"Hermione!" Molly swept the tear-stained woman into her arms, pulling the Prophet from her hands and dropping it on the table. "The boys have all been looking for you since Arthur found out last night."

Hermione shook her head a couple of times where it rested on Molly's shoulder, but she couldn't find the words to explain her reluctance to speak to Harry or Ron.

Molly guided Hermione to the sofa and settled her there, pressing one of Arthur's freshly ironed handkerchiefs into her hand. "There, dear. I'll make some tea, and if there's anything we can do to help..."

---

Molly's tea turned out to be liberally soused with brandy, and Hermione barely managed not to spit the first mouthful back out.

"Drink it up," Molly instructed. "You'll feel better for a good cry and a bit of sleep, and that'll help with both."

"What about the Aurors?" Hermione asked with a slight hiccough. "Won't I need to speak to them?"

"We'll get Mad-Eye over here when you feel up to it," Molly announced, "and anyone else will have to go through me first. I'd better Floo headquarters and let them know you're safe."

"Just Alastor! Not Ron. Not Harry."

---

"The boys are going to stay at headquarters for now, but they've both been really worried about you," Molly wheedled.

"Please, Molly," Hermione sniffled. "I just can't deal with Ron and Harry on top of this. I can't tell them it wasn't their fault, or that I forgive them, because I don't, and until I know what really happened, I don't know if I ever will."

"I know what they did was wrong, but they were only trying to protect you."

"I know that was mostly it, but you can't tell me Ron didn't want him out of the way."

---

"You can't think that Ron planned for this to happen?" Molly demanded.

"Planned? No," Hermione answered, her shoulders hunched. "He acts on instinct, but that doesn't make him any less responsible... if it was the vow. Maybe it'll turn out that it was the Killing Curse. Maybe it wasn't their fault at all, but, if I see them now, then we'll all probably say things we'll regret later."

"Hermione dear, we'll probably never know what happened. No-one's ever been charged over Emmeline's murder or Amelia Bones'."

Hermione lifted her head, her eyes alight with ferocity and madness. "I'll find out."

---

"Now, Hermione, I know you're upset, but you have to leave this to the Aurors," Molly insisted.

"Like we did with Emmeline's murder?" Hermione argued shrilly. "Did you want to leave it to the Aurors when Dolohov killed your brothers?"

The air in the Burrow practically crackled. The silence was so complete that Hermione could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.

"No, I didn't," Molly finally admitted. "That doesn't mean I was right."

"If you think I care about being right, you're wrong. Viktor was good and kind and he loved me, and it killed him. I killed him."

---

"Port and cigars?" Lucius drawled.

"Why not?" Severus answered, arching one brow as he rose from the dinner table. He extended an arm to indicate that Lucius should precede him.

Lucius led the way to the drawing room, where he and Severus shed their jackets and took seats in the armchairs nearest the fireplace.

Drinks, ashtrays, and freshly trimmed cigars materialised on convenient side tables before the men could make themselves comfortable, courtesy of the Malfoy elves.

Lucius lit his cigar with an elegant flick, inhaling deeply until the end had a constant glow. "Now, Severus, what brings you here?"

---

Severus's lips twitched into a knowing smirk. "You think oak-matured port and vintage Montecristos insufficient incentive?"

"To entice you from your fortress of solitude, where I have yet to be invited?" Lucius asked. "You'll forgive my scepticism."

"My meagre hospitality could hardly measure up."

"Merlin knows that is true. Still, it has been many weeks since you last visited this social pariah. I doubt today's headlines are mere coincidence."

Severus snorted derisively. "Pariah? You may have temporarily lost the Dark Lord's favour. However, your sizable and entailed fortune ensures your relative safety and your social standing. It also purchases information."

---

Severus picked up his cigar, lighting it with a gesture and then casually draping his wand arm over the side of his chair, out of Lucius's line of sight, allowing him to cast a surreptitious refilling charm on Malfoy's glass before returning the ebony shaft to its holster.

"Yes, my safety is very relative," Lucius growled and threw back a mouthful of port. "As you say, any information I acquire comes at a heavy cost. Surely you could learn as much by paying court to your master."

'Your master,' Severus noted. "I prefer not to visit unannounced after unmitigated fiascos."

---

"I assume that the original intention was to recruit the boy?" Severus added.

"Really, Severus, quid pro quo," Lucius protested.

Severus smiled politely. "The Dark Lord has mentioned you should remarry."

"I heard a rumour," Lucius washed away his distaste with more port. "If he wanted to control my money, he should have kept Draco alive and killed me."

"I'm sure, with hindsight, he wishes he had." Severus lifted his glass, barely wetting his lips. "Nevertheless, he has expressed a wish for a new godson."

"And?"

"And my former employment makes me supremely qualified to advise him of marriageable candidates."

---

As Severus left the manor, Lucius tumbled onto his bed fully-clothed. He rested there until the room's swirling made him scramble to grab a chamber pot from under the mattress. His hand-made wig tumbled to the floor as he dangled over the bedside to spew dark pink vomit into the porcelain. For once, he was unmindful of the hideous burns that swathed his scalp and neck, the disfigurement part of Voldemort's punishment for his disloyalty.

Morning found Lucius hung-over and his recollection of Severus's visit fuzzy, even blank in places. He vowed to cut back on the alcohol... starting tomorrow.