Friends and Favours

A/N: Warning: Don't eat, drink or operate machinery. May cause unwanted side effects such as giggling, groans and spontaneous spurts of laughter.

To: The Mysterious 'Miss M'

Allow me to introduce myself as your new correspondent. Following along the lines of your own anonymity, as well as being a fairly private man myself, we will settle for the name 'Toby' for now.

Having read that utter drivel that passes for a newspaper these days, I must admit that your advertisement in the correspondence section piqued my interest. I am not the most sociable of men, nor the most talkative, but I understand the need for an intellectual connection; this is something difficult to find these days. In this way, I am, most assuredly, the right man to talk to.

As it happens, I am currently studying the effect of non-Latin curses. You wouldn't happen to know anything about them, would you?

I await your reply.

Anxiously,

T.P.

To: Lucius Malfoy

What the hell is this supposed to be? Who on earth is 'Miss M', and why in the name of Merlin's granny pants have you usurped my wretched middle name? Is 'T.P.' supposed to stand for Tobias Prince?

What in the name of all that is holy is going on?

Explain, Lucius, and fast. Remember, friend, that I am a Potions master. Which means I know several untraceable, colourless, odourless poisons. Keep that in mind when you pen your reply.

Insincerely,

S.S.

P.S. How the hell did you find out about my non-Latin-spells project? Have you been rifling through my papers again? Circe, even my students are more subtle than you.

To: Ginny Weasley

I don't believe this! Someone actually wrote a reply! I've attached the letter at the back.

If I wasn't so curious, you'd be dead right now.

Merlin, what do I say?

–Hermione

To: Severus 'Toby' Snape

Oh, alright.

Before I tell you, though, allow me to remind you about that little favour you owe me. Remember, Christmas break, seventh year, when you were in denial over a certain little redhead that we shall not name? Of course you do. Merlin's cravat, Severus, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone drink as many vodka shots in one night as you did that Christmas. If it hadn't been for me, you would have been cast out of polite societyand probably still paying alimony. I saved you.

Well, alright, and convinced you join the Death Eaters, causing a twenty-year-long series of unfortunate events. But we shan't get into little details.

Do you remember, Severus? Do you remember, the next morning, when you woke up in the guest wing of Malfoy Manor? You swore that if there was anything you could do to repay me, all I had to do was ask.

Well, I'm asking now.

So, Yaxley and I were having a drink, and you and your damned monk-like celibacy came up. He was quite convinced that you would never get shagged until you die. I, being the wonderfully loyal friend that I am, defended you, of course. 'Severus has many hidden qualities, you know,' I told him faithfully. 'According to Narcissa, he has quite a way with words. Sex-god version of Shakespeare, apparently.' (By the way, how exactly does she know that? I assure you, I will be asking about that later.)

Yaxley didn't believe me, so we struck up a bet. We were quite drunk at this point, you understand. He's had his eye on my estate in the south of France for years, you see. You know, that lovely little place on the coast, with all those beautiful young witches...ah, it's been too long. The thing is, Yaxley's got this exquisite mansion up in Spain, and Narcissa's been walking in on a few, er, slightly compromising situations. The plan: I ship her off to Spain for a while to frolic with young Spanish men, which leaves me to continue my debauchery at leisure.

So, we made a bet. He said that if you could actually manage to get laid by the end of the year, I get the mansion. If not, he gets the France estate. And you can't go whoring, or use love potions, or anything. She's got to actually fall in love with you.

Which is brilliant! You, with your charm, good looks and easy conversation, will achieve this in no time, my friend.

Only, here's the catch: the thousand-year lease on the France estate ends in three months from today, which is a day before the deadline. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, except that Narcissa and I had a bit of a run-in with a few French Muggles, and, well, let's just say we haven't been back since. And won't be anytime soon, if we value our lives, or our genitals. Which means I really can't renew it without losing some vital organs along the way. (Annoyingly, though, thanks to Draco's previous association with a certain Fleur Delacour, he's allowed in with no problem. Damned little blood-traitor.)

Apparently, Yaxley can hold his drink better than I thought, because he even managed to turn it into a wizarding bet. Which means that the prize must be functional and, in this case, accessible. If not, I drop dead on the day of the deadline.

Don't forget, Severus, that you owe me. Technically, if I die, it'll be all your fault. You wouldn't want my death on your hands, now, would you? Narcissa would be ever so upset.

Well, she'd also be rich. So perhaps not.

Anyway, so I took the liberty of checking the correspondence section of the 'Daily Prophet', and, lo and behold! There was an ad there, practically with your name on it! 'Fellow intellectual and verbal sparring partner'? Sounds just like you.

Now go frolic with that delightful young woman.

–Lucius

P.S. That letter I sent you? It's already been sent to 'Miss M'. Do tell me when you get a reply.

P.P.S. Of course I rifled through your papers. It's not my fault if you don't even ward your desk, you know. Damned careless of you, old chap.

