Draco's Dilemma

Disclaimer: As always, the characters and wizarding world within remains the property of the formidable J. K. Rowling. I bow at her feet.

Accolades go to my wonderful betas, JENGEORGE and NervousAboutAngels, for all of their hard work on my behalf. I would also like to thank the great staff here at The Petulant Poetess for their constant vigilance as well.

A/N: In the midst of this chapter, I jump back and forth between two conversations that are going on at the same time but in two different locations. I hope it does not get too confusing. You will understand why I feel the need to present it that way as you read.

As always, I anxiously await your wonderful responses. If you are not an author on this site, you may not realize what a thrill it is to read the reviews and know that the work is appreciated. The readers here are intelligent and insightful. Your reviews are always a joy. It really does mean a lot. Thanks to all who have been following along.

Chapter 19

Draco's Dilemma

With trembling hands, Hermione untied the note from the floral bouquet and flipped it over. To her disappointment, the pale gray, single sheet of parchment was sealed with a black Durmstrang wax stamp. Viktor... She contemplated throwing it directly into the rubbish bin, or better yet, using it for target practice, but curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to open it.

My Dearest Hermione,

Viktor Krum

Hermione gazed at the gorgeous flowers and the elegant basket that held them. She reached for one of the red carnations and brought it up to her nose for a whiff. Just a hint of fragrance. She very much preferred long-stem red roses, but there wasn't a rose in the bunch. Oh, well... they'll still look good on my desk for a few days. She conjured a tall glass vase. "Aguamente," she said and watched as water poured out of the tip of her wand to fill the vase.

"Aren't you the lucky one?" asked her office mate, Agnes Garmand, as she peeked around the partition of her cubical. Upon seeing the beautiful flowers, she stood and joined Hermione by her desk. "That's funny, an owl delivered a single rose earlier. It must have been charmed to turn into this grand assortment after it reached its destination."

Hermione nodded as she considered Viktor's offer.

"So, who are they from, if you don't mind me being nosy?"

"Um... Viktor Krum." Hermione shrugged as if receiving flowers from a Quidditch legend was an everyday occurrence.

"Viktor Krum?" asked Agnes, obviously in awe. "Why would a famous bloke like Krum be sending you flowers?"

Hermione really wasn't in the mood to explain her ties with Viktor to anyone, least of all a star-struck fan who would no doubt pester her to get his autograph. "I have no idea," she lied. "He's a friend of Harry's."

Agnes continued to hover, seemingly unsatisfied with that answer. So Hermione quickly plopped the flowers into the prepared vase, grabbed the note and some parchment to send her reply, and headed for the door. "If anyone needs me, I'll be doing some research in the Ministry Records Office."

When the lift door opened, there was no one inside, thank Merlin. Hermione slipped through the doors and watched them close in silent relief. Her head was spinning so fast from the day's events that she almost missed her floor. But she hopped out just in time and walked down the short hall to what appeared to be a small office hiding behind an unspectacular door. Upon inspection, she found an ancient and cavernous chamber. It held over 1000 years of records, all on parchment and most written in long-hand. The Ministry Records Office was set up a bit like a library, which was a good thing, because otherwise the clerk might never have been able to find what she wanted. Hermione could view anything that her top-secret security clearance allowed, but she was required to sign each item out before she could take it to the one lone inspection table, and nothing was allowed to leave the room.

When she entered the office, the old witch behind the counter looked up unenthusiastically. "Good day, dear. What can I get for you?"

Hermione's mission today was to see if she could figure out who at the Ministry would have been in a position to discover a foreign arrival's true bloodlines. She desperately needed some quiet time to collect her thoughts, however, before she could clear her mind and proceed. But she needed to at least appear to be busy, so she requested a list of current Ministry titles and job descriptions. As she waited for the woman to hunt down her request, her thoughts turned to Viktor Krum's note.

So, Viktor wanted to apologize, eh? Only a few hours ago, she hoped and prayed that she would never lay eyes on him again. The thought of doing so suddenly sent a shiver down her spine. Her mind drifted back to her fourth year at Hogwarts, how his bravery in the Triwizard Tournament had swept her off her feet. She thought of the many hours they had spent alone together that year and how his hands had explored her body on more than one occasion. They had never actually made love, but... No wonder he had assumed that she would be more than willing the other night.

