9: Okay, Maybe ONE Funeral. Or At Least, Some Passing On

Disclaimer: I am seriously running low on witticisms to plug into these things. You know darn well I don't own it (except for the Jarvey) and that I make no money from it. Please refrain from suing me.

Chapter 9: Okay, Maybe ONE Funeral. Or At Least, Some Passing On...

---

Severus finished washing up and brushing his teeth in high spirits. Hermione had told him to take all the time he needed, but to come to the bed fully dressed. Apparently she had something interesting in mind for their wedding night that involved undressing him, and he was quite eager to find out what it was. He exited the bathroom of their hotel suite and turned the corner to the bed area.

"Shite!" he exclaimed, turning several unflattering shades of pale.

Hermione was manacled and spread out on something that looked suspiciously like the potions bench he'd used for years at Hogwarts... wearing a much abbreviated student uniform... with no bra underneath her far, far too small blouse. Obviously.

"I'm ready for my detention, Professor Snape," she said demurely.

Snape's legs had no intention of holding him up, so he grasped at the doorframe, his jaw coming unhinged and his mind suggesting it was inclined to follow his jaw. "You have obviously taken leave of your senses. What do you mean by this...this perversion?"

"I've been very, very naughty, Professor," she said, affecting a contrite expression.

"Please, please tell me you never fantasized anything like this when you were in school." He looked downright grayish now.

Hermione temporarily gave up her student persona. "Of course not. Good Lord, Severus, you can be such a prude sometimes."

"Because I'm not a pedophile who fantasizes about my former students?"

"Oh, I promise, I'm of age, Professor," she said, forcing a giggle through her impatient expression. He didn't exactly blame her for her impatience, judging by how uncomfortable her position looked; he hoped the clinking manacles and the splintery wood of the 'potions bench' were illusionary instead of Transfigured. "Don't tell me I went to all this trouble just to get a visit from 'yes-those-buttons-are-as-Victorian-as-they-appear-Severus.' Play along, love. What would you have done if you'd found me like this, say, in some fictional seventh-year detention?"

"You mean, assuming I survived hitting the stone floor of the dungeon in a dead faint?" he asked, not at all sarcastically. "At minimum, the deduction of 100 house points and detention with Filch for the rest of your student career."

Hermione sighed and reached behind her head for her wand, confirming his guess that this was just a bed in disguise and that she was actually lying comfortably on the pillows. She canceled the various illusions, revealing the cuffs to be bits of elastic, easy for her to slide free of and sit up. "Hmph. Excuse me for trying to inject some excitement into our wedding night."

"It fascinates me to no end to discover that my wife's idea of an exciting wedding night is driving me to cardiac arrest. This is what I get for marrying a Healer," he said, still looking askance at her skimpy uniform.

"Well, at least I would have been able to revive you," she said, resisting the temptation to stick her tongue out at him.

He sat down beside her on the bed. Warily. "I can't believe you seriously thought this would put me in a suitable frame of mind for sex. I was never in any mood except 'irritable' as a teacher."

"You mean, you wouldn't have gotten off on me calling you 'sir'?" she asked, unable to resist a little smirk.

He snorted. "What was I supposed to do at the moment of climax, award you house points?"

She rolled her eyes and flung a pillow at him. "You are such an arse sometimes!"

This did not faze him in the least. Sulky Hermione threw insults. Angry Hermione threw blunt objects or punches. Homicidal PMS Hermione threw hexes and curses, occasionally without the aid of a wand. Pillow-throwing Hermione was synonymous with Frisky Hermione, who was hands down his very favorite version. Well, he was also quite fond of Brilliant, Intellectually-stimulating Hermione. But at the moment, Frisky suited his mood.

"I knew that's what this was about. All right, Miss Granger... One hundred points to Gryffindor...with the stipulation that this particular scenario not be repeated," he said, favoring her with what he knew was the sexiest smirk in his repertoire.

"Oh, get out of these already," she said, in proper bossy fashion as she attacked his buttons. She stopped when she encountered a slight bulge in his breast pocket. "What's this, love?"

Severus felt a bit embarrassed when he recalled what he'd put in that pocket. "It's that bloody Napoleon. I'm quite partial to them, but I wasn't about to risk eating it at the party, in case it turned out to be one of the spiked ones."

"It does look good, doesn't it?" Hermione studied it with a speculative look on her face.

It occurred to Severus that, short of sneaking the thing into the shower with him and Silencing the door, he wasn't really going to get a better chance to eat it. "Well, those identical idiots haven't killed anyone with their inventions...yet," he said, taking a generous bite. Hermione surprised him by quickly claiming most of the rest of it, leaving him with one last little bit to pop into his mouth.

He swallowed... waited... opened his mouth to make a smug comment about having dodged the jinx when...it happened.

