Part IV

IV.

Lost Year

1997-1998

'Dumbledore is dead.'

Severus stood in the hall, completely dishevelled and perfectly calm. Behind him she saw Draco, and it was all she could do not to run to him. Her son solved the problem for her, moving with surprising speed to put an arm around her shoulders. He reeked of sweat, he was covered in dust, and, according to Severus, the task was discharged.

'Mother,' he said into her hair. 'Are you all right?'

Her arms wound around his waist. 'I'm fine. What about you, what happened?' It had been an unusually quiet evening; now she knew why.

'I figured it out,' said Draco, with a note of triumph. 'I let them into Hogwarts. He's gone. You're safe now.'

She smiled at him. 'Of course I am, darling.' Narcissa looked over at Severus, who could see right through her, could see what she wanted, but he turned his eyes away and refused to give it to her.

She addressed her son. 'Others. You said others. Where are they?'

'There was a skirmish,' Severus said. 'We scattered so as to confuse our pursuers.'

'Won't they know you've come here?'

Severus spoke impatiently. 'Where is the first place Draco would go when he is in trouble?'

'He'd come home, of course.' She tightened her grip on her son, as if to emphasise the point.

'No doubt that is what they will also think. Which means this is the last place they would check. They will assume I was too clever to bring him here.'

Though she knew her home was as well protected as it was possible to be, still she shuddered at the thought of who might descend on them. She wondered if bringing him here was Severus's way of showing her that Draco was all right.

'What happens now?' she asked, afraid of the answer. Afraid of not knowing.

With an expressionless lift of his shoulders, Severus replied, 'Now we wait.'

Draco asked Severus, 'How long do you think it will take?' Severus shook his head. Narcissa supposed there was no telling.

She let go her son and asked, 'Can I get you anything, darling?'

Draco paused, as if the answer to that question was completely unexpected. 'I could murder a roast beef sandwich, actually.' Then he paused, eyes closed, and gave a tiny, self-conscious shake of his head.

Narcissa almost laughed. A roast beef sandwich was perfectly manageable. It was absurd how happy it could make her to do something small for him. 'Go and sit down.' She gestured towards the drawing room. 'I'll call an elf.'

Draco smiled at her gratefully. 'Severus?' she asked.

'Nothing for me, thank you,' he said, his voice dripping with irony. 'Draco, you should pack a bag. Once we are summoned, there's no telling how long we'll be gone.' Draco nodded.

Severus looked from mother to son and said, 'If you would excuse me for a moment.' Before Narcissa could say anything else, he strode down the corridor, disappearing through the washroom door.

'Will you need help, darling?' she asked Draco.

He shook his head. 'No. I'll be right back.'

'I'll be in the drawing room.' She squeezed his hand and watched him ascend the stairs.

Narcissa noted her shaking hands as she summoned a house-elf and requested a sandwich and a pot of tea. As the elf Disapparated, the shaking worsened and spread, until she was shivering violently. She tried to even out her breathing, repeating to herself 'he's alive he's alive he's alive'. She was seized with a sudden fear that if she went upstairs to his rooms, Draco would not be there. To dispel it, she rubbed her hands over her arms, wrapped the words around herself like a blanket (he's alive he's alive he's alive). The shivers would not stop.

Severus must have seen her standing there, though she had not heard him approach. He stayed back, as though he did not wish to get too close to her. 'You're shaking,' he said, as if she didn't know.

'Who...' She foundered. 'Who completed the task?' She meant, Please reassure me that my son has not committed murder.

'I did. As was his will.'

Of course, she thought. Because the Dark Lord willed it, not because I asked. It was a relief somehow. She did not care to question why.

'Thank you,' she said sincerely. They were paltry words in the circumstances. She had no others to offer.

He looked at her, hard; she refused to meet his eyes, knowing that if she did she would go to pieces. She thought, What have I done?

She said, 'I've tried to contact you.'

'I know,' he told her. His tone suggested he found her owls a nuisance. He hesitated, as if gathering his thoughts, before he said, 'I have fulfilled the Vow as it relates to Draco's task, and I will continue to keep him safe. So really, there is no need to ...'

She waited for him to continue, but he did not. 'To what?' she asked.

Severus, whose speech was always so careful, so deliberate, blurted out, 'You don't owe me anything, Narcissa.'

She was stunned. 'Do you honestly think I broke my marriage vows out of a sense of obligation?'

'I don't know why you did what you did.'

The truth was that she had a multitude of reasons, or justifications: she had been abandoned, she had no one she could trust, her husband would not see her, her sister had betrayed her, she was frightened, she was angry, she was weak, she could not have helped herself. The one thing that had not occurred to her was that she owed Severus...not in that way. And yet, here he was, suggesting that she had paid him in trade, like a whore.

She wanted to hurt him for it. 'I did it because I wanted to,' she said angrily. 'What was your excuse?'

He blinked, as if startled, and for a moment he looked like a man who has made a grave miscalculation. But his face quickly reclaimed its emotionless expression.

'I did not mean to suggest ...' he began.

'Mother?'

Narcissa stepped back from Severus and looked up to see Draco on the stairs, a suitcase in his hand. She looked over her shoulder into the drawing room, where a tray bearing a roast beef sandwich and a pot of tea waited on a side table.

She tried to smile. 'Your sandwich is ready,' she told her son.

His eyes flicked from her to Severus. 'Right,' said Draco, arriving on the bottom step. 'Thank you, Mother.'

'Shall we ...?' She must not look at Severus.

Before she could complete her thought, two things happened: Draco winced, and Severus said, 'This is it. The summons.'

Severus addressed Draco. 'We must not keep him waiting.'

Draco straightened his spine. 'I'm ready. I just need a quick word with my Mother.'

With a curt nod, Severus gestured to the front door. 'Hurry. I'll be just outside.'

Draco's eyes followed Severus out the front door before he turned to her. He wore a troubled expression. 'What just...I mean, what happened just now?'

She could barely hide her anxiety. 'Nothing, darling. I was trying to convince Severus to take me with you.' It surprised her how easy it was to lie to him, whom she loved so much. She dared not say more.

Her lie had the desired effect. 'Absolutely not. I want you here, where it's safe.' If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe it was Lucius speaking to her, until he asked, 'Can you shrink this for me? I never get it right.' He held up the suitcase with a sheepish half-smile.

She laughed and uttered the charm. As he tucked the suitcase into his pocket, he said, 'I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be fine.' He kissed her cheek...grim, determined...and stepped back. 'See you soon.'