But things were different now, very different. She didn't feel romantic towards him in any way. No, her feelings were now most definitely tied up with a certain Potions master... But, perhaps it would be good to clear the air between herself and Viktor. Could she forgive him? Could he really behave himself? His note said that she could choose the place and the circumstances. Salicia's Diner had some outdoor seating. In late afternoon with the shade of a rather large oak that grew alongside the building, the atmosphere could be quite pleasant and, best of all, very safely public.

She hastily scribbled her reply to Viktor, then stood up, wrote a quick note to the clerk that she would return shortly to review the requested reference book, and took off down the hall to find a Ministry Owl.

*****

Severus Snape sat at the desk in his bedroom and lazily surfed the internet. He knew that Miss Granger wouldn't arrive home for at least another hour or two, but he couldn't help himself. He hoped against hope that she would respond to his overtures somehow, a letter, an IM, or at the very least, an email... Nothing.

Then suddenly, his heart skipped a beat as a small screech owl flew up and began tapping against his window. Was the note from her? Since Gomez stayed here most of the time, the possibility pushed his pulse rate through the roof as he opened the window to let the owl enter. He hastily untied the note with trembling hands, then sent the bird on its way as Gomez dove towards the window in full attack mode.

"He's not here to hurt you!" Snape shouted at the angry barn owl. "Let him be!" He glared at Gomez as he flew back up to the eves and the nest that he and Snape's bird, Morticia, had constructed over the summer. No denying it now, Morticia sat quietly on the nest as Gomez stood guard. Snape chuckled. Then he quickly turned his attention back to the note in his hands. As he put it up to his nose, he realized, with a grimace and a sneeze, that the note was unfortunately not from Miss Granger.

The back was sealed with Slytherin green wax, and the full-color Malfoy crest sat proudly at the top of the page.

Dear Severus,

Draco Malfoy

Snape quickly put two and two together and allowed a gratified smile to spread across his face. Draco needed his help to evaluate the manuscripts that Krum had just delivered. His potions textbooks' manuscripts. This was going to be rich, delectably, delightfully, rich. He hastily penned an affirmative reply and called for Gomez to deliver it.

*****

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon in the Records Office and came to the conclusion that anyone in the "Greater Wizarding World Liaison Department" would have had the opportunity to travel to foreign countries and do the necessary digging to uncover the truth about a newcomer's bloodlines. By then it was after 5:00 p.m. and she had agreed to meet Viktor at Salicia's at 5:30, so she headed to the loo to freshen up, then out the door to the diner.

Viktor was already there waiting for her. He had procured them a table and looked as if he had gotten a head start in the cocktail department. A small crowd had gathered around him, begging for autographs. He patiently supplied each with his name and a short dedication, but as Hermione pushed her way through the crowd, they politely dispersed. She was grateful for their lingering stares, but even more grateful for some distance and the subsequent privacy it provided their conversation.

"So good of you to come," Viktor stated sincerely. "I thought that perhaps you wouldn't be willing to give me the time of day, and honestly, I wouldn't have blamed you. Your heart is bigger than mine." He smiled sheepishly at her and waited for some response.

But she only gave him a cold and silent stare as she studied his every breath, his every move, the nuances of his facial expressions, his body language, searching, no doubt, for even the tiniest hint of insincerity.

Hermione's silence reduced the burly Quidditch hero to rubble. His lower lip began to quiver. His eyes began to mist up. He reached for her hand, but stopped just short of touching her as he remembered both his promise to her and Snape's promise to him at the same time. "What do you want me to do? Get down on my knees?" He shifted in his chair as if he was readying himself for a physical display of culpability, but Hermione stopped him.

"Please don't. People are already staring. Let's not give your minions bad theatre on such a lovely afternoon."

Viktor couldn't help but chuckle at that thought. "You know, sometimes, I feel like my whole life has been played out on a stage for the entire wizarding world to see. Bad theatre indeed!"

"Couldn't be much worse than my life." Hermione was also chuckling now. "I feel like these days I'm living a soap opera, and my early days were spent in an action movie!"

They both giggled and chortled as the waitress brought Viktor a refill on his firewhisky and asked Hermione what her preference would be.

"I'll have some oak mead, thanks."

An uncomfortable silence passed between them as they waited for the waitress to return with Hermione's mead. Then Viktor leaned in over the table so his words would less likely be overheard. "When Snape left us alone together, I assumed that the two of you had prearranged the whole thing. I figured that you wanted what every other woman wants from me."

