Collision: Chapter One (Lotrips/HP, Viggo/Lucius, PG)
Collision: Chapter One
Authors: darkrosetiger and telesilla
Fandom/ Pairing: Harry Potter/Lotrips crossover; none
Archive: Please ask.
Rating/Warnings: this chapter PG, overall NC-17
Summary: Lucius and Viggo meet for the first time.
Disclaimer: You get two for the price of one here: 1) Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real people involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe. 2) Neither of us is J.K. Rowling; if we were, we'd have a nicer car and live in San Francisco. This is her world, not ours. Are we clear here?
Notes: Quite a while ago, airgiodslv came up with thegoblins_library challenge, which was to write a Lotrips/Harry Potter crossover. At the time we said we'd do Viggo/Lucius, but then we didn't have the inspiration. Then we watched Goblet of Fire on DVD and got bitten by a persistent bunny. Many thanks go out to kyuuketsukirui for her excellent beta.
In order to bring some things into parallel, we've messed with the timing of events in the HP universe. Year One is now 2000. Collision begins in February, 2006, in the middle of what would be Year Seven of HP canon.
In order the stories are (please note that "Keeping Faith" and "Favor" overlap each other to some extent):
Dual Citizenship
Keeping Faith
Favor
Collision
Jan looks over at Lucius and tries not to sigh. Even in borrowed robes, with his formerly waist-length blond hair chopped off, and without the hideously pretentious snake-headed cane, Lucius Malfoy somehow manages to look arrogant. And Viggo's tolerance for arrogance--especially from wizards--has never been all that high.
"I trust you do understand, Mr. Malfoy, that my brother is doing this as a favor to me, and not because he has any affection toward you, or the rest of the wizarding world outside of his family," Jan reminds his client.
Lucius glances at Jan and doesn't quite sneer. "Whatever else you may think of me, Mr. Mortensen, I am familiar with the rules of etiquette, especially when I am a guest in another's home." Even if he is a Squib living among Muggles. Lucius flexes his fingers. They had taken his wand when he was first arrested, of course, but even with the wards in Azkaban preventing him from performing wandless magic, he had not felt this...bereft in his life. Now his magic is bound to his wand, which Mortensen has in a locked case.
Jan takes out a keychain shaped like one of the brooches worn by the Elves of Lorien in the Lord of the Rings films. Holding the leaf in one hand, he reaches out to Lucius and after a moment's hesitation, he feels Lucius' surprisingly small hand gripping his tightly. Jan closes his eyes and concentrates, forming a picture of Viggo's living room in his head. The world lurches around them and when Jan opens his eyes, he and Lucius are standing in the living room of a big old Craftsman house in Venice, California.
Viggo manages not to jump, largely because he's gotten used to Henry doing this sort of thing now that he's old enough to Apparate. "Hey," he says, smiling broadly at Jan before pulling his brother into a hug. "How the hell are you?"
"Good, good..." Jan hugs Viggo back. "You look great." As usual, Viggo's barefoot, wearing faded jeans and a San Lorenzo jersey. Jan can remember being a little concerned that the enormous success of Rings would change Viggo; he's laughed at himself often for worrying about something that ridiculous. "How's it going?" he asks, grinning a little, the American phrasing sounding odd in the British accent Jan's picked up over the past twenty years.
"Not bad," Viggo says. "Henry'll be sorry to have missed you." He turns and really looks at his guest for the first time. The notorious Lucius Malfoy doesn't look all that dangerous; his robes are plain and he's thin, with shortish ice-blond hair and an expression of discontent.
"Welcome to my home, Mr. Malfoy," he says, not sure if he should even bother to offer his hand. Figuring it can't hurt, he holds it out.
Lucius stares down for a moment, and then slowly extends his hand. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Mortensen," he says stiffly. "I am...greatly in your debt."
"Well, I dunno about that," Viggo says, smiling a little at Lucius' accent. I could get him a job as a voice coach without any real problem, but can you actually teach that slight hint of superiority that sets upper-class Brit accents apart? "I'm sure this isn't very pleasant for you." He turns and looks at Jan. "Doesn't he have any things? Luggage? Clothes? Stuff?"
