Strange Bedfellows

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Summary: A girl without a home, family, or money to call her own. Two recently released from Azkaban wizards made pariahs in the wizarding world for their war efforts. A sharing of space in Grimmauld Place for a bit of time. What could happen? After all, misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

SSxHGxLM, Romance/Hurt/Comfort, AU: 10 years after war. Limony 'M' warning.

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A/N: I'm ba-ack. After a long… long time. It's been three years since I've published anything, and I've got to say it feels good to be writing again. For those of you that have read Incubi, I think you are going to enjoy this story as well. It is not the companion piece to Incubi as I intended it to be. After all, sometimes a story insists on being told a certain way, (my muse is a stubborn thing) and I can't force it.

Lucius, Severus, and Hermione will always be a favorite grouping of mine; so much intelligence, wit, and beauty… at least from two of them… However, I've always preferred my Severus to be sexy. It's that voice, man! May Alan Rickman RIP.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my tale. Feel free to leave a review in the kitty on your way out the door, and if you have a moment, check out my new fic 'Bride Price', a SSxHG novella I have in the works. What can I say? Three years of abstinence gave me a lot to write about, y'all. :0)

Cheers!

-xxkattiaxx

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Ch. 1— The Price of Fame and Misfortune

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It was a simple miscommunication.

Hermione finished reading the Daily Prophet on a sigh. The big story this week was the release of one Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy from Azkaban, and she had worked tirelessly with Harry to see this accomplished.

Ten years.

It had been ten years since the second defeat of Voldemort. Ten years of petitions and appeals, of talking to Dumbledore's portrait, of backlogged testimony, Priori Incantatem, Veritaserum, and Pensieve use. Ten years of attending parole hearings on the two's behalf, and keeping the still bloodthirsty and all-too-eager public from seeing them Kissed.

And finally, exoneration had been granted; not just for Severus Snape, but Lucius Malfoy as well.

In her research, and once Hermione had seen Harry's memories, her research had been thorough, she discovered a discrepancy between information Severus Snape would report to Dumbledore and what the Death Eater activities would actually be; all of this having come out during the Death Eater trials. For every wizard or witch suspected of being in league with Voldemort or 'Imperiused' in some way, there had been a thorough use of 'Priori Incantatem' used on their wands, some going back decades.

A small crack in the foundation had turned into a crevasse and then a canyon as she discovered just how much Severus Snape couldn't have known about the Death Eater's activities that were thwarted.

…but someone had.

Someone who'd reported straight to Dumbledore, and when that became impossible, due to his death by Severus Snape's hands, the other spy had given his intelligence to Minerva McGonagall who, sadly, hadn't survived the Final Battle to give her testimony on his behalf. However, the body count for Wizarding War II, especially the lead-up to the Final Battle, was supposed to have been considerably higher than it was, and a large reason why the number of casualties were relatively low lay solely with Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius Malfoy who had played his part so very well, who had given Ginny the diary to let Dumbledore know just what he was facing in the hunt for horcruxes, who had met school-children in the Department of Mysteries and kept them from meeting their deaths at the hands of rabid Death-Eaters out for blood, who had—through appearing bumbling and incompetent in the Dark Lord's aims—been subverting him and feeding him misinformation from Albus and then Minerva all along.

This information had taken years to unearth.

Neither Severus Snape nor Lucius Malfoy had known at the time of the other's loyalties or of the intelligence each would pass on, but both, in their own separate ways, had been instrumental to Voldemort's downfall.

And Hermione was proud to say the day had come where both wizards were freed.

Well, that day had been earlier this week, and she had been there, as she had been every step of the way, staying in the background and letting Harry and the exonerated wizards have the spotlight. Though she had worked tirelessly on their behalves, neither one knew it; she hadn't wanted it to be known because of the antipathy each wizard, due to his own prejudice, held against her.

For though Lucius Malfoy ultimately became a resented hero to the wizarding world, he still was a Pure-blooded Supremacist intent on 'purifying' wizard-kind.

And Severus Snape was… well, he was Severus Snape.

