Finished at last! I hope you've enjoyed. Your comments are always welcome.

-o0o-

Chapter 5

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"What, you're just going to walk in?"

"Hermione…"

"You don't know what could be waiting in there!"

"Then by all means, stay out here."

"Severus, she's only a civilian. It's well past time to Obliviate—"

"What? How dare you even consider Obliviating me?—"

The latch of the door clicked just then, cutting off all argument. They each took an involuntary step back and covered the door with wands and guns. The door creaked on its hinges, revealing a gloomy interior. Then a tiny face appeared, and they stared down in shock at the very creature who had been at the heart of the whole day's troubles.

"Come. Be quick," said the werty distinctly. "Not much time." It turned and ran away with a flip of its tail, leaving the door ajar.

"Oh, thank Merlin, it's still alive!" exclaimed Hermione as she touched her ear where the Babel fish lay. "Come on, you two."

"I thought you were so keen to stay outside," replied Lucius nastily.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

She grasped the doorknob, but Severus moved to step in front of her, followed closely by Lucius, and the two wizards preceded her into the house.

Nothing about the neglected interior looked as if an alien lived there, except rather less furniture than was usual in a residence, and rather more sealed boxes and crates with indecipherable labels attached. They made their way through the dark front rooms and down a hall that seemed preternaturally long. When they reached what ought to have been the kitchen, they stopped in their tracks.

They found a brightly-lit command center, all screens and communication equipment. In the middle of the black and white linoleum floor stood a glass bowl as big as a bathtub, filled with what Severus at first believed was tar-colored jelly. From the depths, three sticks waved at them. Then he realized the sticks were actually eyes on stems, twisting about like garden snakes dancing in a bowl of lava.

Hermione, clearly revolted, clapped a hand over her mouth. It reminded Severus that he himself was supposed to be a professional. He calmly stepped up to the glass bowl. "Obojjni, I presume," he said. "I am Agent White, this is Agent Black, and we are—"

"—with MIB, yes, so you said," the alien interrupted. Its sonorous voice came from everywhere around them—speakers in the walls, perhaps. "I don't know you," it continued. "Where is Agent Gold?"

"He retired long ago," replied Lucius. "Agent White and I are in charge of this sector now—a fact your henchmen knew, yet they deliberately fired on authorized MIB personnel just the same."

"Yes, attacking MIB agents, violating a direct cease and desist order, stealing an alien under protection of MIB," Severus continued. "Your Torlocks have violated the terms of your work visas in at least half a dozen ways. Worse than that, you've totaled my favorite car."

The eye stems drooped slightly. "I am sorry about the poor reception just now. I'll never hire Torlocks again—they are so literal about following orders. Now that you're in, I suppose you're here to collect the werty we rescued."

"Rescued? You mean stole!" cried Hermione.

"Who is this?" demanded Obojjni, craning its stems. "What language is it speaking?"

Severus turned to Hermione and spoke in a low voice. "Your Babel fish lets you understand Galactic, but not speak it. And our friend here does not wear a translator." To the alien, Severus pitched his voice several degrees chillier. "Our associate is correct. That werty belongs to the leader of the Votolians, You are trafficking in contraband. We're here to retrieve it in order to avoid an intergalactic incident."

"Oh, so that's the problem." Obojjni's eye stems gave a syncopated wave that somehow conveyed a sense of whimsy. "I wondered where Votolius entered into the picture. He always did have a somewhat fluid concept of ownership. It must be because he has an entire planet named after him, the egotistical arse.

"My dear friends," continued the squelching alien, "you are laboring under a misapprehension. The werty you are looking is no longer in any danger."

"It's not?" said Severus.

"No. She is in her rightful place." The voice sounded positively smug.

"Is she? And where might that be?" asked Lucius. Peevishness had crept into his voice. Severus shared his frustration; he felt as if they had suddenly become unwitting players in the third act of some humorous space opera.

"Why, in the hands of my clients, who have paid me handsomely to recover her."

Severus took a deep breath. They were almost home now. "And who are your clients?" he asked patiently.

"Oh, they call themselves the Society. I'll call them in. They've been busy preparing for departure, you see. But they said they particularly wanted to meet your associate here before they go."

"Sorry?" Hermione looked distinctly alarmed.

Finally, Obojjni made a complicated series of motions with his eye stems—apparently these remotely controlled all the machinery in the converted farmhouse. A hatchway opened under the sink, and Hermione gasped when two dozen chattering werties tumbled into the room. She dropped to her knees with a laugh of delight, and they crowded round to pat her arms and head affectionately.

"You see, my Torlocks have been looking for the lost werty on behalf of her friends, who call themselves the Society. I agreed to help them recover her—for a handsome fee. When the Society arrived on Earth a few days ago, they gave me the means to trace her. Nigel finally had success this afternoon, but unfortunately, MIB came upon on the scene at just the same time." He moved his sinuous eye stems in a bizarre parody of a shrug. "No hard feelings, I hope."