"No--well, except this." Jan holds out a long, black leather case, fastened with a silver lock. When Viggo takes it, Jan reaches up to his neck and removes a silver chain with a key and gives that to Viggo as well. "This is Mr. Malfoy's wand," he explains, pointing to the box. "The case is heavily warded, of course...Mr. Malfoy is not permitted to use it except in case of dire emergency." Jan gives his older brother a long look. "We're hoping that doesn't happen, but there are any number of people who would like to see your guest dead, and they won't hesitate to take out anyone who gets in their way. Should someone track him here, he'll need his wand in order to defend himself--and you."
After giving the box the same kind of look he gave Dom's pet weta back in New Zealand, Viggo takes it and the key. "So does that mean I have to carry it? Kind of ironic really." He supposes that Jan's too young to remember his older brothers playing with pretend wands, or how quickly Viggo stopped that game once it became clear the only wand he'd ever have would be a stick that never really did anything.
"Yeah." Jan says, feeling a little awkward. "I mean, you don't have to, but it's probably a really good idea." And now I'm asking him to keep one of He-Who--Voldemort's--former top men hidden. What was I thinking again?
"You needn't worry that I will attempt to take it from you, Mr. Mortensen," Lucius says, a thin smile curving one corner of his mouth. "Even if I could physically overpower you--which in my current condition is highly doubtful--I am well aware that some of my erstwhile colleagues are skilled enough to be able to track me were I to use magic of any kind."
Giving the box another look, Viggo sighs. "Yeah, I can understand why you don't want that to happen." He looks Lucius over. "Good thing we're roughly sizable and that I lost some weight for Alatriste; I think I've got some things that will fit you until we can get you some clothes of your own." He glances at Jan. "Can you stay for lunch? Or whatever meal it is in England?"
Jan shakes his head--not least because he wants to be well away before Lucius has his first encounter with Viggo's cooking. "'Fraid not--Emily's expecting me for dinner and I don't have a Time Turner handy. I'll be in touch, though." He gives Viggo another quick hug and shakes Lucius' hand before using the Portkey back to his house outside of London.
"He hates my cooking," Viggo says with a laugh. "Which is kind of funny for someone who chooses to live in the UK." He shakes his head and looks at the wand box. "Well...here we are. Let me show you to the guest room and get you some clothes." He leads Lucius upstairs and into the bedroom down the hall from his own room. It's a little strange to see things looking so tidy; once he'd decided to house Lucius Viggo had called in the service he usually used before parties or when Sean was staying with him. Don't know why I bothered. No matter how clean it is, it won't compare with what a Malfoy's used to.
"The bathroom is next door and I cleaned it out so you'd have room...." His voice trails off. "Fuck, they didn't let you bring anything, did they? No toothbrush or comb? We should make a list so I can go out and get you some things."
Lucius runs a hand through his hair--a nervous habit he'd trained himself out of by the time he was ten--and stops, scowling a little when he realizes that was quite possibly the last time his hair had been this short. "Yes, I suppose that would be best...I..." He waves a hand. "I am afraid that I'm very much at your mercy, Mr. Mortensen. I have only been to America once before, and then, only around wizards, of course."
"Okay, we'll take this one step at a time," Viggo says. "One thing up front, though. If I say something that comes across as rude, it's a lot more likely that I'm simply ignorant." He sighs. "I have my own reasons to dislike your former allies, but I'm doing my best to let that go and just move on. "
Not sure what to say to that, Lucius simply nods. Of course he would dislike us…. If my father weren't dead, he'd be shocked into his grave to learn that an old wizarding family like the Mortensens had allowed a Squib child to live.
"So, okay," Viggo says, feeling a little lost for words. "Do you feel like taking a shower? I can get you some clothes if you like."
"That would be welcome," Lucius says. He begins to unbutton his robes. "Which way is it?"
Rather pleased to meet someone with his own attitude toward casual nudity, Viggo gestures down the hall. "There are towels and shampoo and all that," he says, heading toward his own bedroom. "I'll leave some clothes in your room." He turns away and then turns back, carefully not looking at Lucius. "Any food allergies or preferences I need to know about?"
"No, nothing in particular." Edible will suffice--and Azkaban has lowered my standards in that regard.
The bathroom is smaller than anything Lucius is used to--not counting his cell, of course--but it contains a bewildering variety of products intended to clean different parts of the body. Despite the labels many of them bear, only two of the bottles have anything inside of a color that Lucius would classify as "green". He finds a small bottle of shampoo, and one of conditioner that smells of sandalwood, a scent Lucius has always liked.
