Amortentia Dolorosa

[In from A New Day.]


Rabastan knocked stiffly at the door of the manor. After the interview with the American, he'd stopped in the bar downstairs for a couple shots of firewhiskey, and wondered if he shouldn't have had a few more. He'd come here to tell Lucius exactly what he thought of the American, the whole ordeal, and Lucius, himself, for putting him through it.

If he was honest with himself, he'd come here to drink until he forgot, before he had to go make his report, in the morning. Lucky was always good about that.

A house-elf opened the door. "Mr. Lestrange, Sir," the creature said. "You's here to see Master Lucius, he's in his study." With that the house-elf turned to lead the way.

When the arrived at the door, the house elf opened it. "Master, you's got company," it said, before popping out of the room.

Lucius was seated at a desk with several books spread in front of him, a quill taking notes to the side of him. At the announcement, he looked up, and then stood, walking around the desk to offer his hand to the other wizard. "What brings you to visit me here?" he asked with a polite smile on his face.

Babs shook his hand. "Lucius, have I ever told you that I was going to punch you in the face? I don't think I have. But, right now, I'm sorely tempted."

Taking back his hand, he untied the brown ribbon that held his hair off his face. He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair, but didn't tie it back up, yet, shaking a loop of ribbon, threateningly, at Lucius.

"I have just come back from a most ... enlightening interview. What in Merlin's name possessed you to even admit to that American that we existed?"

Lucky chuckled. "I was talking politics in a pub in America, several drinks in. He wandered over while I was describing the activities of our associates," he said, moving to sit back down, and gesturing Rabastan to a seat. "He took an interest, although I never expected him to show up over here. And I certainly didn't reveal my affiliations then and there."

He sighed. "Then, said lovely individual shows up in Ballycastle, of all places. When I was out drinking on my birthday, and brings it up again."

He smiled at the other man. "I hadn't figured on you being sent to recruit him. I rather assumed it would be one of the older generation, and I certainly wasn't terribly inclined to spend more time with him myself."

"Merlin's ruddy left testicle, Lucius." Babs rubbed a hand over his eyes, before putting the ribbon back in his hair. "He was in Ballycastle? What two shits and a fuck was he doing in rural Ireland?"

The hand migrated back up, rubbing his face, distressedly, again. "I got this job, because he's not forty, yet. Our Lord is uncertain about sending the elder Wizards to meet with what he sees as children. That's our job, and after your letter, I can see why he didn't tell you to pick up your own pieces.

"You owe me, Lucius. I need to drink until I can't see." He looked pleadingly up, those last two inches to catch Lucius's eye. "It was like spending a fine afternoon stuck in a room with Greyback. Tell me you have enough whiskey to make it go away -- blood on it, tell me there is enough whiskey for that..."

Lucky laughed. "Of course I do. And yes, you may have it," he said, using his wand to open a cabinet that was filled with bottles. "Pick your poison," he said.

"Fuck if I know, Rabastan, but he was making a nuisance of himself to the pub in general, before he spotted me. And pushing about how to find certain sorts of people. I had to shut him up, and couldn't get enough from him to tell if he was good for anything other than canon fodder under the circumstances."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "I might've done it myself, if he'd shown a little less contempt for people he hadn't even met yet. But I hadn't realised I had permission for full recruiting beyond Hogwarts yet. That is, beyond spreading rumours while overseas. But the overeager bottom feeder was busy insulting people, and speaking of things rather more publicly than I thought wise. Add to that the fact that he attempted a privacy spell in the pub, and well, I felt tact was not one of his nodding acquaintances."

"Ah! Salvation!" Babs crossed to the cabinet and began to inspect the bottles. "That's too good to be used like this, this isn't good enough to start a night with ... Ah, there we are! FitzEmoric's Firewhiskey!"