Hermione had met with both wizards nine years ago when her suspicions of Mr. Malfoy's involvement in the side of the Light were just that—suspicions. Lucius Malfoy had, in no uncertain terms, made it clear he never wanted to see her again.

Likewise Severus Snape, her face still scalded when she thought of some the things he'd hissed at her. The wizard was barely able to talk, his throat having been nearly torn out from Nagini's attack. And even there Mr. Malfoy had been instrumental in saving the Potion Master's life, for it was he that fed the Potion's Master antivenin and blood replinisher and kept him alive until Professor Snape could be treated at St. Mungo's.

Mr. Malfoy, and anyone else still alive who had a Dark Mark was arrested immediately following the final battle, the Wizengamot convicting him of high treason and acts of terrorism without due process of a trial and sentenced him to life without parole. Likewise Severus Snape when he had been given medical release was immediately led to Azkaban without a trial, no matter what Harry said in his defense.

But now both were freed.

She had tried to find out from Harry what the plans of both men were now that they had been exonerated by the Ministry, but Harry had been unclear on the subject, telling her only 'they would be fine'.

Well, it was no matter.

Hermione had accomplished what she'd set out to do, had righted one of many injustices the Ministry had committed since Voldemort's second fall, and it was now time to focus on the last leg of her education.

Nine years ago, she had decided to become a Barrister for the Defense when she realized this was what it would take to right so many of the wrongs she saw in the wizarding world today, mainly through appealing to the Wizengamot. Like becoming a muggle barrister for the defense, becoming a Barrister for the Defense in the Wizarding World required seven years instruction.

She'd taken four years of general education at Magus College, London, majoring in Wizarding Law, and had only just completed her required three years of law classes at Wizarding Oxford, graduating at the top of her class. And as soon as she took Britain's Wizard's Bar Examination at the end of this spring, she would be licensed and could, theoretically, begin practicing law.

Having already had several job offers from well-established wizarding firms around the country, she declined them all in favor of a position applying directly to the highly prestigious Council of Advisors consulting the Wizengamot.

This was a relatively new sector of government as it had been instituted by Dumbledore shortly before his death and meant to educate the Wizengamot's typically insular members of the issues concerning the day. Combining the skills of a paralegal, analyst, historian, and lobbyist, they would want her to provide them a unique perspective on issues concerning the wizarding world today.

In other words, she needed to have her finger to the pulse of the wizarding world.

It was a very advantageous and prestigious position, and anyone, no matter their course of study—or lack thereof— could apply. However, thus far, only barristers had been chosen. The reasons for this varied, but Hermione thought it was because of the dissertation one had to write and then be defended against in front of the entire gathered assembly of the Wizengamot.

After all, one had to know the law in order to defend against it.

If she got her foot in the door, then being appointed a full-fledged member of the Wizengamot was almost a certainty a decade from now, give or take a few years, and as one of the Councilors had just been elevated to the Wizengamot's ranks, an open position within the Council would soon be available for which she could apply.

She'd spent years getting her education; now all she needed to do was finish revision for the Bar as well as put the finishing touches to her dissertation and submit her application for review. Should things go as she hoped, she could expect to defend her thesis sometime this summer. And God-willing by fall, she would be a part of the Council and would begin climbing her next 'magic mountain'—as she had a tendency to think of these things—by promoting legislation protecting the rights of sentient magical creatures like house-elves, goblins, werewolves, and centaurs just to name a few.

She aimed to make a change for the better in the wizarding world, and she was determined to do it if she had to, one case at a time.

However, she had one small problem in climbing this ladder to success…

Hermione Granger was broke… and homeless.

Ordinarily at this stage of education, wizarding law students would be expected to sequester themselves for three months prior to taking the Bar. And Hermione had prepared for this eventuality, having saved money by working her way through university by serving at a Muggle fine-dining restaurant. The pay had been good as far as serving went, and she'd learned how to enjoy cooking and tending bar which was an added bonus considering her year of near-starvation spent huddled in a tent.

