Soleil

“… so I’ve recategorized your upgrades to the kitchen as an expense rather than a long-term investment. You’ll be able to write them off on your muggle taxes as well as your wizarding taxes in a single year. Assuming no other extraordinary events this year, you should owe nothing to either tax authority.”

Lucius stared in shock at the numbers: in three weeks Hermione’d just saved the company 430,000 galleons [£2,150,000] in taxes, the bane of any business.

“And I’d like to speak to you about my contract —”

“Was the fee not sufficient?”

“No,” she chuckled, “quite the contrary. It’s five times the rate for someone with my level of experience. Not a sound business choice.”

“Ms. Granger; you just saved my company 430,000 galleons, a 12% increase in net profits, and you did so in 15 business days. I think your fee is commensurate to your skills.”

“Th-Th-Thank you, Lucius.”

“And now I think we can put to bed the idea that I have a clue about business financials. I’d like you to come on board full time.”

Before her, Lucius Malfoy’s hands again weaved and dipped as another cocktail “potion” took form.

“I can’t, Mr. Malfoy…”

The glass swept onto the cocktail napkin he sat before her.

“It’s Lucius — and why not?” he asked, clearly peeved, “Do taste this; I’m considering adding it to our menu if you like it.”

Unwilling to further irritate him, Hermione sipped the newest recipe.

“It’s quite refreshing.”

“It’s my virgin apple julep. I’ve found that unsweetened birch beer syrup replaces the bourbon quite nicely. Now explain why you’re turning me out without support?”

A flourish of his hand “invited” the still grieving widow to join him at a nearby booth.

“I can’t commit to full-time work right now.”

“And why is that?”

The aristocrat’s impassive face gave no hint to his thoughts other than his clear frustration with not getting what he wanted.

“I have a daughter…”

His next expression differed from frustration yet still managed to convey almost none of his thinking.

“Our troubles… My business was growing — not quickly — but with a few clients. We decided to start our family as I was already working from home. Work picked up and the stress affected my blood pressure — I ended up on bed rest during my seventh month which ruined our cashflow. I had to turn my clients over to others… then Ron was killed…”

Tears pooled on the edge of the table, falling a second time onto her shapely legs. She’d omitted revealing Ron’s betting — and losing — every spare sickle on Quidditch.

“What about your in-laws? I would think dear cousin ‘Molly’ would salivate to keep the newest ginger — your daughter is a ginger, is she not?”

“In a manner of speaking,” and Hermione whipped out a wizard photo of a breathtaking child with her mother’s oval face, auburn ginger hair, and hazel blue-brown eyes.

“She’s breathtaking, Hermione.”

“Isn’t she? Molly minds almost all the Weasley grandchildren. My daughter only has me; we only have each other now. That’s why I can’t commit to a full time position. She won’t get the attention she deserves in amongst all of her cousins. With Ron gone, I’ll have to be two parents for a while. I’m still nursing; she’s only two months old.”

“She and Scorpius will be first years together.”

“Astoria said the same thing. They seem to like each other, the children.”

“Your husband never got to see his child, did he?”

As she shook her head, Hermione wore the same expression as Lucius’ the day he held Scorpius for the first time at St. Mungo’s and realized Narcissa would miss it all. She’d left him — unwillingly — fourteen months ago, surrendering at the end to a virulent female wasting disease.

“I will not accept ‘no’ for an answer. You will not force me back into the hell of handling my own accounting affairs. How about this? I’ll make space for an office upstairs. Come in when you like; otherwise work from home. Set it up as you please — that includes a cot, play-mat-thing, clothing bureau — whatever you need. Bring the child with you. If I need your undivided attention, I’ll have Bitsy come by and tend to her while we meet.”

“Bitsy??? Draco’s nanny?”

“None other. And before you raise your hackles at me, she’s on my payroll; allows us to deduct for childcare expenses and her room and board against our business taxes.”

Hermione stared, impressed and appalled at the machinations of this clever man.

“And my contract? You don’t need someone like me — you need a criminal tax solicitor.”

Both laughed together.

“In time. Your contract fee stands. My affairs cannot be considered simplistic by any measure. The fee represents the complexity of keeping me wealthy and out of Azkaban. Permanently.”

He’s so different, she thought, Why the change???…

“Lucius?…”

Both rose. Small damp spots darkened the front of Hermione’s blouse; she’d passed the baby’s feeding time.

“Not that I’m ungrateful but why are you assisting me like this?”

The tall, beautiful man stilled to gaze upon her with piercing grey eyes and a heartbreakingly melancholy smile.

“You’ve altered several lives in this family, Ms. Granger. And you gave me a grandson.”

===============================

Lifesaver

1 oz Midori® melon liqueur

1 oz light rum

3 oz pineapple juice

Place liquors and juice into a shaker and mix well. Serve in a rocks glass.

Apple Julep

2 oz. cinnamon and apple infused bourbon

1/2 oz. rock candy syrup

1/2 oz. fresh sweet and sour mix

Club soda

10 fresh spearmint leaves

2-3 thin slices of a red delicious apple