Hermione stood up with several werties cuddled in her arms. "So these creatures are the Society! They traveled here on their own power!" she exclaimed. "Severus, I don't understand. Why is MIB helping this Votolius capture a sentient being and keep it enslaved?"

Lucius and Severus exchanged a long look before stowing away their weapons and wands. Severus grimaced. "MIB didn't know werties were sentient, Hermione. Believe me, this changes everything."

"Werties are space-capable," continued Obojjni, "but they prefer to keep to their own system. As the story goes, Votolius was on holiday when he stole a member of the Society right off her planet. Ever since then, they've been putting out feelers to get her back. When they learned she was here on Earth, I took their contract and sent out scouts to pick her up.

"Now the Society is preparing to go home. All they want is to be left alone on their planet. You can understand, can't you?"

Hermione nodded soberly. Lucius and Severus exchanged another look. "Leave that part to us," said Lucius at last. "If privacy is what the Society wants, privacy is what it will get."

-o0o-

The backup team, excited to be called into action, spent what was left of the night mopping up the farm and taking every alien into custody. Severus rattled off a lengthy list of charges against Obojjni, who merely shrugged his eye stems philosophically. "It was all in a good cause," he said piously when Severus finished. "Half these charges will be dropped due to extenuating circumstances. Anyway, I'm just as glad to be leaving. I'm sick of the Earth. It's this dreadful gravity. I want to go home, where I can get some exercise."

Outside, while Lucius oversaw the loading of the MIB lorries while the werties continued to load their ship, Hermione and Severus found themselves with a moment to breathe. He took her hand as they strolled in the field under the wide night sky. "Just think," Hermione quipped. "Only this afternoon, I was pitching a survey of the house-elves."

She stopped and began picking grenades and other gadgets out of her pockets to hand to Severus. He smirked as he accepted transfer, remembering how, in his panic over her safety, he had nearly thrown them all at her. "You managed to put up with quite a lot today, didn't you?"

"Well, actually, I enjoyed it—even dodging gunfire, a bit, as perverse as that sounds." She grinned back at him. "There's so much out there to learn! It's been the best day of my life for that reason."

"Lucius was impressed with you too, I think."

Her smile dropped away. "Yes, well, Malfoy can keep his opinions to himself."

Severus had never been any good at discussing private thoughts with others, but he sensed he ought to make some effort, for Lucius's sake. "Hermione, during the war, the Malfoy family made some … questionable choices," he began. "They were prejudiced in favor of blood status from days of old, and I don't excuse it. You know how our world is. But when the Dark Lord rose to power, Lucius Malfoy had many untenable situations thrust upon him. We all did." He looked at her directly to emphasize his point. "He lost everything that mattered, and it changed him. If you asked him his thoughts on the matter, I think you would learn much."

Hermione considered his words. "If you say so," she said at last. "I can reserve judgment—for now. But I don't think I could possibly talk to him."

"Believe me, if you get him started, you won't be able to get in a word edgewise. Take it from someone who has done a lot of listening." He sent her on her way, then walked around the corner of the barn to see a man about a horse.

Sometime later, Lucius, Severus and Hermione stood in the corn field under the stars and said good-bye as the Society's rescue committee boarded their ship to head back to their home system. Hermione's new friend gave her an extra-long hug before jumping in the hatch and closing the door.

Soon the ship departed, its tail lights growing faint in the night sky. Hermione waved enthusiastically, and Lucius rolled his eyes at this amateurish behavior. "They can't see you," he pointed out. Before Hermione could formulate a suitable reply, Severus offered her his arm and she wound her hands about his bicep with a suggestive smile. The three of them made their way back to the house, admiring the intricate crop circles left behind by the ship.

Back in the farm yard, Severus's mood turned dour again as he inspected the smoking ruins that had been his prized Bentley. Hermione looked on in sympathy. "We'll get you another one," she reassured him. "That Aubergenie should be made to pay restitution to MIB, don't you think?"

"I liked this car," he replied glumly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, pull yourself together," said Lucius.

-o0o-

Over bracing cups of tea in Quarr's office, Severus and Lucius debriefed while Hermione sat nearby, working to pull the Babel fish out of her ear.

"Only one last thing to do," said Severus. He and Lucius flipped a Knut to see which of them would have to play Good Cop to the other's Bad Cop. Lucius lost, so he gamely stood to one side and practiced making non-ironic expressions of sympathy while Severus and Quarr raised the planet Votolia on the giant communications screen.

Severus proceeded to deliver a blistering lecture to the normally pompous cult leader. "You failed to mention the creature we were pursuing was a Class 3-F," he growled. "Trafficking in sentient beings? Violating interplanetary civil rights? Try as you may to shift the blame to any of your followers, this incident is on your head, and yours alone. You're looking at the possibility of a very long prison stretch."

"I didn't know!" Votolius spread his hands in supplication. "I had never seen such a creature before! It was so friendly and cute. I didn't know it was sentient. Please, Agent White, there must be some way to convince you of my innocence."

Lucius stepped in, wearing the most benign expression he could manage. "Well, as it happens, there may not be anyone to press charges against you."