'Be careful. Don't give him any cause to...'

'I won't,' he assured her. Narcissa watched through the window as Draco took Severus's arm. They turned in place until their two figures blended into the dark, indistinguishable.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Three days later, she got her husband back.

Just like that. One moment she was contemplating the breadth of her faithlessness over a scroll of parchment, the quill in her hand forgotten; the next moment the fireplace in the library blazed to life and Severus said, 'Narcissa, we're coming through.'

He then pulled back, and a moment later Rodolphus Lestrange stepped into the library, brushing the soot from his robes, followed a moment later by his brother, and then by Lucius.

He was unshaven and looked unsteady on his feet, his body not quite comfortable in robes that had fit him perfectly a year ago, the same robes he had been wearing when he last left the house. He was thin and pale, a structure comprised of bleached bones, as if the colour had been leached out of him. Severus came through last. Narcissa stood, insensible, at a complete loss for what to say.

Lucius's eyes found her. 'Cissa.'

All she could manage to articulate was, 'How?'

'Did no one ever tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?' replied Severus. 'Azkaban belongs to the Dark Lord now. In his generosity, he has granted a blanket amnesty to all political prisoners.'

Of course he would call it an amnesty, she thought. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, or weep with relief. Or both. At once.

'Cissy,' said Rodolphus. 'Where's my wife?'

'I'm sorry, Rodolphus, she's not here.'

He looked crestfallen. 'Where?'

'I couldn't say.'

Severus said, 'She will return by this evening.' He turned to Narcissa. 'There's to be a celebration.' Narcissa nodded.

'Lucius.' She stepped forward, sloughing off her shock, aware that she was grinning like a lunatic, aware that it was unseemly under the circumstances. And yet she did not care. He was home. He was rumpled and pale, bearded and unusually taciturn and home.

Shaking her head in amazement, she reached out to embrace him, but with a speed belied by his disoriented appearance, he caught her by the wrists. 'Don't,' he said. She regarded him, confused. 'I'm filthy,' he explained.

Her eyes flicked over to Severus, whose face was unreadable, a mask. What had he said to Lucius, she wondered.

Severus said, 'I'll just leave you to get reacquainted. See you tonight.'

Narcissa said nothing, only searched her husband's face. Lucius turned his head. 'Of course,' he told Severus as the other man stepped into the fireplace and vanished.

Lucius was still holding her wrists. At a small cough from one of the Lestranges, he released her.

Narcissa addressed her brother-in-law. 'I've put you and Bella in your usual rooms, Rodolphus. Please make yourself at home. Rabastan, your rooms are free. I'll send an elf.'

She should have shown them to their rooms herself, but she wouldn't let Lucius out of her sight. If she turned her back for too long, he might be gone again.

She turned to him, longing to touch him, wondering what to say. 'Perhaps we should...' she began. Lucius nodded and, wordlessly, he followed her to their rooms.

Arriving at the door, he hesitated. She opened it for him with a small smile and led him through the sitting room to their bedroom. He entered as if it were a room he'd never seen. His eyes darted about, and he sat down on the bed. He looked at a loss. Instead of removing his shoes and shrugging off his rumpled robes as he would have done before, he merely sat staring at his hands.

This is your home, she wanted to shout. I am your wife. Say something! Instead she asked, 'Are you hungry, darling? Shall I have a bath prepared, or ...?'

'I'll have to see the Dark Lord this evening. Severus said...'

Narcissa's chest tightened. She knew the fear that was coiling in his belly, having felt it herself every time she was called, and Lucius had so many reasons to fear the Dark Lord.

'What did Severus say?' she prompted, not because she wanted to know if her own name had been mentioned. Her betrayal stepped up beside her and tugged on her hand.

Lucius said, 'I have erred, and I am not forgiven.'

'Darling ...'

He looked up then, eyes focussed on her face as if really seeing her for the first time since he stepped through the Floo. 'Isn't there something you should be doing?' he asked mildly.

Confused, she asked, 'Doing?'

'Yes.'

'For a start, I should be with my husband, whom I haven't seen in a year.' She tried to make it a joke, but he was serious.

'Why are you still here?'

A cold flush spread over the back of her neck. Severus had told him. Warily she asked, 'Where else would I be, Lucius?'

He stared at his hands, which lay in his lap. 'I thought you would be gone by now,' he said, matter-of-factly.

'I don't understand.'

'You were going to leave me. I found the proof.' His tone suggested that his anger would be incandescent, if he could only summon the energy.

She shook her head, still confused. 'Lucius, you'll have to explain better than that.'

'I know about the accounts. You weren't exactly discreet. I stumbled on one of the statements while looking for a quill in your desk one day. Hundreds of thousands of Galleons, Narcissa, in your name alone. So I looked further. And what did I find? Seven different accounts, in Guernsey, Andorra, Reykjavik. All these years I have deferred to you in money matters. I have done exactly as you said, always. And this is how you repay me?' He spoke as if referring to another man's troubles, unfortunate but only vaguely interesting, in which he had no stake.

This was the last thing she had expected. 'Why didn't you say anything?'

'I meant to. I was furious, and I meant to confront you, but then'...he winced...'the Ascension Day incident occurred. And I began to think perhaps it would be better if you did leave. And take Draco. Especially if you didn't tell me where you were going, which seemed likely.'

By now his indifference had crumbled. He looked miserable.

Her voice was quiet. 'You never did tell me what happened that day.' What his Lordship did to you when he found out about that damned diary, she wanted to say. 'But let's stay on topic, shall we? Because I still don't understand. Is that why you refused to see me when I visited, or to answer my letters?'

'You sent letters?'

'Every week. And when I finally secured a Portkey to Azkaban, after considerable effort...do you have any idea how many palms I had to grease for that?...I arrived there only to be told that you wouldn't see me!'

'I didn't get the letters,' he said.

Narcissa felt a sense of relief on hearing this, as she had used it to reassure herself for a year now. But he was also avoiding her question.

'That's comforting,' she said, noting how hard she sounded. 'And you refused to see me why?'

'Oh,' he said. As if he'd only just remembered that. 'I couldn't face you.'

'You were that angry with me?' He was shaking his head, his lips soundlessly forming the word 'no', his eyes on the floor. 'So you left me to wonder what had happened to you? Why could you not face me?' she insisted.

He looked up, his expression incredulous. 'Are you serious? I knew you were unhappy, and when I thought of what you must think of me, the shame...'