He pulled the bottle out, uncorked it and sniffed, before pulling a glass off another shelf and pouring. "You're not a generalist any more than I am. We don't take recruits unless we're granted them -- you get your choice of the Hogwarts boys for another year or two, of course, because you've just left, and you know them. Come past that, and you'll be stuck taking the lower list, like I am."

Taking both the bottle and the glass, he dropped into a nearby chair and took a drink. "But, this guttering wit you got me, today... You know, he hates Muggles because he vanished some berk's dog, and then got shot for it? If it ha' been my dog, I'd ha' been fer more than just shooting him!"

Lucky rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised," he said wryly. "He was bad enough in the pub to have your brother set him in his place in a fashion I've never heard from him before."

"Much more than another year or two, and I won't have the slightest about them. And really, I work in spell research and development, with a side of potions brewing. I'd much rather do that than recruit, unless they've gifts. But I couldn't have it said I was turning down the eager, after all. Even if he looks fit for nothing other than the front lines," he said with a tinge of disgust.

Lucky summoned himself a bottle of fine wizarding brandy and a glass. He proceeded to pour himself some, and take a sip. "And if he doesn't prove worthy, or good at anything, I imagine he'll end up as a test subject for someone or other."

"It settles me, some, to think of him hung up in a lab, somewhere." Babs sipped at the whiskey, slumping in the chair. "It settles me more to think of him dead of his own rattling dumb."

There was a long pause as he simply savoured the drink, before the first thing Lucius had said caught up with him. "My brother? Put him in his place? My brother? Not, say, one of the cousins?" He stared owlishly at Lucius.

"Not that the daft git was paying enough attention to notice, but yes," Lucky said, before taking a sip of his brandy. "None of your cousins were with us in the pub. Just Roddy, Severus, and I. And poor Severus was having his first experience with drink in the midst of this. "

"Blood and bones..." Babs shook his head. "If he'd been effective, I might have to worry. What did he say? I just never hear of Roddy doing his own dirty work."

He sat in thought for a bit. "Severus... Severus... I know the name, but not the face. Is he one of your little schoolboy pets?"

"Roddy pulled out rankings I hadn't realised your family even had, to hear the pair of you talk. Certainly your father never puts on airs. He told the daft git that he had best watch his step, amongst other things." Lucky sighed. "Sorry, but I can't recall the particulars. I was a bit less than sober, and it only got worse from there. And your brother deos more dirty work than you think."

"Severus?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "He was 5 years below me at Hogwarts. Handy with a hex, smart as a whip, and a potions genius. Was actually showing interest in joining up that night, before the prat showed up. He's a halfblood, but I took him on as something of a protoge. After all, he can't help his parentage, and living as he does, he didn't have access to a potions lab in the summers." Lucky smiled at Rabastan. "Your brother dragged him to Ballycastle to stay for a while, this summer."

"Oh, shit on it. He beat the American with the family tree, didn't he." Babs looked tired and embarrassed. "Technically, it isn't just the town. It's most of the county and part of the North, as well. Aye, that's our land those halfwits killed Uncle Robert from, it was -- but it's not, you know, our land. It's Auntie's land. Close enough."

"But, your Severus sounds like a decent find. Halfbloods don't fly so well, these days, but if he can keep his head on straight, we may well fit him, somewhere. After all, if we've got room for that bloody damned werewolf, I think we can take anything that pleases us." He nodded, resignedly. "But he's out at the Freehold, this summer? Tell me it's not because he's making use of my idiot brother... I'll kill Roddy myself if he's brought one of his whores home with him. Family's to be kept safe, I tell him. Only your finest, I say. Can only hope his ear's better tuned than his mouth."

Lucky nodded. "Something like that," he said quietly. "And I don't yet understand many things about the finer points where your relations are concerned."

He took a sip of brandy, and then snorted, nearly spitting it back out. "Merlin's breath, no, Babs," he said. "Severus thinks the whole idea of sex is offensive. Roddy just wanted to get him away from home. Same thing I'd be doing if my father wasn't likely to come down on my head. He's got a mouth on him, but that can be remedied. I'm thinking of getting permission to have him help the next time the Dark Lord has me brewing something. Severus isn't better than I am yet, but he will be. He's got the passion for the art that I so sorely lack."