Hermione pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. But before she could speak, Viktor continued.

"I guess I had forgotten over the years, just how different you are from every other woman. When Snape showed up and reminded me of the nightmare that your husband has recently put you through, I felt like such a selfish idiot."

"When Snape showed up?" Hermione's scowl was quickly replaced with a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I guess his elf tattled on me after she took you home. He came to my house, put me in a Full Body-Bind Curse, used Legilimency to see exactly what had happened between us, and gave me this long speech about how you needed a friend right now, not a Neanderthal attempt at romance. Then he threatened to hex... well, let's just say he threatened me if I ever laid a hand on you again."

Hermione's face went slack with stunned, shocked silence. She couldn't believe it. Severus Snape had defended her honor. And he had used Legilimency, so he knew exactly what had transpired. No wonder he had come to her door that night. He must have been worried sick about her.

"What was it like?" she finally managed to ask, after a moment of silent wonder at this new bit of news.

"What was what like?"

"Being under his Legilimency spell?"

"Well, I was taught that if you try to fight it, it can be very painful if the caster has great skill. He can even cause brain damage if the memory he seeks is well hidden. Voldemort left several of his victims in such a state. Since Snape's skills are legendary, I didn't fight him. I could tell he was determined to get the memory out of me, so why risk great pain and possible injury, right?"

"But that must have been pretty frightening."

"At that point, I figured I deserved whatever he wanted to dish out, I was so ashamed of myself. Besides, he didn't do anything I wouldn't have done if someone had tried to force himself on the woman I loved. I'm lucky to be alive, really."

*

Snape had just about given up on ever seeing Miss Granger's screen name on his buddies list again when a knock came at his front door. He took it as a hopeful sign and turned off the bloody contraption as Winky opened the door and greeted their unexpected guest.

"Good evening, Harry Potter." Winky bowed low to him as she stepped aside to allow his entrance.

"Mr. Potter!" exclaimed Snape as his unbounded enthusiasm waned and he descended the stairs one at a time. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I'm sorry to bother you like this, Professor, but I need to talk with you. It's about Hermione."

Snape tried to remain calm, but his pulse quickened and he could feel a bead of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. "Please, do sit down, Mr. Potter. Would you care for something? Firewhisky, perhaps?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

Winky retreated to the kitchen to fill two glasses.

"Look, I know it's none of my business, but..."

Snape raised his eyebrows and gave Potter an intimidating look.

"I know you said that you wanted to keep her at arm's length, but..."

Snape crossed his arms on his chest and leaned forward.

"And I understand your reasons behind that decision, but..."

Snape's eyebrows came back down and furrowed together in a scowl as his eyes narrowed.

"I know you think that it's for her own good, but..."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter, just spit it out. I don't have all night!"

Presently, Winky returned with the drinks. Snape took a delicate sip while Potter downed his in one gulp. He then proceeded to choke, sputter and gasp to the point that Snape feared he would have to escort the man to St. Mungo's.

Winky quickly brought Potter a glass of water and some butterbeer. Potter gratefully sipped the water and began to regain his composure, but it took several more moments of sputtering before he could put together a coherent sentence.

"I'm sorry. Please excuse me." He sighed and his shoulders slumped. "It's just that, even after all these years, facing Voldemort, the war, other Death Eaters, you can still intimidate the crap out of me!"

Snape was flummoxed. "What the bloody hell did I do?"

"Nothing! But that's the wonder of it, isn't it? You never had to do anything. Just looking at me was enough."

Snape snorted and shook his head. "Perhaps if I stared at the bookcase or the coffee table."

"No, no. I'll get over it. I just have to get used to being around you like this."

"Like what?" Snape was back to glaring at Potter.

"Like this." He gestured around the room. "In your house, in a casual atmosphere, no classrooms, no battles to be fought, no crisis to resolve. It feels... weird."

Snape's scowl disappeared and his face was touched with sadness. Is this how everyone saw him? Is this how Miss Granger saw him? His eyes focused on the bookcase, not so much for Potter's sake, but for his own. He couldn't face those intense green eyes right now.

"I believe you came here to speak with me about Miss Granger," Snape finally said quietly.