She was growing exasperated. 'You didn't exactly ask me what I thought of you, did you? I was desperate for anything, a word, a glimpse of you. Something to reassure me you were alive. I thought they had quietly executed you and I'd never see you again. I felt like a widow! And now you tell me you left me hanging out of embarrassment? Do you really not...I could hex you right now for sheer stupidity, Lucius.'

'It's no worse than I've thought of doing to myself, I assure you.'

'You thought if you refused to see me...what? That I would just leave? Leave you?' To her complete astonishment, he nodded. 'And Draco? Did you really think he would leave you to rot in prison? Putting aside what you assumed about me...which I fully intend to get back to...how could you think such a thing, when your son has been risking his life for the chance to see you again?'

Now he looked as if she had hexed him; his shoulders had turned inwards, his head bowed.

'I didn't think of it that way. I can't explain it. In that place, my thoughts were...it made sense to me then. I couldn't see you, Cissa. I couldn't bear to think what I'd done to you and Draco. It would have felt selfish to me. I wanted to see you so much, but I didn't deserve to. I deserved to be removed from you. I am unworthy...'

She thought, This is not my husband speaking. I want my husband back.

She stood before him now, her face inches from his, refusing to let him look away. When he tried, she reached out and grabbed his chin, forced him to look her in the eye. 'Listen to me now. Listen.' Her eyes were hard, diamond bright. She spoke carefully so there could be no misunderstanding. 'You have never been unworthy.'

'Then why didn't you tell me about the accounts?'

She bit her lip. 'I was never going to leave you, Lucius. I want to be very, very clear about that. I would never leave you. I should have told you about the accounts. And they aren't the only thing I haven't told you about.'

Narcissa outlined her plan, starting from the beginning.

He sat in silence, but she could tell he was not listening, that he did not understand the importance of what she was saying. She held her breath, waiting for him to acknowledge her work. Finally:

'No,' he said flatly.

'Just like that, no?'

'No. I can't. We can't.'

'Lucius, be reasonable. We...'

The look he gave her told her she had grievously misjudged the situation. 'Be reasonable?' he threw back at her. 'Cissa, this is my home. Our home. Draco's. This is the only home we've ever known.'

She wanted to shout, It is a house. Bricks and mortar and history and enchantments, but still only a house, and a house will do us no good if we are all dead! But she knew better than to press him now and so was silent.

He shook his head. 'No, Cissa. Absolutely not. It doesn't matter. I can fix this. He's angry now, but he won't be forever. I was his right hand, and he needs me now. I'll do whatever I can to prove myself. If I can just get back in his good graces, things will be fine.'

'Lucius, I don't think...'

'What? You don't think I can turn this around?'

'That's not what I was going to say.' The turn of this conversation was beginning to alarm her. 'I was going to say that I don't think we should discount the possibility of...'

'I said no. This is my family's home, my birthright. It is our son's legacy, and I will not leave it. I cannot believe you would suggest such a thing.'

That stung. She had begun to fear that Lucius was truly broken, but the fire in him now told her he was not. She bit her tongue, was so accustomed now to biting it that she no longer felt the sting, nor tasted the blood. He was reluctant; she could understand that. But her resolve was not shaken. It would simply take work to convince him.

She decided to drop the subject of her plan and concentrate on the task at hand. 'You'll need to prepare for this evening,' she said. 'The first thing we should do is get you out of those robes.'

The corner of his mouth twitched. 'That eager, are you?'

In spite of herself, Narcissa smiled. This was the man she knew. She would be forgiven.

'There will be time for that later,' she told him. 'Let's just get you ready, shall we?'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After healing the worst (or perhaps only the most visible) of his injuries that night, she laid him, barely conscious, in their bed. Out of habit, she had spelled the door against entry by anyone but her son and promptly forgotten everything but Lucius.

Detachedly she wondered why, when she had been consumed by terror only hours ago as the Dark Lord raised his wand against her husband (Let this be a lesson to all of you), now she felt only numb, as if the fear had taken every other emotion with it when it moved on, leaving her burned out, hollow.

She stripped down to her knickers and camisole and crawled into bed beside him. He turned to her, shaking uncontrollably, and curled his body into hers as if seeking warmth. She put her arms around him and lent him the heat of her body to ease his shivers. If she could feel anything, she was certain her heart would be breaking.

He was saying something, his mouth against her breastbone. She pulled back, whispered, 'What was that, darling?'

'I'm cold.'

'I know. That's normal.' How did she know that? She couldn't remember.

She reached for her wand, but he caught her elbow. 'Don't go,' he said.

'I'm just getting my wand.' She stretched her arm to retrieve it from the bedside table and cast a warming charm around him. 'Is that better?' she asked.

He nodded. 'Stay with me.'

'I will, darling. I'm not going anywhere.' She kissed the top of his head and stroked his still-fine but no longer sleek hair. After a few more minutes, his shivers and his breathing eased. Thinking him asleep, she tried to disentangle her arms, but again he caught her and held her, his grip surprisingly tight. He was whispering something over and over, his mouth moving against her breast. It took a moment before she realised it was, '... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ....'

She bent down close to his ear and said, 'You have nothing to be sorry for.'

He shook his head and his nose brushed her nipple, which tightened in response. She scolded herself. They were surrounded by enemies, no longer safe in their own home; he had just been Cruciated within an inch of his life, and suddenly her knickers were growing damp. This was hardly the time.

But his hand was on the small of her back, the place he alone knew that she loved to be touched, his fingers clumsy but insistent. His mouth opened against the fabric covering her breast, his breath hot before his lips closed over her nipple, sucking through the thin cotton. The hand moving over her back slid downwards and pulled her flush against him, nascent erection pressed against her thigh. She froze, wanting what he was offering but concerned for his pain.

'Darling, I ...'

'... missed you,' he whispered fiercely, completing a thought she didn't know she was thinking.

He pushed ineffectually at her camisole. 'Take this off.'

Without questioning it, she sat up, pulled the camisole over her head and lay down again beside him, only to discover that in the moment it had taken to remove a garment, he had fallen fast asleep.

His body slackened, his face now relaxed. Aching, she lay in the dark and, for the first time in over a year, listened to her husband's quiet breathing. The house was silent. Narcissa moved to her side of the bed, keeping one hand on Lucius.

As she settled in to stare at the canopy...though exhausted, she knew sleep would not come easily...Lucius made a small distressed noise, a roar silenced before it could really begin.