She'd also cultivated a taste for the finer things in life: good wine, music, and food.

When she had first decided to go to university, Harry had offered to pay for her education, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

Relying on her parents was not an option and never had been since the moment she 'Obliviated' their memories.

After the war, Hermione had been one of the few returning seventh years to go back and repeat a year of revision in order to sit her N.E.W.T.S.

Her pseudo-celebrity status as the famous girl third of the 'Golden Trio' prevented her from taking many of the jobs students working their way through wizarding law school were expected to take: internships at the Ministry mostly and errand-runners. Not that Hermione hadn't exhausted both these routes her first year when she submitted her applications.

She had been ultimately relegated to the bottom-rung of the hiring stack of C.V.'s for the jobs she wanted. As the famous friend of Harry Potter, she was immediately discounted as too high-profile for anything resembling serious or prestigious, and the jobs that wanted her, she wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole, mostly because these places wanted to capitalize on her 'fame'.

And so, that had left waitressing in the muggle world while she worked her way through wizarding law school.

She had shared a flat with a muggle named Yvonne who also worked at the restaurant and was going through muggle law school herself, and together, they had lived relatively amicably up until last week when, grinning ear-to-ear, Yvonne told her she was moving out at the end of the month, having received an offer of employment at one of Exeter's most prestigious law firms should she pass the Devonshire Bar.

And that left Hermione homeless.

She had three more months.

Three more months of strict study during which she couldn't work. Three more months of revision left before she took her Wizarding Bar Exam, submitted her dissertation and application, and could begin working again—waitressing if she had to—until her application for the Council was approved or denied.

She had budgeted for that, had planned for it down to the knut… but again, that was before Yvonne informed her she was moving out, and Hermione would be stuck with all the living expenses they shared.

In desperation, she was thinking of living once more in the tent when she received an owl from Ginny telling of her and Harry's plans.

The Potter's were going abroad for a year 'before she lost her James to Hogwarts' was how Ginny had phrased it, and though this had been something both Ginny and Harry had talked and dreamed about, Hermione had never thought it would come to fruition, at least not until they were all old and gray.

Lily was still in diapers after all.

However, Ginny had been insistent; she wanted her family to experience a little bit of the world together before they began their Hogwarts' school careers, and they all spread 'hither, thither, and yon'. And so, the family Potter was leaving a week from when the owl had been sent to go on a year-long tour around the globe.

Naturally, Hermione had floo'd and asked Ginny if it was alright if she could stay at Grimmauld while they were away, and though distracted by her middle son Albus and his insistent need for another pumpkin pastie, Ginny had instantly agreed, knowing a little of Hermione's predicament.

And so, four days ago, Hermione had moved in.

And though she had to put up with Kreacher and the portrait of Mrs. Black that they still couldn't find a way to un-stick from the wall, she was relatively happy and secluded, holed up as she was with her books, notes, computer, and schedule of revision.

But just now her stomach was growling and looking out the window, she realized it was quite past dinner-time, and she had revised from breakfast all through lunch as well. Well, that was nothing new. However, she did need to eat something…

Padding to the kitchen in her old pajama shorts and mid-drift exposing top, she secured her hair into a hap-hazard bun, and reaching for her iphone, turned on her music, and cranked up the volume.

It was time to cook.

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Severus Snape looked at the row of brick buildings and then down at the scrap of parchment in his hand before passing it off to Lucius.

The two wizards watched in unison as the old building appeared before their very eyes: Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

And how Severus did not want to be here, but… life had given him no other choice.

Lucius, too, for that matter.

Both wizards were homeless due to the Ministry's seizure of their assets, and until all was sorted out, neither of them had a place to go.

Though Severus knew of Number Twelve's existence and where it was in relation to the other houses surrounding it, Potter had changed the secret-keeper, probably to the Granger girl or Weasley, and so upon doing so, Severus's ability to see the house itself had been magically revoked.

He had the clothes on his back that still had the rips in them from Nagini's bite as well as a few sickles that were in his pocket upon being arrested.

That was all.