"I'll put in word that you've got some help in the lab, when I put the report in, tomorrow. See if there's not something He wants that'd usually take more of your time than we can spare."

"I think I may like your halfblood better than I do my own brother." Babs tossed back what was left in his glass and filled it again. "He's useful and he doesn't spend his time with his arse stuck out, howling like a bitch in heat. I know you like Roddy, and I might have, once, but I just don't see it, anymore. Better he's the one of us to be stuck at home, in the end. What do you see there, Lucky?"

He sighed. "Well, behind all that flutter, your brother's got a sharp mind. And he's quite the man with a knife. Not to mention loyal to the people he cares about." Lucky shook his head. "I just don't see why you two get on so badly. But, I suppose it's not my business."

"And thanks, by the way. I was going to mention it when I next saw Him, or at least, when it looked suitable. Severus may be too young for a formal recruiting, but his skills are worth it. And best he get the chance to show them, before his mouth, or his blood status manages to deprive him of the opportunity. I do try to see that he has the opportunities commensurate to his skills."

"A knife." Babs snorted inelegantly. "If it weren't for the way he does his hair, I'd think he was a squib. And we'll lose the Freehold when he dies, if he can't get the cock out of his ass long enough to take a consort. But, yours to you, and mine to me."

He took a long drink. Babs had no qualms talking about his brother with someone who knew the gender of at least as many of his cousins as he did.

"And your Severus has a mouth on him, does he? We'll see how long that lasts. Show me how bad and I'll take a bet."

Lucky sighed. "He's not a squib, and with all that he loves your home, I'm sure he'll find someone to have a child with eventually."
"Severus, well, he's a peculiar type of naieve. And he seems to lack the brain to mouth filter just yet. He's actually the one that grabbed that punter's attention in the pub. Saying the sorts of things one only says when 15, and drunk."

"Blood's as red as yours, and my jizz as white as any man's; what were you expecting, magical fairy sparkles?" Babs quoted, flatly, face carefully almost blank. "Ah, fifteen... That age I try to pretend I wasn't."

He laughed and drank, lounging lazily in the chair, in ways he'd never do anywhere else. "Weren't we all shits, then?"

Lucky started chuckling in shock at Rabastan's statement. "Ahh, 15. I wouldn't be 15 again if you paid me," he said. "And yes, I rather think we were. I think most everyone has to be. At 15, you think you're an adult, or close enough. And still, you don't have the perspective yet, to be one."

"Oh, sure, it's funny now!" Babs laughed. "Actually it was funny then, but I thought she was going to choke the life out of me."

He took another drink, shaking his head. "We were young enough to think we knew it all, and dumb enough to act like it was true. Who knows? If I hadn't been quite such a prick, I might have a wife by now. Perhaps it's best I was -- Merlin only knows what I'd do with a wife, in my current occupation."

Lucky chuckled. "And who was the lucky girl?" he asked. "And I have to believe that some of my own idiocy at that age put me where I am now. After all, that was the age that Narcissa and I started seeing one another as a business proposition. Namely, that we could tolerate each other's company, and neither of us liked any of our other options."

He sipped at his brandy, rolling it around in his mouth. "I think that depends on the woman. Whether or not she's loyal to the cause, and in addition to that, whether she desires the Mark. I certainly couldn't see taking a wife I had to keep in ignorance of everything."

"Ah, some Mudblood girl. Delia something, I think she was. I don't know. She was a Ravenclaw." He shrugged lazily, pouring more whiskey. "I guess she'd figured out about the family, and was after trying one of us out. I think getting her face painted eased her off that idea right quick."

He sighed and drank. "How are things with Narcissa? I was never in with the Blacks, the way you were."