"Right..." Potter studied Snape's face. He had seen that look before, hopeless and remorseful. He took a deep breath and forged ahead. "You're breaking her heart, you know."

Snape immediately took on a defensive posture. "That's impossible. I haven't led her on. I haven't let her get close enough to care that much."

"Then you don't know her as well as you think you do," Potter replied with a touch of resentment in his voice.

"Oh?" Snape immediately picked up on this new air of hostility. "Pray enlighten me, Mr. Potter," he said with a cynical smile.

"I may be going out on a limb here, but I think she's falling in love with you."

*

Another shockwave hit Hermione square in the face. "Woman you love? You think that Professor Snape is in love with me?"

Viktor smiled broadly and nodded his head. "Without a doubt. Can't you see it in his eyes? The way he looked at you all through our lunch together, the way he talks about you, defends you..."

"Then why on earth would he leave me alone -- with you?"

"The man is a convicted felon, Hermione. He probably thinks that you are better off without him, and he doesn't want to stand in the way of your happiness."

She looked at him in shock. Harry had tried to tell her the exact same thing just this morning.

*

"Have you gone daft?" Snape asked Potter incredulously. "Did she actually tell you that she loves me?"

"No, she didn't come right out and say it, but I know her. The way she talks about you, the way she defends your actions and your honor, the faraway look in her eyes when the subject of Severus Snape comes up in conversation. And this morning, she..." Potter bit back his words. He didn't want to spoil Hermione's surprise chocolate truffles. "I mean, well, she told me this morning that she is crushed right now because she thinks you're trying to get rid of her."

"I merely encouraged her to make friends with other people, people with a more secure standing in wizarding society. I most certainly am not trying to get rid of her."

"Well, that's not the way she sees it. You know how a woman can be when she loves you," Potter tried to confide.

"No, I don't know, Mr. Potter. No woman has ever been in love with me. Thank you so much for reminding me of that fact." He sneered resentfully.

"She's much more sensitive to the things you say or do than to what anyone else might say or do."

"You think I don't know that she's sensitive? I figured that out on her first day in my classroom. Are you quite finished with your diatribe?"

"No, as a matter of fact. Doesn't she make you happy? Even a little bit?"

"Look, Mr. Potter, I'm losing my patience. We've been over this. I would not be good for her."

Like a bulldog, Potter would not let go. "When was the last time you felt true joy?"

Snape narrowed his eyes and thought the question through. "My fifth year at Hogwarts. Your future mother had just called your future father a 'useless toe rag.' You might recall that little scene from the memories I had given you on what should have been my death bed. Am I correct?"

Potter shot him a disbelieving glare. "Is that really the last time you felt truly happy?"

"Of course not," Snape admitted with a chuckle, "but I couldn't resist just one little dig."

Potter snorted. "So when else have you felt true joy?"

"I believe the next time was after I got out of Azkaban, when Winky came to stay with me."

"Why, Winky is flattered, Master Severus," Winky called in from the kitchen. "By the way, will Harry Potter be staying for dinner?"

"That would be gr..."

"Absolutely NOT!" Snape interrupted. "And my happiness is none of your business. I believe that this conversation has reached its end."

"So, Hermione does make you happy." Potter's smirk was so obnoxious that Snape considered hexing it off his face. But he managed to restrain himself.

"Of course she does. But it's her happiness that I'm worried about." Snape could see the unabashed determination in Potter's eyes, so he continued. "Would it make you feel better if I promised to tell her why I am treating her this way?"

"I suppose so," Potter finally acquiesced. "You know how she is. She always wants to know why."

Snape couldn't argue with that.

"Run along, then. I think I hear your wife calling," he said with a sneer. The two men stood, shook hands, and Snape gave Potter the bum's rush out the door.

"Bye, Winky," he called over his shoulder. The door closed quickly behind him.

*

"Don't you see?" Viktor tried to convince a skeptical Hermione. "When you love someone completely and unconditionally, you would sacrifice your own happiness for theirs. I know. I gave my second wife everything. I didn't have the heart to fight her. I only hope that the bastard who stole her away makes her happy. He better hope so, too, because if he hurts her, I'll kill him."

Hermione forced a laugh, but somehow she knew that Viktor meant every word.

The rest of their dinner went by in a blur. No matter what direction their conversation took, Viktor's previous words continued to ring in her ears. Severus Snape was in love with her. Severus Snape. In love. With Hermione Granger. Unconditionally in love.