She stroked his arm. 'It's all right, darling. I'm here.' Her words were coins dropped into the dry well of his unconscious despair; she listened for a long time to their silent descent, the ring and echo as they hit the hollow bottom and were still.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus knocked and entered, noting at once that, unusually, the torches and the fireplace were unlit. The only light entered through the library's windows, which she sat facing, her chair turned away from the door, her back to him. The sun had nearly set. A slim white arm perched on the chair's armrest, long-fingered hand idly twirling a wand. It was not until he had advanced several steps into the library that he realised the long-fingered hand had ragged and broken nails, knuckles enlarged from years spent in a damp cell.

'Looking for my sister, are you, Snape?' Bellatrix rose from her chair, her back still to him, and hissed his name, as if its texture on her tongue offended her.

'I was looking for Lucius.'

She found herself another chair, one that faced him, and sat down. Her wand continued to dance between her fingers, a diversion and a threat. She did not invite him to sit. Instead she asked, 'Would you believe me if I said they weren't here?'

He looked around the room, empty except for the two of them. 'As it happens, I had already surmised as much.'

'I meant in the house.'

'You know as well as I do they are not to leave the house.'

Severus noted a flicker of annoyance that yet another titbit of information she believed exclusive had been shared with him. He took no small satisfaction in that.

'Well,' she continued, 'I suppose you could say they are ... indisposed. Happy reunion and all that. Nothing you would want to disturb, I'm sure.'

She edged around his defences, subtle as a Vipertooth. Permitting her no entrance, he gave her a look that was viciously bland.

The wand paused in its circuit, then suddenly disappeared, a gesture he knew was meant to indicate that she did not find him threatening. Of course, he also knew the wand could reappear in her hand without warning, by which time he would have already been cursed.

With one elbow on each armrest, Bellatrix steepled her fingers beneath her chin. 'You wouldn't be thinking of challenging Lucius for her, would you? Wands at dawn...or better yet, a potion in his soup. That sounds more like you. You're not the romantic sort.'

'I have no idea what you mean,' said Severus. She was boring him.

'Now, now. We know things, you and I.' She spun the words out like a spider, slow and deliberate. 'For example, we both know that you know exactly what I mean. We both know that you are fundamentally an opportunist. I don't blame you, really. I realise you cannot help your low birth. But one's better nature cannot win out over one's self interest. Nothing with you comes for nothing, certainly not your protection.'

Her needling could not touch him; his truths lay behind doors locked to her. He said, 'Opportunism, as we both know, is hardly a question of birth. And you have a surfeit of imagination, Bellatrix.'

'Oh, I won't deny that I am imaginative. Just ask Yaxley how many bollocks he has these days.' A smile, girlish and ghastly, lit up her face. If she giggled, he would be forced to hex her.

The non-sequitur piqued his curiosity, but he would die before he asked what she meant. Instead, he quirked an irritated eyebrow and waited for the inevitable boast, thinking this ranked as one of the maddest conversations in a life of utterly mad conversations.

'That,' Bellatrix informed him, 'is what happens to filthy half-bloods who cannot keep their eyes or their hands to themselves.' For a second he thought the wand had reappeared, but even as he blinked, the object now arcing between her fingers became shorter, flatter, silvery at one end. 'If you so much as lay a finger on my little sister, I would have no compunction about making a necklace of yours.'

She held the knife still for a fraction of a second, allowing him to catch the glint off the blade, then it too disappeared...inserted into her sleeve no doubt. A Stygian trick.

He was not troubled. He thought, The things I could show you, you insufferable harpy. Had he been so inclined, he could have shown her images calculated to make her choke on her own monstrous bigotry, each more convincing than the last. A beautiful pair of hands scrabbling over his chest. A well-bred, mannerly mouth whispering filthy words in his ear. Narcissa rippling above him like a white flame, licking the salt of her unmaking from his lower lip with her wine-tart tongue. Such was the power of his mind. A witch like Bellatrix, powerful as she was, would be swallowed whole.

Without a trace of concern, he said, 'Why, Bellatrix, don't tell me you actually care what happens to another human being, even if she is your sister. I might think you've gone soft.'

Her hands lay with deceptive gravity on the armrests of her chair. 'Family always comes first,' she said without irony.

He chose his words with great care, ensured his inflection was flawless. 'Well, this certainly was ... instructive. Good evening, Bellatrix.'

Let her think she had given something away inadvertently. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa did not find it difficult to pretend she was not a hostage. The past year had granted her ample experience of avoiding reality. Lucius, having been released from Azkaban only to become a prisoner in his own home, found it more difficult.

Guards were brought in. No one referred to them as guards, but there was no mistaking their purpose. It was impossible to say how many there were exactly, because they frequently wore their masks on duty. They were only boys; from their voices and mannerisms, they couldn't be more than two or three years out of Hogwarts, hardly older than Draco. During the day, one of them shadowed Lucius around the house. At night, two would stand outside their bedroom door. They appeared to trade off so that the same boy never served daytime duty two days in a row. At first she found this confusing, but later she stopped thinking of them as human and began thinking of them as fixtures, like house-elves or part of the furniture. As such, the changes bothered her less.

She couldn't decide what it meant for the war effort that able-bodied soldiers could be spared for such a trifling matter as keeping an eye on the Malfoys. Perhaps they were winning, or perhaps the Dark Lord was foolish as well as mad after all.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After the meeting that night, Lucius sat for an hour without speaking, watching the fire she had conjured in the sitting room.

(Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore.)

He refused to look at her when she came to tell him she was going to bed. Narcissa wondered how much more they could reasonably be asked to bear.

They undressed in silence, as they had after the funeral of Abraxas Malfoy.

They lay, each on his or her own side of the bed, discrete units, and she wondered how the Dark Lord had managed to separate them. Lucius's scent had returned, now that he had his own aftershave and his elf-laundered clothes again. Having missed a year of his life, she breathed it in, hungry for details, but she could not speak.

In the dark he turned. She could feel the air displaced by his body...light, unsteady...as he shifted; the covers whispered around him. It was a turning towards, not a turning away, and she was grateful. She waited for him to say something.

'Cissa, why did you never tell me about the accounts? Really.'

It was the question she had been dreading. She wished she could say they were merely insurance, coins for a ferryman she hoped never to have to pay. But that would not have been the entire truth.

All the things she had not allowed herself to think through the long months without him, every poisonous sentiment never set to parchment, formed a barrier in her throat, iron-flavoured and intractable. She wished it would choke her and be done with it.

(You did this to us.)

(This is your fault.)

(You abandoned us.)

She swallowed hard. 'I didn't think we would ever need them.'