Shaking his head, he gave a minute's thought to the perfect woman. "I think if there were a girl for me, she'd be the image of Rebecca Yaxley. It's too bad she had a son, it is. That woman is made of brass and flint, I tell you."

Lucky smiled fondly, as he thought of the woman in his life. "Lovely, last I saw her. And always more lovely than dearest Bellatrix. Whom I can stand, simply because I know I will never be marrying her." He rolled his eyes in disgust. "She's a disaster waiting to happen, that one."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wanted to try one of you out? What, like a toy? Merlin, but some people are daft. And Yaxley? Really?" he said thoughtfully. "Well, to each his own, I suppose. After all, I'm sure plenty of people wouldn't want to marry Narcissa. I've always been attracted to her mind, honestly. Not that she's not beautiful, but unlike a number of British purebloods, I do want a wife who can think for herself. And does so, on subjects more complex than her new robes."

Babs laughed at Lucius's description of Bellatrix. "There's one I'm none the better for working with. That woman, she's a bottle of horseflies, she is. She's after my job, she is, too. Not that either of us are to have it, just yet, but I'm still Madam Yaxley's favourite."

"It's good to hear at least one of those sisters is sane. The whole family might fall off the world, this generation, else. None to carry it but that filthy Gryffindor, since it doesn't look like his brother's got half the eye for it that he does." He drank more, slowly forgetting the interview.

"But, aye, Madam Yaxley's quite a one, she is. There's a lady with her head on straight and her corset ribs all steel. A passion for good clean work, she has, and a love of the cause twice the love for her husband. That's the woman for me, I'll tell you." He snorted. "Pity she's right and twice my age, if a day, and married, to boot."

The whiskey continued down his throat. "But, Delia? She'd been poisoned by all those Muggle fairy stories, where the kin are all bright and good and honourable. I cleared that up for her. There's none of David's court in these spans. And I'll have that we are honourable -- it's just a very different honour than she expected of me." He rubbed his face, still holding the glass in that hand. "I had to break her of those dreams before she met something much more dangerous than my brother or me. Not to say I had any intention toward her but to get what I could, and get on with things, but sometimes I like to temper the sheer delight of doing my will, with some pretence at doing it for a noble reason."

"She's not the subtlety to rise to a level of independence, one would think. Oh, certainly, she's good at causing mayhem, our dear Bella is. But I do wonder if she provides much else to the cause?" he asked speculatively.

"In any case, I think there's enough room for a number of specialties within the organisation. And not such the need for direct competition as some might see."

He sipped his brandy again. "It is a shame about Andromeda, but nothing's to be done there. And Bella did inherit more than her share of the family proclivities. But I will suggest you not get on Narcissa's bad side. She can be a true terror in her own right, when the mood strikes her." Lucky looked at his drink for a moment.

"Perhaps you could ask Madam Yaxley for a recommendation?" he suggested. "Surely she might know if there's a woman with similar qualities to be found amongst her circles. That is, if you desire one," he said.

"Oh, Merlin's greased prick," he swore. "Buying the muggle fairy stories? That was like as not to get her killed. And I would certainly see yours as honorable," he said with a slight inclination of his head. "But not safe, certainly not safe for the ignorant. Poor Severus has been learning that one in spades. "

"When the word comes down that there's more than one spot to open up, I'll stand down, but not until that moment. I'll not have the sleek simplicity of Madam's kills parodied by a madwoman." Passion fading from his voice, Babs turned on the Blacks. "The most powerful Wizarding family native to England, and they're all dangerously mad. At this rate, I'll just find a nice Dutch girl, or sommat, I will. Assuming I have that kind of time, of course."

He took a long drink. "It seems a cheat, it does, to ask the woman I want for my own if she knows anyone else like she is. It's insulting to her to say there would be, and insulting to me to ask such an ill-thought thing. Maybe, I should ask Master Yaxley if she's any sisters, or if he's spotted anything like her. It's more a man's question, it is."

