The Aftermath of the Evening

Lester Qualmsick looked intently at Nagini.

"What a difference a day does make – I hardly recognised you when I first set eyes on you this evening... This attire is much more worthy of your beauty. Except for that mark on your face." Lester took two drinks from a self-hovering tray slowly floating nearby. Handing one to Nagini, he enquired, "What did you do to incite Abraxas' anger? It doesn't take much, granted – I did warn you about that from the very beginning if my memory serves me correctly..." He sipped at his elf-made wine. "And it always does. I warned you at our very first private consultation. I thought you were intelligent enough to heed such a vital warning."

Nagini looked directly at him. "Well, I'm not."

"I suspect you're upset by something – what did that young cur Lestrange do? He seemed quite self-satisfied, whereas you were clearly distressed by his demeanour."

Nagini said nothing and turned away.

"And you're quite unsettled by my presence as well. Now, that distresses me. And I won't allow it to continue." Lester leaned forward to enquire softly, "Why are you so upset to see me, Nagini? After all we've been through together? All you've shared with me?"

"I didn't share." Her voice was trembling as much as her lips were. "I was forced to tell you."

Suddenly Qualmsick hissed, "I never forced you to do anything; it was all of your own volition."

"What choice did I have?" she replied, unable to control the bitterness searing through her. "What real choice have I had since I first met you?"

"Ah, so Abraxas has told you; he led me to believe that he had not."

"Told me what?"

Lester Qualmsick's smooth reserve faltered for a second. His long, silver eyelashes fluttered. "Why, my dear girl, of our agreement, of course."

She turned and looked at him.

"Your apprenticeship with me, as my bonded familiar."

"Your bonded what?" Her voice rose in shock.

"Please calm yourself, Miss Malfoy; don't become overly excited – we're not alone as we were in our lovely room at the Ministry, your lovely cell. I had thought all would have been explained and solidified by now, but I see Abraxas has been negligent in the matter, preoccupied with his son's affairs, as well as yours, no doubt."

Qualmsick sighed. "It's a forgivable oversight, though a matter of concern in light of your evident consternation at your future profession."

"My future profession? As what?"

Lester Qualmsick didn't answer straight away, first letting his eyes slowly roam over her appreciatively before answering, his gaze belying his words. "As I just said, as my apprentice, which will, naturally, lead to you becoming a practising barrister in your own right, or I daresay, a future Wizengamot judge; although, as you'll soon find out, it's much more satisfying to control the Wizengamot than be controlled by it."

In the uncomfortable silence, Nagini forgot herself and took a sip of the spiked elf-made wine.

"The power is beyond anything you've ever experienced," promised Lester. "Surely that in itself appeals to your – unique – sensibilities."

Feeling a slight tingling course through her, suddenly strengthening her confidence, Nagini asked, "To what do I owe being chosen for such a privilege?"

"You're a lucky girl; that's what it boils down to," he pointed out sharply. "You see, the prosecution had approached me and asked me to oversee their council, to assist in prosecuting you." He sneered. "Bartemius Crouch or Abraxas Malfoy? Decisions, decisions..." Qualmsick let out a long sigh. "My poor dilemma. What was I to do? But Abraxas and I go way back, so Abraxas' claim on my professional services and loyalty tilted me in your favour." The timbre of his voice dropped low and husky. "I definitely knew Fate had brought you to me."

Feeling an unrestrained freedom, Nagini belligerently challenged the esteemed barrister. "How do you know anything for 'definite'? Your whole life is speculation. Mere parasitic speculation. Otherwise, you'd truly know that nothing is definite!"

"You are so very wrong, my impudent girl. One thing is positively definite. If I had chosen to assist old Barty in prosecuting you, at this very moment, you, my dear girl, would be a mindless lump of quivering flesh under a Dementors' Kiss, instead of sitting here, drinking the finest elf-made wines and looking so demurely tempting, dressed as captivatingly as you are, mingling with the upper echelons of Wizarding society!"

Nagini's mouth went dry, and she shuddered. A mindless lump of quivering flesh under a Dementors' Kiss...

Whether it was the spiked wine or her own uncontrollable will, she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Then why?"

"Why?"

"Why did you defend me if you believe I'm guilty?"

Qualmsick smiled lewdly for a second then masked his features with a facile expression.

"Here's your first lesson about the law: when taking on a case, one doesn't look at whether or not someone is guilty; I've never cared about the accused, one way or another. One looks at which side will serve one's personal interest the best. It's true. I couldn't have cared less if you'd confessed to using Incendio or Avada Kedavra on Mr Von Sturmberg at Durmstrang; your innocence or guilt were irrelevant to me. What I considered was what's in this for me, Lester Qualmsick?"

He sighed, as if bored. "You must understand: I'm a very simple man, Nagini. With very simple needs. Very practical." Lester sniffed slightly and snidely admitted, "I had to admit to myself, 'Not much. Not much at all.'"

He smiled sardonically at Nagini.

Nagini's face burned red, flushed with a muddled humiliation which ebbed, replaced by a creeping dread with each passing second. She could do nothing but sit and listen to him.

