Trials and Tribulations

Harry glanced about his office, wondering if he had forgotten to do anything. He had owled Hermione to tell her that he was off to Wales on Snape’s instruction; he had left a note with his personal assistant to give to Fletcher, his boss. Harry grinned thinking about what his face would look like when he read it and then frowned, wondering if he would still have his job when he returned. The note had said, ‘you know how you’re always saying I need a holiday? I decided to take one. I won’t be more than two days – I can’t afford to be. Janine has been instructed to deal with anyone looking for me, so don’t worry. See you soon - Harry.’ He took one last glance around his office. He had a reasonable sum of money – both wizarding and muggle – in his pocket, the case file and both of his wands.

Right. Off we trot!

Harry walked to his fireplace and took a pinch of floo powder from the pot on the mantle. He threw it into the fire, watching as the orange flames leapt and changed colour. He stepped forward into the fireplace and turned to face back out towards the room. “Diagon Alley,” he said in a clear voice.

The world spun around and around, and Harry felt ever so slightly queasy. He had been travelling by floo for the past seven years but he still wasn’t used to it. Still, he kept his eyes open and watched the various rooms whiz by, waiting for the jolt that would tell him it was time to jump out.

There it is!

Harry lurched forwards, instinctively reaching a hand out to steady himself.

“Hey!”

Harry’s fingers closed around cloth and his body shunted against something firm - something firm and warm. Something Harry couldn’t see because his glasses had disappeared.

A hand grasped Harry’s forearm and hauled him properly upright. Harry became dimly aware that the firm, warm, clothed something was probably a person.

“Here, you dropped these.” A male person.

Harry felt a pair of wire-framed glasses pressed into his hand. He glanced down at them before sliding them onto the bridge of his nose, snapping the world back into focus. He looked up into a pair of smirking blue-green eyes. “Um, thanks, uh…”

The man’s smirk widened. He removed his grasp on Harry’s arm and instead held out his hand. “Dave Sidan.”

Harry smiled, “Thank you, Dave Sidan,” he took the hand and shook it firmly. “Sorry, I don’t travel by floo well.”

“That’s OK. I don’t think anyone does.” He looked down and withdrew his hand slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. “And as a general rule I don’t usually complain when good looking young guys jump out at me from fire places.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised and he smiled nervously. “Thank you…I think.”

“The next portkey will be to Graigwyn from station booth two. Repeat, portkey to Graigwyn from station booth two in three minutes,” said a tinny, nasal voice.

“Oh, that’s my portkey.” Harry started glancing around the crowded station area for ‘station booth two’.

Dave’s lips quirked into a slight smile. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around…”

“Oh. Potter, Harry Potter.” Harry went to offer his hand, before remembering they had already done the hand-shaking and turned it into a brush of his hand over his hair.

Dave smiled and nodded. “I’ll see you around, Potter.”

Harry nodded, smiled and headed off for the portkey booth. As he dodged through the crowds, he thought how very odd it was to have heard such Snape-ish words in an American accent.

Typical, Harry. You meet a nice guy who pays you a compliment, picks up your glasses for you and stops you falling flat on your face, and immediately you start comparing him to Snape. Time for the men in white coats, Potter.

He stepped into the booth and noticed, with no little surprise, that he was one of three people there and that one of the other people was the portkey attendant. He placed a finger on the fake gold carriage clock and waited, watching the clock on the wall. Clocks in portkey booths were really very clever. The hands would change the space they moved to fit in with how long it would be until the next portkey left.

Three…Two…One…

Harry felt a pull behind his navel and the station and noise around him dissolved into an endless grey. The floor de-materialised and re-materialised beneath his feet. The greyness around him became darker and points of warm yellow light appeared at intervals around him. The air around him became colder and damper.

“Thank you for travelling with Daigon Alley portkeys. Enjoy your stay,” said the same tinny, nasal voice.

Harry looked quickly around him. He was stood on a small, circular wooden dais in what appeared to be a cave. The walls were black, damp and rough, like the walls of the underground chambers of Gringott’s. The only sound he could hear was that of water dripping. Snape hadn’t been lying when he said that not many people used the portkey station much anymore.

“This way, please,” said the attendant.

Harry’s head snapped around to watch him as he turned and stepped off of the dais onto a stone walkway. Harry frowned. That was unusual. They were surrounded by water – a vast underground lake, with the stone walkway meandering its way across the inky water. Harry followed the other visitors to Graigwyn, looking around him. The only light down here was given from flaming torches attached to the cave walls, the light of which reflected off the glassy surface of the lake.

Harry pulled his light summer robes closer about him. The air was colder and damper here than back in London. The walkway began to widen out, stretching away to either side until it formed the bank. Harry took a moment to look back the way he had come before continuing to follow the party down a stone corridor.

After walking for about a minute the corridor opened out into an entrance hall, of sorts, which was flooded with cold, bleak sunlight. It flooded through a great wall of clear crystal. The light refracted off the imperfections in the crystal and spread rainbows over the darker walls of the cave. It also showed a distorted view of a gloomy, grey-clouded sky peeking over green mountaintops. Harry frowned. It had been beautiful, warm sunshine back in London.