Those words became her mantra.

And that night, they invaded her dreams...

Severus Snape's long, silky black hair fell over his eyes and danced along the surface of Hermione's bare skin. She giggled. "That tickles, you fiend!"

They both fell easily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*****

Tap, tap, tap. "Master Severus, sir, time to wake up, sir. Master has an appointment this morning with Draco Malfoy."

Snape rolled over and groaned.

Tap, tap, tap. "Master Severus!"

"Yes, Winky, thank you. I'm awake, I'm awake." Snape opened his eyes and looked about the room. No stone walls, no stone floor, no four-poster bed, and worst of all, no Hermione Snape. Damn! It was all only a dream. A wonderful, perfect dream. Snape snorted in disgust as he threw back the covers. Well, his penis had thought it was quite a bit more than just a dream! He grabbed his wand. "Scourgify!"

As he headed for the shower, his mind recounted the night's experience. What a wonderful dream! He had dreamt of Miss Granger before, even of making love to her before, but never quite like this. In this dream they were husband and wife, living at Hogwarts. It felt as if they were both teachers, for some reason. And best of all, the love that radiated from her to him was almost palpable. It was as if she had read his innermost desires and then molded herself into his perfect mate. But the most wonderful aspect of it was the fact that, after the most perfect sex he had ever experienced, she had professed her love for him and fallen asleep in his arms. No one had ever done that. Not in real life, and no, not even in his dreams.

Could life really feel that good? Or was that something that he could never experience outside of his dreams? He quickly and sadly came to the latter conclusion as he got dressed, since he would remain a convicted felon and therefore would never let himself get that close to the woman he loved. If he truly loved her, he would keep to his original plan and not taint her reputation with his dark past. But, thanks to Potter's incessant ramblings from the previous evening, he would do his best to explain his sincere desire for friendship and the logic behind his decision to keep it from progressing any further. He just hoped that she would be willing to settle for a friendship. He didn't think he had the willpower to fight her if she insisted on a romance, and he didn't think he could live with himself if a relationship with him caused her professional life to fall into ruin.

Winky had prepared his usual breakfast of lightly toasted whole wheat bread, cereal with milk, two eggs sunny side up, and crispy bacon. He downed a glass of orange juice to top it off then headed out the door so he could Disapparate by the river as usual.

Draco's office was in London proper, but as with most wizard establishments, the front door looked like an abandoned storefront in a desperate state of disrepair. He slipped through the heavy, rusting, steel door, which could have fallen off its hinges at any moment, and made his way up the wide creaky staircase. At the top of the stairs, another shabby door lead into a beautifully kept waiting room, complete with oriental rugs atop the dark hardwood floors, richly colored walls accented with tasteful chair-rail and dental moldings, and exquisitely restored antique furniture. Of course, the place wouldn't be complete without a collection of promotional posters from all of Draco's biggest successes, including Harry Potter's unauthorized biography by Rita Skeeter.

Snape snorted in disgust as the young, attractive blonde receptionist looked up to greet him.

"Good morning, sir. May I help you?"

"Yes, I have an eight o'clock appointment to see Mr. Draco Malfoy."

She glanced down at a rather large, leather bound appointment book. "Professor Severus Snape?"

"In the flesh," he replied silkily.

She aimed her wand at her throat and mumbled something under her breath, then said out loud, "Professor Snape to see you, sir." Then she lifted her empty hand to her ear and touched a small device that Snape hadn't noticed before. "Have a seat. He'll be right with you." She smiled benignly at him and then went about her work.

Snape glanced about the room and noticed the morning's Daily Prophet sitting on the waiting room table. Since he had been too pressed for time at home to read his copy, he reached down and picked up this one then claimed the chair just to the right of the entrance door.

He perused the paper lazily as his irritation with Draco grew. He didn't like to be kept waiting, and Draco had said in his letter that this was urgent. So why was he still sitting here after nearly two minutes? Then something on page three, along the edge in the gossip column, caught his eye.

QUIDDITCH HERO AND WAR HERO – A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN?

By Rita Skeeter

Yesterday evening, Diagon Alley was graced with the presence of none other than Viktor Krum, famous Bulgarian Quidditch star turned writer, turned recently divorced literary agent. And, spotted with him for drinks and a romantic dinner in the twilight outside of Salicia's Diner, was Hermione Granger, third leg of the famous trio who defeated Lord Voldemort and also recently divorced.