Severus couldn't think of the title of what they were singing. It sounded vaguely familiar, though he was certain he never would have thought of it on his own, even as beautifully, almost embarrassingly, appropriate as it was. And perhaps he was caught up in the moment, or merely biased, but he thought their voices actually sounded rather good together.

"Is that how you feel?" he asked her when they finished the song.

"That's it, exactly," she answered, sliding her hands along the sides of his face, burying her fingers in his hair. She knew all his weaknesses, and he thought it was absolutely brilliant. If that wasn't love, what was?

"Then I think it's a very good thing we got married today... because that's precisely how I feel, as well."

At the rate they were going, the ensuing kiss would last the length of their honeymoon. After a moment of contemplating their state of shared chocolate, cream, and buttery-pastry perfection, Severus deemed this perfectly acceptable.

Eventually, Hermione popped up for air. "I think we may have to thank Fred and George for that pastry."

"I'll thank you not to mention those two when we're doing this sort of thing," he growled, and pinned her to the bed for another leisurely kiss.

He came up for air first this time, gasping when she managed to sneak a hand between his various layers of clothing and caress skin. He looked her over hungrily, but his expression abruptly creased into annoyance.

"What's wrong, love?" she asked, twining the fingers of her other hand into his hair. All right, perhaps it was slightly annoying that Hermione knew so well how to soothe him. A man likes to hang onto his righteous indignation once in a while, after all.

"It's that bloody uniform and the mention of the bloody damned twins. I want to know why in the Nine Hells they couldn't have applied themselves like that in my classroom," he said, sitting up and huffing with exasperation.

It didn't really help when she burst out laughing. "I love you when you're irritable."

"That strikes me as being absolutely barmy, but considering how often I'm irritable, I certainly feel assured of your constant affection."

"So long as I remain barmy," she said, hints of laughter still lacing her voice as she moved behind him. "I take it you like me that way?"

"Since it's the only reason I can conceive of for you staying with someone like me, I'd say I quite love you that way," he said, softening the rather sarcastic words with a silky, teasing tone of voice.

"That's funny. I could have sworn there were other reasons. Would you care to refresh my memory, love?" Severus decided it was time to see what, exactly, she had been doing behind his back. He turned to find Hermione lounging on the pillows, all her curves gloriously unadorned. Her pose recalled their first night together, when his first thought upon seeing her was how favorably she compared with Manet's 'Olympia.' This time, it wasn't her superior shape that he noticed, but the fiery invitation in her eyes that made Olympia's cool insolence look insipid.

There was really only one appropriate response to that. He drew his wand, spelled off his clothes, and pounced.

---

The reception was winding down, with one of the three newlywed couples having made their escape and the other two seeming inclined to follow their example. Technically, Reggie had no further reason to remain. In practice, the only way to get her to leave a party was to remove her by force, threaten legal action or similar dire consequences, or end the party.

The remarkable thing was that Pip was still there. Pip at ease at a party would probably have made Reggie's personal 'list of things I have a hell of a time picturing' had she ever considered the possibility. Having an amiable chat with Pip at a party was just plain surreal.

"I don't always approve of your methods, Fletcher, but I appreciate your dedication," he said.

In his own officious way, it was a compliment, and Reggie accepted it as such. "Gracias, Jefe. Speaking of methods... care to enlighten me as to how you got Percy sorted?"

"You know very well that a lot of our most successful cases depend on timing. He's got a child coming... people tend to rethink their lives when that sort of thing is upon them." Pip shrugged modestly.

"Okay, timing's a big part of it...but you've got to know how to work the situation, too." She glanced at her Apprentice, diligently observing at her side, as always. "C'mon, at least tell me for the kid's sake. He could use the benefit of your experience."

"He's supposed to be benefiting from your experience," Pip said dryly. "Let me put it to you this way, Fletcher...if you wanted to use someone as an object lesson in what sort of administrator NOT to become, who would you choose?"

Reggie had to think about that for approximately five seconds. "You took him to her?"

Moto looked confused for a moment, then his bulbous, glowing eyes bulged even wider with understanding. Pip nodded. Reggie whistled. "Damn, you play hardball, Pip. Remind me to stay on your good side...as much as someone like me can, anyway."

"Just try not to incur any casualties, Fletcher. That's all I ask," Pip said with a sigh.

"Por supuesto, jefe...it's all about happily-ever-after, right?" With a grin and a salute (a polite one, for a change) she was heading back to the bar, Motoyoshi in tow. "Hurry, Moto, I think it's last call!"

The largish pixie shook his head at Fletcher's retreating tail and Motoyoshi's dutifully following shell. Of all the creatures to ever tap into the Magik of Faerie, these two were the most unlikely, oddly matched, and... inexplicably effective.

His musings were interrupted when the only other person in the room who was able to see him approached. "Penny and I are leaving, Pip. I just wanted to thank you for the object lesson. The thought of ending up like Mab..." Percy shuddered.

"Don't mention it...especially since you were good enough to suggest a useful course of action for my situation," Pip said.