This is the first actual shower Lucius has had in over a year, and he turns the water up as hot as he can bear and stays in until his fingers threaten to turn into raisins permanently. Dripping water across the hall, he returns to his room and the pile of Muggle clothing his host has left for him to choose from. He manages to find a pair of denim trousers and a plain black, long-sleeved shirt. Since his host was barefoot, Lucius decides that it's acceptable for him to do the same; he would certainly rather do without shoes entirely than have to wear the uncomfortable prison-issued ones again. Feeling rather naked without his layers of tunic and robe and cloak, he goes in search of the dining room.
"Okay, the 3S sounds good and yeah, go ahead and pick up some Conergy," Viggo is saying into the phone as he chops some cold, cooked chicken breasts. "But hang on to the Gamesa; it's not a very big slide and they might pick it back up again." He spots Lucius and winces a little--his smallest jeans are still loose on the man. "So that's it? Okay, thanks, Summer. Give my love to Loren and the kids."
"Sorry about that," he says to Lucius. "My broker is all excited about an alternative energy company that just went public. Anyway, I was thinking of making a salad for lunch; I've got some really good bread I picked up at Wild Oats yesterday." He pauses and looks into the fridge. "You want a beer? I've got a bottle of Chardonnay in here, too. Or some iced tea."
"Tea will be fine, thank you." Lucius didn't entirely understand all of that, but from the sound of it, Mortensen--Viggo--had been speaking with his financial advisor. Jan did say that his brother was quite wealthy, though you'd hardly know it from his house.
Viggo pours two glasses of iced tea and hands one to Lucius, then nods at an open note pad on the kitchen table. "You want to start a list of the things you think you're going to need?" He sighs. "I wasn't really thinking this through. We're going to have to order things for you online; I don't know that it would be a good idea for us to go anywhere together."
He turns back to his salad, tossing the cubes of chicken into a bed of baby romaine and then taking his knife to a couple of portobello caps. "Or would your enemies even think of looking for you through Muggle means?"
Lucius frowns. "It's unlikely, but what does that have to do with our location?"
"Paparazzi," Viggo explains, rinsing off a red bell pepper. "Sorry, I'm speaking a foreign language here. There are photographers who make money selling pictures they've taken of famous people. So, for example, I go to the store and there's some guy in a car taking my picture from across the street. It's part of the price I pay for being who I am, although I fucking hate it when they take pictures of Henry." He shrugs and adds a couple handfuls of grape tomatoes to the salad before bringing it to the table. "It also occurred to me that they'd get pictures of you, too, but since the Death Eaters aren't likely to be combing the net looking for you, I think we're good." Adding bread and a crock of butter to the spread on the table, he sits down. "Help yourself."
"Thank you." The bread is good, so much so that Lucius would have sworn house elves had baked it if he didn't know how unlikely that was. During his months in Azkaban, Lucius had learned to ignore hunger; now he has to force himself to eat slowly so he doesn't make himself sick. People pay money for photographs that don't even move? "Who is Henry?" he asks.
"My son," Viggo says after a tiny pause. "He graduated from Ojai Academy of Magic last year and he's trying to figure out what he wants to do next. Right now, he's living with his mother."
"Ah." Lucius looks down at his hands, which seem naked without even a single ring. "My son was ordered to kill Dumbledore. He was told that if he failed, his mother and I would pay the price. I'm not sure where he is now. It's better that way, I suppose."
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Viggo says, staring at Lucius in shock. "Even I know who Dumbledore is. But Jan told me someone else killed him." He shakes his head. "How old is your son?" After all, it's possible that Lucius is a lot older than he looks, wizards being what they are.
"He'll be eighteen in June." Lucius sighs. "And yes, my--an old friend did it, to spare Draco. I wanted to keep him safe from all of this. I did a poor job of it."
Viggo stares at him and shakes his head. "It's fucking barbaric," he suddenly growls, getting to his feet to deal with an excess of energy. "I spent half my life wanting what you have, but the older I get and the more I learn about your world, the more I'm glad I'm not in it, and the more I wish my son were as much a Muggle as his mother is."
He stops and takes a deep breath. "Okay, that? Was rude beyond any pretense of ignorance and I apologize."