He walked towards the great wall. There was a wizard stood roughly at its centre, dressed in uniformed robes. He tipped his pointed hat as Harry drew nearer and spoke in a thick Welsh accent, “Welcome to Graigwyn, sir.”

“Uh, thank you. Am I OK to go?”

The man smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir. Just walk through the crystal. There shouldn’t be anyone about on the other side.”

Harry raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded. Security was really lax in these parts. “Thanks.”

The uniformed guard tipped his hat again and Harry inspected the wall before him briefly. It didn’t look any different from the rest of the wall, but then he supposed the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron didn’t really look any different when there wasn’t a doorway in it. He sighed heavily and walked forwards with purpose…

…Straight through the wall and out into the rain.

“Urgh!” Harry wrinkled his nose and fumbled through the larger pockets transfigured into his jeans for his cloak. He knew he had brought it for a reason. He unrolled it from its neatly folded status and shook it out, before wrapping it tightly about his shoulders and pulling up the hood. “Better, at least.”

Harry took a moment to see where he was. He stood on a roughly made road with grass growing in the middle of it. Turning around he saw that he had just stepped out from the side of a mountain. He took a few more steps back. Quite a big mountain. It was half covered in heather, and Harry was sure that it would be quite pretty if the weather were a little more pleasant.

Looking to the right, he saw that there was a small tavern-style pub about a quarter of a mile away. To the left was what looked like a farmhouse building not too far away, complete with sheep and a rusty metal gate. Leaning against the gate were three people in multi-coloured rain macks. Harry resisted the urge to go straight to the pub and indulge. Instead he walked purposefully towards the small group of people.

“Excuse me?” On closer inspection, Harry saw that the small group consisted of a teenage girl and boy, and a man with a greying beard.

The boy frowned at him. “Esgwsodoch fi?”

The girl gave him a calculating look, before flicking a damp lock of dark brown hair over shoulder and speaking to the boy, “Bachgyn Saes,” she rolled her eyes. “Siarad Saesneg, Dewi.”

“Um…” Harry was at a loss. He dimly recognised the language as Welsh but had never been taught it.

“How can we help you, boy bach?”

Harry looked at the man and smiled, relieved. “I’m looking for a house called Somewhere Cottage. I don’t suppose you know where it is?”

The man’s face darkened. “Now what would you be wanting with a place like Somewhere Cottage, good boy?”

Harry frowned and drew breath to say that he was getting something for his friend, who lived there, when the girl interrupted him, “Tha’s a witch house you’re looking for. Ain’t nothin’ round there but bad spirits and a load of weeds. You don’t want to be pokin’ aroun’ there.”

The girl was looking him up and down with big green eyes. Harry smiled weakly. “A witch house?”

She smiled at him and nodded. “Nasty cottage. Only need to go near it an’ you get a nasty feeling right through you. Gives me the willies just to look at it, sometimes.” She shuddered for emphasis, before smiling at him again.

That would figure, he thought. The wards would do that to anyone without Snape blood.

The boy beside her bristled visibly and scowled at him. “It’s up that way. No more than ten minutes’ walk.”

Harry smiled and nodded his thanks. He turned to go but the girl rested a hand on his shoulder. “Wait a minute,” Harry paused. “You should pick some rowan and take it with you. It’ll keep the witches from you.” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “wouldn’t want a nice boy like you getting carried away by witches, would we?”

Harry smiled weakly at her, “Thank you.” He nodded again to the group, before making off in the direction the boy had pointed out, muttering, “although I’m far more likely to let the wizards carry me off.” He smiled to himself as he walked, head bent against the wind.

The boy had been right, it took no more than ten minutes to walk there. Snape had also been right that he couldn’t miss it – or mistake it. The squat, slate-built cottage before him with the dusty little glass windows and over grown weeds could only belong to a man who spent all his time in a dungeon bent over cauldrons. Although it looked a little small…

Harry opened the wrought iron gate and stepped over the threshold. The Sanguinis charm must have worked, he didn’t feel any ‘evil spirits’. He walked up along what he supposed must have once been a garden path, although it was heavily covered with weeds. The front door was roughly covered in flaky green paint and adorned with an ancient brass knocker.

“Hmmm. I wonder…” Harry pulled up the knocker and let it drop once with a harsh thud. The door swung open, as if by magic. Harry smiled triumphantly to himself and stepped inside.

His eyes widened

“So this is Snape’s house.”

*****

“Weasley.” The aristocratic drawl elongated the ‘ee’ sound, reminding Ron of the way Draco used to say it at school, just before he’d come up with a witty jibe at his family’s financial situation.

“Mr Malfoy.”

Lucius didn’t bother to sit up. “How are you, Weasley?”

Ron’s eyebrows raised slightly. He was stood as close against the barred wall as he could get, shifting from foot to foot. There had always been something about homicidal lunatics that made him nervous. Particularly ones that had been left to stew in Azkaban for a month or two. That place could turn the sanist person a bit nutty. “I’m very well, thank you.”