"My pleasure. You will tell me how that works out, won't you?"

"Of course."

---

Ginny relaxed into the perfectly soft bed, reluctantly deciding that they would have to leave the room sooner rather than later. There were only so many sexual positions she could run through before breakfast, even considering that she hadn't had a boyfriend in longer than she cared to contemplate.

Speaking of positions... as much as she appreciated the view (as well as Draco's skill with his tongue, which, she was pleased to discover, was in no way limited to verbal persuasion), it was high time to move. Her breasts were sticky, Draco weighed a good bit more than he appeared to, and having him panting against her thigh just felt odd. She gave his backside a good nudge. "Very nice, love. Why don't we get up now?"

"Hmm... give me a few minutes, you insatiable vixen."

She rolled her eyes. Nice to be reminded of how Draco could always be trusted to misinterpret any statement in his own favor. "Move, you slug. I want to get out of bed and get dressed. I'm hungry."

"You just ate. It's not my fault you didn't swallow. OW!"

Upon reflection, Ginny decided she would have smacked his arse just as hard if he hadn't accompanied that particular crude remark with a smirk against her thigh. He was going to have to learn to lose the smugness around her. At least while they were in bed.

"Serves you right for... wait a minute. You... you LIKED that." In the position they were still in, it was impossible not to notice.

Draco tried to glare over his shoulder at her. "You smacked me!"

"Yes, and you enjoyed it. Try denying it."

He didn't bother, instead rolling onto his back and assuming a contrite expression with alluringly downcast eyes.

Ginny felt a stirring in her belly that had nothing to do with desiring food. "Tell me, Draco... were those leather trousers part of a Dominant's ensemble... or a Submissive's?"

"How would you like me to answer that, Mistress?"

She grabbed her wand, spelled his wrists together with a temporary Sticking Charm, and straddled his waist. "I think you just did."

Draco squirmed, though he didn't look as if he objected in the least. "I thought you said you were hungry."

"Did I give you permission to speak?" Ginny asked, tilting his chin up with the hilt of her wand. He shaped his face into a sexily apologetic pout.

"That's better," she said, leaning over his face until they could feel each other's breath on their lips. "Now, what do you have to say?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

By the time they finally left the room, they had two urgent errands: finding breakfast and shopping for an engagement ring.

---

"Hey, Reggie. Hey, Moto."

"Greetings, Rico-san."

"Hey yourself, Rico. I'm here to pick up my package."

"I reckoned as much, seeing as all the happy couples are back from their honeymoons and the news of the 'Wedding of the Century' finally trickled out." Fred yelled in the general direction of the stock room. "George! We've got an order for insect-under-glass."

"One bottled reporter coming right up." George turned the jar over to Motoyoshi, who held it up for Reggie's inspection.

She nodded in approval. "Good job, amigos. Not an antenna out of place. Well, I guess you can have your names back now...Fred, George. Damn, feels weird, calling you that."

"Feel free to call us the others, as long as it doesn't involve indentured servitude again," George said dryly.

"Yeah, and as long as it doesn't involve giving our baby sister away to the Ferret," Fred said, scowling.

"Don't look at me, babe. They worked that out on their own," Reggie said. To mention that Ginny and Draco went into business in the first place as a result of one of Reggie's earlier operations would have been extraneous information, so she opted to omit it. "And that name thing was just an insurance policy...a damned smart one to take out, under the circumstances."

Fred shrugged. "I guess Ginny can hold her own. I just hope some of the prototypes she borrowed last week were for use on him instead of her."

"Which prototypes?" George asked, looking askance at his brother.

"You really don't want to know."

Reggie deemed this an apt moment to interrupt, then get the hell out of there. She twitched her whiskers at them and grinned. "Well, it was nice working with you lads. Try to keep any charges from sticking, will you?"

George snickered. "We've managed so far."

---

The tell-tale whoosh came while Flora was setting the table, dinner for two ready to go. She knew who had just come through the Floo without looking. The Cannons had a home game this weekend, after all. She also knew it would only be a matter of moments before...

"Guess who."

She smiled, nudging her nose against the big, slightly rough hands covering her eyes. "Mmm, must be a really good Quidditch player, judging by the broom calluses."

"Well, a really happy one, at least." Ron chuckled and spun her around into a kiss. Flora wondered if she should put a warming charm on dinner. Her knight in orange Quidditch robes was apparently frisky tonight, the one circumstance for which he would actually delay eating. He managed to restrain himself for the moment, however, instead taking up his wand to finish laying out a place setting next to hers. That was fine with Flora as well. It quite pleased her to satisfy every one of her wizard's substantial appetites.

"So... is it the game on Sunday that has you in such a fine mood?"

"A bit. Have you seen the 'Daily Prophet' today?" he asked, Summoning the paper.