Lucius nods slightly. "I accept your apology." And I doubt I would be so gracious were I in your place. "It seems that if nothing else, we share a desire to protect our children." He looks up, meeting his host's eyes. "If you feel that my presence here would put your son in danger, I will speak with your brother about hiding me elsewhere."
"That's why Henry's with Chris at the moment," Viggo says. "When the weather's a little better, he's going up to Idaho to work with my other brother, Gerald. Gerry's got a ranch up there, raises magical creatures, and he's also got a huge magical herb farm. Henry's pretty good with animals, both magical and not." He settles back at the table and takes a long drink of his tea. "Does your son have any way of knowing where you are? Is there any way he can contact you?"
"No, to both. He may know, now, that I am no longer being held at Azkaban, but nothing more than that. And on the whole, it is best that way." Lucius sips at his tea, hoping that his hands aren't shaking visibly and trying not to think about the nightmares he's had in which the Dark Lord finds Draco.
"I'm sorry," Viggo says quietly. "That must be hard on you. And your...his mother?"
Lucius frowns. "I'm not sure, which is somewhat distressing. I last saw her roughly a month before Dumbledore was killed, and she assured me that Draco was well, but of course she couldn't elaborate. I hope that she's gone somewhere safe, though perhaps not to France--she has family there, and it would be the first place they would look for her." Lucius stares at his glass. He doesn't wonder why he's sharing all of this with a Squib stranger, not when he's had no one to talk to but the guards at Azkaban, Narcissa, and in the past few months, Jan. Clearly, I'm desperate for human contact.
"I'm sorry," Viggo murmurs again, almost wishing he weren't so empathic. The guy's a criminal, you know. Probably a murderer and certainly a racist. Still, sitting there dressed in Viggo's clothes and talking about not knowing where his wife and kid are, Lucius doesn't seem like a dangerous wizard at all. But they never do, do they? It's not like he looks like Christopher Lee.
"What do you," he begins and then shakes his head. "You're going to have a lot of spare time on your hands. Is there anything you'd like to cut the boredom? I don't normally get the wizarding newspapers, but I can if you want to read them."
"That would be--I would like that, thank you," Lucius says, surprised by the offer. "I do read a good deal, and I'm sure that you will have things I haven't read."
"Okay," Viggo says. "I'll get on that." He finishes his salad and butters another slice of bread. "As for books," he smiles a little sheepishly. "You may have noticed that I've got more of those than anything else; feel free to grab anything that looks interesting. It's all Muggle stuff, of course. I think Henry's got a few books here, but they're probably school books. If there's anything in particular you want, let me know." He thinks about the book he's working on now, and wonders if he'll be able to write or paint with this particular houseguest.
"I should warn you, the attic's my studio. One of the few house rules is that you don't go up there if the door at the foot of the stairs is closed."
"Your studio?" Lucius asks curiously.
"I paint," Viggo says. "And do photography. My darkroom's up there, too. I also write, mostly poetry. I'm a jack of all trades, really."
Lucius raises his eyebrows. "Indeed. I imagine it keeps you quite busy."
Viggo gives a rather practiced shrug. "I'm lucky. These days I don't have to work to pay the bills, so I have time for my art. I'll probably vanish at times when the mood strikes me, or you'll hear me puttering around up there at two a.m. I'll try to keep it down."
"I don't sleep much, so you're unlikely to disturb me," Lucius tells him. He doesn't mention that since the age of sixteen, the only time he can remember not having nightmares was inside the walls of Azkaban.
"Okay," Viggo says with a nod. "Also, I don't know what your taste in music is, but I can grab Henry's boom box...um," he laughs and shakes his head. "Jan tells me that most wizards in England aren't as familiar with Muggle technology. I don't know if you want to be or not, but I can give you a crash course in household appliances if you like."
Lucius lifts his chin slightly. "I doubt that will be necessary, and it could quite possibly be damaging to your...appliances. I'm sure you're familiar with that effect."
"Oh hell yeah," Viggo says with a laugh. "Poor Henry went through amps like crazy when he was first playing bass. Chris and I finally gave up and got him a wizarding rig. It was worse when he was a baby; Chris had real trouble when she took him into the recording studio." He's babbling, Viggo realizes and he takes a deep breath. "All right then," he says, "let's get on this list."
