Much Ado about Nothing

Much Ado about Nothing


By: Max

[Disclaimer: see chapter 1]

Chapter 16: Cunning Slytherins


“My, my, Albus,” Hogwarts mediwitch Poppy Pomfrey-Moody shook her head. ‘”I’ve always thought Tonks would be the most clumsy human being in this school, but in the last months you’re in a close run with her.” Cautiously she looked over his right wrist.

Albus winced and gritted his teeth. “I wasn’t clumsy!” he defended himself.

“Ah? And how comes you’ve broken your wrist?” Poppy asked.

“I tumbled over a desk as I tried to catch a pig,” he explained - and winced again because Poppy tried to move his fingers now. “Utch - that hurts!”

“Of course it hurts. You’ve broken your index finger too,” Poppy stated matter-of-factly. “Minerva will be delighted. Now she can sign all the paperwork herself in the next week.”

Albus looked down at his hand. The wrist was swollen and the index finger slightly crocked. “Can’t you mend it?” he asked, sounding worried.

Poppy seemed to think the question a bit insulting. “Of course I can!” she said crisply. “But I can’t work wonders, you know? It will need at least four or five days until you can use your hand properly again. But as far as I know, you’re not paid for hand work, but for using your brains. And they’re in working order, aren’t they?” She went to the cabinet at the wall of her office, opened it and took a bottle with a skull as stopper out of it.

Albus looked with dismay at it. “You won’t make me drink skel gro?” he asked. “You know the stuff doesn’t taste only like poison, but the taste lingers for days!”

“What a pity!” Poppy sounded rather ironic. “You won’t enjoy your sweets for days! Probably you’ll even lose a qer per pound of your weight. I mean, it won’t be enough for you seeing your gels wls without a mirror again, but …”

“Poppy!” Now it was him who sounded a bit insulted. “You sound as if I were as fat as the pig I was chasing!”

She patted his belly. “Well, well - a butcher wouldn’t find it enough yet. But in the competition for Hogwarts’ best build man you wouldn’t win anymore.” She opened the bottle with the skull stopper and poured some of the liquid in it in a goblet. “So - here we go. Just swallow it …”

Albus looked at the goblet and made a face. “It even smells ghastly! Couldn’t you give me something else?”

The mediwitch turned her eyes. “I could ask Severus if he’d like to develop something that works like skel gro, but taste like lemon drops. Considered in what frequency you break bones he could make it a Christmas gift to you. But until then you’ll have to drink just that.”

Albus signed and hesitantly took the goblet with his left hand. “One could think you’d enjoy making me suffer …” He sounded like a sulking five year old.

“My, Albus - now you’ve discovered my dirty secret!” Poppy marched back to the cabinet and rummaged in one of its drawers. “Making men suffer is my favourite past time. It always was. That’s why I became a mediwitch. I mean, the alternative would have been becoming a domina, but squashing my titties in a leather corset all day I wouldn’t have liked. And all this whipping and kicking! I think it’s rather tiresome.” Putting a few bandages on a tray, she turned around to him, impatiently pointing with her wand to his wrist. “You know the procedure, do you? You drink your skel gro like a good boy, I do a de swelling charm, afterwards I plaster the broken bone and you’ll get a pain killer. So it’s in your best interest if you drink the skel gro - now!”

Albus sighed again, raised the goblet and gulped the content down. “Ugh!” Putting the goblet down, he made a grimace. “Sometimes I think Severus spend his free time with improving the vileness of this stuff! It becomes worse every time I drink it.”

“Good for you Severus won’t have much free time in the future,” Poppy sat down next to Albus again and took his hand, almost tenderly laying his fingers over hers. “Try to relax your fingers, Albus,” she ordered him. “I know it hurts in the moment like hell, but you’ll feel better when I’ve fixed them.”

He gritted his teeth again. It really hurt very much, but he knew that Poppy tried her best to make him feel better soon. To distract himself, he said: “A few years before I wouldn’t have thought that Severus would become such a devoted husband and father. He always maintained he wouldn’t like children - and now he’s already going to have the second.”

Poppy smiled. “I’m glad - not only for him and Tonks, but for Persephone too. You know, Severus is a bit overprotective with her. I think it will become better when she isn’t the only child in the family anymore.” She cast a de-swelling charm over his hand, and then she started to wrap the bandage around, smiling for a moment up to him. “Only one moment more, Albus, then I’ll stop tormenting you.”

“It’s not so bad,” he lied bravely through still gritted teeth.

“By talking about overprotective Slytherins, just becoming fathers …,” Poppy said, now being ready with plastering Albus’ finger and starting at his wrist, “… you should per loo look after Malfoy.”

“Hmm?” Albus raised his eyebrow. “What’s wrong with him? I thought Ginevra and he would be all over the moon with her finally being pregnant.”

The mediwitch sighed. “Unfortunately it rather looks like trouble in paradise just now. Ginny - as much as she wants the baby and looks forward to it - is quite shaken with the hormonal changes and she is of course a bit worried about her job. She worked very hard to make deputy editor and she naturally doesn’t want to give up her career.”

Albus wrinkled his forehead. “Does Lucius demand that?”

“Nf cof course not.” Poppy waved her wand to fix the bandage on Albus’ wrist. “So, finished,” she said with a smile. “Now you can have a pain killer. It will numb the pain, but please - you have nevertheless to be careful with your hand! No pain doesn’t mean it’s already healed and ready for the next pig hunt.” She rose up and marched to her cabinet again. This time she got Albus a little green vial. “Down with it!”

