Well, lots to say wonderful readers. Obligatory disclaimer of course, just a reminder that HP universe belongs to JKR. Glad you are enjoying my little romp there.

I have had a plethora of real life hitting me, some more pleasant than others. Family members who were visiting have now departed (yay), my laptop is irretrievably broken (boo), real life homeowner troubles (boo), and time spent with my kiddos (yay). So I am using the desktop for a bit until I can save enough for the replacement laptop, which curtails writing time. I've given up estimating times, I do abjectly apologize for this delay though. The combination of events was quite unfortunate (though not quite Lemony Snicket-esque in scale).

SOOO thankful to all who have reviewed! A Deca I hope you are still reading. Dragoon gal I am happy you are back reviewing! Alesia G, same goes! And zeeksmom thank you for your detailed comments! Kezz, thanks for the thumbs up.

I realize I have probably misspelled handles and so on, I am sorry. I just want to post this as fast as possible for you all. Next chapter is already in progress, although what that means in terms of timing who knows with my life! Thank you for sticking with this, I hope I can reward you with a faster update. Cross your fingers for me! Thanks. :)


The French countryside was charming, he'd always thought. It was difficult to appreciate, however, when one had to skulk around in hedgerows and use a myriad of glamours and Polyjuice while darting between it and Paris or Le Havre. Lucius abhorred disguises. Perhaps it was part of his innate arrogance as a wealthy Pureblood, but it was rare for him to have to resort to hiding in shadows, a Muggle's coarse face disguising his patrician features. Even more grating was the fact that the person he was tailing was a vindictive, viperous wizard, and therefore he had to adopt a deep cover and could not communicate at all with anyone at home. He ought to know—Bertrand was doing what he himself would do.

"Bastard," he muttered to himself in French as his cousin donned yet another glamour. It was only by dint of his long association with his family that he could predict where Bertrand would go, and the tracing charm he'd put on Bertrand's owl helped immeasurably as well. It wasn't his public owl, oh no, this was his little mangy secret owl, the tawny one that he treated so piss poorly it was a wonder the poor bird didn't take itself off one cold night. Lucius knew that secretly Bertrand was insanely jealous of Thérèse's nightjar, but the old witch hadn't told any of them how she had magicked that bird. That was a truly untraceable means of communication…the bird was so perfectly camouflaged both physically and magically that you never knew it was there until it wanted you to know.

He was shaken from his thoughts by his cousin's entrance into a Muggle post office. How quaint. Apparently Bertrand was quite the letter writer, and Lucius had absconded and copied several of his communications. He danced around the true topic of interest, genetics, but clearly Bertrand was playing in deep waters. He had frustratingly not provided anything in the way of conclusive evidence yet that would allow Lucius to go home, so here he sat. Lucius felt his features shifting, and quickly drank more Polyjuice. He had become more familiar with Muggle communication methods than he would have ever wished, and he cursed his cousin mentally again. If he ever had a chance to lay wand into him, he had quite an impressive spells list at the ready.

Bertrand was concluding his business in the post office and Lucius followed him as he apparated back to his home, irrespective of the fact that Bertrand was inside it and Lucius was outside in the pouring rain. There had been a reason that Lucius was always successful at finding individuals when sent after them by the Dark Lord. He had perfected a particularly insidious piece of dark magic, the so-called Black Cat Jinx. He was able to find whoever he was looking for within a reasonable range as long as he managed to cast the curse on them, but the price was the intent of the caster. If you were truly seeking to do harm, it would backfire on the caster, causing all sorts of gruesome fatalities. And Lucius was never actively seeking harm, merely information, or company. Thus, he never had any problem with it. Even when he was irritated, he maintained iron control over his emotional responses. Emotional responses got you killed under the Dark Lord's service, quite often under his wand.

Lucius waited patiently to see if his cousin would visit any other interesting wizards in the vicinity. He knew Dolohov was around—it had caused him to become extremely vigilant about changing between Polyjuice and glamours. Antonin had a habit of sniffing out magical disguises, and as much as Lucius abhorred Polyjuice, it was something he knew Antonin could not pick up. After about an hour, Bertrand disapparated again, and Lucius dutifully followed. When he saw that Bertrand was visiting his mistress, he disapparated himself to Château Plein de Morgue. He knew that his cousin was a randy bastard and would be there all night.

