked up at Harry, almost shyly.

"Doubt?" Harry guessed. Draco nodded.

"It's my middle name."

Harry glanced at the blond boy beside him. He wanted to say something, something reassuring, but Draco didn't take well to reassuring just as Draco didn't take well to gratitude, pity, or sympathy. Harry decided that Draco worked too hard for everything and then ignored the reward. Yes, Harry was definitely feeling ignored. He blushes when he realized what he just thought. Had Draco finally won him over?

Harry was still blushing when his eyes met Draco's. Draco, being Draco and having a knack for knowing exactly what Harry was thinking or feeling when it was least convenient for Harry, smiled a little.

In the semidarkness of the study, Harry sees Draco in Lucius' face and wraps his arms around himself. "It's a shirt," he replies softly. Lucius moves closer.

"I don't believe it." He fingers one of the zipper pulls idly. Harry tenses, turns his head away slightly.

"My students believe it." Lucius chuckles.

"You teach students in that? Professor Scryer, you look like you belong in a cage in a nightclub, not in front of a blackboard." Harry tries to ignore the very unpleasant sensation of his blood running cold. He faces Lucius.

"Behind a crystal ball, actually. I teach Divination." He swats Lucius' hand away from his zippers.

"Mmm." Lucius' hand goes right back to tease the zippers on Harry's shirt. "How well can you see the future?"

"Right now, I see me leaving and never coming back here," Harry replies, putting as much indignance as he can muster into his voice. Lucius raises an eyebrow.

"Are you sure that you're qualified to teach? I've never met a seer who was so off." Harry raises his eyebrow in answer.

"You think you can do better?"

Lucius takes his hand away abruptly. Harry relaxes instantly. Lucius sinks into an armchair in front of the fire. He gestures to a chair nearby. Harry sits down, wondering what he's gotten himself into.

"You've come because you can't eat, you can't sleep, you can't function at Hogwarts anymore. You're here to talk to me about Sebastian's Tour. You'll be back if we can't decide everything tonight. While you're here, we'll share a few drinks and one night we will end up in bed," Lucius says nonchalantly. Harry is unamused.

"Yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes. I don't like to drink and no."

Lucius takes a sip from a glass at his elbow. He looks thoughtful and doesn't reply for a moment.

"Not if I was the last blonde on earth?"

"Not even then," Harry says, wondering if his infatuation with blondes was that obvious or if Lucius just took it for granted that blondes had universal appeal.

"Pity," Lucius replies, draining his glass. It refills itself.

"That's a neat trick," Harry remarks, shifting in his chair.

"It convenient when you're trying to drink yourself to death. There's no need to get up."

If anyone else had said it, Harry would have laughed, but for now he just sits there trying to figure out how serious Lucius was. Lucius puts the glass down. "When," he whispers to the glass. The glass drains itself.

"You don't plan on dying today?" Harry asks coldly. Lucius laughs to himself.

"Drinking oneself to death is a long, painful process. I am not quite done with living. I have a few reasons left."

"Oh?" Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, planning Sebastian's tour is a good one."

"Any other reasons?" Lucius looks up. He traces the rim of his glass with his forefinger.

"No, now that I think about it. That's the only one."

"The only one?" Harry echoes. He finds it hard to believe that the only reason this once great and terrible man has for living is a social event.

"I had hoped..." Lucius voice trails off as he stares into the fire.

"You had hoped?" Harry prompts. Lucius shakes himself out of his reverie.

"I had hoped to make a new start." The sadness that Harry glimpsed at Nicholas' funeral takes Lucius over again. Harry is embarrassed to see him this way. It is a feeling like he has walked in on Lucius in the shower, like he is witnessing something he has no right to see.

He shifts, aware of Lucius' eyes on him. "I need another drink," Lucius announces to no one in particular. His glass fills itself. Lucius knocks it back in one shot. The expression on his face doesn't change. He doesn't even wince. The glass refills itself. Lucius drains it again. Before he is aware of what he is doing, Harry has crossed the room and knocked the glass out of Lucius' hand. It spills. And refills itself. And spills.

Harry and Lucius lock gazes. For a long time the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the sound of brandy spilling as the glass empties and refills itself eternally. Without breaking eye contact, Harry smashes the glass with his heel. The only sound left is the fire.