-tbc-
Authors: darkrosetiger and telesilla
Fandom/ Pairing: Harry Potter/Lotrips crossover; none
Archive: Please ask.
Rating/Warnings: this chapter PG, overall NC-17
Summary: Lucius and Viggo meet for the first time.
Disclaimer: You get two for the price of one here: 1) Not RL; didn't happen. If you think this has anything to do with the real people involved, then you need to put down the crack pipe. 2) Neither of us is J.K. Rowling; if we were, we'd have a nicer car and live in San Francisco. This is her world, not ours. Are we clear here?
Notes: Quite a while ago, airgiodslv came up with thegoblins_library challenge, which was to write a Lotrips/Harry Potter crossover. At the time we said we'd do Viggo/Lucius, but then we didn't have the inspiration. Then we watched Goblet of Fire on DVD and got bitten by a persistent bunny. Many thanks go out to kyuuketsukirui for her excellent beta.
In order to bring some things into parallel, we've messed with the timing of events in the HP universe. Year One is now 2000. Collision begins in February, 2006, in the middle of what would be Year Seven of HP canon.
In order the stories are (please note that "Keeping Faith" and "Favor" overlap each other to some extent):
Dual Citizenship
Keeping Faith
Favor
Collision
Jan looks over at Lucius and tries not to sigh. Even in borrowed robes, with his formerly waist-length blond hair chopped off, and without the hideously pretentious snake-headed cane, Lucius Malfoy somehow manages to look arrogant. And Viggo's tolerance for arrogance--especially from wizards--has never been all that high.
"I trust you do understand, Mr. Malfoy, that my brother is doing this as a favor to me, and not because he has any affection toward you, or the rest of the wizarding world outside of his family," Jan reminds his client.
Lucius glances at Jan and doesn't quite sneer. "Whatever else you may think of me, Mr. Mortensen, I am familiar with the rules of etiquette, especially when I am a guest in another's home." Even if he is a Squib living among Muggles. Lucius flexes his fingers. They had taken his wand when he was first arrested, of course, but even with the wards in Azkaban preventing him from performing wandless magic, he had not felt this...bereft in his life. Now his magic is bound to his wand, which Mortensen has in a locked case.
Jan takes out a keychain shaped like one of the brooches worn by the Elves of Lorien in the Lord of the Rings films. Holding the leaf in one hand, he reaches out to Lucius and after a moment's hesitation, he feels Lucius' surprisingly small hand gripping his tightly. Jan closes his eyes and concentrates, forming a picture of Viggo's living room in his head. The world lurches around them and when Jan opens his eyes, he and Lucius are standing in the living room of a big old Craftsman house in Venice, California.
Viggo manages not to jump, largely because he's gotten used to Henry doing this sort of thing now that he's old enough to Apparate. "Hey," he says, smiling broadly at Jan before pulling his brother into a hug. "How the hell are you?"
"Good, good..." Jan hugs Viggo back. "You look great." As usual, Viggo's barefoot, wearing faded jeans and a San Lorenzo jersey. Jan can remember being a little concerned that the enormous success of Rings would change Viggo; he's laughed at himself often for worrying about something that ridiculous. "How's it going?" he asks, grinning a little, the American phrasing sounding odd in the British accent Jan's picked up over the past twenty years.
"Not bad," Viggo says. "Henry'll be sorry to have missed you." He turns and really looks at his guest for the first time. The notorious Lucius Malfoy doesn't look all that dangerous; his robes are plain and he's thin, with shortish ice-blond hair and an expression of discontent.
"Welcome to my home, Mr. Malfoy," he says, not sure if he should even bother to offer his hand. Figuring it can't hurt, he holds it out.
Lucius stares down for a moment, and then slowly extends his hand. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Mortensen," he says stiffly. "I am...greatly in your debt."
"Well, I dunno about that," Viggo says, smiling a little at Lucius' accent. I could get him a job as a voice coach without any real problem, but can you actually teach that slight hint of superiority that sets upper-class Brit accents apart? "I'm sure this isn't very pleasant for you." He turns and looks at Jan. "Doesn't he have any things? Luggage? Clothes? Stuff?"