"Plinth! Firewhisky. And keep the knocker off the door," Lucius ordered, aware that he looked a fright with the Polyjuice. It was irrelevant to house elves, however, as they could perceive magical auras.

"Yes, master! Right away!"

Lucius was on his second glass when he felt his features contorting back to their normal shape. He sighed. It was pleasant to be in familiar surroundings, but he was no closer to being able to return home. Bertrand was investigating Hermione's genetics research, and possibly had been the wizard Harry had seen. However, given Bertrand's extreme paranoia about disguises at the moment, Lucius had to wonder if Bertrand was as intricately intertwined in events as Kingsley and Harry seemed to think he was.

He raised an invisible glass to his cousin. "Whether it be Malfoy or Malfaille, it is a name feared at the Ministry of Magic." It mattered a great deal at the moment that it happened to be the sort of fear they wanted to avoid, but Lucius was pureblooded enough to salute his ancestors for establishing the reign of House Malfoy so thoroughly on both sides of the Channel. His musing was interrupted by a snort from the fireplace. Damn it, he had blocked that Floo! Unless…Lucius groaned as he heard Thérèse's roughened voice.

"Lucius, I know you're there. Harriet saw you skulking in the rain at Bertrand's, and of course being the sweet bird she is, she told me at once. Come over here and talk to me this instant, you naughty boy!"

He was too old to pound his head on the desk, but at times like these he could hardly wait for the old bat to die. No one in the family dared to block their Floos to her, as she would ruthlessly punish whoever did so. He still didn't know how she had managed to get his cousin Gerard posted to the high desert of Chile for the French Foreign Office, but she had managed it. Dreadful. Steeling himself for being raked over the coals, he stepped over to the fireplace and threw in some Floo powder, then thrust his head in. "Aunt Thérèse, this is hardly a good time for a social call. I am here on business."

Thérèse harrumphed and one eyebrow raised. "I already know that too. But that hardly excuses your deplorable silence for the past few months. I have hardly heard from you since you married that…creature and got her pregnant. No, I will not excuse poor manners. I will expect you tomorrow morning for breakfast at seven sharp."

Her tone was as cutting as one of his own slicing hexes, and Lucius mentally cursed her. While it was unlikely that Bertrand would be up and about before nine, there was still the faint possibility that his cousin would give him the slip. The Black Cat jinx was effective, but one had to be present for it to work.

"I trust whatever you have to say is of an important nature, and not something trivial, Madame. I assure you, I shall be deeply displeased for anything less than the family honor at stake," Lucius replied stiffly, aware, as his aunt was, that he would be there regardless of her reasons.

"As if I will discuss such things with you in this fetid manner. And bring me an apology gift. You really have sunk quite low, Lucius." With that, the witch rang off, and Lucius withdrew his head from the fireplace, jaw clenched. Fucking fantastic.


"Ginny, thank you for inviting me over," Kingsley said, giving the pregnant witch a kiss on the cheek before he shrugged off his overcoat and entered their home, his Auror escorts trailing behind him.

"You two will find some dinner in the kitchen," Ginny said to the Aurors, sending Kingsley's coat to the closet and the kitchen door flicking open.

"Thank you ma'am," they offered respectfully, nodding to their co-worker Harry as they passed by. While Harry was treated much the same as any other Auror, there were still perks and prices to be paid for being Harry Potter, the boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. When the Minister of Magic dropped by for dinner on a fairly frequent basis, he would never be just another Auror.

"Thank you for coming, Kingsley," Harry said, shaking his friend's hand. Although their roles were kind of reversed from the Order days, Harry respected Kingsley's handling of many difficult situations since the war, and it was only when extremely important things came up that Harry pulled his status out and used it. This was one of those times.

"Perhaps a drink before dinner?" Harry asked, gesturing to his private library. "Ginny is going to put the boys to bed before we eat."

Kingsley accepted a glass of absinthe, aware that the green fairy which lit the sugar cube was an heirloom magical ornament in the Potter family. It had been one of the possessions Harry had discovered when he finally got around to digging through his vault at Gringotts. "I have always thought that the green fairy was a bit more of a tart," Kingsley said, gesturing to the silver fairy's demure, empire waist gown.