Albus smelled at the bottle. “Better than skel gro!” he stated, before he drank the content. Feeling the effect immediately he sighed with relief. “Thank you, Poppy.”

“You’re welcome, Albus.” She placed the bandages and the skel gro back in her closet. “Let’s get a cup of tea, l wel we?”

He leaned back in the chair, cautiously cradling his injured hand against his chest. “Tea sounds wonderful. And by drig itg it you can tell me what worries you about the Malfoys.”

The mediwitch ringed for a house elf who immediately appeared. Poppy ordered tea and sat down then on the chair behind her desk. “You know, that Ginny is away at the moment?” she asked.

Albus nodded. “Yes, I do. She’s in Venice for a report about the witches fashion weeks.” He was of course well informed because Ginny stayed at Hermione’s place.

The house elf came with the tea, Poppy thanked and dismissed her. Pouring two cups, she gave Albus one. “The morning before Ginny left she was here for getting a potion Severus made for her and Tonks - just a few vitamins and other stuff pregnant women need. There she told me that she made Lucius sleep on the sofa after a row. He didn’t like her to travel to Venice on her own and nagged on her why she wouldn’t send some one from her staff and she’d be supposed to take care of herself and the baby and this would be more important than a bloody report and so on. And she - touchy as almost every pregnant woman - became mad at him …” Poppy sipped at her tea. “I don’t have to tell you more, do I? You know yourself how such arguments go …”

“Oh yes, I do.” Albus sighed. He’d been there more then once and even with different women.

“The problem in this case is,” Poppy proceeded, “that she is a stubborn Gryffindor. She didn’t make up with him before she left.”

Albus emptied his tea cup. He could still taste the vile the potion on his tongue and although his arm was numb now, he felt a bit worn out. “Thank you for telling, Poppy,” he tried a smile. “I’ll look after Lucius this evening.”

“You’re probably the only one - except of his wife, of course - he talks to,” Poppy said.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Albus gave back. “My relationship with Lucius was never simple. But I own him a lot and therefore I’ll try �221;

Poppy looked thoughtfully in her cup. “Actually we all own Lucius a lot,” she said quietly. “Only most people don’t want to admit it. They’re so in use with thinking the worse of a Malfoy, they don’t look twice at him.”

“Yes,” Albus confirmed, sounding sad. “Lucius pays not only for the mistakes he made, but for the sins of his father and grandfather too.” He took his spectacles down and massaged the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger. “I remember his father only too well. I can still see him - two days before Lucius attended Hogwarts, Achilles Malfoy came in my office. Standing in front of my desk, he boasted: ‘My son and heir has got everything he ever will need: A name, a fortune, brains and looks.’ The idea that a child would need more than the things money can buy didn’t occur to him.”

“He was a widower, wasn’t he?” Poppy asked. “Do you know when Lucius’ mother died?”

“Five years after Lucius’ birth,” Albus answered. “The circumstances were rather fishy. She fell from the tower of the Malfoy mansion. It was said it would have been an accident, but nobody really believed it.”

“Murder? You think her husband …?” Poppy looked shocked.

“Probably not with pushing her from the tower,” Albus gave back. “He wasn’t around when she fell. But I’d say it was suicide. I knew her - she had been head girl as I came to Hogwarts. A stunning beauty, quite intelligent, but pretty vulnerable and sensitive. I think Lucius comes after her. She married Achilles Malfoy out of love, but he treated her like dirt. He cheated on her; he beat her - the entire program …”

“Poor wife! And poor Lucius!” Poppy sighed. After a few seconds of silence she smiled at Albus. “On a lighter note: Minerva mentioned that Hermione will come for the Christmas break. I’m so looking forward to it! It will be so good to have her back for good next year.”

Albus breathed deeply. “If she comes back, Poppy …”

“What?” Poppy looked flabbergasted. “I thought she’s having a contract!”

“Yes,” Albus confirmed. Looking down at his feet he tried to sound casually. “But the Cagliostro University would like to keep her. The dean made her a real good offer. He isn’t the only one. The dean of the German Paracelsus University is after her too and the rector of the Merlin College came himself from Oxford to Venice for dining with her. He offered her the Valden chair. Bigger you can’t get it at her age. I was almost 50 when I’ve got it offered …”

“But she won’t take up any of these offers!” Poppy said firmly, sounding almost infuriated. &0;Sh0;She belongs to Hogwarts!”

Albus shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t blame her if she wouldn’t want to come back. Hogwarts can’t offer her as much as this universities.”

“So?” Poppy raised an eyebrow. “I think Hogwarts could offer her something no university could provide her with.”

Albus looked at her. He felt once again a bit irritated. Could this have been an allusion? He couldn’t imagine. Especially during the last months Hermione had been terribly busy. It was already eight or nine weeks since she’d been at Hogwarts the last time. And about his visits in Venice the mediwitch couldn’t know. Yet he decided not to dance on ice so thin and therefore he rose up. “I’ll think about it, Poppy,” he said. “But now I have to run. One of our Slytherin princesses seems to think that her father’s generous donations would make up for her not doing her home work and breaking school rules. I’m afraid I have to tell her otherwise.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for the treatment and the tea. And give my regards to Alastor, will you?”