Flora grinned. "Oh, have I ever! In fact, I was there when they brought the Skeeter woman in. It was a sight...she was raving something about being a 'fly on the wall' and needing to get to her editor with something about 'the wedding of the century.' They put her right in the Thickey Ward. Last I heard, Healer Stroud said that Lockhart was trying to convince her to write his memoirs...once he remembers anything."

Ron looked surprised. "Really? I hadn't noticed that story." He found the article and read it, beginning to snicker halfway through. "This is brilliant...we'll have to frame it for Harry and Luna."

"If that wasn't what caught your eye, what was?" Flora asked as she employed the proper charms to neatly snip the article from its page and set it aside for preservation.

"Here...on the Wedding Announcements page."

Flora read the indicated passage, feeling slightly puzzled. "Well, we've known that was coming ever since they came back from Las Vegas. I'm so glad for your sister, Ron. She and Draco seem... well-suited."

Ron grimaced. "Well, if by that you mean they both occasionally have very nasty mouths and both chase Galleons like a Seeker chases a Snitch, you've got something there. But I wasn't necessarily thinking this is news. More like... it reminded me of something."

"Of what, love?"

"Of the fact that I've found someone who particularly suits me." Ron grinned at her from beneath his fringe and fished a little box out of his pocket. "I know it's a little sudden, Flora... but want to get married?"

Flora pounced on the ring like a Kneazle on a Gnome, practically chipping her nail in her haste to slide the pretty circle of white and yellow gold and amber into place. "All you had to do was ask."

Dinner ended up being reheated.

---

Hermione contemplated the bookshelves looming over the staircase, searching for gaps into which she might insert their latest acquisitions. It wasn't the easiest task, considering that the already narrow treads had lost a third of their width to the library.

"Remind me again why we spent our honeymoon visiting the five largest bookstores in the wizarding world?"

Severus' ironic tones drifted up the stairs. "Because it was the only activity for which we could agree to leave the hotel room?"

"Hmm, that must be it. We need a bigger house, then."

"Sorry, can't afford one. We spent all our money on books."

"Oh, well," she said, "at least we agree on our priorities...to the point of putting away books before doing the laundry from our trip."

"Well, we won't have to go about bare or dingy. Draco and Ginny sent us a package from Las Vegas, and it feels like clothing."

"Really?" Hermione shoved one last volume into place and trotted downstairs to see what Severus was pulling from the parcel.

"T-shirts? The sun must have gotten to them. I wouldn't be caught dead in such a sorry excuse for a garment," Severus said, looking decidedly askance at the contents of the parcel.

"Now, now, love. They obviously put a lot of thought into this, considering this one is so appropriate for you." She snickered, pointing to the artistic scrawl on the shirt's chest that read, 'I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.'

Snape picked it up to toss aside, his lips twisting with intent to make a snide remark when the sight of the garment beneath that one stopped him. He broke into an evil smirk. "No, I think that one must be yours... since they also sent this one." He held up a black shirt emblazoned with bold white print: 'I don't need an encyclopedia, my wife knows it all.'

"Very funny. Hand it over."

"Oh, no. I'm wearing it in the lab."

She made several grabs for the shirt, all of which he successfully evaded. "You prat. If you ever wear it outside our house, you're sleeping on the couch for a month," she said, hands on her hips. "And I'm hexing Draco the next time we see him."

"Do you honestly think these were the idea of a wizard who still looks for someone to duck behind whenever you appear to be reaching for your wand?"

"You're right. I'm hexing Ginny."

"Forget about hexing anyone, and let's get the laundry done. I think we should start with your violet blouse."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "That's the one I'm wearing."

"Precisely," he said, giving her a very different sort of smirk.

"We're not going to get anything done if you're going to change the subject. Wash first, get dirty after," she said, shaking her finger at him playfully.

Severus snorted at her, but picked up their suitcases. "Bossy witch. That had better be a promise."

She smiled and Summoned a basket for the dirty clothes. "It is."

---

Eventually, Hermione had to leave for the evening shift at St. Mungo's. Snape was glad, though he wouldn't have minded another hour of post-laundry diversion. He'd been sweating it out a bit, having spotted another package amongst their deliveries that he absolutely had to deal with before she noticed.

He decided to simply come through the Floo rather than calling or sending an owl. He hated waiting on the hearth on hands and knees while that dunderheaded house-elf looked for someone to answer the call. Narcissa would most likely still be alone in the Manor at this hour; Ginny had an uncanny knack for keeping Draco's nose to the grindstone at the office. Severus preferred not to contemplate what threats or inducements she used to do so.

He had scarcely finished dusting himself off when he heard a sleepy voice. "Master is home! How nice. Let Sniffy..."

The elf's words were cut off abruptly, and Snape instantly became alert. In his experience, nothing shut Sniffy up. Not even Silencing Charms. He palmed his wand and cautiously eased open the door to the corridor.

"Why, Severus... fancy meeting you here. I truly must have been away too long, if Narcissa is looking to you for company."