Lucius nodded vaguely and closed his eyes again. Ron sighed. “The hearing was today, Mr Malfoy.”

A frown marred the delicate pale features. “Goodness. Is it Thursday already?”

“Yes.”

Lucius smiled vaguely. “Time does fly when you’re having fun.”

“Right, yeah. Um, well the rest of the trial has been put back two days because the defence didn’t know about the new charge.”

“Pathetic excuse!”

“Well…not really.” Ron noticed that Lucius’ head was turning slowly, and there was a firmly placed scowl on his face. “But, that’s not the point. The point is your testimony will be required in three days.”

“That’s Sunday!” Lucius beamed triumphantly.

“Yes.” Ron frowned and shook his head as though clearing the thoughts of how very bizarre this situation was from it. “Will you still be able to testify.”

Lucius sat up slowly and levelled his gaze on the red-head. “Weasley, are you questioning my competence?”

Ron smiled, somewhat falsely, “No, no, no. Of course I’m not. I was just making sure. Have to do these things.” Ron cleared his throat, “well, I suppose that’ll be it, then.”

Lucius nodded vaguely and reclined back on his bunk, gracefully. Ron nodded to the Dementor to open the door. He paused half way through, and turned back to Lucius. “Oh, and Mr Malfoy? I thought you should know – Harry Potter is leading the defence.”

Lucius smiled dreamily. “Yes, I do know.”

Ron was slightly surprised. The reason he had left this little tid-bit of information until he was half-way through leaving was because he was reasonably sure Lucius would throw a wobbly, to put it lightly. “You know, it surprised me to find out that Snape had been abusing kids in his class. I mean, surely he’d have to give a shit about a kid to knock him about.” He grinned at Lucius, “but then, Draco always was his favourite.”

Lucius, lying with his arms crossed across his chest and his eyes closed, smiled slyly. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

*****

Christmas Day, 2003 - Austria

Lucius Malfoy was one of very few people who never woke up gradually. His eyes shot open and he immediately took in his surroundings, recalling the events that had brought him there. His face relaxed into a lazy smile and he sat up, stretching like an over-grown blonde cat. “Good morning, Severus.”

Snape didn’t even look up from the trunk he was rifling through. “Is it?”

Lucius chuckled and swung his legs over the side of the large four-poster bed, standing in one fluid movement. He walked over to stand behind Snape, looking over his shoulder into the trunk. “Dropped into your usual yule-tide gloom, I see. Excellent.” He dropped a kiss onto the taller man’s shoulder before wandering off in search of some clothes.

“I assure you, the day has nothing to do with it.”

Lucius rolled his eyes, standing up straight and regarding his reflection in the mirror. He ran his fingers experimentally through his long blonde hair, wincing as they met tangles. “It’s no use, Snape. You know I like you best when you scowl.”

The Potions Master looked up and raised an eyebrow at Lucius’ bare back. “Not this morning, Lucius. I am going to be flayed by the Dark Lord if I can’t find this sodding potion.”

Lucius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t really.” He walked back over to Snape and peered into the trunk.

“I assure you he would. Aha!” Snape gave a small smile of triumph and pulled a blue crystal phial out of the trunk.

Lucius’ eyes however, were on something quite different. He reached a hand into the trunk and pulled out a small, leather bound book. “Severus? What’s this?”

Snape looked at the book distractedly. “Make it bigger and I might be able to tell you.”

Lucius picked his wand up from the dresser and pointed it at the book, “Engorgio!” The book grew until it was twice the size it had just been. Lucius read the title aloud, “’The Complete Works of Ministry Potions Research – 2003’. I didn’t think that one was out yet.”

Severus frowned and took the volume from Lucius’ hands. “It isn’t. Are you sure this is mine?”

Lucius shrugged lightly. The movement looked odd coming from such an elegant man. “It was in your trunk.”

Snape flipped open the cover and noticed a brief inscription. Familiar handwriting. Oh…bugger!

Lucius was quick to read over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Anyone I know, Snape?”

“A student. Idiot boy.”

Lucius smiled slowly and took the book out of Snape’s hands, placing it on the table, before sliding his arms around his waist. “I didn’t know you were that way inclined, Severus?”

Snape opened his mouth to tell Lucius very firmly that he wasn’t, but was cut off as Lucius kissed his lips soundly. Snape shrugged inwardly and wrapped his arms around the slighter man, nipping lightly at his lower lip. Lucius pulled away and looked up at Severus with a feline smile. “I shall have to see that Draco receives extra…tutelage. I would hate to think he was missing out.”

Snape hoped he was joking. He risked a smile and leaned forward for another kiss.

But Malfoys rarely joke.

*****

AN: Now you’ve read, review! Now! Or I’ll set nutty!Lucius on you! Hope everyone enjoyed. I couldn’t help myself with the slashiness at the end. Old habits die hard. Next chapter: Harry pokes around Snape’s house, gets drunk and remembers the good ol’ days – plus, more from ‘my mate Dave’!