*******************************


“Headmaster?” Lucius Malfoy sounded amazed as he opened the door of his flat and saw his superior stand in front of him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Albus shook his head and smiled. “I only wanted to ask you …,” he hesitated for a moment and sunk his voice a bit, “… for a personal favour, Lucius.”

“Oh, of course …” Lucius made an inviting gesture. “Do come in, Headmaster. It’s not very neatly here - you know, my wife is away and I didn’t find the time to clean up yet, but …”

Albus stepped over the threshold and looked around in the living room of the Malfoy flat. For his taste it was almost too neatly and actually a bit too Gryffindor with two burgundy chairs and a golden settee in front of the fireplace and the walls decorated in the Gryffindor colours too. Besides it was for Albus evident that that room hadn’t been used in the last days. The fireplace was empty and cold, on the table in front of the settee dust had settled on a pile of witches fashion magazines and a book about pregnancy.

Yet in the back a door stood open and through it Albus could see in Lucius’ study and over the paper laden desk to a sofa where a crumpled blanket, a pillow and a dark green dressing gown told about the sleeping arrangements of the last nights.

Lucius had noticed Albus’ gaze to his study. A slight blush coloured his pale, tired face and his grey eyes became even more distant. Pointing to the chairs in front of the fire place, he showed his manners: “Would you like to seat down, Headmaster? Something to drink? Tea, coffee, pumpkin juice? Something stronger? Brandy? Fire whiskey?”

Albus sat down in one of the chairs. He knew that Lucius hoped to get rid of him as soon as possible, but he had other plans and so he said with his most charming smile: “A brandy would be nice. With you one can at least be sure it’s a good one.”

Lucius only nodded, pulled his wand out and murmured: “Accio brandy!” A bottle sailed from his desk into Lucius’ outstretched hand. “Accio glasses - two!” Lucius caught the glasses which came flying from a shelf, poured Brandy in them, gave one to Albus and sat down. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asked: “What can I do for you, Headmaster?”

Albus sighed. He couldn’t count how often he’d offered the younger man the use of his given name, always hoping that the proud DADA professor would at last jump over the hurdle he’d built up between his superior and himself. But Lucius Malfoy always kept his distance.

Sometimes Albus felt almost hurt by Lucius’ resistance. He wasn’t in use with people resisting his charm. Even Severus never succeeded for long in it - when ever Albus set his mind to it, he could make his bad tempered potion master smile. Yet with Lucius it was kettle of fish. To get him to smile was never a problem - he often did, showing a set of perfect white teeth. But his eyes remained distant, vigilant, and sometimes even suspicious. They showed that Lucius still didn’t trust Albus - at least not when it came to his own fate and persona.

Yet Albus was firmly determined to alter that - and not only because Lucius was a member of his staff, the husband of his goddaughter and something like a friend of Hermione, but simply because he liked the grey eyed young wizard. And more: Albus felt close to Lucius - even closer than to Augustus McGonagall who’d once been his brother-in-law and Alastor Moody who’d once saved Albus’ life. They were friends, close friends even, but as much as Albus liked the both of them, so much he was aware, that neither the always logical Ravenclaw Augustus nor the brave Gryffindor Alastor would ever understand him as well as Lucius.

As different as the both men looked on the first sight, as different as their biographies seemed: Albus knew that he had a lot in common with Malfoy. They were both pureblood aristocrats, born with the famous golden spoon in their mouths. They’d both grown up in big family mansions, surrounded by luxury, house elves, nannies and tutors. Both had got the advantage of an education which reached far over the average for wizards. Literature, music, art, languages, manners, style - Albus’ mother had once said that she’d like her son to become an “uomo uno”, a man who was not only well educated, but cultivated in every thing, following the ideal of the Italian renaissance humanists. And Achilles Malfoy had demanded his son to become a humanist too though he hadn’t named the goal of the education Lucius becoming a “uomo uno”, but a “true gentlewizard”.

During their childhood and youth the best had for both of them just been good enough. Coming to Hogwarts the sorting hat had put both in Slytherin - and both of them had found that proud Salazar Slytherin’s serpent house served them right because both of them were used that people looked up at them with great expectations and both of them had been determined to fulfil them. Yet with a Dumbledore and a Malfoy this didn’t mean that one fought with teeth and claws to climb up the ladder. They had felt on top already and showing signs of effort for staying there both would have found lacking style.

The years after school - on the first sight the both men were gone in different directions: Albus had become an academic while Lucius had become a politician. Before the birth of Draco he’d been the British wizard’s ambassador in France and a lot of people had seen him as the future minister of magic.

The rise of Voldemort had lead to Albus founding the Order of the Phoenix and becoming the leader of the resistance and the keeper of the light. Lucius in the same time had become a follower of Voldemort - a death eater.

But the reasons behind the decisions which had led them on ways so different had been rather alike: Both had been frustrated with the politic as it were, both had worried about the way their world was developing. And for a few years both had been something like renegades. The only difference had been that Albuslderlder and more experienced - had never lost his belief in the democratic system. Admittedly: It wasn’t pure idealism what made him a believer in it. It was more in the line of seeing democracy - in the contrast to an autocracy - as the minor evil. Albus knew how tempting might was and how small the chances that someone could hold might for a longer time without becoming rotten by it.

