6

Written for one of the loveliest people I know, Dynonugget. RAWRRR!!

We shall see, I murmur to myself as I step into the steaming shower stall. We shall see.

By the time I finish my breakfast and a week's worth of Prophets, I receive an owl post from Ms. Granger advising me that my business ledgers would be arriving within the hour. Ten minutes later, a package arrives by WPS, Wizard Parcel Service. After spending the morning familiarizing myself with the current state of affairs in both the economic and political circles, I feel slightly more comfortable. But before I begin poring over my ledgers, I need to visit Severus. I did not give into temptation at six o'clock this morning and check to see if he had arrived home. Ms. Granger was woefully lax in neglecting to state a return time, but knowing Severus and his boundless appetites; he would not stay out past the noontime meal.

Cautiously, I Floo. While Ms. Granger assured me I am connected to Severus', I was not informed as to where his connection was actually located. Knowing my old friend, he could be as close as one street over or as far away as South America.

I step out of the fireplace into what is unmistakably Severus' living room. I take in the bookcase-lined walls crammed with well-worn books, some behind metal grates, and the wall-hanging that once hung in the Slytherin Head's study, then glance behind me and note his Order of Merlin, First Class, for unwavering support and personal sacrifice made during the Second War, on the mantle. I am in his home a mere five seconds when I hear his voice from across the room. "Don't gawk, Lucius."

Standing in the doorway opposite the fireplace is Severus, looking every bit as formidable and stern as when he was Headmaster, every bit as proud and unapproachable as when he was a Death Eater. But his eyes now hold a hint of softness that I have not seen in many years, and I cannot stop the smile that insists on creeping across my face.

"Severus." A wealth of meaning is behind one small word. Unconsciously, I cross the room to clap him on the shoulder. My chest tightens, and I take a deep breath to steady my suddenly shaky legs.

"It is very good to see you looking so well, my friend," I say honestly.

"Come, Lucius, sit down." His voice holds a gentle quality, a softness that is unexpected from the hard man I've known in the past.

"Hermione owled me last night, explaining your ... circumstances." He holds up a hand to prevent my next question. "She was vague on the specifics, but she did say to expect your Floo this morning."

I do not like the liberty he takes in addressing Ms. Granger by her first name: it reeks of disrespect, or worse, a familiarity that I am certain is improper.

"Ms. Granger owled you? Last night? She'd mentioned that you'd be 'back' today. I was under the impression that you'd been away. She knew... where to find you?"

Severus nods. "Yes, a Potions symposium at which I was the main speaker. You," he continued, his eyebrow arched in slight amusement, "were the one who recommended me to the coordinator. Hermione was very helpful, making travel arrangements, hotel reservations..." his voice trails off.

"I am under the impression, Severus, that Ms. Granger is employed by the Ministry in a somewhat more official capacity than as your travel agent," I offer briskly, walking over to his over-stuffed sofa and sitting down.

Severus has the gall to chuckle as he takes the chair close to the fireplace. Next to the well-worn chair is a table holding a high lamp and a leather-bound tome. How comfortable he looks here, I muse. Is he no longer teaching?

"What has Ms. Granger explained, exactly?" I am gripping the arm of the sofa for support. I am not comfortable discussing Ms. Granger with him, although I do not understand why. Severus continues to address the witch by her first name after clearly taking note of my dislike for the same. I have no reason for this, yet I sit here, seething in quiet vexation.

"Hermione told me you are missing some memories, five years worth, apparently, and would be coming to me to fill in the 'missing pages'. I assume you have also come to retrieve your journals?"

For all my frustration, I heave a small sigh of relief. "Yes, thank you."

With a soft flick of his fingers, he Summons a package from behind the metal grate on the far bookcase.

"While you are more than welcome to use my parlor as you catch up on your life, Lucius, perhaps you would first like the particulars? I trust it is not too early in the day for a fortifying Scotch?" With a twitch of his wrist, a decanter and two tumblers float to the low table in front of me.

He received the package, the one I had mistakenly believed to be on my person the day I'd been Obliviated. I mention this, and Severus grimaces.

"I don't know how much you want to know, Luc. Sometimes I wish I'd been blessed with a well-aimed Obliviate. What is the last memory you have?"

I relate to him my memory of the day I left the Manor to deliver the package in Knockturn Alley.

"That happened three days before the final battle and the end of the Dark Lord. I received your package and your note enclosed, mercifully. The Dark Lord never found out about the Chinese pansies. Therefore, I was able to brew the antidote to Nagini's venom. It was Neville Longbottom, of all people, who killed the snake."

Severus shudders, but whether it is from thoughts of the snake, the Dark Lord or young Longbottom being the one to finally do the monster in, I cannot tell.

"The Horcruxes, Severus," I say urgently.

Severus shakes his head. "The Dark One did not succeed in making his final Horcrux, but not from lack of trying. He took Draco from the Manor, just as you suspected he might. It was the night before the final battle, and you had Moody's Invisibility Cloak. Hexes were flying, but you managed to turn your pocket watch into a Portkey and activate it for Draco moments after Voldemort killed Knott in preparation of turning Draco into his final Horcrux. You saved all our lives, Luc."