But he was free.

Again, he looked up at the cloud-covered night sky and breathed a sigh of relief, his breath coming out in vapor due to the cold.

Free after ten years prisoner, subject to the soul-sucking ways of the Dementors, barely given enough food to keep a dog alive let alone a grown man, and having to practice the strictest form of occlumency-meditation he could eighteen hours a day in order to keep his sanity intact.

He swore he would not feel grateful to Potter for ensuring his exoneration.

He swore he would not.

It was what he was owed, after all, in payment for helping take down the Dark Lord once and for all.

And how many times had he wished Lucius had left him to die in that accursed shack!

He looked askance at his blond brother-in-arms to find he looked much the same as Severus himself felt.

Both were emaciated to the point of harm, and though both were naturally pale-skinned, they had a sickly-sallow look about them now, and it had been hell getting to this point as one or the other had had to stop and lean on a lamppost or each other as they made their way from the Ministry here.

The Knight Bus had refused their admittance.

In fact, everywhere they had gone had refused them service; even Gringott's had refused to change their galleons and sickles to muggle coin so they could go out into the muggle world.

Potter had suggested his home at the start, relating that he, his wife and offspring would be gone for a year abroad.

But not for one moment had Severus even considered taking him up on the offer once he was freed.

Not unless there was no other alternative.

And at this point, there wasn't.

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No wife.

No manor.

No money.

No standing at all in wizarding society.

But he had his freedom. By Merlin, he had his freedom.

And all because of the boy-who-lived, damn him to perdition.

Lucius had not expected to live this long. Like his brother-in-arms, he'd fully expected to die the night of the Final Battle. And if not that night, then the trials to come, certainly, where he would be Kissed, and that would end things but neatly.

But he hadn't. No, instead, he had spent the last ten years of his life pacing his gods-forsaken cell and trying his damndest to keep his sanity in one piece. He was fairly certain he was mostly successful on that score.

Mostly.

He looked up at the grim, old monstrosity that was to be his home for the next year, or until the Ministry decided to return his holdings and unfreeze his assets. But as the Minister of Magic Kingsly Shacklebolt had explained, the money had already been spent, his holdings already sold to make reparations to war victims as well as repairs due to the Dark Lord's war and demise.

In essence, Lucius had nothing but the clothes on his back and a few galleons in his pocket that he had upon being brought to arrest.

They didn't even have wands, both of theirs having been entered into evidence upon being convicted. And, once again, it would be days, if not weeks or months, before the Ministry would see to relinquishing them.

No, they had nothing but Harry Potter's charity.

And how that did gall!

How the thought alone churned his stomach and made him ill. Or perhaps… perhaps it was that he was once more light-headed and nauseous from hunger. It had been several days since either one of them had eaten, every place they'd gone, refusing them service.

Severus had considered them going to the muggle world, but without muggle money, that avenue was useless to them. Both had considered foraging through the trash in Diagon Alley, but even though they were immensely practical, they still were proud.

No, their only option was Potter's Grimmauld Place and his house-elf's food.

Lucius looked over at the sallow-skinned Potions Master beside him and cringed. Severus's usually mangy look was bordering on emaciated now. The wizard had grayed at the temples while rotting in Azkaban. And though Lucius was sure it would give him a distinguished air, should they survive this ordeal, if one could go by looks alone, death would be paying them both a visit soon… very soon.

"Well," Lucius began, "it's certainly not prepossessing…"

Severus rasped, "But it's Potter's home. Come on, before we're noticed," and once more, Lucius cringed whenever he heard his old friend speak. It was a mockery, a bastardization of his former silky voice. The black-hearted blackguards at St. Mungo's had done the bare minimum for his brother, restoring his throat so he could breathe but leaving his vocal chords severed and scarred.

Having more control over his wandless magic than Lucius did, the door opened at Severus's touch, and immediately Lucius heard an absolutely god-awful racket coming from the back of the house.

They entered the dark hallway and saw warm firelight coming from what Lucius could only surmise was the kitchen towards the back. He sniffed the air.