Snape showed no outward surprise at hearing that voice, but cursed silently for choosing to look the wrong direction upon peering out the door. "This may seem a silly time to remind you, but you're supposed to be dead," he said, raising an eyebrow ironically at the very distressing alive (and disquietingly tanned) Lucius.

"Yes, that was really rather clever of me, wasn't it? If I'd simply escaped, I would be looked for. So obliging of Rabastan to be the first to die in the riot. He was close enough to my height and build that I didn't have to do much transfiguring to make him fit the coffin, so to speak."

It had been far too long since Severus had dueled, and his brain was working frantically behind his impassive expression. It seemed a bad idea indeed to allow Lucius to roam the house. Lulling him into a false sense of security might be useful. "Do you mind me asking, why return now?"

Lucius smiled, his teeth looking eerily white against his uncharacteristically dark skin. He'd cut and darkened his hair as well. Only his unmistakable arrogance was easily recognizable. "This is no place to catch up on so much lost time. The parlor, if you please?" He gestured casually with his wand. Their mutual calmness was belied by the fact that neither took his eyes off the other for a moment, even if that meant backing towards the room in question at times.

"I would invite you to sit down, but it's no more my home than it is yours," Snape said. He moved subtly to a position facing the partially open door, hoping that if Lucius felt the escape route was covered, he would succumb to overconfidence.

Lucius' gray eyes flashed. "I suppose it technically reverted to Narcissa at my untimely demise, didn't it?"

"Naturally. So, are you going to mention where you've been, and why you aren't there now?"

"I've come to stop my son from marrying that sneaky little Weasley slag, of course. I admit, it's a bit of a risk coming back into the country, but I imagine I wouldn't be readily recognized even without glamours." He stopped to run an appreciative hand through his own hair. "The tan is natural, though... courtesy of the lovely nation of Argentina."

"Well, I suppose that answers my questions. How have you been living there? Camping under a palm tree?"

"How droll, Severus. My accountant was good enough to liberate sufficient Galleons for me to set myself up quite comfortably with a nice villa and an obliging little companion... Maria, or is it Magdalena? Hmm." He pretended to think a moment, then shrugged. "At any rate, to hide my timely withdrawal of funds, he was willing to disappear with a share and make it look like embezzlement."

"That was a generous share...considering that when he disappeared, nearly your entire fortune went with him. I suppose it never occurred to you to make certain he left anything for your wife and son."

Red fury glowed through the tan on Lucius' cheeks. "Greedy, opportunistic little bastard! I shall have to track him down... when I'm done here."

Suddenly, more than Lucius' cheeks were glowing red. He slumped to the floor, leaving Severus staring into an entirely different set of icy eyes. Rather watery icy eyes, though their owner's level, raised wand arm never wavered.

"That was one hell of a 'Stupefy,' Cissy."

"That was one hell of a lot of gall on his part, showing up after five years and expecting to run our lives." Narcissa lowered her wand, and the action seemed to drop the floodgates on her glacial blue orbs. Her voice trembled as she murmured, "Even with that outlandish tan and absurd glamour on his hair, I recognized him coming up the walk. I'd know that...strut...anywhere."

"Well, at least I know where things stand with you. Is there any reason we should tell Draco about this before we send this back to Azkaban?" Severus gestured at Lucius' prone form.

Narcissa knelt by her erstwhile husband, shaking her head as she studied the short, dark hair. "He's not going to Azkaban. We stopped needing him some time ago, and I won't have Lucius' disapproval casting a shadow on Draco's relationship with Ginevra." Her voice hardened. "My dragon can handle things on his own now...and what he can't do on his own, he and Ginevra can manage together. She's good for him. No one is going to take that away from him. Not to mention I want grandchildren while I still look too young for it."

Severus idly wondered if Narcissa knew that Ginny had just about knocked Draco's lights out when the two were still in the 'courtship' phase. At the moment, he had the sneaking suspicion that it would contribute to her positive evaluation of the Weasley girl, rather than otherwise.

She raised her shockingly bright eyes again. "I used to dream Lucius was still alive, that he'd come home again. And now that he's here... having heard what he means to do, all I want to do is tell him to go sod himself."

"As much as I never imagined that particular expression leaving your mouth, it's rather a relief to see that you've finally joined the club." Snape winced at himself, but really, he could almost go without breathing longer than he could go without sarcasm.

Rather uncharacteristically, Narcissa snorted. "Just because I never said it before..." She couldn't help choking on the laugh, ending it in a little sob.

Severus knelt beside her and offered a comforting arm. Cissy must be falling apart, if she actually used profanity. She leaned into his embrace. "I've always wondered why you treat your mind like an iceberg...I don't think you routinely allow more than a tenth of it to show above the surface."

"You have your defenses...I have mine. Incidentally, thank you, dear, for showing up so opportunely. Did you have some errand, or was it good fortune?"