"Well, there is the drink itself," Harry observed, taking a sip from his own glass.

Kingsley chuckled in his deep baritone. "True."

It was now or never. Harry opened his mouth and began. "Kingsley, I understand that the Ministry, and you in particular, are in a messy situation with all of the genetics testing and the Marriage Law. It hasn't been around long enough to be proven a success, but at the same time, it has been in place long enough for people to feel the uncomfortable effects of some of the less than optimal marriages. Add in the consequences for wizards like Yaxley who want to avoid it, and all of the attacks and Muggle disappearances, and I know you have a lot on your plate. But, and you know what I'm going to say—"

"Harry, I cannot tell you about the Ministry's arrangement with Lucius Malfoy. I told Hermione no already, and my answer is the same for you." Kingsley was obviously expecting Harry would not stop there, sighing as Harry's eyes took on the determined gleam that Hermione would have recognized.

"Kingsley, I have played by the rules and kept my head down since the war ended. I willingly sacrificed myself for the wizarding world, and I would do it again if I had to. The difference was, I knew what was being asked of me, and I gave it 110%. I want you to think, how can you expect the same of Hermione, when you won't even make it clear to her exactly what you are asking her to do? Because whatever else you may say about her marriage to Lucius, it's anything but platonic or a marriage of convenience—so whatever you've asked of Lucius, you have now also asked of Hermione."

Kingsley set aside his drink and leaned forward, giving Harry a frank look. "Harry, you've made it clear you have no taste for politics. I have been traveling to practically every country that is requesting Hermione's test, dealing with the Muggle Prime Minister regarding the disappearances, and now I have to confront this media blitz by these "Watchers" whose intent is far more nefarious than they present, all while trying to protect the Squibs and keep the Pureblood/Muggleborn situation from exploding again. I am not willing to compromise the integrity of years of work by this Ministry to satisfy one witch's curiosity, irrespective of who she is or what she is doing for us. It is for the greater good, Harry—and I remember a time when that was enough for both of you."

"Dinner!" Ginny called in, and Harry and Kingsley both rose. Before they went into the dining room, Harry stopped Kingsley with a hand on his arm.

"Kingsley, you're entitled to make whatever decisions you see fit, and I respect that. But if this costs the life of the brightest witch of this age, who also happens to be my best friend, I will never forgive you."

Kingsley's eyes were intent as he clasped Harry's hand in his own. "Believe me, Harry, I would never forgive myself."


The late afternoon light bathed Hermione in a golden glow. She was lost in her thoughts, her eyes fixed on the formal gardens outside the library window, but her mind was a million miles away.

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

Astoria's soft voice interrupted Hermione's thoughts. Lucius had been gone for three days and Draco had returned home from St. Mungo's after a hostile crowd had tried to storm the lobby in a perverted demand for "justice from those Death Eaters!" Essentially all three were now hostages in the Manor, a mix of Unspeakables and Aurors assigned to it despite the fact that the wards were among the strongest of pureblood families.

Hermione did not even turn her head to answer. "Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking about some things, that's all."

Astoria hesitated in the doorway. She was worried about Hermione, despite Draco's assurance this morning to the contrary.

" She's been through a bloody war, Astoria! She has seen a lot worse than this. Granger will be just fine."

Looking at Hermione now, Astoria disagreed. She knew the difference between Draco's occasional broodiness and what seemed to be a form of depression. She tried something that was usually successful in rousing Draco when he was melancholic. "Would you read Scorpius his bedtime story? He's been a bit of a handful today."

A small smile pierced Hermione's mouth, and she finally turned to look at Astoria. "Of course. I'll be right up."

"Thank you," Astoria said with a genuine smile. Hopefully her little man could cheer up Hermione…and Lucius would return soon.

After Hermione had entertained Scorpius thoroughly by making his stuffed animals act out parts of his bedtime story, she left him to the hugs and cuddles of Draco and Astoria and wandered back to her own wing. They would assume she had gone to bed, but Hermione was actually forming a desperate resolution. She needed verification of her ideas, and she really needed another viewpoint about her theory for the Squib gene and how it was regulated.