This writer witnessed their relationship in its budding infancy over two decades ago, when Krum was chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. They attended the Yule Ball together and became almost inseparable for the rest of that school year.

Even though they went their separate ways when school ended, fate has a way of bringing star-crossed lovers back together. Fate, destiny, whatever one may wish to call it, those two certainly seemed to enjoy each other's company last night as they spent the evening making goo-goo eyes at each other.

Is there a romance in the offing? Stay tuned to this column and Rita Skeeter, the eyes and ears of Diagon Alley, to find out.

There was no photo to go with the story, thank Merlin, or Snape would have had to use Incendio on the paper and risk catching the waiting room on fire. But, just as his blood reached the boiling point, Draco's door opened and he entered with hand outstretched.

"Good morning, Severus, so good to see you again."

"And you." Snape attempted a smile, but contorted his face into a grimace instead.

"What's the matter? Are you alright? You don't look well."

"I'll be fine. Just something... that didn't agree with me." Snape patted his stomach to infer it was something that he ate.

"I was going to suggest some coffee, but..."

"No, coffee is fine, great, actually. That would help."

Draco eyed him skeptically then turned to the receptionist. "Melinda, could you bring me and Professor Snape here a cup of coffee?" He turned to Snape with eyebrows raised.

"Black," Snape informed her. "Just black. And if it isn't good and strong, don't waste your time."

Draco led Snape into the well-equipped office, which surprisingly contained a Muggle state-of-the-art computer, including a cutting-edge scanner, printer, and large flat screen. Snape wasn't sure if he should be impressed or suspicious. He decided to play dumb. "What's that Muggle contraption on your desk?"

"You've never seen one of these? Merlin, you're as bad as Father. It's a computer. Bloody handy thing, too. I must admit that wizards don't have everything over Muggles. For instance, jet planes, cell phones, and electricity... and those things called movies that you watch on TV -- quite entertaining."

Of course Snape had heard of, or had first-hand experience with, all of those things. But it seemed quite odd for Draco to be aware of, much less take advantage of, anything Muggle. "If you don't mind my asking, who introduced you to all of this... this Muggle paraphernalia," he asked, almost as if the items mentioned were vile and should be made illegal.

Draco laughed at Snape's reaction. "I take it back. You're worse than Father! My wife, if you must know. She's from Germany, and unlike us, they are quite intrigued with the Muggle population and their inventiveness. The school she attended encourages wizards to incorporate Muggle contraptions into their daily life. If they make their lives easier, I mean, why not? It's a no-brainer, really. Owl post takes forever, and I can just pick up my cell phone and call Wilhelmina at the touch of a button. We can talk directly to each other, or text, or leave a message. It's great. And last month, we went on holiday to Egypt, so I could buy my 100% papyrus direct in bulk and get a huge discount. We flew down on a Muggle jet. In only a few hours, we were there. It would have taken a couple of days to Apparate, and we would have been exhausted by the time we arrived."

For a fleeting moment, Snape contemplated informing Draco of the Apparation range of the average house-elf, but he quickly decided to keep that valuable piece of information to himself. Just then, Melinda entered with two mugs of coffee on a tray, one black and one with the cloudy look of added cream. She set the tray on Draco's desk and hurried out the door before anyone thought to thank her.

"Anyway," continued Draco, "this computer is amazing. Of all the equipment that I have, it has been the single biggest help to my publishing business. Everything would take ten times as long to proof and make ready for publication. Even an army of house-elves couldn't set type or proofread as fast as this thing does. And when it's done, it spits out all of the pages already set, arranged, and complete with photographs. Then a master binder constructs a beautiful leather cover with embossing and engraving as needed. Then the finished prototype goes to the house-elves to replicate."

Snape knew that his computer could do all of those things, but he had never tried to create illustrations or incorporate photos into his potions text. The necessary hardware and software would be easy enough to procure. The cutting diagrams and cross-sections of plants and animals that now anxiously danced through his head would have to wait until the revised and updated second edition.

"Anyway, this is where you come in," Draco continued. "I just got a new set of manuscripts in – a set of potions textbook manuscripts. I sent rough copies over to Slughorn yesterday to assess, but I really don't trust him to scrutinize this series the way it needs to be. Krum brought it to me, and the way he talks, it's so cutting-edge that not only will the rising first-years at Hogwarts need a set, but every student will. And, once the parents get a look at it, they will want one for their home to replace the one that they still have from their school days."