(You knew what he was capable of.)

(He's taken our son.)

(I may never forgive you for this.)

'You blame me, don't you?' asked Lucius.

'I did,' she admitted. 'When you were away, I cursed you for the situation we were in. But you couldn't have known it would come to this, could you?'

'No,' he said quietly and not without irony. She wondered if it really took losing his wand to make him see this course was a path to futility.

Weighed down by her own burdens, she decided to cut him free. 'I don't blame you, Lucius.'

A hand with wax paper skin reached across and travelled an unmarked path up her forearm until it held her hand and squeezed. His little gesture of thanks cut her open, and she cursed herself, knowing that forgiveness is easy to grant when you have something to repent yourself.

The knowledge of what she had done had settled like a lead-coloured bruise in her memory. She had wondered if it meant she did not love her husband, if it meant she loved Severus, if it meant that she was the sort of person she had always despised: a hypocrite. Then, on seeing Lucius step out of the Floo that day, she realised it meant only the latter, something that Severus could not have failed to notice and agree with.

'I said nothing about the accounts because ... honestly, I forgot all about them until Ascension Day. The money was sitting there, growing quietly all these years.' She knew her next words would strike at his pride, and she was sorry for it. 'After that day, I thought it best if there was no unnecessary information in your mind, should the Dark Lord choose to torture you again. I knew no one would question me to get such information. I didn't think of it as a secret. It was just part of administering our finances, as I've always done.'

'You didn't trust me.'

'I wanted to protect you.'

'Things are different now,' he said. 'We cannot have secrets from each other. If there's anything else you haven't told me, I wish you would tell me now.'

The bruise spread, dull and so deep it silenced her. She understood the urge to confess, to gain absolution; it trailed her like a shadow. It sat on her desk and turned the pages of her books before she could absorb the information written there; it perched on the edge of the bath, skimming cold fingers through the water, regarding her with baleful eyes. But she also knew this urge was entirely selfish and that Lucius would not thank her for indulging it.

'There's nothing else, is there?' he asked. 'I need you with me now. I need to know we stand together, with no secrets between us.'

She searched the dark for the place she thought his eyes would be. 'There is nothing. I stand with you. With Draco. You two are everything.'

The backs of his fingers grazed her cheek and found no tears there. He could not see her face in this light.

'That's what I wanted to know, Cissa.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As he left the drawing room, Severus was surprised to see Narcissa coming down the stairs. She looked equally surprised to see him. Her eyes scanned the hall, making sure they were alone. A low hum of voices emanated from behind the closed drawing room door; they had only moments, at best.

Severus asked, 'How is he?'

Quietly, she answered, 'He is not as he was.'

Severus frowned, appalled at the little drop of implication, of hope, that welled under his skin like blood at her choice of words.

She asked, 'Do you have any Dreamless Sleep?'

Annoyance at his own weakness made him abrupt. 'Which of you needs it?'

'What do you think?' she asked impatiently.

Anyway, it was a small drop and dried quickly when exposed to air.

'It matters in terms of the dosage,' he said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This had been Mother Malfoy's reading room. She had been a rather bookish woman, apparently. Narcissa had never truly known her. What little she knew of the woman's personality had been gleaned from the portraits, one of which presided over them now. Narcissa had forgotten the existence of this room until it had been co-opted by their houseguests. Once the furniture had been rearranged, it suited their purposes, as it was about the right size and contained a sufficient number of chairs for a small audience. Following the destruction of an antique side table and a lovely old writing desk, there was also sufficient floor space. The portrait of Lucius's mother, now permanently silenced, was merely a bonus.

'Please have a seat, ma'am.'

Narcissa's head snapped up. Normally the boys sent to do his Lordship's work weren't so polite. Normally they did not address her at all. Certainly, they did not invite her to take a seat for a spectacle that she would rather not witness. Fortunately, she was the only audience member today.

The boy had brown eyes that were warm, almost kind, and incongruous in his mask. He must be one of his Lordship's unnecessary sentries. He sounded young; he could not have been much older than Draco.

She knew that voice. Where had she heard that voice?

The boy was looking at Narcissa. 'Are you ...?' he began.

Am I what, little man? Am I comfortable? No. Am I getting ready to scream? Not if I can help it. Am I going to draw my wand and hex you into oblivion? I only wish.

Narcissa said nothing. Beneath his robes, it appeared the boy was shuffling his feet.

The numbers game was insufficient for these purposes. So instead of choosing a number, she concentrated on building an image of a place where she and Lucius and Draco would be safe. In her mind, she saw a whitewashed house that glittered beneath a strong, hot sun...a holiday sun, almost painfully bright, which glanced off a red tile roof.

The boy, all embarrassed courtesy, asked Lucius to remove his outer robes. Dead-eyed, vitiated, Lucius obeyed.

That voice, where had she heard it? Scanning her memory, Narcissa connected it with a party at the Flints'. Two years ago, was it? But he wasn't one of the Flint boys.

She glanced at Lucius, who was staring at the floor, waiting. How will he ever forgive me for witnessing this?

'Are you ready?' the boy asked Lucius. Lucius nodded.

Adrian! That was his name. George and Nathalie's son. He used to play Quidditch with Draco.

On the shady side of the house, she placed a bench, then added cushions. Blue, she decided, a calming colour.

The boy addressed her again, very quietly. 'If you would rather close your eyes, I won't tell them.'

Silently, Narcissa looked to her husband, who inclined his head towards her, a movement so slight that the boy did not notice. His expression was as blank as hers.

She added window boxes to the house and tried to decide which plants would be best suited to the climate, which would require the least amount of care.

'Crucio.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It took months, but Narcissa was patient even though it nearly killed her.

In the dead time after the New Year, with bare black branches stark against a grey sky outside the windows, Lucius said, 'Look around you.' He gestured at the portraits in the sitting room, generations of Malfoys looking on to see how this discussion would end.

She said, 'I've thought it out and...'

He said, 'This is my legacy...Draco's legacy...and I will not abandon it to a pack of jackals.'

She said, 'Can you think of another way?'

He said, 'We'll never survive.'

She said, 'We will. We have to.'

'You know what happened to Regulus.' He was shaking his head.

'Does anyone know what really happened to Regulus?'

Lucius paused. 'The Dark Lord...'

'I know the story,' she said, 'but I've listened to the others over the years, and I've yet to hear anyone claim credit for killing him. Have you?'

He shook his head.

She continued, 'I do know Regulus never said anything about a change of heart. He just disappeared one day, and later the Dark Lord said, 'Let this be a lesson to all of you.' But did anyone actually search for him?'