"What do you mean?" Votolius asked timidly.

"Shortly after the werty testified, she succumbed to a virulent case of… erm, of echolalia."

"Echolalia?"

"Echolalia," Severus confirmed.

"Echolalia," whispered Votolius. "I've never heard of it."

Lucius nodded soberly, his eyes swimming with concern. "Oh, yes. The whole Lake District had to be quarantined."

Severus crossed his arms and glared. "Do you know the punishment for bringing a disease-ridden specimen to the planet Earth? You never even declared it when you visited. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"My dear agent White, I had no idea, I assure you! Is it … I mean, is echolalia contagious?" whispered Votolius. "My poor followers …"

Severus stared down his nose at the nervous alien. "You and your people escaped contagion. Barely." Votolius visibly sagged in relief. "But I advise you, never return to that system. You were very lucky today. We are willing to let this go with a warning if you and the Votolians will be mindful of checking all fruits, vegetables and pets at Customs from now on."

"We will. I assure you, you can count on us." After a few more minutes of applied groveling, Votolius ended the call with a pledge to stay on the straight and narrow from here on out. They believed he might actually do it—at least for a little while.

Quarr, who had stood off-camera, turned to Hermione. "You did well today, Miss," he said bluntly. "How would you like to apply for the MIB UK program?"

Hermione hitched a surprised look upon her face. "Who, me?" She frowned ostentatiously, as if wishing to take a few moments to think over the prospect. Severus was not fooled in the least.

-o0o-

Four months later

MIB UK's armory had always reminded Severus of the Department of Mysteries, except with less warmth and cheeriness. Today he and Hermione were heading up a weapons inventory. Trailing behind with clipboards were three worms—skinny little oiks that walked upright and filled the hall with raucous laughter over in-jokes they never bothered to translate.

After a particularly loud outburst, Hermione complained to Severus. "I do believe they're on about my hair," she said as she smoothed down her curly mane. "When I get around to that worm language course, I'll—I'll rip their little arms off."

"Not worth it. They can regrow limbs within an hour. Believe me, when you learn what they're actually talking about, you'll miss these days of blissful ignorance."

Lucius popped his head in the door. "There you are. Aren't you finished yet? Leave the rest to the worms. I'm told if we are not out of the building in fifteen minutes, they'll have us chased out."

At a staff meeting the day before, Quarr had put his foot down, saying Agent Black and Agent White never seemed to take any time off, so he would have to pull rank and insist they vacate the building for at least a few weeks. Severus immediately asked MIB's top recruit along on a mini-break holiday, to which she demurely agreed. Their relationship had begun to flourish, much to Severus's satisfaction.

The three of them made their way down the hall to the elevator, Lucius and Hermione lagging a bit behind to talk in courteous tones. During the months Hermione had spent in training, she and Lucius had taken opportunities to get to know each other, and while they could not be considered friends yet, at least they had begun to understand each other better. It was a start.

"Have a good time," said Lucius when they reached the parking garage. "Have you selected a lovely retreat somewhere?"

Severus held up the key to a brand-new Aston Martin. "Hermione has programmed the coordinates, but she says I am not allowed to know until we're away."

"How precious." Lucius shook his head. "Mucking about the countryside on holiday. You two deserve each other."

"I hope so," laughed Hermione.

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

He saluted ironically as the car left the garage. Hermione returned his wave from the passenger seat. "Poor Lucius. Maybe we should have invited him along," she said.

"Not a chance in hell," Severus replied.

"Still, I can tell he's not all that keen to spend time alone in that drafty house." She frowned when she caught sight of Severus smirking. "What?"

"Don't worry. I have a feeling he'll manage somehow," he remarked.

-o0o-

Lucius Apparated to the front gates of Malfoy Manor. He had not been by in months, but when he walked through the foyer, he immediately knew something had changed. A scent in the air, or perhaps something less definable; a familiar presence that could only be …

"Narcissa," he sighed.

She appeared in the door to the library. "I wondered when you turned up," she said by way of greeting.

His eyes hungrily took in the robes of deepest green, the shape of her, the ice-blonde of her hair, her deep blue eyes. She moved across the floor, and he absorbed her walk, reacquainting himself with her every movement. He found his wife every bit as beautiful as the day she had shipped off her bags and left him.

Narcissa stepped near, and he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. She sighed at his touch. The look she gave him was affectionate, though tentative. "You're looking well," she said. "More than well."

"So are you," he managed.

"I've heard you have an occupation now. Is it true?"

"Where did you hear...?"

"Severus. He wrote to me."

"Of course. Well, yes, it's true. I've a new situation now, in London."

"I see." She flashed a smile that held a secret. "And does this new situation have anything to do with the monster in your pensieve?"

He felt his hands turn cold, and he had to resist the wild urge to jump back and neurolyze his own wife, but he quickly regained all sense of proportion. She must have taken his reaction as an affirmative, because she smiled more broadly and moved all the way into his arms. "How nice for you, dear," she said. "You're so much easier to live with when you have something to do."

The End