"Really? That good, eh?" Snape pretended to be skeptical.

"Yeah. You're on the same page with me, I can already tell. I'm not so sure about this 'breakthrough' bull Krum is handing me, but..."

"Let me guess. You haven't brewed a potion since you left Hogwarts, and you no longer remember enough to tell a newt's toe from a toad's ear."

Draco's pale face flushed a slight pink as he smirked and shrugged. "You know me all too well, Severus."

"And you want me to look it over for you?"

"More than that, I'm afraid. I need you to test all the recipes for me. And I need it done in a hurry." Draco handed Snape a copy of the manuscript. "I'll give you four thousand Galleons if you can get it back to me quickly so that I can have it in stores in time for the back-to-school rush."

Snape flipped through the already familiar pages. "If you want me to be thorough, this is going to take some time."

"How long?" There was a decidedly anxious tone to Draco's voice.

"Well... Some of these, if you recall, will take a full moon cycle to mature. Veritaserum, for instance." His face grew grim. "Others have exotic ingredients that, I'm ashamed to admit, my meager lifestyle cannot afford me."

"I'll give you half up front to buy whatever you need. How long?"

"If you want me to test every single one, then I shall need a week to gather the necessary ingredients and another five weeks to run tests."

"SIX WEEKS?! School will have started by then! I can't wait that long. Look, perhaps you can just test the short ones – the ones you already have everything to make. Just use your judgment and experience for the rest. Then how long would it take you?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. Draco had unwisely played his hand. He was desperate. "Seven thousand Galleons and two weeks."

"That won't do. I need it by Monday."

"Impossible. That only gives me four days." Snape carelessly tossed the manuscript onto Draco's desk.

"Ten thousand Galleons. I'll give you half up front and half when you come back with your full evaluation. But I must have it by first thing Monday morning."

"Ten thousand Galleons?" Snape glared at his host in disbelief.

"Half now, half on Monday."

Snape continued his charade of reluctant submission, but inside, he had to concentrate to maintain his composure.

The two men shook hands, then Draco retrieved his checkbook from a drawer and quickly scribbled out the note. "Gringotts will honor it. I swear."

"You'd better hope so." Snape stuffed the note into his robe's inside left pocket. "You must think this book could make you a lot of money, if you are willing to go out on a limb like this."

"It could be huge." Draco became quite animated at this point. "If it is half as revolutionary as Krum thinks it is, every wizarding household in the world will want one. I already have translators for all the major languages in Europe, but this book could reach much further."

"Really?" Snape's interest intensified. "But how do you stop it from being plagiarized?"

"Oh, that's easy. Once we go into production, every book is shipped with an anti-plagiarizing charm on it. If someone tries to copy down a recipe from the book, the copied page will self-destruct after about thirty minutes. The exception to that is a chalk board. So if a teacher copies a recipe for the class to use, it will stay up there until it is erased."

"Excellent. No copyright infringement problems, then." Snape felt relieved at this information. He reached back down for the manuscript. "So, who is this author... Ari Shamamian?"

Draco hissed. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"Never heard of him, but I have been out of circulation for quite a while. Didn't you meet him?" Snape tried to sound surprised.

"No, Krum said that he wanted to stay out of the limelight. He's from Armenia, I think."

"Sounds a bit isolated. Well, I'd better get to work." He shook Draco's hand. "I'll give it all I've got for the next four days."

"I knew I could count on you, Severus."

"Let me know what Slughorn thinks, will you? I'm just curious."

"Will do."

Snape took a swig of his coffee and swept from the office. He took the note and headed straight for Diagon Alley and Gringotts Bank, where, thanks to his hooded cloak and goblin discretion, he managed to cash Draco's note and deposit it into his account without drawing attention to himself.

When he arrived home, he found Winky up to her eyeballs in laundry, but in quite a happy mood.

"Miss Granger stopped by, Master Severus."

"Did she really? How interesting," he drawled.

"Miss left master a box of chocolates. Winky thinks miss is ready to forgive master now."

Snape's lip curled slightly as he reached for the box. "Ah, yes, Winky. But the question is, am I ready to forgive her?"