"I can fix that, you know," Lucius says quietly. There is no mockery. He is merely stating a fact.

"You'll have to wait until after I leave. I won't watch you drink yourself to death right in front of me," Harry replies, his voice shaking. Lucius shakes his head.

"I wasn't trying to drink myself to death." He steeples his fingers, rests his chin on his thumbs, still gazing at Harry.

"Oh yeah? That's what it looked like to me!" Harry cannot explain why he is angry. He only knows that watching Lucius in his current state and exchanging small talk has filled him with a terrible sense of waste, something akin to despair.

"That's because you don't drink. I was just trying to blur the edges a bit." The cold edge Harry is familiar with is beginning to return to Lucius' voice.

"Why?" Harry asks, his anger fading as something like relief trickles into his system.

"Because," Lucius replies sharply.

"Because what?" Harry's gaze is hard when he meets Lucius' eyes. Another moment of silence. Lucius sighs, slumps back into his chair.

"Because you look just like him," he says wearily.

Harry freezes in momentary horror. Then he reminds himself that Lucius has a fair amount of alcohol in his system, and if he wanted it badly enough, a coat stand would remind him of Harry. "The hair, the eyes, your face...it's uncanny really...the resemblance, but everything is uncanny with enough alcohol. Sobrietus," Lucius muttered. With that, he stood up, straightening imaginary wrinkles in his pajamas. "I apologize for my conduct, Mr. Scryer. Perhaps you had better leave."

"No!"

The word surprises Harry. He hadn't meant to say it. Lucius looks at him curiously, one eyebrow raised. Harry looks at the floor, at the shards of glass beneath his heel. He doesn't know that he looks lost, like a scared runaway dressed tough to hide the fact that he's more vulnerable than ever. He feels lost, feels like he's drowning in grief and he has one chance to escape it and he knows somehow that if he leaves now, he loses that chance. "I- I can't sleep at Hogwarts. The bed-"

"Reminds you of Nicholas?" Lucius finishes. Harry nods, biting his lip. "Follow me."

Lucius leads Harry out of the study and three doors to the left. The bedroom is one Harry hasn't seen before. It is huge, like everything else in the Manor. It is stately and very warm. Lucius hands Harry a set of pajamas, interrupting him mid-gawk. "You can wear these. I daresay all those zippers would be uncomfortable to sleep in." Harry turns just in time to catch Lucius' smirk. Lucius heads toward the door. Harry turns back around and pulls his shirt over his head and starts to unfasten his pants.

Then he remembers that he never heard the door close.

He spins around to find Lucius in the doorway, arms crossed, looking calmly at him. "I was going to ask you if you needed anything else," Lucius explains. Harry blushes.

"I-er, no, thank you. What is this?" he asks, gesturing to the room.

"This is my room," Lucius says simply. His eyes look briefly around the room. Harry's eyes widen.

"Oh. And where will you sleep?" Lucius snorts.

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't sleep anymore." Harry blinks. Lucius moves to close the door. More only chances. Or maybe it's not his only chance, but certainly his best chance to get over his fear of Lucius the man and not Lucius the Death Eater.

"Stay."

The world stops spinning for a moment. Harry witnesses the change in acceleration with a lurch in his stomach. Lucius, for his part, merely sways a little. He turns and takes a step. Harry doesn't remember the other steps, but they're unimportant because Lucius is standing right in front of him. His fingers brush Harry's hair and he looks wistful for a moment.

"Whatever for?"

"Because I want you to," Harry says, turning his face into Lucius' palm. Lucius brings him close. He inhales Harry's scent, eyes closing as an expression of pain flits across his face.

"You only want me because I look like him," Lucius sighs.

"You want me because I look like him," Harry murmurs.

"So that makes this okay?" Lucius' free hand strokes the back of Harry's upper arm.

He kisses Harry.

Not as Harry would have expected to be kissed. Lucius presses his lips to Harry's forehead. The most chaste of kisses.

And Harry was holding his breath for it.

"I will be noble." Lucius steps back from Harry and grins. "Just this once." He looks at Harry one last time. "Good night, Mr. Scryer."

Damn! They were so close! Oh, well.It's not over yet. Review!

Love,

J. Silver