"No--well, except this." Jan holds out a long, black leather case, fastened with a silver lock. When Viggo takes it, Jan reaches up to his neck and removes a silver chain with a key and gives that to Viggo as well. "This is Mr. Malfoy's wand," he explains, pointing to the box. "The case is heavily warded, of course...Mr. Malfoy is not permitted to use it except in case of dire emergency." Jan gives his older brother a long look. "We're hoping that doesn't happen, but there are any number of people who would like to see your guest dead, and they won't hesitate to take out anyone who gets in their way. Should someone track him here, he'll need his wand in order to defend himself--and you."
After giving the box the same kind of look he gave Dom's pet weta back in New Zealand, Viggo takes it and the key. "So does that mean I have to carry it? Kind of ironic really." He supposes that Jan's too young to remember his older brothers playing with pretend wands, or how quickly Viggo stopped that game once it became clear the only wand he'd ever have would be a stick that never really did anything.
"Yeah." Jan says, feeling a little awkward. "I mean, you don't have to, but it's probably a really good idea." And now I'm asking him to keep one of He-Who--Voldemort's--former top men hidden. What was I thinking again?
"You needn't worry that I will attempt to take it from you, Mr. Mortensen," Lucius says, a thin smile curving one corner of his mouth. "Even if I could physically overpower you--which in my current condition is highly doubtful--I am well aware that some of my erstwhile colleagues are skilled enough to be able to track me were I to use magic of any kind."
Giving the box another look, Viggo sighs. "Yeah, I can understand why you don't want that to happen." He looks Lucius over. "Good thing we're roughly sizable and that I lost some weight for Alatriste; I think I've got some things that will fit you until we can get you some clothes of your own." He glances at Jan. "Can you stay for lunch? Or whatever meal it is in England?"
Jan shakes his head--not least because he wants to be well away before Lucius has his first encounter with Viggo's cooking. "'Fraid not--Emily's expecting me for dinner and I don't have a Time Turner handy. I'll be in touch, though." He gives Viggo another quick hug and shakes Lucius' hand before using the Portkey back to his house outside of London.
"He hates my cooking," Viggo says with a laugh. "Which is kind of funny for someone who chooses to live in the UK." He shakes his head and looks at the wand box. "Well...here we are. Let me show you to the guest room and get you some clothes." He leads Lucius upstairs and into the bedroom down the hall from his own room. It's a little strange to see things looking so tidy; once he'd decided to house Lucius Viggo had called in the service he usually used before parties or when Sean was staying with him. Don't know why I bothered. No matter how clean it is, it won't compare with what a Malfoy's used to.
"The bathroom is next door and I cleaned it out so you'd have room...." His voice trails off. "Fuck, they didn't let you bring anything, did they? No toothbrush or comb? We should make a list so I can go out and get you some things."
Lucius runs a hand through his hair--a nervous habit he'd trained himself out of by the time he was ten--and stops, scowling a little when he realizes that was quite possibly the last time his hair had been this short. "Yes, I suppose that would be best...I..." He waves a hand. "I am afraid that I'm very much at your mercy, Mr. Mortensen. I have only been to America once before, and then, only around wizards, of course."
"Okay, we'll take this one step at a time," Viggo says. "One thing up front, though. If I say something that comes across as rude, it's a lot more likely that I'm simply ignorant." He sighs. "I have my own reasons to dislike your former allies, but I'm doing my best to let that go and just move on. "
Not sure what to say to that, Lucius simply nods. Of course he would dislike us…. If my father weren't dead, he'd be shocked into his grave to learn that an old wizarding family like the Mortensens had allowed a Squib child to live.
"So, okay," Viggo says, feeling a little lost for words. "Do you feel like taking a shower? I can get you some clothes if you like."
"That would be welcome," Lucius says. He begins to unbutton his robes. "Which way is it?"
Rather pleased to meet someone with his own attitude toward casual nudity, Viggo gestures down the hall. "There are towels and shampoo and all that," he says, heading toward his own bedroom. "I'll leave some clothes in your room." He turns away and then turns back, carefully not looking at Lucius. "Any food allergies or preferences I need to know about?"
"No, nothing in particular." Edible will suffice--and Azkaban has lowered my standards in that regard.
The bathroom is smaller than anything Lucius is used to--not counting his cell, of course--but it contains a bewildering variety of products intended to clean different parts of the body. Despite the labels many of them bear, only two of the bottles have anything inside of a color that Lucius would classify as "green". He finds a small bottle of shampoo, and one of conditioner that smells of sandalwood, a scent Lucius has always liked.