Food.

His gut clinched, and Lucius moaned, stepping forward towards the delicious smell.

Severus, he saw, was more circumspect, first thinking to grab a candelabra, and divesting it of its sticks, brandished it as one would a weapon.

Gaining some sense as well, this house was supposed to be empty after all, Lucius grabbed a bronze statuette of a fairy and quietly led the way forward. He stopped at the entrance and peered inside, the vision before him stopping his heart.

And then set it to racing.

A girl—no… a woman scantily clad in clothes the likes of which he'd never seen was listening to music on some kind of new-fangled wizard's wireless as she performed magic in the kitchen. Lucius felt Severus step around him, and both stood watching entranced as the woman sang and swayed her hips from side to side to the song's beat as she stirred a wooden spoon in a pot.

'Baby, just give me one reason, oh, give me just one reason why I should stay,' she sang, her lovely voice imbued with the smoky flavor of the song.

Even as they watched, she brought the wooden spoon she was holding to her pink and perfect lips, and her little tongue darted out for a taste. Her eyes narrowed in contemplation before going to the spice rack, and adding a pinch of coriander and a healthy sprinkling of salt. She then stirred, dipped and brought the wooden spoon to her lips once more to taste, and nodded, apparently satisfied.

Lucius had never wanted anything more than to know just what the substance on that spoon tasted like, and he would prefer to sample it from the woman's lips themselves, if he could.

As she turned her back to them, her full and luscious hips again swaying once more to the melody, she presented them with a truly spectacular view of her delectable arse in the strange muggle pants she was wearing.

She bent over. Oh, Sweet Merlin! She bent over to check what was baking in the oven, and Lucius heard Severus beside him give a rasping groan. He quickly looked from his periphery to gauge the reaction of his friend only to find he had a thunder-struck expression on his face. And too, he had a hungry—very hungry—look in his eye that Lucius knew had little to do with the food the witch was preparing.

Standing back up, she turned to face them, rectangular casserole dish in oven-mittened hands.

Spying them, she screamed, and the dish she was holding went flying in the air, its steaming contents on a collision-course with her beautifully exposed face and skin.

Severus, ever the Potions Master, hissed and threw up his hand, the dish arrested mid-air and its heated contents falling back neatly into it, hovering mere inches from where it would have splattered on the witch.

She looked at the casserole dish floating above her, and then back at the two of them, and drew a shaky breath. Her form visibly trembling, she reached to take the dish from the air, exposing more of her pale and creamy mid-drift to their view as she did so before turning her back to them and setting it on the counter.

It was a long moment more before she turned back to face them, her cheeks burning and her wand drawn.

Her voice, however, was calm when she asked, "Did Harry invite you two to stay here?"

She looked from one to the other of them, and Lucius nodded. Severus, Lucius saw, grit his jaw and narrowed his eyes.

Drawing a deep breath, the witch lowered her wand and asserted, "Right, then. Neither Harry nor Ginny bothered to inform me of the situation."

"And you are?" Lucius led gallantly, putting down the brass statuary he held and taking a step towards her to introduce himself. He marveled at his stamina. His body was literally consuming itself in hunger, and yet, he could bed this witch right now if she'd allow it. My, but the spirit was willing to throw one over, even if the body at the moment was weak.

She licked her beautifully, plump lower lip, to speak, but it was Severus who answered gratingly from beside him, "Miss Granger, yes?"

Lucius looked at the woman and did a double-take.

No!

Time would not be so cruel.

The little buck-toothed, bushy-haired mud-blooded harridan that had been his Draco's competition for marks all throughout school, had, like a fine wine, matured beautifully into womanhood.

Lucius looked over at Severus to find him with his scowl firmly in place as he looked at her, his eyes roaming disdainfully over every inch of her scantily-clad form, judging her and finding her wanting. Lucius looked back at the witch to see twin flags of color blossom high on her cheekbones and a lovely flush bloom and spread from the exposed portion of her décolleté all the way up her neck.

