The next morning, Sendak said, "Go see boss" when Scorpius entered the lobby of Malfoy Enterprises.

Scorpius stopped beside the security desk. "How did he phrase it? See him right away, or see him before going to my office?"

"Second."

"Excellent. I have time to ask if you'd like to provide security at a party on Saturday."

Sendak nodded.

Scorpius pulled an envelope out of an inner jacket pocket. "Here are the details and advance payment. The payment is in case Eke had other plans." He chose to interpret the slight rumbling noise the troll made as respect for his cleverness, not amusement at Slytherin cunning. He bid Sendak good day.

In the corner office on the executive floor, Grandfather Lucius waved for him to have a seat and continued to press the Malfoy seal into wax on an envelope. He handed the letter to Mrs. Tacit. "Deliver this personally."

"Right away, Mr. Malfoy." She serenely bustled past Scorpius with a murmured, "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning." Once the door shut, Scorpius asked, "Secret business acquisition?"

"Something more imperative."

Scorpius sat in one of the grey and black Houndstooth chairs that seemed designed to put visitors on the edge of their seats. "Instructions for your tailor?"

"On your behalf." Lucius smirked at Scorpius's surprise. "Even a Malfoy must give a tailor notice when he requires new dress robes." He paused, and then asked, "You do intend to wear dress robes on Saturday."

Scorpius hadn't planned on it.

His grandfather's expression iced over. "As a Malfoy, you are expected to uphold certain traditions." When Scorpius didn't argue, he said, "You don't have to keep the robes on all night. Wearing them to greet your guests will be sufficient."

For whom? The Knights of Walpurgis? Scorpius asked, "Is this the tailor who made the last set of robes you gave me?"

"He is. Wizards belonging to noble houses may frequent Twilfitt & Tattings for everyday attire, but for special occasions, only robes from Sartorius will do."

"Does he offer the same hidden Trackingbrall option with dress robes?"

"The same . . . ." His grandfather's jaw clenched. "You wouldn't allow me to have your robes pressed."

"I had Sendak step on them when you left. The micro Trackingbrall was sewn into the hem. The placement wasn't clever enough for you to have ordered it."

Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgment of the backhanded compliment. "Why didn't you inform me of this earlier?" Before Scorpius could answer, his grandfather said, "You hoped it wouldn't happen again like the Fanged Frisbee incident."

Scorpius, age seven, had touched the teeth of his new Fanged Frisbee without handler's gloves on and received a bite. He'd worried that his grandfather wouldn't play catch with him if he showed the wound, so he put on the gloves and went outside. After a few passes back and forth, enough blood had soaked into the right glove for the Frisbee to turn savage and gnaw at the leather. Lucius had disposed of the Fanged Frisbee and used a Healing Charm on Scorpius's wound.

"I had Stevens purchase Weasley Fanged Flyers after that," Lucius said.

"You won't have to change tailors. Sartorius is the Master Tailor. I'm sure he designs the patterns and others cast the Sewing Spells."

"Not for my robes."

"Other employees still had the means and opportunity, unless your clothing is locked away in a vault."

Lucius drummed his fingers the arm of his chair. "I'd suspect Aurors of infiltrating the shop, but I daresay none of them would be able to cross the Blood Line at the threshold. The clientele and staff are pure-bloods only." He frowned. "I'm forced to agree with you. An underling betrays his master for gain."

"And not only at the tailor's."

"Yes, I'd managed to work that out." The edge in his grandfather's voice promised to make the knight who had acted against his grandson pay.

Scorpius nodded. They would find the employee who sewed Trackingbralls into robes and go from there. He said, "I won't wear black."

The change of subject returned the warmth to his grandfather's face. "Agreed. You're my heir, not a schoolboy. I wouldn't suggest green, either. Guy Willoughby already overworks the colour. I told Sartorius that you would prefer something in blue. We'll visit him before going to lunch to choose the fabric."

"Will Sartorius help us with our enquiry?"

"With enthusiasm." Lucius checked his watch. "We'll meet downstairs at eleven-thirty."

.

Sod's Law that anything that could go wrong would do so with the worst possible outcome ensured that Scorpius's eleven o'clock meeting was with the Head of Legal Affairs. His father strolled into his office at five before the hour.

"Nothing exciting to report. Let's go to lunch."

Scorpius came around the desk and turned one grey leather visitor's chair to face the other. "I've already made plans, but let's talk for a few minutes." He visualised a chest of thoughts and feelings hidden in a snowbank.