During the war Albus had often found it ironic: Cornelius Fudge, then minister of magic had always suspected him of being after his job. Albus and Lucius - though they hadn’t talked with each other at this time - had agreed that alone this showed that Fuwas was an idiot extraordinaire. Albus had got offered the ministry more often than he could count, but he’d always refused. He’d known that as minister Albus Dumbledore would be the end of the democracy. Who would have dared to stand up against him? He was known as the mightiest wizard alive. Being the minister too would have made him an autocrat - and even himself Albus didn’t trust so much he would have risked to go there.

And there was something else: Albus simply didn’t need public honour and he hated dealing with bureaucrats. Lucius had once brought it on the point: “Dumbledore doesn’t want to become minister. He rather is the man who makes ministers.”

It was true - at least for the minister who was now keeping the office. Arthur Weasley, though pureblood, had counted almost all his life as one of the most unlikely candidates for a career in the ministry. He was poor, he worked as a minor in a department of the ministry most wizards didn’t even know about and he’d never shown great ambitions. It had needed Albus to discover that always a bit dreamy, nice Arthur Weasley was a powerful wizard and a very talented man in matters of organisation. And as nice and polite he always was: When Arthur had set his mind to something, he showed exceptional stubbornness in going his way to the end. Yet as he had become minister, some wealthy purebloods had been very irritatLuciLucius hadn’t belonged in this group. For once he was one who never underestimated people. Second he was some one who saw through structures - and so he’d said: “As long as Dumbledore sits in Hogwarts, playing the eccentric old fool, but holding all treats in his hands, it really doesn’t matter who is minister under him.”

Albus kicked himself out of his musing about Lucius and their mutual history. The man sat opposite to him, looking expectantly and waiting for an answer. Albus smiled and raised his plastered arm: “You’ve probably already heard that I’ve made myself more or less useful as a pig catcher.”

“Professor McGonagall mentioned in the staff room that her apprentice was in trouble with pigs running wild in the classroom and that you saved him,” Lucius answered neutral.

Albus nodded. “Unfortunately one of the pigs managed to get out of the class room and made it to the dungeons where it stormed the potion class.”

Now Lucius couldn’t resist a grin. “I’d have loved to see Severus’ face.”

Albus sipped at the brandy. “Me too! I think his gaze would have petrified the pig. But unfortunately it wasn’t his, but Instructor Micks’ room - and so it was my job to catch the animal.” Raising his hand again, he sighed: “Not entirely successful, as you see. I broke my hand.”

Well-mannered as Lucius was, he said politely: “I hope it’s not too bad.”

“No, not bad. But …,” Albus sighed and shifted his feet. In his office it had seemed a good idea to ask Lucius, but now, in front of the cool grey eyes, Albus felt a bit awkward. Yet he’d never been one to stop in the middle of his road. Clearing his throat he started new: “The next few days I can’t write. But you know how the Hogwarts grapevine works: This evening some one in Hogsmeade will tell that I had a run in with a wer pig and broke my hand after a wild hunt. Tomorrow in the morning some one will tell in London a story about me breaking most of my bones by hunting a herd of wer pigs and …”

“…. tomorrow in the evening the tale will reach the Cagliostro University in Venice,” Lucius smiled. “But then the rumour will ady ady say that you became bitten by the wer pig and are now kept in pig stay until some one finds a cure about …”

“… Me having a curly tail?” Albus laughed. “Just so - with all gory details, I’m afraid.”

“Considered my wife is in Venice,” Lucius said, rising up, “and would worry as much as Professor Granger, I think I should drop the ladies a note.”

Albus nodded. “That’s what I wanted to ask you for. I’d be very grateful if you’d inform the ladies.”

Lucius was already on his way to his desk where he collected a piece of parchment, a quill and the ink bottle. Coming back to the table at the fire place he sat down again and smiled at Albus. “My wife spends probably most of her time at the fashion week. Therefore I better address the note to Professor Granger.” Tipping the quill in the ink, he started o write, quietly reading by it: “Dear Hermione, please don’t worry about getting a note from me.” Looking up at Albus, he explained: “Professor Granger and I aren’t regular correspondents. Our contact normally is refrained to sending regards with my wife.”

Albus nodded and sipped at his brandy again. “I heard so.”

Lucius started writing and reading again. “The reason for it is that the Headmaster had a little accident - nothing serious, only a run in with a pig which didn&#;t w;t want to become transformed back into a desk. Yet by catching the beast he broke his right hand which makes him now unable to write for a few days. Nevertheless you shouldn’t worry about him too much. At the moment he sits with me in front of the fireplace and except of his plastered hand he looks quite well.” He grinned at Albus. “To your liking? Or would you like it a bit more dramatic? I could tell her, that I sit on your bedside, looking down in your ashen face and holding your hand while murmuring your beloved’s name. It would make her come in a rush …”

Albus laughed. “And it would give the both of us a chance to become pigs. She is very quick with her wand.”

Lucius studied for a moment Albus’ face. Then he laid the quill down, cleared his throat and said: “Headmaster, I know it’s no business of mine, but I like Hermione. And with her having no relatives in our wor#823#8230;” He looked down at the parchment. “She’s Ginevra’s best friend and she’s to become the godmother of our child. That makes her to something like a member of our family and me …” He seemed to search for words before he said: “I feel like her older brother.”

Albus raised an eyebrow. “But you don’t intend to chase me through the dark forest to defend your adopted sister’s virtue?” he asked a little ironic.