'Are you saying...'

'I'm saying, how do we know he isn't living a quiet life in Argentina right now?'

'How could he be? If he were alive, he'd have contacted you. At the very least, we would have heard from him after the Dark Lord vanished, when we all thought him dead.'

'I've thought of that. There's no easy answer, because he should have contacted us. It would be unforgivable to let his mother die of grief the way she did if he were alive somewhere. Unless he thought we'd turn him over.' It pained her to think it, but she could find no other explanation for her cousin's failure to come to her. And she was certain he would have done, unless he really was dead, which was unthinkable.

She asked, 'What if he was afraid of us, or of Bella? What if he got so far away he didn't hear of the Dark Lord's disappearance? The point is we don't know what really happened. But I doubt he was killed by Death Eaters; if that were the case, they'd have crowed about it. They'd have laid his body somewhere and set the Mark over it, and we know that didn't happen, or the Dark Lord would be tormenting us with his desertion now.' She sighed. 'I think he escaped, and I think we have a real chance of escaping, too.'

'You've thought a lot about this.'

'I've had nothing but time. Everything's in place.'

He looked thoughtful. 'All right. Even assuming I agreed, we still have the problem of that ... thing he's put on you.' Lucius still took it as a personal insult that the Dark Lord had put a tracking device on his wife; part of Narcissa bristled at being patronised as such, and part of her found it almost sweet.

'There has to be a spell to remove it, something that won't let him know it's been removed.'

'How would we take Draco out of school unnoticed?'

She swallowed. 'Severus will help.' She did not mention what she was prepared to do in exchange.

'I don't know, Cissa. If I had a wand ...'

Every discussion led to this, and this was where every discussion ended. She held his eye, willing him to understand, to help her.

He said, 'When I was twenty, this was all so simple. I thought I was doing the right thing, and somehow I involved myself...not just myself, now I've involved you and Draco in something...I risked the two most important people in the world, and for what?'

'You aren't the only one who thought this was the right path,' Narcissa replied. 'I believed in him, too.'

'The world we were trying to build, all our dreams, our ideals. It's just so much dust now, isn't it?' His despair was palpable. He reached for her, threaded his fingers through hers. 'There was a time when I was sure I would be Minister for Magic by the age of thirty,' he said.

She smiled, sadly, thinking that perhaps this was what one did at their age: compared one's erstwhile expectations and dreams to reality and mourned. She was still half in love with the ambitions of their early marriage, though she should long since have purged them.

'And I was to be your most trusted adviser,' she chimed in.

He said, 'You have always been my most trusted adviser.'

She squeezed his hand. 'As you have been mine.'

'We've got to get that thing off you,' Lucius said.

'It can't be impossible. If we apply ourselves, we should be able to figure it out.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Narcissa leaned her head against the back of her chair, letting the heat from the fire and the quiet voices in the background lull her almost into sleep. They sat in the drawing room, Severus and Lucius discussing the current situation in hushed tones, Draco listening attentively, each of them with a snifter in his hand. (Draco had been particularly pleased to be included in Lucius and Severus's old ritual, she had noted.) It had been a quiet day, a rare, almost singular occasion, as they were alone in the house...Bella and Rodolphus having disappeared with a whole host of others the previous evening. Narcissa had even been coaxed down the stairs for dinner. Their evening had proceeded as it would have before, in the time between wars. With Lucius and Severus conversing quietly, Narcissa was happy to listen and contribute the odd comment. She felt almost at peace, watching the fire trace itself into ribbons and shadows in the hearth.

Her reverie ended abruptly when she heard the front door, and Bella appeared in the hall outside the drawing room. 'Well, isn't this cosy?' she asked.

Narcissa stiffened, noting that Lucius suddenly looked more alert, more cautious. Draco sat up straighter. Only Severus remained unruffled, undisturbed. He sipped his Armagnac and regarded Bella with detached boredom.

'Bella,' Narcissa greeted her, trying to cover her awkwardness. 'I didn't realise you were back. Where's Rodolphus?'

Bella responded with a dismissive 'How should I know?' She dropped into a chair, perfectly at ease, and stretched out her long legs. 'Snape. I'm surprised to see you here. Shouldn't you be twisting young minds to your own ends or something?'

'Bella,' Narcissa said warningly.

Severus smirked. 'It's the Easter holidays, Bellatrix. Even I have to take the evening off once in a while.'

'So what are we discussing?' asked Bella, all studied nonchalance. 'Anything interesting happening on the first floor these days, Lucius?'

'Give it a rest, Bella.'

'Cissy, I was merely trying to be friendly to your husband, and look how he treats me. Why, you'd think he had no manners whatsoever.'

Narcissa resolved not to let her sister bait her. 'Bella, if you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, you need not stay. I'm sure you'd be bored silly by this conversation.'

'On the contrary, I think this conversation could be quite interesting. These two have a lot to talk about, don't you think, Cissy?' Bella shot a pointed look at her sister. 'They have so much in common.'

Narcissa began, 'Bella...'

But Lucius cut across her. 'Your sister is quite right, Narcissa. Why, right this moment, Severus and I are both wondering what the hell Bellatrix is talking about.'

Bella's eyebrow arched. 'You know, Lucius, I've never understood your relationship with Snape. You were such a high-flyer once, and now this filthy half-blood has eclipsed you in every way. Considering everything that happened while you were away, it surprises me that your outsize ego can tolerate having him around.'

Lucius leaned forward in his seat. 'Severus has been a very good friend to us, Bella, and I would ask you to address him with a bit more respect.'

The tip of Bella's tongue touched her bottom lip. 'Oh, I quite agree that Snape's certainly been an excellent friend to Cissy. Haven't you, Snape?' She reached for her pocket.

Severus remained perfectly still, but Lucius made a small involuntary movement, then quickly realised she was feinting.

Bella laughed. 'You weren't going for your wand, were you, Lucius?'

Lucius looked from Bella to Narcissa, who should have anticipated that Bella would eventually do something like this, though Narcissa could have cursed her for doing it in front of Draco. As Narcissa was thinking of what to say, Lucius looked a question at her, but he turned away before she could answer with a silent gesture.

'What are you trying to say, Bella?' Lucius demanded. 'Spit it out.'