Draco repositioned the second chair and sat. "No lingering ill effects from the party, I trust."

"I've been practicing Occlumency." And Legilimency. Scorpius silently cast the spell. It took more concentration without a wand. His father's eyes widened slightly, and Scorpius carefully reached for the memory of Astoria half leading, half dragging her husband out of the flat.

In the lift, mirrored walls showed Draco's face crumpling. His lips formed the words, "I'm like Bellatrix. Hurting people." Astoria shook her head and kissed him.

Scorpius let the memory float away.

Draco shivered. "I tried to see what happened after I left the party and received a chill for my efforts."

"Did you sense my Legilimency Spell?"

"No. What did you see?"

"You and Mum after the party in the lift. You told her you were like Bellatrix." The alarmed expression on his father's face made him add, "That's all I saw."

"Good. I mean, good job." Draco leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. "Try it again."

Scorpius had already silently chanted, "Legilimens."

Draco stood outside a closed shop near St. Mungo's Hospital. His reflection in the dusty window was teenaged and gangly. The door opened, and his father strolled out, cane held at a jaunty angle. Lucius frowned at his son.

It wasn't hard for Scorpius to "read" what Lucius said.

"Pouting again? At least you're consistent."

Scorpius released the memory like a feather. It drifted down. Suddenly, his father's mind was like a room filled with mirrors. How would Jack Frost discover which one hid thoughts? Scorpius exhaled. His breath became fog in the chilly room and drifted toward one of the mirrored panels. He reached out. All at once, each mirror reflected a small boy crying because there was no Father Christmas. He closed his eyes. "I was four. You could have asked Grandfather to wait a year or two."

"He didn't consult me. I think he was jealous of a fat, fictional Muggle."

"Father Christmas was based on a real person who did good deeds." In his mind's eye, the snowbank concealing his thoughts was now further protected by a layer of ice. He asked, "Did you ever consider that Aunt Bellatrix's methods of Occlumency weren't the only ones? That you could choose your own? I didn't, until recently." He said, "Occlumency, if taught at all, is passed from one wizard or witch to another, not learned from obscure references in ancient texts. Each person probably thinks their method is the proper one."

"That doesn't excuse bullying."

"You were defending yourself the only ways you knew how. You can learn a new one."

Draco smiled. "Every time I start to worry that Lucius has too much influence over you, I hear Astoria in your voice."

"Not literally, I hope."

After chuckling at his dry tone, his father said, "I saw snow when I tried to penetrate your mind. Is that your defence?"

Scorpius nodded. "If you put your thoughts and feelings in a box or chest—"

"I use a Capacious Bag. That way there's always room for more."

"You must hide it behind the mirrors."

"Behind a row of furs in a wardrobe hidden behind the walls of mirrors."

The description struck a chord. "Does the wardrobe lead to the land of Narnia?"

"No, the wardrobe belongs to your grandmother. She always claimed she could never find anything in it, so I thought that was the best place to hide my bag."

Sound reasoning. "If the mirrors alone don't work, perhaps all you need to do is change what you reflect in them. Instead of trying to repel someone aggressively—"

"Bully them."

Draco would never totally forgive himself for the past. Sometimes, he would fixate on it. Scorpius had learned from his mother that keeping the conversation moving forward at those times was the best response. "You could project something else."

"Such as?"

"Something about the person trying to use Legilimency. Reflect the person's image. Focus on something you admire about them. Disarm them."

Draco sat upright and nodded. "Let's try it."

Scorpius said, "Legilimens."

He was in the room of mirrors. Each one reflected Scorpius dancing with Rose. His hands slid down her back. They whispered and laughed together.

Scorpius broke eye contact. "It doesn't take dancing skill to sway back and forth."

"I admire how easily you display affection."

"I had affectionate parents."

Draco gave a lopsided smile. "I tried to be the father I'd always wanted." Wry amusement replaced wistfulness. "But when you were little and asked me to carry you down Diagon Alley, I had to fight the urge to hand you over to your mother."

Scorpius grinned. "Don't forget the times I made you and Mum hold my hands and lift me up, up, up as we walked."

"I won't."

His father had the same kind of "I love you, son" look on his face that had followed a hug at the party. Scorpius glanced at his watch. "I'd better get going. I'm glad we had the chance to talk."

"Me too." Draco rose to his feet. "Shall I hold your hand on the way to the lift for old times' sake?" He laughed at Scorpius's grimace. "I couldn't resist. That's the Malfoy coming out." He winked. "I'll show myself to the door."