"And whatever I thought of Delia, it's none of it relevant, now. I heard she stood against us, last year. A sloppy mess they made of her, Macnair and his friends. Saw her name on one of the lists from a raid. T'was her and four more." He snorted derisively and took another drink. "It wasn't our blood that killed her, it was just her politics."

Lucky laughed. "It's six of one, half a dozen of another to find a pureblood family that isn't a bit mad, in its own way," he said. "Perhaps it's a peril that comes with strength, or somesuch."

"I would have said it a show of respect, if phrased properly. Respect for her person, her marriage, and her judgement, as it were. And the problem with asking her husband, is then he might think you had been trying to cuckold him. After all, in some men's minds, it's a short step from admiring a thing to trying to take it for oneself."

"Well, those who chose to stand against the betterment of all the world will pay the costs, after all. And Macnair's another one I'd rather not work with if I can avoid it. Too uncouth," he said with a shake of his head.

"Aye, so it is. We Lestranges are all madder than mercury, it's just that some of us are more tolerably mad than others." Babs smirked unpleasantly for a moment.

"Do you really think it's less an offence to ask her than to ask him? Merlin's balls, it's all too much trouble to sort through. I'll just ask old man Avery. Man's got a sharp eye, I'm told."

He drank, again, this time forgetting which hand held the glass and which the bottle. "Ah, shite. Sorry...

"You say Macnair's uncouth; I say he's sloppy. In the end it's all the same, but I'd still rather Macnair than Greyback, any six days of seven."

He laughed. "Ahh, don't mind the whisky. It wouldn't be the first time I tasted Lestrange in a drink, after all," he said with a saucy grin.

"The truth is, I think she's less likely to try and hand you your balls over the debacle. After all, she knows your behaviour has been proper, even if your thoughts might have been impure."

He laughed again, and raised his glass. "Here's to not working with either of them, if we can help it."

This time, whiskey shot out his nose. "Roddy been licking the glasses, again?"

Babs set the glass on his leg as he put a hand up to his nose, snorting and whinging. "Aww, dammit, Lucky... That burns."

After a few eye-watering minutes, he attempted to pick up where he'd left off, sleeve still held against one nostril. "My thoughts are only as impure as my blood," he cracked, with a watery attempt at a wicked grin. "And, really, quare mundane, for all that, I'm told."

Lucky laughed. "Drinking from the bottle. In the pub, no less. Of course, we all were. "

"Pure what, is the question. Trouble, I'd imagine," he said, finishing his snifter of brandy.

"Impure trouble, to have right." Babs snorted, clearing the last of the whiskey from his sinuses, and picked up the glass again. "Pure trouble is that gobshite brother of mine. I've got a redeeming quality or three that haven't a fecking damn to do with my face or my hair."

"I think, tonight, I'll go take a Northern whore. It'll do me good to get out and play, a bit. And when I'm good and done, I'll nail her to the door of the local UVF, with a few points of politics to block up the hole." He smiled and finished the glass. "Who says you can't mix business with pleasure?"

Lucky rolled his eyes. "As does your brother. But we weren't discussing him in particular."

"And there's not a thing saying you can't. In fact, my latest effort is designed to do just that, if in a slightly different fashion. I just have to finish perfecting it, and that'll require some disposable test subjects," he said, gesturing broadly with one hand. "Fortunately, they're not all that hard to find, even if I may have to keep them on hand for a bit. After all, one must make sure that St. Mungo's can't reverse the effects without the countercurse, or what's the fun?"

Babs grinned, somewhat sloppily. "I can get you some subjects. And fuck who'd miss 'em; they're like a plague, they are."

"And I want to see what you've got, when it gets to that time. You've an odd sense of humour, you do, and this promises to be worth a giggle." He drank again, realising that he'd likely had almost too much, already, but unwilling to stop drinking until he either threw up or passed out.