"Actually, I came about this." He held up the package.

"Ah, yes, your wedding gift. I didn't wish to present it at the party; it's so gauche to let money change hands in public." Her eyes were shrewd over her smile. "I hope you came to say thank you, however unnecessary that might be."

"Cissy, we really can't impose."

"Good. Therefore, you will finally quit wrapping yourself in absurdly foolish pride and accept it, because your lack of graciousness is a tiresome imposition."

Snape cleared his throat awkwardly. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but I had the impression from Draco that your finances are not all they could be."

"Yes, my poor darling comes to an inordinate amount of grief when dealing with money. Yet another reason dear Ginevra will be good for him. Think, Severus. Did you really believe I would spend money we didn't have? Or, if I did... that I would fail to keep the receipts?"

Apparently, Severus' incredulous stare was not the response she was hoping for. She sighed at him and Summoned a small, neat ledger from her writing desk. "See for yourself, though I do think it terribly crass to have to resort to showing you my records to convince you that I can afford to make this gift."

He stared at the entries, gradually recognizing a pattern. "How long have you been at this? I mean, making shopping trips, then returning everything and saving the cash?"

"Since Lucius and I were married. Silly man. He was perfectly willing that I should spend ludicrous amounts of money on constant wardrobe renewal, but utterly unwilling to allow me access to any sort of cash to invest. Fashion is such a waste of money; when one possesses true style, all one really needs is a core of classic pieces to which key accessories may be added. But I don't suppose I should have expected any more of him. After all, I never could get him to give up that tacky cane." She rolled her eyes. "Though, I must admit, it's rather fun to periodically try on all the latest outfits, if only to confirm how utterly devoid of real class they actually are."

"I suppose it didn't hurt that seeing the account balances dwindle away spurred Draco to actually take some sort of action."

Narcissa smiled guilelessly, which Severus found rather scary. "Did it? What a fortuitous bonus."

Severus couldn't help but shake his head at her in admiration. "Cissy, I always knew you were the most dangerous of the Black sisters. I just never realized how, and by what margin."

"Why thank you, dearest. I can always count on you not to underestimate me... too severely." He let her pull him in for a kiss on the cheek.

"Let me tidy up your parlor for you, all right?" Severus nudged Lucius with the toe of his boot.

"Only if you'll take the gift."

He knew it was no use arguing any further. Cissy's mind was made up. "Fine. I'll consider it a waste removal fee."

"Whatever it takes." Her face twisted with sadness for a moment as Severus 'Mobilicorpus'-ed her erstwhile husband's unconscious form. "Dear Lucius," she whispered sadly. "If only you could have learned to be flexible... like a proper snake." She leaned over his face, just ghosting her lips past his hairline. Her eyes began to fill again, but she was startled out of a sob by a squeaky voice.

"Hey, Oh Duke of Discouragement...need a paw with that?"

A sigh seemed in order just then, and Snape didn't hold back. "I should be surprised, but I'm not."

---

Reggie nodded in Narcissa's direction. "You know, the lady and I have something in common besides looking good in silver...we're both a little tired of your crankiness with people who are just trying to help you."

"Fine. I'll take all the help I can get at this point," Snape said, throwing up his hands in surrender.

"That's the spirit," Narcissa said approvingly, apparently not the least bit startled by the sudden appearance of a tutu-wearing Jarvey and similarly attired Kappa in her parlor.

"I know this is probably a stupid question, considering the number of people present who really have no business in this room...but what brings you here?"

"Oh, Moto and I wanted to ask how you and Hermione enjoyed the honeymoon, and showed up just in time to catch you trying to sneak back the wedding gift like the overly proud pain-in-the-arse that you are. So we tagged along to make sure you didn't succeed. If you'd ever been in any real danger from the perma-tanned wanker, we'd have sorted him for you."

"Speaking of which... how, exactly, do you intend to lend a 'paw?'"

"Moto's done this sort of thing before. That's how he got recruited...spontaneously 'poofing' the family of his former Master to safety before the crazy bastard could abuse them again."

Moto twiddled his hishaku nervously. "Reggie-san, I did that spontaneously. I don't know if I can 'poof' these two to Argentina all on my own."

"Sure you can, mijo. You have the ability. Don't let fucking Mab and her 'you ain't shite if you ain't a fairy' attitude affect your performance."

"No pressure," Moto said faintly.

Reggie butted her head reassuringly against his scaly knee. "Look, kid, you care about everyone living happily ever after...right?"

"Of course, Reggie-san!" he exclaimed, nodding vehemently.

"Happily ever after is what we do best! Who got the five stooges out of Amsterdam without them getting their heads bashed in?"

"I-I did, Reggie-san," Moto said hesitantly.

"Who made sure none of them ended up splattered all over the Continental countryside on their wild ride?"

"I did, Reggie-san," Moto said, more firmly this time.

"Who got everyone out of jail, with minimal if well-deserved embarrassment, and without blowing your cover?"