Scorpius shook his head over his father's idea of humour and retrieved his wizard robes. He Flooed to the lobby.

Draco and Lucius faced off to the right of the security desk—out of Sendak's hearing. Scorpius quickly joined them.

"You never stop," Draco said.

Lucius caught sight of Scorpius and said, "Your son is now of age. He makes his own decisions."

"Guided by you." Draco asked Scorpius, "Are you aware that Sartorius only works for pure-bloods?"

"Yes."

"Pure-bloods belonging to the Knights of Walpurgis?"

"Obviously," Lucius drawled. "Since I'm his best client."

"They're designer robes, not a declaration of ideology," Scorpius said.

"Like the Walpurgis Club is just a place to eat."

Scorpius gripped the wand in his pocket and cast a Legilimency spell. He brought up an image of the two of them talking in his office. He saw Draco smile and read his lips, but his father would hear:

Every time I start to worry that Lucius has too much influence over you, I hear Astoria in your voice.

Scorpius said. "Don't worry about me. We're simply ordering robes and having lunch. Everything's fine." He brought another memory to the surface. The one his father saw at the party: the fireball blasting his initials off the granite wall honouring the Knights of Walpurgis.

"All right," Draco said slowly. "You're of age. You make your own decisions." He turned on his heel and left.

"And he didn't even pout," Lucius said. "You must have cast a Compulsion Charm." He held up his hand. "Don't tell me. I want complete deniability if he owls your grandmother." He strolled to the door. Outside, he led Scorpius to the side alley. "Hold on. I'll do the Apparating."

.

Scorpius wasn't surprised to step from nothingness onto the pavement in front of the same closed shop he'd seen in his father's memory. He had brought it up to find out what Draco knew about Sartorius.

Lucius opened the door and walked in. When Scorpius followed, an invisible force thrust him back. It was more than a Blood Line. It felt like a test. Would he fight or accept rejection? Scorpius leaned in with his shoulder and pushed. A heartbeat later, he stood inside the empty shop.

"Well done. Draco never had such determination and strength."

That was why his father had waited outside the shop. He hadn't forced his way inside. "You mean he wasn't a stubborn bastard who insisted on having his way."

Lucius smiled wickedly. "Would you rather be outside looking in?"

Scorpius glanced at the door leading to what he presumed was the actual tailor's shop. "Technically, we're still outside."

The door opened. A house-elf that made Kreacher seem youthful bowed and said in a raspy voice, "Master Sartorius welcomes you." He turned and shuffled down a corridor. The pillowcase the elf wore like a toga was striped in faded colours of varying widths.

"Aren't Roman stripes supposed to be brighter colours?" Scorpius asked his grandfather.

Lucius shrugged. "Long ago, I'm sure his were."

They trailed the house-elf down a corridor painted to give the illusion that the walls were made of marble blocks of different colours and patterns. The elf opened a door. "Master Sartorius will join you shortly."

The reception room was decorated with murals that gave viewers the impression of looking from inside a building to a scene outside. One scene portrayed a middle-aged wizard buying cloth in a marketplace. He was draped in the off-white toga of a Roman citizen. Another mural showed a medieval wizard holding an enormous pair of shears. On a third wall, a Renaissance tailor adjusted a wide black ruff around a client's neck. The face of each tailor was identical. Olive-skinned and gaunt. The dark hair cut short. A ring with a carnelian seal stone on the tailor's hand.

Scorpius said, "Your tailor is either a narcissist or a vampire."

"Why not both?" The subject of the murals stood next to Scorpius, wearing impeccably cut wizard robes. Scorpius hadn't heard the door open. The tailor was shorter than he'd expected.

Sartorius said, "The minimum height requirement for the Roman Legion was 170 centimetres, but the average height of the populace was a mere 160."

Had the tailor read his expression or his thoughts? Scorpius pulled his mental defenses in place and avoided direct eye contact. "You sound English," he said.

"I have lived in London since the days of Gaius Julius Alpinus Classicianus." Sartorius gestured to the first mural. His signet ring had a carnelian seal stone. "The Procurator requested my assistance rebuilding trade after Queen Boudicca's army burnt the city to the ground."

The history the tailor had witnessed first-hand was incredible. He was a vampire, and yet he was awake during the day. Had it always been so, or did the need to sleep, or whatever the undead called it, fade as the centuries passed, or was it based on the strength of the vampire? Scorpius had so many questions. None of them, unfortunately, was relevant to their enquiry. He turned to his grandfather for assistance.