Lucky collapsed into undignified laughter for a minute, before he recovered, and summoned the rum. "It'll be a laugh indeed. A last laugh. At this point, when I manage to get the length of endurance on it settled, I'll need an amphitheatre. You're not the only one showing interest," he said with a smile. He poured himself a glass of rum, and took a healthy sip.

"Aye, but, Lucky, it's because you always come up with the best hexes. So few of us are even faintly interested in research and development, and fewer still have the flair you've got." Babs gestured broadly with his glass.

"D'you have a purpose for this chair, tonight? Because if you do, I should probably get home, before I can't apparate." In a significantly lucid moment, he looked over at Lucky. "If not, I think I'm fer sleeping it off, right here."

He smiled genially. "This one I think I'll keep the incantation private on. A man likes to have a bit of his own, occasionally."

"I'm surprised more people aren't interested, but then again, it takes someone who has a firm grounding in Latin, and knowing other languages helps as well. Half of what I do, honestly, is go looking for things that are useful, and have fallen into disuse. There are a lot of things that have simply been forgotten that still prove useful, or can do so with small amounts of modification."

Lucky snorted with laughter. "The chair? I can get you a bed, Babs. We simply tell my father, if he bothers to ask, that we were consulting on business for Him. That should cover guest room with no trouble whatsoever. And it's not like I haven't slept it off at your house enough times."

"You assume that after this, I'll be able to make it to a bed." Babs filled the glass again, then set the bottle beside the chair, where he wouldn't kick it over.

"Do you ever wonder what Wizards did before Rome? We all speak enough Latin to get by, but for sure there were spells before there was Latin." He shrugged lazily and took a drink. "Not that I care enough to go scrambling after the proofs, myself. But, the simplest to the most powerful magic any of us know is all defined in Latin. Whatever happened to the Greeks? What about Wizards in China?"

He became philosophical, with the addition of more liquor, which was, perhaps, the number one reason that Rabastan refused to drink to excess in public. Lucius's study, though, was hardly public.

"Actually, I assumed that after this, I could get you to one. Or have a house elf do so," Lucky said, smirking.

"I've found a few things written in Greek, or the older celtic tongues. It's useful for magis often unseen. Then again, we don't know that their methods weren't so far removed from ours as to be almost unrecognisable. I'm fairly certain that many of them didn't use wands, or at least not in the fashion we do now," he said lazily, and sipped his drink.

"My brother used to babble endlessly about potions being the oldest form of magic. I never did believe him, and neither did anyone else, but last I heard, he's still swearing by that. Says it's because they've not the linguistic attachments of charms nor the technologies of arithmancy and divination." Babs took another drink, and felt his stomach roll. "I didn't think divination needed any technological assistance. Centaurs sure don't need it."

He tipped his head back, closing his eyes to stop the ceiling from twitching in that disturbingly drunken manner. "But if there were a first charm -- the first magic a man made for himself -- what do you think it would do? With all the weight the Muggles place on light, I'd bet on Lumos, or whatever it was before that, I would. Let there be light."

"Divs? I'd see that as going back as far as near anything, with all the auguries that use intestines and the like. Might be interesting to see the varieties using people, if one could find them," he said, rubbing his lips with one finger pensively.

Lucky smiled angelicly. "Lumos? I'd hazard something more akin to Incendio. Light and fire, warmth, the ability to cook food. That, or you get the old fertility rites and the like. Magics to please the ancient gods and the like."

He tilted his head slightly to the left, examining his glass. "Roddy could be close to on track with the potions being early, though. Medicinal and all that. But then, you'd need a settled population, not a nomadic one, for most potions. To have access to ingredients and the like."

Babs grunted in agreement. "You've probably got me, there, y'oul bastard. Incendio is more likely by half and half again."