“No, Headmaster, certainly not.” Lucius looked again at the parchment and took the quill up again. “Let’s finish and send this first. I reckon you want to send your regards?”

“Yes, of course,” Albus nodded and blushed. “And … uhm …” His collar seemed suddenly tight, so he opened the first button on it. “I’ve actually promised Hermione a visit in two days, but now I can’t apparate.”

“Well - I’ll ask her to visit you.” Lucius scribbled a few lines in silence.

Albus leaned back in the chair. He felt a bit odd about Lucius’ statement that he saw Hermione as a sister. He’d always been rather glad that Hermione hadn’t wizard relatives and that he could avoid meeting her muggle parents. To look in her father’s eyes, knowing how shocked the man would be if he’d knew about the true nature of the relationship between his daughter and her formasteaster - no, Albus really wasn’t keen for that.

Lucius was ready now. Laying the quill aside, he rolled the parchment up. “I’ll go to the owlery,” he announced. “Just a minute, Headmaster.”

Thinking of the upcoming talk, Albus corrected the younger wizard once again: “Albus. We’re colleagues.”

“Well, then - Albus …” It was Lucius’ standard answer - he always pretended for the following conversation he’d have switched to the familiar address before he fell back to “Headmaster” by the next meeting.


Three minutes later Lucius was back, a bit out of breath. The owlery was in the South Tower and with that a few stairs away from the quarter of the DADA teacher on ground level. Lucius sat down. “The owl is on its way to Venice. Besides I’ve meet Madame Cracklebell …” He grinned.

That Isadora Cracklebell - usually described as “the spinster with the bun, the clipboard and the depressing robes” - since a few months assistant of the headmaster was mostly on the hunt for her boss, made all inhabitants of Hogwarts laugh. By now the assistant even hadn’t to ask people for Albus anymore. Seeing her made teachers and students call almost automatically: “No, Miss Cracklebell, I haven’t seen the headmaster!” The male teachers sometimes even lied about that, feeling sympathy for their always chased superior.

Albus in the meantime had developed new wards for his office and his private quarters. Although Isadora Cracklebell’s face had been priceless as she’d got him in the bathtub, happily playing with a rubber duck - a gift from Hermione of courshe&#he’d enchanted the rubber duck for splattering water on Albus whenever he slept in the bathtub - he preferred his privacy assistant free. Besides: Prudish as Miss Cracklebell - she insisted on the address “Miss” - was, she’d have probably dropped dead if she’d have founr sur superior in bed with his former apprentice. She’d already mentioned once that she found Hermione - “an unmarried, young woman” - having her quarters under the same roof as the headmaster - “who’s a bachelor” - highly inappropriate. And perhaps the young witch, muggleborn as she was, would need some advice about the conduct of a lady by an older witch?

Albus had almost felt tempted to nod. The idea of Miss Cracklebell trying to tell Hermione about the “proper conduct of a lady” was hilarious. But the thought of Hermione learning that he’d approved to such an attempt by Miss Cracklebell - no, thanks, he didn’t have a death wish. Besides he was sure: The ladies would have their encounter as soon as Hermione was back ogwaogwarts.

Albus looked a bit wearily at Lucius. “Miss Cracklebell isn’t once again chasing me? I’ve told her I’d be for a while unavailable.”

“She got it,” said Lucius comfortingly. “She was just on her way to Professor McGonagall for getting a few letters signed. Although she wasn’t happy about working the next days with your deputy. She finds, Professor McGonagall is ‘terribly bossy’.”

“That’s a case of pot calling kettle!” Albus laughed.

“You seem to attract bossy women, Albus,” Lucius said. Taking the brandy bottle, he asked: “Another glass?”

Albus shook his head. He was sure he’d need a clear head for what was coming. “Thank you, But I’d like to have a cup of tea.”

“Of course …” Lucius stood up, but didn’t ring for a house elf, but went to the kitchen on the left side of the living room where he filled a kettle with water and put leaves in a tea pot.

Albus looked at his back and sighed, making a mental note: He would have to go down to the kitchen to talk with the house elves - or better said: To Dobby. Hogwarts free house elf had once served at Malfoy Manor and Lucius, being in the darkest phase of his life during this time, hadn’t treated the elf well. Since then Dobby - who’d been freed by no other then his adored Harry Potter and had asked for employment at Hogwarts - harboured a grudge against Lucius. Obviously he’d convinced the other Hogwarts house elves about Lucius being evil and though the elves were bound to serve wizards - Albus knew what a bother they could become when they wanted to show a wizard that they didn’t like him. And in the case of Lucius they seemed to know, that the proud man would rather swallow his tongue than complain by the headmaster about house elves “misunderstanding” his orders.

The way back - for Lucius it obviously was a daily struggle against humiliation and suspicions. No wonder he was still so reserved and not willing to trust. And under these circumstances: How wonderful that he saw Hermione as a friend - even if it meant that he was just preparing to grill Albus.

Now the man in question was back with tea, cups, cream and sugar, pouring a cup for Albus and himself and smiling as he saw how Albus put three lumps of sugar in his tea. “Ugh! By the amount of sugar you’re eating you muston aon a lasting high, Albus.” Lucius sat down and his eyes became distant again. “Perhaps the sugar induced high makes it easier for you to answer me a question. As I’ve said: I feel like Hermione’s elder brother. And I’m an old-fashioned wizard …”

Albus knew what was coming. In an attempt to hold the tone light, he interrupted with a smile: “But you’re not so old-fashioned you will demand a duel if my intentions against her aren’t to your liking?”

