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A/N: I would like to give credit to my dear friend Insert Clever Username Here, as she and I stayed up till very late at night/early in the morning several days in a row in complete collaboration writing this in a 110 degree room.

Also, both of us acknowledge that only the really bad puns are ours, and the characters belong very much to WB and JKR.

Enjoy! We'd love reviews!

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Chapter 1: Lucius Can't Mix Potions

Lucius examined his hair in the mirror. There was no noticeable difference, at least not as far as shininess and silkiness were concerned. He glanced at the half-empty beaker on his dresser and wondered where he had made his mistake. Well, he had never been a very gifted potion-maker, and five years without stepping foot in a classroom had not helped matters. He would not be repeating this attempt at making his own hair care potions.

He cast about for a solution. His mind fell on Severus, who had occasionally helped him with his work for Professor Slughorn. He remembered little of the old acquaintance, except for that he had been scrawny, younger, sullen, and excellent at potions. Recalling that he would have been out of Hogwarts a year by now, Lucius wondered if he could be persuaded to do him a favor. Leaving his hair to its mediocrity, he grabbed a quill and began to compose a brief owl to Snape.

Severus was awoken several hours earlier than usual by a rapping on his window. Wondering who on Earth would have sent him an owl, he opened it and read it, massaging the sleep from his temples as he did so.

Dear Severus,

I have run into a small problem with a certain potion and am in need of your help and discretion. You will be compensated, of course. Please reply and come to Malfoy Manor as soon as possible.

Lucius

Severus was unaccustomed to receiving owls of any kind, much less owls from old school acquaintances he had not seen in years. He remembered Lucius vividly – tall, pale, long, blonde hair, completely rubbish at potions – but could not recall any impediment that would have rendered him incapable of visiting an apothecary and asking for advice. He had been avoiding any reminder of his school years, and his first instinct was to refuse, but glancing around at his Spartan accommodations made him think again. He glanced back down at the letter. You will be compensated, of course. Well, the Malfoys had enough gold to keep their son talking for seven years. Surely they would have enough to keep Severus fed for the next few weeks. He packed his bag with basic ingredients, penned a reply before he could allow himself to change his mind and was halfway out the door before he realized that Lucius had not mentioned what the potion was for.

Snape appeared with a crack in front of a tall wrought iron gate, and peered into the darkness to find his bearings. In the gate the words "Malfoy Manor" were woven in ornate silver script. Severus rolled his eyes at the lack of subtlety. He pushed on the gate, and it swung open silently. He swooped down the path, his black cloak flying behind him, past a small flock of albino peacocks. Severus smirked and hoped that old Lucius would be as generous with his employees as his family was with his manor. After walking down the ridiculously long drive, Severus reached the Manor's front doors and sent the silver snake-shaped-knockers booming against them. He waited in the dark for several minutes, occasionally glancing back at the peacocks, for someone to answer the door. When he was about to knock again, one of the doors opened and Lucius Malfoy appeared from behind it. He looked about the same as he had the last time they had met, but his hair was longer and his torso had broadened. It suited him.

"Good evening, my friend," said Lucius softly. Severus thought it was a little odd to be addressed as his friend; they hadn't seen each other in years and had never been close to begin with.

"Good evening, Lucius," replied Snape briskly, "I hope I got here on time."

"Oh, you did. I appreciate your urgency," Lucius said, "Besides, Severus, it really has been too long."

Snape blinked rapidly in the dark. He wondered what could be so urgent that he had to come in the middle of the night, but not so urgent that they could stand outside exchanging unexpected pleasantries.

"Indeed," said Snape, raising and eyebrow. "Shall I get to work, then?"

"Oh," he said, as if he'd forgotten why Snape had come, "of course. Right this way. And, by the way, Severus, black suits you very nicely. It brings out your eyes."

As Lucius turned around, sweeping his long hair in a wide circle, Snape, eyes wide, shook his head in resigned bewilderment; it seemed more than just Lucius's hair had changed since they'd last met.

They walked into the candlelit antechamber, and Lucius twirled around once more, making his hair swish through the air again, and asked Severus if he wanted a beverage.

Snape said no.

Looking unabashed, Lucius, with a hand on Severus's shoulder, steered him into the smallest room he'd seen yet at the Malfoy Manor, but one that still would have engulfed Snape's house.

"Here's where you may work, Severus," said Lucius with an uncharacteristically genuine smile, "call me if you need anything. Or if you don't need anything. I honestly don't have much to be getting on with. Is there anything that you need now? Or anything you would like? Anything to make you more comfortable? Anything I can do to make you more relaxed?"

Severus blinked. Lucius still hadn't told him what he was making. He coughed and replied "Lucius, I will require the name of the potion you need me to make."

Lucius looked embarrassed, and asked if a recipe would be enough. Snape agreed, knowing that he could whip up any potion in his sleep, name or no name. Lucius disappeared and returned several minutes later carrying a piece of parchment with a handwritten list of ingredients and procedure.

Snape took them with a curt nod and waited politely for Lucius to leave the room. Lucius stared at him for a few seconds, and then shook his head as though dazed. "I…suppose I'll leave you to your work then," he said, and left.

Snape sighed. Perhaps time had worn away the memory, but he could not recall Lucius ever being quite so…friendly.

Lucius shook his head again, as though clearing away cobwebs, while actually trying in vain to settle the unexpected butterflies in his stomach. Good of Snape to come so soon, he thought, trying to think of his hair potion but finding his mind wandering again to Severus's admirable…work ethic...the way his eyes focused intently on Lucius as he gave him instructions…his eyes…He shook himself again. Severus had grown taller since Lucius had graduated; four inches, at least, and was able to meet Lucius's gaze almost levelly. His gaze…His mannerisms, however, had stayed exactly the same. The way he stood absolutely still during conversation, his face like a mask, his bottomless eyes the only betrayers of his emotions.

Lucius ran over their conversation in his mind. Snape had met him at the door, he had invited him in, and…

He cringed. It brings out your eyes? What on Earth had prompted him to say anything so utterly ridiculous? Severus had always worn black. They had all worn black.

His mind reeling, Lucius sank down in a chair by the fire, recalling their exchange with new misgivings. The hair-swishing. The hand on the shoulder. The repeated offers to make Snape feel as at home – as comfortable – as relaxed – as possible. He had been flirting. There was no way around it. He had gone completely off his head, and had undoubtedly made an ass of himself.

What would provoke so sudden and strong an attraction someone he had not seen in four years, let alone someone as unhandsome and aloof as Severus Snape? He ran a hand through his (still disappointingly dull) hair and leaned back in the armchair to consult with the ceiling. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence. Then what…

Wincing, he remembered the reason he had summoned Severus in the first place. Had he seen anyone else since the early morning? His parents were away, along with the servants, so Severus was the first person he had seen. There was no other explanation. In his foolish attempt to manufacture his own hair care products, he had unwittingly made a love potion.