This is the first actual shower Lucius has had in over a year, and he turns the water up as hot as he can bear and stays in until his fingers threaten to turn into raisins permanently. Dripping water across the hall, he returns to his room and the pile of Muggle clothing his host has left for him to choose from. He manages to find a pair of denim trousers and a plain black, long-sleeved shirt. Since his host was barefoot, Lucius decides that it's acceptable for him to do the same; he would certainly rather do without shoes entirely than have to wear the uncomfortable prison-issued ones again. Feeling rather naked without his layers of tunic and robe and cloak, he goes in search of the dining room.
"Okay, the 3S sounds good and yeah, go ahead and pick up some Conergy," Viggo is saying into the phone as he chops some cold, cooked chicken breasts. "But hang on to the Gamesa; it's not a very big slide and they might pick it back up again." He spots Lucius and winces a little--his smallest jeans are still loose on the man. "So that's it? Okay, thanks, Summer. Give my love to Loren and the kids."
"Sorry about that," he says to Lucius. "My broker is all excited about an alternative energy company that just went public. Anyway, I was thinking of making a salad for lunch; I've got some really good bread I picked up at Wild Oats yesterday." He pauses and looks into the fridge. "You want a beer? I've got a bottle of Chardonnay in here, too. Or some iced tea."
"Tea will be fine, thank you." Lucius didn't entirely understand all of that, but from the sound of it, Mortensen--Viggo--had been speaking with his financial advisor. Jan did say that his brother was quite wealthy, though you'd hardly know it from his house.
Viggo pours two glasses of iced tea and hands one to Lucius, then nods at an open note pad on the kitchen table. "You want to start a list of the things you think you're going to need?" He sighs. "I wasn't really thinking this through. We're going to have to order things for you online; I don't know that it would be a good idea for us to go anywhere together."
He turns back to his salad, tossing the cubes of chicken into a bed of baby romaine and then taking his knife to a couple of portobello caps. "Or would your enemies even think of looking for you through Muggle means?"
Lucius frowns. "It's unlikely, but what does that have to do with our location?"
"Paparazzi," Viggo explains, rinsing off a red bell pepper. "Sorry, I'm speaking a foreign language here. There are photographers who make money selling pictures they've taken of famous people. So, for example, I go to the store and there's some guy in a car taking my picture from across the street. It's part of the price I pay for being who I am, although I fucking hate it when they take pictures of Henry." He shrugs and adds a couple handfuls of grape tomatoes to the salad before bringing it to the table. "It also occurred to me that they'd get pictures of you, too, but since the Death Eaters aren't likely to be combing the net looking for you, I think we're good." Adding bread and a crock of butter to the spread on the table, he sits down. "Help yourself."
"Thank you." The bread is good, so much so that Lucius would have sworn house elves had baked it if he didn't know how unlikely that was. During his months in Azkaban, Lucius had learned to ignore hunger; now he has to force himself to eat slowly so he doesn't make himself sick. People pay money for photographs that don't even move? "Who is Henry?" he asks.
"My son," Viggo says after a tiny pause. "He graduated from Ojai Academy of Magic last year and he's trying to figure out what he wants to do next. Right now, he's living with his mother."
"Ah." Lucius looks down at his hands, which seem naked without even a single ring. "My son was ordered to kill Dumbledore. He was told that if he failed, his mother and I would pay the price. I'm not sure where he is now. It's better that way, I suppose."
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Viggo says, staring at Lucius in shock. "Even I know who Dumbledore is. But Jan told me someone else killed him." He shakes his head. "How old is your son?" After all, it's possible that Lucius is a lot older than he looks, wizards being what they are.
"He'll be eighteen in June." Lucius sighs. "And yes, my--an old friend did it, to spare Draco. I wanted to keep him safe from all of this. I did a poor job of it."
Viggo stares at him and shakes his head. "It's fucking barbaric," he suddenly growls, getting to his feet to deal with an excess of energy. "I spent half my life wanting what you have, but the older I get and the more I learn about your world, the more I'm glad I'm not in it, and the more I wish my son were as much a Muggle as his mother is."
He stops and takes a deep breath. "Okay, that? Was rude beyond any pretense of ignorance and I apologize."