Severus spoke up. 'Oh, is this the first you've heard of your sister-in-law's pet theory? What she's trying to say is, I've been carrying on a torrid affair with your wife. So sorry you had to find out this way, old friend,' Severus said drily. 'Of course, according to Bellatrix, I'm also meant to be taking orders from Dumbledore's portrait and passing secret messages to ... Kingsley Shacklebolt, was it? Isn't that what you told the Dark Lord, Bellatrix?' Narcissa could see that Bella was taken aback, though she covered it quickly. Severus looked over at Lucius. 'You can imagine how well that information was received.'

Bella sniffed. 'It is not my place to question why he would take the word of someone who used to listen at keyholes for a living,' said Bella. She looked at her sister. 'You were right, Cissy. This conversation is frightfully dull.' Bella stood up and delivered her parting shot.

'Draco,' she said with a meaningful nod, 'you should tell your father what you told me.' She looked from Severus to Narcissa, then turned and left.

After she had gone, Lucius looked at Draco. 'What did she mean, "tell your father what you told me"?'

Narcissa scanned their faces: Lucius looked unconcerned, as if he expected no different from Bella. It was impossible, as always, to tell what Severus was thinking. But Narcissa had schooled her son in the art of Occlumency, and to her eye, Draco looked as if he were weighing his father's happiness in the palm of his hand.

Draco shook his head. 'I honestly don't know, Father. Aunt Bella says the maddest things sometimes.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That night Lucius stayed her hand as she was about to utter the spell to unbutton the back of her dress. Standing behind her, his breath tickling her neck, he unbuttoned it himself, then pushed it off her shoulders and slid the fabric over her hips. It pooled on the floor at her feet. In silence, she lifted her arms and allowed him to pull her camisole over her head so that when she turned, she stood before him, bare-breasted in the cool air. She thought about how long it had been and felt herself blush. He kissed her then, with a ferocity he had not shown since his return from Azkaban. With a wordless request, he borrowed her wand and dispatched his own clothing, pulling her towards the bed.

She felt the edge of their bed against the backs of her legs. His hands at her waist insisted that she lean back so that her legs dangled over the edge; his fingers sought out the soft skin on the inside of her thighs. His eyes tracked her movements. Still standing, he leaned down to kiss her again. Somehow she was reminded of nights on the far side of the lake at Hogwarts, out after curfew, the reverent way that he had touched her when they were new to each other. His index finger traced a gentle line over her sex, separated from her flesh only by the thin fabric of the knickers she still wore.

He knelt before her and rubbed his cheek against the inside of her thigh. Leaned back on her elbows, she felt his stubble raise gooseflesh over her entire body. He held her eyes as he Banished her knickers. His tongue darted out, opened her further.

He knew her well. He lapped at her with maddening deliberation. All the while, he was gauging her reactions: her shallow breaths, the flush in her cheeks. Her eyes were closing, but just as she was about to peak, he turned away. Again she felt his stubble on her thigh and mewled in frustration.

On his knees before her, he brought her to the brink again and again denied her. 'Lucius, please ...' she hissed.

Between provocative little jabs of his tongue, he whispered the same late-night words he had whispered a hundred times over the course of their marriage: 'No one else could make you come undone like this.'

Her breathing quickened; a knot of anxiety tightened in her belly, but she returned his gaze, desire and dread working in tandem. Yet he was smiling now, so like his previous self. He dipped his head again and pushed her to the brink a third time, but this time he let her tumble over so that she lost the poisonous thread of those thoughts. He brought her down gently, kissed her thighs, rested against her skin until the trembling subsided.

'Come here,' she said, sliding back to make room for him.

'I want you on top,' he said as he stretched out beside her, 'like in that hotel in Djerba, remember?'

'Yes,' she breathed, memories of their tenth anniversary passing through her like tremors as she moved over him.

Afterwards, he pulled her to him and pressed her back to his chest, nuzzling her neck. Despite her previous unease, she now felt languorous, well-loved and relaxed.

As she sank deliciously towards sleep, she thought he whispered, 'When all of this is over, wouldn't it be wonderful to have another child?'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco woke him out of a dead sleep with an unbelievable racket from the fireplace.

When he stepped through the Floo, Severus found himself in an unfamiliar room. The portraits, each in a frame bearing the Malfoy crest, icy blond occupants regarding the new arrival with interest, suggested that he was somewhere in the Manor. Through a doorway to his left, he noted an enormous four-poster bed and wondered briefly if this was the master suite.

Narcissa sat with Lucius on a sofa, supporting him as he vomited blood into a basin on his lap. Lucius appeared only half-conscious. Without flinching, Narcissa Vanished the mess.

She looked up, relief flooding her face when she saw him. 'Severus.'

Lucius looked as though he'd been mauled by a bear. One eyebrow was split; the skin around the eye beneath was swollen, darkened. His good eye was closed. There was a smear of blood on his chin where Narcissa had wiped it. His fingers appeared to have been slammed in a door. Severus opened his bag. 'What happened?'

'You shouldn't have called him,' said a voice from the corner. Bellatrix, venomous but serene, fixed her dark eyes on Severus. She was pale and shaking, as if she had been Cruciated, but trying to hide it. 'There's no reason to interfere with the Dark Lord's just punishment.'

'Are you really going to trouble him with this?' Narcissa hissed at her sister. She turned to Severus. 'I don't know what happened. They took him into the drawing room and closed the door. They were in there for hours. I've no idea what they did to him.'

'Dolohov?' Severus asked, wondering what was really going on.

Draco spoke up. 'Yeah, him and Greg's dad.'

That was all Severus needed to know. It was exactly like Dolohov...sadistic, predictable and unimaginative...to use a sanguinary curse on an unarmed man. Goyle, always useless with a wand, was probably the source of Lucius's split eyebrow, black eye, and numerous other bruises. It could have been worse.

Severus drew his wand. 'Draco, get the Blood-Replenishing Potion out of my bag. Narcissa, keep him upright.' He began the incantation as the boy took the potion from his bag. When Draco held up the correct bottle, Severus nodded without taking his eyes off Lucius and without breaking the chant. Draco held the bottle to his father's lips just as what looked like another pint of blood came up. The boy pulled back, looking queasy, but then deftly tipped the potion down Lucius's throat. Again Narcissa Vanished the blood. Bellatrix observed all of this without lifting a finger to help.

Lucius's head rested against Narcissa's shoulder. Her trembling hands were white around his waist, her lips moving against his ear. If she was whispering to him, it was so quiet that Severus could not hear her. Having cast the spell to counter Dolohov's curse, Severus waited to ensure it had worked. He watched as Lucius's breathing slowed and contemplated whether to heal the injuries to Lucius's face. Bellatrix was right: If Lucius had been punished for some transgression, the Dark Lord would not be pleased at what he had done here. Instead, he cast a nonverbal charm to determine whether Dolohov had inflicted any other unpleasantness on Lucius. Satisfied that Lucius had no further internal injuries, Severus began the work of setting the bones in his hands.