Looking at his friend and catching his eye, Lucius said via legilimency, Quit making the mud-blooded minx uncomfortable. We need her food.

Severus gave a huff and crossed his arms, a pale, emaciated imitation of his former Potions Professor's standing.

Turning from them suddenly, the girl reached for her wand, and Lucius had a moment of panic thinking she was going to turn it on them, but no, she extinguished the flame from the eye, and removed the saucepot from the stove, right as Lucius caught the smell of something burning.

Whatever the delightfully-smelling sauce had been before, it was well and truly ruined now; she Evanesco'd the pot, and again, turned to face them, the color in her cheeks and upon her chest still remained.

"Alright, if you'll excuse me, I'm going upstairs to my room to pack. You're welcome to help yourselves to dinner as well as whatever else you may find in the larder." She gave them a small, tight smile and moved to sweep past them.

Severus, however, stepped to the side, blocking her exit.

He pointed down at her and then at the food she had made. "Sit and eat, Miss Granger."

She looked up at him and gulped, and Lucius caught the tantalizing aroma of her perfumed scent as it wafted to his nose; notes of citrus, eglantine roses, and a hint of musk.

Lovely.

It had been so long, so very long since he had smelled the scent of a woman.

"I find I am no longer hungry, Professor Snape," she said as she again tried to sidestep around them.

"Not… Professor. Not anymore," Severus grated, taking a menacing step towards her and forcing the witch to back up a step.

"Severus…" Lucius haltingly replied, taking a step forwards as well. This was escalating rather quickly….

"Why are you here?" Severus asked, and reaching for her upper arm, imprisoned it tightly in his hold; his jaw clenched.

What the hell was the matter with him? "Severus, let the witch go!" Lucius ordered, stepping closer to the two of them.

"Answer me!" Severus barked, his voice crackling and breaking to a rough whisper.

The witch leveled her wand at Severus's chest, right above his heart, and looked up at him. "Severus Snape, so help me God, if you do not let me go, I will drop you where you stand."

One look at her face and Lucius knew the witch meant it.

"Severus…." Lucius hedged gently, slowly lifting his hand to place it at his friend's wrist. "Let the girl go."

With a huff, Severus did so, abruptly releasing her; she was out the kitchen doorway and up the hallway stairs in an instant, and Lucius looked behind him at his friend absolutely disgusted with his boorish behavior.

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Hermione once more tried the floo at the location Ginny said they'd be around this time of year, and again she cursed the wizarding world for having no faster bilateral communication than floo or owl post.

She could always send a patronus, but that was a little dramatic, even if the situation demanded a bit of drama.

With one wand movement born of ease and practice, she had all her things spread throughout her room flying towards her old, beaded bag. Now, all that remained was her laptop and books in the study, and she could leave.

It had been a simple mistake.

Of course it had been, neither Harry nor Ginny being very detail-oriented, and it was obvious what had happened.

She'd asked Ginny if she could use Grimmauld, and Harry had offered Grimmauld to Mr. Malfoy and Profess—no, he now preferred to be called Master Snape. It was obvious, so obvious she didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before now. Of course Harry would have offered them his home.

However, once freed, Hermione had thought—had assumed—the two had some place to go. Harry had always alluded to that fact, but he never did say where, and now she knew why.

She rolled her eyes heavenward and looked around the bedroom to see if there was anything else she missed and then caught her reflection in the mirror and cringed anew.

Gads! She looked… well, the words 'vampy', 'whorish', and 'trashy' came to mind. 'Cheap' would also be apropos. But the shorts were her oldest, most comfy pair, and the top… it didn't matter about the top. All of her had been on display for her old dour Professor's and Mr. Malfoy's amusement.

God, there was no telling what they thought of her!

Again, she blushed anew, and digging into her bag, she came up with her oldest, most frumpy witch's robes and quickly threw the mud-brown things on, buttoning herself up from stem to stern.

She scraped back her hair into a serviceable, if still moderately untidy bun, and was satisfied she looked a semblance of her normal, typically prudish self once more. And drawing a deep breath to calm her racing nerves, Hermione grabbed her beaded bag and made her way to the study, intent on removing any trace she was ever there.