To: Lucius Malfoy

Mere words can't even describe how much I loathe you.

Stunned,

S.S.

P.S. Rifle through my papers again, Lucius, and I'll kill you in your sleep, bet or no bet.

To: Severus Snape

Merlin, Severus, what's gotten you into such a snit? I haven't seen you this agitated since Sybill tried to seduce you at the start of term.

Don't tell me she's at it again.

– Minerva

P.S. I expect you to assist Hermione as escorts this Hogsmeade weekend. No arguments.

To: Miss M, a.k.a. Hermione Granger

Ha! I knew you'd get a reply. Quite the smooth talker you've got there! He must've used a Dicto-Quill, because I don't recognise the handwriting at all. It's really neat and cursive, which is pretty unusual. For a male, I mean.

Merlin, I don't know. He's your new boyfriend! You figure out what to write back.

–Ginny xox

P.S. Sorry about the end of that last letter. I added it as I was tying it to Aminta, and I tried to stop her from flying away, but she nipped me! Bitch. See if I give her any owl treats this week.

To: Draco Malfoy

I don't believe it! She actually got a reply. I only did it as a joke. I never thought she'd actually get a reply from someone who actually sounds vaguely interesting!

Gosh, but this is going to be an interesting ride. And we've got front-seat tickets. Excellent!

– Ginny xoxoxoxox

P.S. Wanna come over this weekend? Chloe's away on a trip, and I've figured out a way to smuggle you into the Auror dorms.

To: Ginny Weasley

New boyfriend? Ginny, I don't even know what he looks like.

I'm too shocked to write anything today, but I'll start on it tomorrow morning.

– Hermione

To: Minerva McGonagall

It's Lucius. I'm about this close to killing him.

Remember that time, twenty or thirty odd years ago, when I was in denial about Lily dating James 'Fuckwit' Potter? Well, apparently, I was determined to make the next redhead I met the first Mrs Severus Snape. Her name was Rosemary, and she was a Healer-in-training.

I was seventeen. I was grieving.

I'd had way too many shots of vodka.

Lucius found me in the middle of ring-shopping at midnight, forced some Sobering Syrup down my throat and dragged me back to Malfoy Manor to wallow in my misery.

I'm enclosing a copy of the letter. I don't have the time, inclination or energy to rewrite the bullshit that Lucius has dumped on my lap.

I'd rather be married to a Healer than do this.

Disbelievingly,

S.S.

P.S. No.

To: Severus Snape

Merlin's kilt. I'm speechless.

Come meet me in my office in ten. I've got some wonderful brandy, and you can rant all you like.

Call it compensation for making you go this weekend.

– Minerva

To: Hermione Granger

Minerva has seen fit to force me to accompany you as chaperone for the next Hogsmeade weekend.

Much as this pains me, I have little choice but to comply. You, Miss Granger, will keep your incessant questions to the minimum. And don't even try to drag me around all of Hogsmeade to shop with you. I refuse to fall prey to your petty womanly whims.

Sneeringly,

S.S.

To: Severus Snape

What a pity. As I recall, she paired me with you to avoid from calling on Sybill to accompany you.

But seeing as you obviously enjoy her company so much more, I shall hasten to let Minerva make alternate arrangements.

And that's Professor Granger to you, Snape.

– Hermione Granger

P.S. Sybill particularly likes Madam Puddifoot's. Do you like candied hearts and pink confetti, Professor?

To: Ginny Weasley

Wait a minute, Gin. Let me get this straight. So, you sent in an advertisement pretending to be Hermione, but you didn't actually expect anyone to reply? And now that someone has replied, you actually want her to hook up with this guy?

Merlin. I'm dating a Slytherin in scarlet robes.

Well, sweetheart, I suppose the only thing left to do now is to let her do her own thing. If it works out, then we'll celebrate. If not, I'll help you set up a blind date. Or I'll convince Minerva to hire someone her age next year, since Hagrid's transferring to Beauxbatons next year. (Who would have guessed?) Terry Boot, perhaps? Blaise Zabini? Zacharias Smith?

I'm joking, dear.

Love you,

Draco

P.S. Actually, if you can get away for the weekend, I've got this wonderful little mansion in Marseille, south France. French food, good wine and lots and lots of time to ourselves. Plus, there's a private beach, which means that au naturel is the name of the game. Who needs clothes, anyway?

To: 'Professor Granger'

I sit next to you at meals, Granger. Don't make me slip you Veritaserum tomorrow morning.

After all, we've all been wondering precisely how intimate you and Weasley really were. Wouldn't it be just wonderful if all of Hogwarts could finally be put out of their misery, Granger?

Oh, whoops. I mean, Professor Granger.

'Truthfully', if you'll pardon the pun,

S.S.

To: The Greasy Git of the Dungeons

I had no idea you were so interested, Professor. Jealous?

I guess Sybill must not be such a great catch after all.

– Hermione Granger

P.S. Bite me.

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! Hope this is to your liking.