All the while he kept an eye on Narcissa, who was still whispering almost silently in Lucius's ear. Severus had seen her calm her husband merely by laying her hand over his. The only person in his life who had ever had that power lay now in her grave, put there by a handful of careless words.

Bellatrix said, 'You realise I'll have to report this.'

Severus closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He did not need to look at her to know the expression of triumph she wore when he asked, 'And why is that, Bellatrix?'

'Lucius is persona non grata. The Dark Lord's word is law, Snape. I should not have to tell you that.'

Narcissa looked at her son. 'Draco.' At some gesture Severus had not caught, Draco moved forward and shifted his father's weight from his mother's arms. Narcissa rose from the sofa and went to stand before her sister. Again, her voice was inaudible to anyone but the person she addressed, but Severus noted that her wand remained in her hand. A moment later, Bellatrix shot her sister a look full of malice and left the room.

Narcissa looked resigned when she returned to the sofa. Draco had settled himself in her place, supporting his father. Narcissa went down on her knees and laid her hand on Lucius's arm. Draco's eyes darted between Severus and his mother.

'Will he be all right?' Narcissa asked.

Severus put a hand on Lucius's chest, felt the even rhythm of inhalation and exhalation. He nodded. 'What did you say to Bellatrix?' he asked.

With a turn of the head, Narcissa replied, 'It's between Bella and myself.'

'Do you think she'll tell anyone?' asked Draco.

Narcissa's eyes were on Lucius. 'No. Then again, with Bella, one never knows.'

'We should put him to bed,' Severus said.

As if waking from a dream, Narcissa nodded. She said, 'I'll do it.' Wand in hand, she levitated her husband into the next room. As she settled him in the four-poster bed, Severus reached into his bag and handed Draco three more bottles of Blood-Replenishing Potion.

'Hang on to these; he might need them later.' He regarded the boy carefully. 'Would you like to tell me what precipitated this?'

Draco looked ill, very like he did last year when he was planning an assassination he couldn't possibly carry out. 'It's a long story,' he said. 'But the short version is that Potter was here, and then he escaped.'

Severus felt a prickle of dread. 'Draco, where is your wand?'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Alecto Carrow charged into the Headmaster's office with Draco in tow, Severus had the good sense to act surprised.

'What have we here?' he asked disinterestedly.

'Out after hours.'

'Where did you find him?'

'In the corridor leading to the Slytherin dormitories.'

Severus addressed Draco. 'Coming or going, Mr Malfoy?'

'I was returning to my dormitory, sir. I lost track of time while studying in the library.'

Alecto piped up. 'See, that's what he told me, only I don't believe that.'

Severus told her, 'I will deal with him.'

'You sure, Snape? I can take care of this.'

'I quite believe you would like to, Alecto. But based on his family ties, he is my responsibility. You may go.' He turned to Draco, noting how the boy's eyes avoided Dumbledore's portrait. 'Mr Malfoy, you will remain standing. This may take a while.'

As soon as Alecto left, Severus rounded on Draco. 'Explain yourself.'

'My mother asked me to give you something.' The boy looked around at the portraits on the walls of the Headmaster's study; a scrap of parchment appeared in his hand. Taking a quill from the desk, he hurriedly wrote on the parchment, then folded it and handed it to Severus. 'You should read it now.'

Severus took the parchment without looking at it. Bemused, he asked, 'You could not have found another way to pass me this note?'

'When?' the boy exclaimed. 'How? I've looked for you for two weeks trying to tell you this. It's not like I see you in class anymore.'

'So you got yourself sent to the Headmaster?'

Draco gestured at the parchment. 'I had to deliver that,' he insisted.

Severus debated the merits of instructing Draco on the potential consequences of his actions. (And what if the delightful Miss Carrow had disregarded protocol? What if she had taken matters into her own hands? What would I tell your mo...your parents?). He decided the boy would probably not listen anyway. Severus unfolded the parchment. It contained an address he had never heard of, a spidery 'D. Malfoy' appearing just below. Nothing else was written there.

Severus opened his mouth to ask what the boy thought he was playing at, but Draco held up a hand and said quickly, 'Don't read it out.' He looked around again at their painted audience. 'You'll remember it?' Draco asked.

The Knut dropped.

It took Severus a moment to answer. 'Yes.'

'Good.' A tap of Draco's wand...Narcissa's wand...and the parchment incinerated itself in Severus's hand. 'Now I've passed on the secret.'

'You might have warned me before doing that,' Severus growled, irritated that he had only just realised the reason, aside from the obvious, that Narcissa had wanted him to make that Vow, why she needed her son's soul intact. 'And if I should ever come calling, will I find your family ensconced in this place?'

'No. It's yours.'

'But you are the Secret Keeper.'

'I promise not to call uninvited.'

Severus shook his head, unsure whether to be amused or disgusted. 'Who else knows the secret?'

'No one. Not even my parents.'

'Unless you tell them.'

'I won't. Not without your permission.'

'Can I trust you?'

'I give you my word as a Malfoy.'

Severus sank into the Headmaster's chair, his head throbbing. 'Can I at least trust you to get back to the dungeons without being seen?'

Draco smiled and cast a Disillusionment charm. 'I'll be careful, I promise,' said his disembodied voice. Severus had to admit he'd learnt it well.

Just like his father, pompous little show-off, thought Severus.

Severus said to the empty air, 'Try to look properly punished when you see the Carrows tomorrow.'

'Yes, sir.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The house was in an uproar, the Dark Lord's entire army mobilising for the inevitable conflict. Time was running short.

In the chaos Severus pressed three small phials into Lucius's hand.

'What are these?'

'Antivenin,' Severus answered, 'containing a certain coagulant. It has not been field tested, but I am relatively certain it is effective. One for each of you. Just in case.'

(If only we had had more time.)

'You don't think ... ?'

'No. I think it unlikely you would ever need it. But to be on the safe side, you should each carry one. Do you have any Blood-Replenishing Potion left over?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Keep that handy, too.'

Lucius nodded. 'Thank you,' he said. 'Do you...?' he began, but seemed to think better of the question.

Severus, who knew what his friend was asking, merely smiled. 'I'll see you soon,' he said and was gone.