Lucius didn’t smile back. Instead he bent forward and looked Albus in the eyes. “I trained her in legilemency. That makes for knowing her quite well. So I can tell: She’s too decent for asking herself …”

“Asking for what?” Albus couldn’t avoid his voice sounding sharp. “That I make her an honourable woman? She’d probably tell me that she doesn’t need a man for that. Besides: I’m almost 100 years the girl’s senior. How would it look if I’d make a girl who could easily be my great granddaughter my lawfully wedded wife?”

“Well,” Lucius leaned back again, this time not only crossing his arms, but his legs too. “To me it would look like standing finally up to her and showing the world that she isn’t your plaything, but a woman you love and respect.”

Albus couldn’t sit quietly any longer. He stood up and started to pace through the room with long steps, his green robe sweeping the floor. “I do love and respect her and she certainly isn’t my plaything. But I can’t bind such a young woman to me. In a few years I’ll be a doddering old man while she’s still young. Then she’ll have needs and wishes I can’t fulfil anymore …”

“Oh heavens - are you a wizard or aren’t you?” Lucius’ voice cut in like a knife. “You’re around 130 - that means you’ve got at least 30, 40 years before you become an ‘old dodderer’. And even then- you know about disguises and potions, don’t you?”

“I don’t intend to force my body to something it isn’t up to anymore!” Albus said determined. “And I don’t think Hermione would ever want me to.”

“But you obviously think that she isn’t up to decide about her own life,” Lucius gave back. “Or is it you who likes an affair without commitment better than a marriage, not caring what this affair can do to the reputation of the woman you say you would love and respect?”

Albus turned around, facing the younger wizard. “I will not make the affair - as you call it while I’d rather use the term ‘relationship’ - public knowledge.” #822#8220;Oh?” Lucius sneered. Rising too, he looked at Albus. “And how will you avoid it becomes the talk of the town? Half of Hogwarts knows already about it!”

“What?” Albus was shocked. He’d been convinced that the Malfoys as Hermione’s closest friends at Hogwarts were the only people knowing.

“Merlin’s balls!” Lucius shook his head. “I’m glad you didn’t act so naïve during the war. In the moment one could think you’re a mistake of the Sorting Hat because you’d have actually belonged in Hufflepuff. Did you never notice how your deputy tries to shield you when Hermione is at Hogwarts, Headmaster?”

Albus swallowed. Minerva knowing about - no, he couldn’t imagine. She certainly would have talked with him about. Or wouldn’t she? He felt suddenly very confused.

Lucius seemed almost amused about Albus’ shocked face. “I’m sure Professor McGonagall knows,” he said. “And not only since yesterday. I noticed first a few months before. Vector and Severus quarrelled about time on the quidditch pitch for the training of their house teams. McGonagall stepped in - with deciding about the schedule for them. Normally she never interferes between two housemasters, but sends them always straight to you. But on this day Hermione was at Hogwarts. Four weeks later she was there again - and only half one hour after I’d seen her with McGonagall Sebastian Melanchthon and Dee Sprout discussed a Hufflepuff who ignored detentions given by both of them. They decided to send the culprit up to you - and loo, there was McGonagall again: It wouldn’t be necessary to bother you. She’d talk with the boy.” Lucius grinned at the still pale Albus. “I must admit I became curious then. I wasn’t sure if it were coincidences or if she really was covering you. So three weeks before I got myself a new closet for the boggart. Your deputy signed the form. And now you tell me: How often does McGonagall spend Hogwarts’ money without informing or asking you before?”

“Uuh ...” Albus swallowed again.

“On a loss for words?” Lucius seemed amused now. “That’s a first! And nice to see. So I’ll add to you being speechless: Minerva McGonagall isn’t the only one who knows. Poppy Pomfrey does too. I’ve had a pupil injured three weeks before in the first class - you remember? Little Agatha Welsh being hit by a back firing stunner? I got her to the infirmary and said there that I’d go straight up to inform you. And loo - our formidable mediwitch suddenly became nervous and said it wouldn’t be necessary I’d climb up all the way to the main tower. She would have to see you later and would tell you then. It was Wednesday - the only day in the week you don’t have to teach in the morning and - what a coincidence - only two hours later I saw a certain Professor Granger leave the castle.”

Albus urgently needed some tea now. His mouth felt like Sahara without oasis.

But Lucius wasn’t ready yet. “Pomfrey and McGonagall - that makes already two. And you don’t think they didn’t talk with their husbands about it, do you? That makes four people. Count Ginevra, me and Sebastian Melanchthon - you don’t believe he wouldn’t know, close as he is to Hermione? That’s seven. Number Eight is then Severus …”

Albus had emptied his cup and was just filling it again. “Severus?” he asked. “You think he knows that Hermione and I …?” He couldn’t find suiting words.

Lucius turned his eyes and came back to his chair. “Our dear potion master is a lot of things, but he certainly isn’t an idiot. Besides he didn’t get only a huge nose, but the best sense of smell I’ve ever known on a human being.”

“Hmm?” Albus didn’t understand what Lucius wanted to tell him.

“Sometimes when Hermione is in the castle, even I can smell her perfume on you, Header. er. Do you think Severus wouldn’t? And do you think he - who was a master spy because he notices tiny details - couldn’t do simply arithmancy with only three factors?”