"I did, Reggie-san!" he exclaimed happily.

"And who helped pull off Operation Wedding Switch, which, in one fell swoop, set no fewer than four couples and one family on the road to Happily Ever After, ignoring for a moment the fights and the laundry? And which, incidentally, prevented the insectoid-bitch from ever fucking up anyone else's happiness again?"

"Me! Oh, I did, Reggie-san!" He marched over to Snape, solemnly taking the hem of his coat, Hishaku at the ready.

"Do be careful, dear," Narcissa said, addressing Severus and Motoyoshi equally. Motoyoshi bowed, taking great care not to spill anything on the antique rug, and obligingly 'poofed' them away.

Reggie sighed. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it."

---

Snape, Motoyoshi, and the unconscious Lucius 'poofed' into existence in broad daylight in the middle of a field. Snape drew his wand to Disillusion them, but was stopped by the Kappa. There was something profoundly wrong with a creature who could even grab one's arm politely.

"Rest assured, Snape-san, we are only visible to each other. I do apologize...we are in Argentina, but we are nowhere near the residence of Malfoy-san. I shall rectify that."

"No need, Moto. Let him find his own way back." Snape should have realized they were invisible; the surrounding cows seemed utterly unperturbed by their sudden appearance.

"As you wish."

"I suppose I'd best wake him up, if we're to convince him he's to remain here permanently." Snape frowned and drew his wand. "I'm not keen on using Cruciatus... but Lucius is remarkably resistant to more civilized forms of persuasion."

"Oh, no, Snape-san. I may not participate in anything that physically harms another."

"I'll tend to it, then."

If Snape had been wondering what it took to break Motoyoshi's façade of gentle courtesy, he'd found it. The Kappa was frowning now and actually looking rather Kappa-like and dangerous. "No, Snape-san. I cannot stand by while one causes another pain. That was why I helped you bring him here in the first place."

"Then I hope you have a better idea, because he won't remain unconscious forever."

Moto sighed. "If only I could administer Fairy Good Will Punch to this disagreeable individual. A constant supply would keep him distracted enough not to remove any sort of binding I could cast to keep him here. I used a similar tactic to prevent my former master from tracking down his wife and children after I removed them from his harmful presence. It is why my family no longer acknowledges me; they are still quite displeased that I did not conduct myself in true Samurai fashion, obeying our master though he was unprincipled."

"Well, why don't you dose him and get it over with?"

"The substance is considered mind-altering, and I did not realize how severely its distribution to humans is restricted. Had Reggie-san not carefully worded her report on my actions at the club in Amsterdam, I would most assuredly have been stripped of my tutu for providing you with access to it."

Referencing the club made Snape grit his teeth slightly, but just as quickly, it twigged something in his mind. "Did you perchance put any in Draco's flask?"

"Hai, Snape-san. I thought it best at the time."

Snape drew the flask from his pocket. "What if I were the one who administered it?" he asked. "I have no doubt that he has a new refilling flask in those robes somewhere. Spiking it would provide him a lifetime of distraction."

The Kappa's glowing eyes scrunched up slightly with happiness. It almost improved his appearance. "As Reggie-san would say, that might very fucking well be a plan."

---

Lucius awoke to no small degree of confusion. Why was he napping in a pasture when the last he recalled, he had a mission: to stop his son from mixing with that Muggle-loving Weasley family? He picked up his wand and cast a cleansing spell. There was no way he was about to go to the Manor smelling of cattle.

Instead of a cleaning, he received a slight shock...literally. His body glowed briefly purple before the stinging subsided, and a piece of parchment appeared with a loud 'pop' before him. Warily, he picked it up and began to read.

'Dear Lucius,

I'd use a different salutation, but I would like to get home to my lovely young wife and can't be arsed to think of a truly eloquent insult. If I know you (and sadly, I do), you attempted to clean yourself before Apparating to your new home and setting about creating an illegal Portkey. You can save yourself a great deal of time by simply going home, because there is no possibility you will ever return to Britain again. In fact, the best of luck leaving Argentina.

You see, an associate of mine has some very interesting magical abilities... and he used them to bind your powers to this place. If you ever attempt to leave again, becoming a Squib will be the least of your problems.

Of course, it simply didn't seem quite fair for you to remain here, having an easy life and taking out your frustrations on innocent bystanders, so we worked out an additional safeguard. Any magic you may attempt will result in a shock similar to the one you just experienced. The stronger the spell, the worse the shock...so I suggest you only use magic for minor things. No more curses and hexes, you bastard. And you won't be interfering in the lives of your wife and son again, or in the lives of your grandchildren.

Incidentally, I haven't been shagging Narcissa, you absolute arse. First, I'm quite happily married...to Hermione Granger. I'm sure you remember her. I tried to convince my companion to curse you so that you would experience nasty consequences if you had disparaging thoughts about her, but sadly, he is far too restrained for that level of vindictiveness.