Lucius said, "We're here to discuss more than fabric for robes."

Scorpius envisioned hearing the metallic rustle of the micro, feather light Trackingbrall and examining the silvery remains on the hem of his robes after Sendak crushed it. He looked at Sartorius. The vampire's eyes glowed red. He said, "Come."

Sartorius swept out of the room, down the corridor, and through another door into a studio. He flung a hand toward a table covered with bolts of fabric. "Choose."

"This one." A glossy dark blue. Rose's eye colour deepened when they kissed.

"A top quality fabric," Sartorius said. "Wool and terylene. Crease-resistant and suitable for cool or warm weather."

"Miss Weasley will be flattered," Lucius said.

Scorpius said, "I'd like to order a tuxedo in the same fabric."

"Slim fit. Single button jacket. Black lapel, curved like a shawl collar on a smoking jacket. Elegant, yet modern." Sartorius nodded. "I'll assign the task to one of my assistants."

Before his grandfather could protest, Scorpius said, "Thank you." He didn't care who made the tuxedo.

Sartorius clapped his hands together. The house-elf appeared. "Bring Claudio to me." Within seconds, the elf returned with a young man who bore a strong resemblance to Sartorius and revealed sharp canine teeth when he yawned.

"Why have you summoned me, Great Uncle? You know I don't rise as early as you do." Claudio's tone was sleepy, but he kept his gaze on the floor.

In a blur of movement, Sartorius stood before his nephew and lifted his chin with a finger. "Confess and I will show mercy."

Claudio's knees buckled. Sartorius gripped his nephew's arms to hold him up as the younger man babbled, "I didn't go looking for it. He came to me. He delivered the blood one night and said he'd heard that I had a taste for dragon's blood and he could get it for me, any breed I desired, if I did a favour, one that nobody would ever know about, that wouldn't hurt anyone." His desperate gaze found Scorpius. "I put it in the hem so you'd find it. I didn't have to do that. I could have hidden it in a seam."

"Give us the wizard's name," Scorpius said.

"He didn't say."

Lucius snapped, "What did the man look like?"

"A blood bag. Not as pretty as you two."

Sartorius yanked his nephew close and bit his neck. "Sleep," he told Claudio when he'd finished drinking his blood. He stepped away and let his nephew drop to the floor.

"Claudio doesn't remember what the man looked like. Over-indulgence in dragon's blood causes memory loss." Sartorius accepted a handkerchief from the house-elf and wiped the blood off his mouth. "He left out that the wizard flashed a gold Ministry badge and threatened to report him for illegal blood trafficking if he didn't cooperate."

"The badge could have been faked," Lucius said.

"Or real," Scorpius replied.

His grandfather tossed him a quelling look.

Scorpius asked Sartorius, "Is there a cure for dragon's blood addiction?"

"Some call it that."

The image of Claudio, curled into a ball on the floor of a dungeon cell, shaking and crying, flashed before Scorpius's eyes.

"Sympathy for the one who betrayed you. What an unusual Slytherin you are," Sartorius said. He checked his timepiece. "My next client is arriving. Tulli, measure young Mr. Malfoy before escorting the Malfoys out. I will, of course, expedite your orders, Lucius." He picked up his nephew like a bolt of fabric and Disapparated.

Once they left the shop, Scorpius asked, "Is there a list of Ministry workers who belong to the Knights of Walpurgis?"

"I can hardly ask for it without raising suspicion. I have to be more discreet."

Scorpius understood, but he didn't face the same restraints as his grandfather. He could ask Harry Potter.

.

.

A/N: I was going to call this chapter Slytherin Style, but I couldn't resist Malfoy Men. I also couldn't resist giving Scorpius Daniel Craig's blue tuxedo from the film Skyfall. He has to be the best dressed wizard at the party! Next chapter: Occlumency fun and Q & A with Harry. Anyone wondering whether Albus will be left out or be let in on what's been happening will find out.

Thanks so much for all the kind words in response to the note last chapter. Special thanks for the PMs that shared stories of loss and that a story can lift spirits. Thanks to reviewers alix33, Arcoiris, fynnsmom, HopeWithinDarkness, , Needle In A Haystack, nobodysperfect2133, Nocturna Mae, Raylis, Rose of the West, rosesnlilies (who is reviewing her way here), Stromsten, and VandyFNP.