“Like?” Albus asked rather weak.

Lucius used his fingers for counting: “First: Hermione at Hogwarts. Second: The Headmaster smelling after her perfume. Third: May the summer be as hot as summers in Scotland can go, may the castle be so warmed up that even the ghosts start sweating - after a visit from Professor Granger you always appear for three or four days up buttoned until your chin? One would have to be exceptionally thick - what Severus certainly isn’t - for not getting that you’re hiding love marks.”

“Eight,” Albus only said.

“Nine,” corrected Lucius. “Tonks certainly knows too. And - how much house elves are in the Hogwarts employment? They’re fiercely loyal against you, Headmaster, but do you really think they wouldn’ticetice that Hermione doesn’t sleep in her bed when she’s here? And what’s about her colleagues and students in Venice? Sure that you weren’t seen there too often?”

“I rarely was at the University if I hadn’t business there,” Albus said, knowing himself that he sounded rather lame. “And we nevo ouo out in the wizard’s district there.”

“Well …” Lucius turned and went in his study. “Ginevra didn’t want you to be bothered with, but I think it’s time you face the facts.” He rummaged in a drawer of his desk. Coming back he threw an envelope in Albus’ lap. “You probably weren’t seen in Venice yet - but what’s your holiday trip to Firence?”

With trembling fingers Albus opened the envelope and pulled five photographs out. They showed Hermione and him - both in muggle attire - in a gallery. On the first photograph they strolled - hand in hand and tenderly smiling at each other - in a hall. On the second picture they stood - Albus behind Hermione, his arms around her waist, her hands on his underarms - in front of a painting. Number T was was Hermione next to the painting - Botticelli’s “La Primavera” - and Albus just turning her head in the same position as the Venus’ in the painting.

Lucius stood behind Albus’ chair now and pointed over his shoulder to the fourth and fifth picture which showed Hermione leaning on a pillar in a garden, just kissing Albus passionately. Tipping with one finger against the picture, Lucius said: “You could perhaps explain the photographs in the gallery with ‘We’re just friends’, but this certainly you can’t declare as the kiss of a fatherly friend.”

“No, certainly not,” Albus admitted. Breathing deeply he asked: “How did Ginevra acquire these pictures?”

“Italy is the land of the paparazzi photographers,” Lucius said. “They watch prominent wizards, they take pictures secretly if they do something ‘interesting’ and they offer these photographs to magazines. It was your luck that the paparazzo taking these pictures is one Ginevra works rather often with. So he offered her the material - and she could persuade him not to publish it. But I don’t have to tell you that it could go wrong next time, do I?”

“No.” Albus shook his head. He felt as if he’d just been over trampled by a hippogriff. Taking his spectacles down, he massaged the bridge of his nose. He could imagine what would have happened if the pictures would have become published. Old-fashioned as the wizard’s world was he’d probably have got to hear a few rather dirty jokes from fellow wizards while Hermione would have got blamed as the “slut”. Nobody would have believed her that she - the rather poor muggleborn - wasn’t the kept mistress of the wealthy and so much elder pureblood wizard. And his reputation as a lady killer would have added to the shattering of her reputation.

Lucius poured brandy in the glasses again and offered one to Albus. “Here - you look as if you’d need it now.”

“Thanks - I do.” Albus took the s ans and sipped at it.

Lucius sat down again and for a while both men were silent. Then Lucius said: “You know, I’m divorced. It was quite simple …”

Albus nodded. “I’m divorced myself. The formalities really are simple …”

“Knowing that we know too, that one isn’t stuck in a marriage if one doesn’t want to …” Lucius said.

Once again both fell silent; Albus sipping at his glass again, Lucius playing with his. After a while Albus said quietly: “There’s a young man in Venice …”

“Oh?” Lucput put his glass back on the table. “You don’t want to suggest …”

Albus sighed. “I don’t know. She likes him very much. He likes her. They are good team and he …,” breathing deeply, he admitted: “He is quite handsome.”

Lucius laughed. “You remember I messed around in Hermione’s head? So I know that she’s really totally smitten with you. Besides she’s a Gryffindor - absolutely loyal and faithful.”

Albus drank the rest of his brandy. “That’s just what bothers me. She’s absolutely loyal and faithful. She wouldn’t leave me even if she’d like to other man too.”

“I see.” Lucius collected the photographs on the table. With the envelope in his hand he studied for a few seconds the one which showed Hermione in front of the painting. “She really looks like this Venus,” he said thoughtfully. “Amazing. I never registered before that she’s such a beauty.”

“Only she isn’t as gentle as Botticelli’s Venus,” Albus smiled. “If I’d ask her about her feelings for her colleague again, she’d probably hex me.”

Lucius put the pictures back in the envelope. “You’ve developed a healthy respect for your Gryffindor’s temper!” he grinned. “Isn’t that a bit embarrassing for a Slytherin?”

“Asks the Slytherin who’s sleeping on the sofa because his Gryffindor wife made him?” Albus asked back.

“Touché!” Lucius laughed. “We’re obviously both in awe of our Gryffindors. Perhaps its Slytherin cleverness: We know where resistance is futile.”

“Therefore we fell for these Gryffindors,” Albus smiled - he’d just discovered that he actually enjoyed the conversation. In the two and a half year he was now with Hermione, he’d never spoken with some one about their relationship and as much as he was used to deal on his own with his emotions - it was a relief to talk with Lucius.