Second...and, more to the point...Narcissa is like a sister to me, which you would have known if you had ever bothered to really, truly get to know the remarkable witch you married. That surprises me not in the least, considering you never bothered to really get to know your son...who has become a much better man than you could ever hope to be, entirely without your help. Or, perhaps more accurately, without your hindrance.

Yours...not especially cordially,

Severus'

Lucius swore and weighed the potential pain of Apparating against the sheer agony of walking. Thinking was thirsty work, so he idly reached for the accustomed weight of his flask and took a sip.

Suddenly, the afternoon seemed remarkably pleasant. Warm sunlight, wide-open fields... the cows were annoying, but one couldn't have everything, after all. Perhaps he would work on a way around this supposed binding; perhaps it would be best to simply return to the comfort of his villa. Things were a little confusing right now. A walk and another small sip might clear things up...

---

"Okay, I don't give a damn if I'm breaking secrecy to do this...amiga, you are one hell of a natural psychologist," Reggie said, with great enthusiasm. It was plain this was a real lady, and it might be worth talking to her while waiting for Sev and Moto to sort the swaggering arsehole. A reduction of profanity was called for as a gesture of respect.

"Thank you. And you are...?"

"Regina P. Fletcher, Master Fairy God-Jarvey. Gotta give you props for getting your boy to realize the little Weasley brujita is his cuppa. That rivals my operation to put Sev and 'Mione together."

"Oh, you were responsible for that? I appreciate the assistance. Honestly, I put the life of my firstborn on the line to deliver Miss Granger right into dear Severus' lap, so to speak, and what does he do but talk her to death for a year?" Narcissa asked with genteel exasperation.

"Yeah, some guys need more of a fire lit under them than others before they get their heads out of their arses," Reggie said solemnly.

"And some, like my not-so-late husband, never do."

"If you don't mind me asking...you're a right classy bird... how did you end up marrying ol' Lucy there? Not to be too crude (and I hope you realize the effort involved in that for me), but all he seems to have going for him is arse and assets. Whereas you strike me as being the sort who appreciates a bloke who's got it going on between the ears."

"Well... he did have one more thing going for him when we met. He was very, very convincing." Narcissa sighed. "At the time, I was, perhaps, not as good a...what was the term you used? Psychologist?"

"I hope it wasn't too bad. The marriage, I mean."

"I have at least one very worthwhile thing from it." Narcissa smiled fondly at a framed photograph on a side table, one of many throughout the house showing her with Draco.

Duh, Reggie, she thought, feeling foolish. Considering there must be a mother-and-son portrait somewhere in the house for just about every month of Draco's life, it should have been an automatic conclusion. The one in this room looked to have been taken around month three or so.

"I gotta ask you not to tell anyone about me. We're not really supposed to reveal our true nature to any people besides our godchildren. Sev knows me, but that's not a problem, since I think he'd rather wank off a skrewt than admit I exist."

"I assure you, I can be the very soul of discretion. So... are you going to tell me how you, to put it delicately, convinced Severus to stop sitting on his common sense with regards to Miss Granger?"

"If you've got the time, sure. It's one hell of a story, amiga."

"I would be pleased to hear it."

"Uncensored?"

"Certainly. It couldn't be any worse than what Lucius said when he caught Draco using house-elves as dress-up dolls. We lost three that day."

"That sounds like a story. Wouldn't mind hearing a little more detail on your matchmaking operation, either."

"From what you mentioned, it seems I owe at least part of my success to your efforts. After all, Draco and Ginny met over Severus and Hermione's troubles."

"Good point. I'll go first."

"We should make ourselves comfortable. Tea, Miss Fletcher?"

"Thanks! Call me Reggie. Here, let me help you with those biscuits."

"Thank you, dear. Do please call me Cissy."

---

Author's Note:

Reggie's Spanish Vocabulary:

Gracias: thank you

Jefe: boss

Por supuesto: of course

Amiga: friend (female)

When hubby and I were in Vegas researching this story, we were much amused by the wares of the t-shirt vendors on the strip. At least, I was, until he said that he needed the shirt with the 'encyclopedia' crack on it. I said he either needed his head examined or a nice couch to sleep on if he intended to wear that in public. He wisely elected instead to purchase the 'I'll try being nicer' shirt for him and one that read 'Sarcasm is one of the services I offer' for me. We also renewed our wedding vows, though regrettably, not in front of Elvis.

Marriage...it's all about compromise.

All I can say about Lucius' fate and the scene with Narcissa and Reggie is, if you saw that coming, you've probably been hanging around me too long.

Are you wondering what song came of the Karaoke Kreme? You'll have to stay in suspense...but just until the Epilogue, which is coming right up! (Erm, right after one more chapter, that is... it sort of grew... (Darn plot bunnies. Sigh.) Thank you, Tempest, for beta-reading under pressure!)