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Lucius went back for his third helping of the truly scrumptious chicken breast wrapped in bacon with shallots; meanwhile, Severus was on his second. "She cam't leave ush, Semerus" Lucius mumbled around a mouthful of chicken, feeling the slightest bit of remorse for the evanesco'd sauce that he was certain would have made this dish sing. He swallowed thickly and took a large gulp of the more than palatable wine she'd left open to breathe, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "We have to make the wench stay."

Severus only shook head and inhaled another quarter-breast.

"Ammy womam that cam cook like this…" Lucius said, again around a mouthful, as he rolled his eyes in ecstasy heavenward.

"Not… worth… it," Severus replied succinctly picking at his teeth with one of the bones of the breast, his tongue searching for another tender morsel of chicken.

"She made dessert!" Lucius hissed, looking at the beautiful Rhubarb pie sitting magically protected from pests in the open kitchen window to cool.

"Trouble… we do not need." Satisfied he had picked that one clean, Severus Snape moved with graceful economy onto the next.

"But Severus…" Lucius whinged.

"No," the dark wizard growled definitively.

The both of them heard the click-clacking of heels coming down the stairs, and as one, they stood, both dabbing at their mouths with their sleeves and tidying themselves up as much as possible. After all, Lucius wanted to maintain a modicum of dignity from this entirely undignified situation in which he found himself.

"Kreacher," the witch said from the hall, and then he heard the familiar pop of house-elf apparition.

Both he and Severus stepped towards the kitchen entrance to watch her as she looked down at the haggard, grimy elf that had appeared before her.

She'd changed her clothes, and not for the better in Lucius's estimation: a shapeless rag that had more in common with fertilizer sacking than actual clothing arrayed her delectable form, covering her from high neck to toe.

It was the color of mud.

Fitting in any other circumstance… and yet…

"What does mud-blooded friend of Master want from Kreacher now?" The house-elf sounded extremely put-upon, and Lucius knew for that tone of insolence alone, he would have seen this particular elf horsewhipped and dragged kicking and screaming to a bloody, stubby pulp.

However, the creature had called her a mud-blood... and that was something redeeming….

"Mud-bloods always be wanting something… filth the lot of them," the little elf mumbled quietly to the floor, and at that moment, Lucius knew he was going to like this elf immensely.

"Kreacher," the girl injected with patience, kneeling down to face him, "Your master has invited two guests into this house, and he would like you to show them the best hospitality of which I know you're capable."

"Is Mud-blood friend leaving then?" the little elf asked her with a surly whinge, and that was peculiar, considering his disrespectful words to her just a moment before…

Far from being in any way angry or upset at being treated with such blatant rudeness, the witch reached up and tugged on one of the creature's ears with affection. "I am. But please treat Potions Master Snape and Mr. Lucius Malfoy like the valued guests they are, alright?"

"But why is it you leave?" the whinge turned mournful. "Kreacher thought you were to stay for months and months spent studying…"

"Plans change." She smiled kindly up at him, and Lucius gulped, the half-masticated chicken stuck in his gullet suddenly making it difficult for him to swallow. "Now, you are a good elf, a kind and loyal elf that responds best to kindness and goodness in return," she looked up pointedly at the two of them standing in the doorway, and then back at the grubby, hook-nosed thing, "and you will help see to your two guests' comfort, alright?"

"Yes, Mud-blooded friend, Kreacher shall," the house-elf said in tones of almost respect as he reached up and felt the ear she had tugged upon.

"Good elf," she beamed again at him as she rose to her feet and turned; not another word in leave-taking did she plan to impart.

"Severus…" Lucius implored.

"Miss Granger," Severus growled, striding quickly forward to catch the witch before she left.

Too late. It was too late, and she was out the door. And with a 'crack' of apparition, the lovely mud-blooded Miss Granger was gone.

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A/N: A little, bitty review would be an AWESOME thing for this authoress.

Much love!

-k