Lucius came just back from his study where he’d put the pictures back in the drawer. Sitting down, he said: “This young man - Hermione’s colleague, I suppose? Do you think he knows about Hermione and you?”

“I don’t have the slightest clue,” Albus answered. “Glasunov - indeed Hermione’s colleague - is a touchy subject between us. I showed twice that I’m jealous, got twice a dressing down and so I’ve learned to avoid talking about him.”

“Perhaps you should talk with him instead of talking about him,” Lucius said thoughtfully.

Albus scraped his head with his left index finger. “Hmm …”

“No way?” Lucius asked.

“Just thinking …” Albus brooded for a moment. “To get him on his own would be easy. I’ll see him next week at an exam in Den Haag. And Hermione asked me once if I could recommend the young man to her dean as her successor.”

Lucius smiled. “You can’t do so without talking to him, can you?”

“I certainly can’t,” Albus looked at Lucius. “But I can hardly ask him about his intentions toward Hermione, can I? She would want my head for it.”

Lucius made a face, but his eyes were twinkling. “Dear me, Albus - since when are Slytherins asking directly?”

Albus laughed. “I mean to remember I’ve just been asked - by a Slytherin - very directly!”

“That,” Lucius answered, “was between Slytherins. I could hardly hope to trick you, so I had to approach you directly. But the young man you’ll have to deal with it isn’ne one of our lot, is he?”

Albus shrugged his shoulders. “He wasn’t at Hogwarts - so much I know about him. About his intentions toward Hermione - I think I could learn about it in a talk.”

“Probably.” Lucius looked a bit sceptically. “I only hope your jealousy won’t leou tou to wrong conclusions. Bluntly said: I’d like you to promise that you won’t do anything rash.” He blushed a bit. “And if you’d like to you could talk with me about. I care a lot for Hermione, but I’m not influenced as you.”

Albus looked at him, very seriously. he he bowed his head. “Thank you, Lucius. Your offer means a lot to me and I’ll certainly come back to it.” He smiled. “Actually I came here because I thought you’d need to be looked after …” His gaze went to the sofa in the study.

Lucius followed Albus’ eyes with his. “It isn’t easy at the moment,” he admitted then. “She’s struggling to keep balance between becoming a mother and remaining a career woman. And as much as she wants the baby …” he fell silent, blushing deeply.

Albus understood and liked Lucius even better for he didn’t want to sound as if he’d “complain” about his wife. “Ginevra will manage,” he said soothingly. “Yet it’s - in the moment - certainly not easy for her. She wants the baby, but becoming a mother probably terrifies her because she thinks of her mother. And as formidable as Molly is - a life like hers …”

Lucius shuddered. “I certainly don’t want to criticize my mother-in-law,” he said. “I have the greatest respect and admiration for her. But I really wouldn’t want my wife to become like Molly Weasley - all mother animals with bare feet, always a brat on her skirt and mostly talking about babies, their sicknesses and the content of their nappies. I adore Ginevra for her ambitions and talent and energy too …”

“Tell her!” Albus smiled. “I think she needs to hear it from you. She needs your support and your engagementn shn she is to be a mother and a working woman.”

“She’ll have it,” Lucius promised.

“And how do you feel about becoming a father?” Albus asked quietly.

Lucius smiled lopsided. “Honestly?”

“Honestly!” Albus confirmed.

“Well, honestly: Mixed and shaken. On the one hand: Happy and deeply touched because she wants to have my child. On the other hand: I’m terrified to no end. In my first attempt as a father I failed spectacularly.”

“You’ve changed a lot since then, Lucius,” Albus said quietly, but firmly. “I don’t think you’ll fail again. Just on the contrary. I’m convinced you’ll become a great father.” Looking at his plastered hand he sighed and rose up. “It’s rather late and my arm hurts a bit. I think I should call it a day, take a pain killer and crawl into my empty bed.”

Lucius had stood up too. “Are you sure you’ll manage on your own?”

Albus nodded and walked, accompanied by Lucius, to the door. “The little spells I need for undressing and washing I can do with my left hand.”

“But - aren’t you shaving with the razor blade?” Lucius asked. “I remember you mentioned it once. You can’t do shaving charms because of this scar, can you?”

“Shaving charms are itching - but I suppose, I’ll survive.” Albus smiled. “It’s only for four or five days.”

“Nonsense!” Lucius said determined. “I don’t like shaving charms either - I get pimples from them. So I’m quite trained with the razor blade. Would you trust me with a blade on your throat, Albus?”

“I’ll be grateful if you’d help me.” Albus breathed deeply. He was sure: This time Lucius wouldn’t go back to addressing him “Headmaster”.

“I’ll come up to you in the morning,” Lucius promised. “And … Albus …” Once again he looked awkward. “About my argument with Ginevra …” He studied the tips of his black boots. “One of the points in it was the name of our child. If it’s a son …,” now he was a red as a tomato and didn’t look the self-confident, arrogant Slytherin anymore. “Ginevra would like to name the boy ‘Albus’. I …,” he cleared his throat, “… wasn’t first too delighted about. But I suppose I’ll think it over again.”

Albus suddenly felt his eyes burning. For a moment he laid his healthy hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “However you decide, Lucius: I feel deeply honoured for you considering it. Thank you very much for this evening. It meant a lot to me.”


To be continued …