"Potions, though, I'd near argue you'd do better with nomadic tribes. The, ah... words. There's a word goes here, there is. Availability! The availability of ingredients in a small area is quare limited, it is. You'd need a bit of roaming to get the rest of things." He shook his head, then groaned and covered his eyes with his empty hand. "But, who figured out how to mix all that shite? It confuses me as much as, if not more than, food. Could be this is why I don't do my own dev."

He leaned cautiously to the side, setting the glass on the opposite side of the chair from the bottle. "Heard some rumours about human augury in Mesopotamia. Don't know if any of it's true, I don't. 'S not my field."

"Just a side note, that. I mean, we have enough bodies, after all. It might be useful, one of these days, if I can dig up enough information." Lucky sipped at his rum again.

"You might, with potions. Except then there's a question of preservation of ingredients, because so many things need more than simple drying, and how do you dry efficiently while on the go, anyway. Plus, just think of trying to carry a stock of ingredients in addition to everything else you'd need to live."

Lucky ran a hand through his hair, idly. "Dev's simpler than potions, in some ways. You just need a brain, and some knowledge. Books help immensely, for specialised work, I'll admit. But if we're talking basic, simple things, it's not all that hard."

"Assume, for the sake of argument, a medicine man, or other primitive Wizard figure." Babs gently tipped his head down, to look at Lucky. "I don't do much history, but I know that Wizard's not carrying the same things everyone else is. He's got no weapons, because he's not a hunter, and he's probably revered enough that he doesn't carry his own food. All he's after carrying are his tools and ingredients -- I can't believe I'm arguing Roddy's damn point. I still hold that divination came first."

"But all the same, development's more wit than I've got to spare. I spend half my time elbows deep in small-scale political concerns, and the other half my time using those concerns to put people where I can kill them. Not enough hours in a day for me to take up artisanship, there ain't."

He slid forward out of the chair, lowering himself to the ground and stretching out flat. "Fuck," he commented amiably. "I am not a fish."

"Pillow?" he offered.

"And you think I have spare time?" Lucky asked, before laughing rather sharply. "I'm working on gaining influence within the Ministry, which means the occasional freelance for someone there, as well as all the social arrangements that requires. Keeping up the the promising amongst the up and coming, and correspondence there. The usual research and dev, as well as any potions needed that it would be impolitic if not illegal to purchase. I was actually working on research tonight. It's what I'm usually doing when I'm home." He sighed.

"And this, besides his native gift, is why I'll be plenty glad to pass potions to young Severus. Let someone who likes the subject handle it, and give me more time to go in less directions." Lucky took a healthy swallow of rum.

"Possible, about the shaman figure, although I'm still with you about potions not being the first line of dev. I still think the supplies needed would be too varied and hard to preserve in that time, unless you had some basic spells working."

A pillow sounded like quite possibly the only good idea he'd heard all day. Babs grunted in agreement and stuck out a hand, squinting against the light from the ceiling lamps.

"Best not to do too much, all at once. Wears out your... Makes you..." His head rolled dizzily against the floor. "Forgot what I was talking about. ... Forgot what you were talking about."

"Might want a towel from that house elf. I'm gonna curl into a ball and pray for death, for a while. S'posed to meet with Him around three, tomorrow. Be out well before that. Promise." With that he rolled onto his side, and did just as he'd said.

Lucky nodded, and stepped through the door connecting the study to his bedroom, returning with a pillow, blanket, and a towel. "You sure you don't want a bed, Babs?" he asked. "I can transfigure something, if you want to stay in here." he said, as he handed over the pillow.

"And no worries. If I'm around, we can have lunch, or something after you wake up."

"Can't fall off the floor," Babs said, very sensibly, lifting his head for the pillow. "I think I should just stop moving, now."

He spread the towel next to his face, just in case. "Thanks, Lucky. Think we're even, now."

Lucky laughed softly. "Fair enough," he replied, spreading the blanket over Babs' prone form. "Sleep well." Lucky finished his glass of rum before gathering up his notes and a couple of the books spread across the table. "Nox", he said, darkening the room before slipping out the door to his room.

[DONE}