I sit silently, absorbing what Severus has told me. Voldemort is really gone. Well and truly dead. I look up as Severus presses a tumbler of Scotch into my hand, as if sensing my rioting thoughts.

"Drink," he orders, then returns to his chair.

I do as he bids, swallowing a mouthful as the weight of a thousand years is lifted off my shoulders. I slump back into the sofa.

"Incidentally," Severus continues after a moment, "Voldemort didn't know he had turned Harry Potter into a bloody Horcrux the night he murdered the Potters. It came as something of a shock." He chuckles. I look up and see Severus with a small smile on his face, chuckling like a boy with a secret, and for the first time since coming to in that dank alley on Friday last, I laugh.

After an excellent lunch, Severus provides a tour of his home and grounds; and while we stroll, he fills me in on his life, post-Voldemort. He no longer teaches; instead, he works in his lab, researching new potions for Malfoy Industries on a part time basis while writing a series of Potions books that will be used as part of the new curriculum at Hogwarts. And he dates. Apparently a lot, if his anecdotes are to be believed.

It is after an amusing story regarding a woman wearing only a dragon-hide trench coat that I ask casually, "Why does Ms. Granger become flustered every time your name is mentioned?"

Severus stops mid-stride and turns slowly.

"Luc, she and I have known each other for a long time; I was her instructor at Hogwarts, and I have come to know her better since she works so closely with you. There is no reason, but perhaps given the situation..." Severus is choosing his words carefully, and I hear what he is not saying.

"I believe the answers to your questions may be in your journals, my friend."

I say nothing, only nod and continue walking. I mull over all that I have learned in the past few days: the Dark Lord's downfall, Narcissa's duplicity, my relationship with Draco, the reinstatement of my rightful status in Wizard society, and most unexpectedly, my new business ventures, and one Ms. Hermione Granger. It is a lot for one wizard to take in.

We wind our way past the greenhouses and eventually make our way back to his garden. It is late, and upon entering his study, I retrieve my journals and head for his Floo.

"I will be in touch, my friend," Severus says as I grab a small handful of Floo powder. "For tonight, perhaps a Calming Draught?"

A small smile makes its way to my face as he hands me the small phial he knows I will not use. I pause for a moment before stepping into the Floo. I turn and watch as he walks slowly to his chair. The burden of being a Death Eater and spy has taken a toll on Severus, I see. I have not seen a house-elf, but then, a good elf will not be seen about. Still, I am curious. Perhaps for his birthday I will present him with one; I will speak to Ms. Granger. What had she said about Gobbert?

"Severus?" He looks up sharply, as if surprised I have not yet left.

"Would you know anything about my elf, Gobbert? Ms. Granger mentioned a solution?"

A small half-smile appears. "You do remember, of course, the dinner party when your son mentioned Hermione's elf-liberation movement at Hogwarts? It is still her hobby, so to speak. She has found that Gobbert is tied to Malfoy Manor, not the family. It is for this reason he cannot leave the Manor, even though you demanded he follow you to the Penthouse. Hermione has learned that if you, as owner of the Manor, free him, then hire him, or if he freely re-enslaves himself to you, then he will become either your employee or property and will be able to follow you."

I stare at his face with what I am sure is a look of horror. "Free? Gobbert? Good God, man!" I burst.

Severus' smile remains in place, but nods. "Indeed. That is what Hermione thought you would say."

Appalled, I pitch the Floo powder into the fireplace and step inside the swirling green flame.

Since taking my leave of Severus, I have been poring over my ledgers, and now, hours later, I come to the conclusion that I must be happy with the events of the past five years. What I have encountered is nothing short of fantastic.

With the help of one brilliant, hard-edged, technically savvy witch, I not only increased my holdings ten times over, I now have my fingers in the two hottest markets in Britain, pharmaceuticals and computers. With Ms. Granger's guidance, I cut loose those companies consistently losing money post-Voldemort, and under the auspices of the new Ministry, I began investing in new and emerging companies that show promise in furthering the development and betterment of both the Wizard and Muggle communities.

Ms. Granger and I are working the opposite ends of the same candle, I laugh to myself. She is using magic for the betterment of Muggles, and I am using Muggle technology for the betterment of wizards. I must have seen the dynamic from the start, whether it was articulated, or not. Was it a mutual agreement? Who approached whom? Did Ms. Granger weave her special magic on the new Minister of Magic, convincing him the Wizarding population needed Muggles, or did the pressure come from an outside source? From Muggles, whose only tie to the Wizarding world is through their children? A shiver runs up my back, raising the hairs at the nape of my neck. Someone has engineered this.

Setting the ledgers aside, I stand and stretch, then make my way down the short hall to the master bedroom. Along the way, I pick up my journals, intending to scour the pages, hoping to find more clues.

I don a pair of navy blue silk pajama pants and sprawl across the massive bed. Propped against the cream damask pillows, I look at the journals beside me, pondering their secrets.

A huge thank you to two wonderful women, Wildcatcdc and Sc010f, betas extraordinaire!