Hermione snapped her case shut, shrunk it, and put it in her pocket. There was only one person who could give her the answers she sought, and she had no intention of not getting them. If she went through the traditional channels, a whole team of Aurors and Unspeakables would accompany her, and someone would find out. There were too many leaks. Without knowing where Lucius was and what he was about, it was driving Hermione mad to just sit and wait.

Snapping her fingers, Hermione summoned Smidgen. The house elf bowed deeply and looked up with her wide, grey eyes. Although it made her feel guilty to see the trust in the diminutive elf's countenance, it was too late for second thoughts.

"Smidgen, I am going to have a holiday at home. I am going to read and study, and I don't want any visitors or interruptions for the next three days. I want all of my meals brought to this table here," Hermione patted the surface of the lovely antique, "And I don't want you to worry if I'm in the bathroom. I promise to take my potions every morning as normal. That will be all."

"Yes, mistress, Smidgen will do exactly as you say," her elf bowed again and winked out of the room.

"Colloportus maximus intentus," Hermione said, pointing her wand at her bedroom door. Then, withdrawing the curtain tassel she had turned into a portkey, Hermione disappeared from the room.


Lucius arrived ten minutes early for breakfast, treating Thérèse's elf with utter disdain when the creature attempted to suggest he should wait in the lobby instead of the breakfast parlor. He swept past the thing impatiently, and found his aunt perusing her morning post.

"Lucius, you are early. How unbearably crass of you," she said as she held her papery cheek up for his kiss. "Since I am sure you are here to offer your abject apology for the rude manner in which you have ignored me, I presume your precipitous arrival heralds an equally perspicacious gift."

"How well you know me," Lucius murmured, and withdrew a parcel from his cloak before tossing it at the unfortunate house elf, who staggered beneath the weight. He was impeccably attired in a closely tailored navy suit with matching embroidered robes. He watched Thérèse open the inlaid box, withdrawing a set of jeweled insects. She fixed her beady eyes on him and quirked a brow.

"I certainly hope you have an explanation for this," she began, but Lucius flicked his wand and the insects came to life, scurrying into hiding spots in her robes which caused his aunt to emit a shriek of disapproval.

"Finite incantatum," he said, and they returned to the box. Thérèse was now quivering with anger, but Lucius forestalled her with his hand.

"They are eavesdropping bugs, Madame. You leave them at a home and they will hide themselves in the most interesting nooks and crannies, relaying all they hear. They will fly home when you end the spell."

At this Thérèse was mollified, her greedy hand stroking the box. "Well, despite the unorthodox manner in which you chose to display them, I think that is a very useful gift! Now, you naughty wizard, tell me why I shouldn't throw you out for trying to murder me with a heart attack. And you'd best make it an involved and compelling tale, young man, else I shall be forced to reconsider my asset allocation under your management."

"Yes, yes, we both know you don't intend to deal with anything so tedious as money, Thérèse. Now, can you tell me what was so bloody urgent that you summoned me here? And don't tell me your cook has come up with a new breakfast brioche which I must try, or that the local apothecary is giving you fits again about your potions. As you once told me, brevity is the discretion of a family." Lucius knew it was a gamble to take such an open tack with her, but she was quite pleased with his little trinket and the time to press that advantage was immediately.

"I am very unhappy with you and Bertrand, Lucius. This sort of discord is not good for the family as a whole. I want you to patch it all up, now."

Lucius stared at her. She was serious. Godric's Hollow, was the old bat finally losing her mind?

"I beg pardon, Madame, but the affairs in which Bertrand and I find ourselves ensconced are most assuredly at odds, and I do not think such matters will be as easily resolved as you seem to think," Lucius said stiffly, wishing he had a stiff drink instead of having to deal with Thérèse at this hour of the day.

"Ah, about that Lucius…" she was interrupted as the door opened and her house elf came in, and right on his heels came Bertrand, sporting a new, shorter haircut for his dark hair. Lucius leapt up from his chair, his wand in his hand as his cousin drew his own wand and they eyed each other warily.

"Sit down, both of you! And shut up!" Thérèse drew her own wand quickly as the first hex flew.