Lucius nods slightly. "I accept your apology." And I doubt I would be so gracious were I in your place. "It seems that if nothing else, we share a desire to protect our children." He looks up, meeting his host's eyes. "If you feel that my presence here would put your son in danger, I will speak with your brother about hiding me elsewhere."
"That's why Henry's with Chris at the moment," Viggo says. "When the weather's a little better, he's going up to Idaho to work with my other brother, Gerald. Gerry's got a ranch up there, raises magical creatures, and he's also got a huge magical herb farm. Henry's pretty good with animals, both magical and not." He settles back at the table and takes a long drink of his tea. "Does your son have any way of knowing where you are? Is there any way he can contact you?"
"No, to both. He may know, now, that I am no longer being held at Azkaban, but nothing more than that. And on the whole, it is best that way." Lucius sips at his tea, hoping that his hands aren't shaking visibly and trying not to think about the nightmares he's had in which the Dark Lord finds Draco.
"I'm sorry," Viggo says quietly. "That must be hard on you. And your...his mother?"
Lucius frowns. "I'm not sure, which is somewhat distressing. I last saw her roughly a month before Dumbledore was killed, and she assured me that Draco was well, but of course she couldn't elaborate. I hope that she's gone somewhere safe, though perhaps not to France--she has family there, and it would be the first place they would look for her." Lucius stares at his glass. He doesn't wonder why he's sharing all of this with a Squib stranger, not when he's had no one to talk to but the guards at Azkaban, Narcissa, and in the past few months, Jan. Clearly, I'm desperate for human contact.
"I'm sorry," Viggo murmurs again, almost wishing he weren't so empathic. The guy's a criminal, you know. Probably a murderer and certainly a racist. Still, sitting there dressed in Viggo's clothes and talking about not knowing where his wife and kid are, Lucius doesn't seem like a dangerous wizard at all. But they never do, do they? It's not like he looks like Christopher Lee.
"What do you," he begins and then shakes his head. "You're going to have a lot of spare time on your hands. Is there anything you'd like to cut the boredom? I don't normally get the wizarding newspapers, but I can if you want to read them."
"That would be--I would like that, thank you," Lucius says, surprised by the offer. "I do read a good deal, and I'm sure that you will have things I haven't read."
"Okay," Viggo says. "I'll get on that." He finishes his salad and butters another slice of bread. "As for books," he smiles a little sheepishly. "You may have noticed that I've got more of those than anything else; feel free to grab anything that looks interesting. It's all Muggle stuff, of course. I think Henry's got a few books here, but they're probably school books. If there's anything in particular you want, let me know." He thinks about the book he's working on now, and wonders if he'll be able to write or paint with this particular houseguest.
"I should warn you, the attic's my studio. One of the few house rules is that you don't go up there if the door at the foot of the stairs is closed."
"Your studio?" Lucius asks curiously.
"I paint," Viggo says. "And do photography. My darkroom's up there, too. I also write, mostly poetry. I'm a jack of all trades, really."
Lucius raises his eyebrows. "Indeed. I imagine it keeps you quite busy."
Viggo gives a rather practiced shrug. "I'm lucky. These days I don't have to work to pay the bills, so I have time for my art. I'll probably vanish at times when the mood strikes me, or you'll hear me puttering around up there at two a.m. I'll try to keep it down."
"I don't sleep much, so you're unlikely to disturb me," Lucius tells him. He doesn't mention that since the age of sixteen, the only time he can remember not having nightmares was inside the walls of Azkaban.
"Okay," Viggo says with a nod. "Also, I don't know what your taste in music is, but I can grab Henry's boom box...um," he laughs and shakes his head. "Jan tells me that most wizards in England aren't as familiar with Muggle technology. I don't know if you want to be or not, but I can give you a crash course in household appliances if you like."
Lucius lifts his chin slightly. "I doubt that will be necessary, and it could quite possibly be damaging to your...appliances. I'm sure you're familiar with that effect."
"Oh hell yeah," Viggo says with a laugh. "Poor Henry went through amps like crazy when he was first playing bass. Chris and I finally gave up and got him a wizarding rig. It was worse when he was a baby; Chris had real trouble when she took him into the recording studio." He's babbling, Viggo realizes and he takes a deep breath. "All right then," he says, "let's get on this list."
-tbc-