Enjoying her embarrassment, Qualmsick continued on with his self-amusing analogy, "But then a little voice spoke out: Old debts! Let old debts be paid – once and for all. 'Old magic ways for debts to be repaid'," he quoted in a sing-song voice. Then, sombrely he stated, "Yes, let restitution be made."

"Restitution?" Now, Nagini was thoroughly confused. She lashed out in frustration, "What has this to do with me? Abraxas told me he paid you for your services – paid you very well!"

Nastily, Lester snarled, "Restitution and retribution, Miss Malfoy!"

"I had never met you before the day you entered my cell at the Ministry. You hadn't even known I existed – what have I to do with you?" she demanded, unable to keep her voice from rising.

"Restitution for what should have been mine! Retribution for a deed unfulfilled, a vow betrayed. But now it shall be repaid." Qualmsick's features hardened. "When I first met you, I wasn't sure whether you'd be of any real use or further interest – let alone value to me, but it became quite clear after our very first session that, besides your corporeal charms, you were uncannily intelligent. Such a clever, lovely cunning girl, and so talented." He gave her a look which revolted her. "How could I refuse such just recompense? Then, with each revelation of your magical prowess, your gifts which other wizards have spent their lifetimes attempting to acquire, it sealed my decision. Only to rein in your peculiar inability to be tamed which, as your illustrious past has revealed, needs controlling."

Lester leant in, as if in confidence. "Just as that young whelp, Lestrange, admitted, so do I love a challenge."

Amused by her taciturn unresponsiveness, he whispered, "You are wild, mercurial, my little Metamorphmagus, like the law, constantly changing, adapting to what's at hand." Lester inhaled and exhaled deeply. "A wild energy to be tamed... But you will be my private, intimate wildness: you will be my bonded familiar; I will cultivate you to be a true force to be reckoned with within our Wizengamot circles."

"No... never..." rasped Nagini.

"No?" Lester remarked matter-of-factly, "You will never utter that word to me ever again. I will break you, my girl. I will break you then mould you in my own image, set you in our society, where you are, by nature, meant to be. You will not slip through my fingers... as Lucretia did..."

"My mother?"

"Yes," he softly hissed. "An unfulfilled betrothal..."

"I'm not her," whispered Nagini.

"No, you're not; you're so much more; she was so much less. I'm quite the fortunate wizard." For a moment, Lester seemed lost in a daydream, reminiscing of a time gone by. Then his face seemed to excite at a realised notion. "With your Metamorphmagus gift, imagine the possibilities! When you're sitting pretty, atop the Wizengamot, or even as my dearest consultant, you'll thank me beyond all measure."

Nagini turned to look at him, speechless at his outrageous imaginings.

"In the end, all has worked out well for all involved: old debts repaid and new endeavours to be enjoyed; Abraxas' gratitude, as well as his son's, will be mine for the rest of their lives. In the end, I win."

Abraxas had looked over at Qualmsick and Nagini; his niece seemed calm, very attentively listening to Lester. He relaxed with relief. She's taking this better than I thought she would. Good, there's nothing like solving two problems in a single step. Abraxas would get rid of the girl once and for all, separate from his and Lucius' lives, and amends would finally be made for the betrothal bond promised to Lester but dishonoured so long ago. Hereafter, the girl would be Qualmsick's problem. Abraxas could wipe his hands clean of Nagini, as well as his sister's memory, at long last.

However, Abraxas had misconstrued Nagini's attentiveness. She sat frozen, listening, but was light-headed and horrified.

"I realise it may be difficult, at first, for you to take it all in at once," Lester said with a smile, "difficult for you to accept taking honourable responsibility for your part in this, but once you think on the matter thoroughly, you'll comprehend the equity of it all; you are an intelligent girl, aren't you, Nagini? I have the utmost faith in your seeing sense."

She felt his firm fingers touch her chin to tilt her face to his.

"There'll be plenty of time for things to fall into place, little by little. Your apprenticeship begins immediately this summer, after Hogwarts. Abraxas and I have already arranged the legalities and other technicalities regarding your wardship; he'll turn over your guardianship to me."

"Please, don't."

Nagini cast her eyes down, unable to further bear being an audience to his wishes, to further pretend she was accepting or agreeing with anything he was saying. Or doing.

"Modesty doesn't become you, nor will it be useful in your future profession, so I wish you to cease trying to use it on me, at once. Don't ever dare to pretend with me, Nagini – It is quite distasteful."

"I'm not pretending – I don't want to..."

"Don't lie – to me or, more importantly, to yourself!"

"I'm not lying..."

"Everyone lies, Nagini. I lie all the time. I lied about you...lied for you."

"You lied for me?"

"I emphasised selective pieces of hard evidence about the chain of events. Mere technicalities – they make the strongest impressions on the simple-minded – but of the utmost importance. Technically, you were charged with using an Unforgiveable. And, technically, you had not used one. In law, there is circumstantial evidence and cold, hard facts; which of these can you manipulate to influence the minds of the Wizengamot? Which strategy will affect their shrewd, caustic little brains the most? I made a choice. Just as you made a choice," he pointed out.

Nagini could barely breathe as she whispered, "Which choice are you talking about?"

Lester sat forward, closer to her, his oppressive presence seemingly encircling her; he lifted a fallen, curl up away from her cheek and gently around her ear, his fingertips lingering on her soft earlobe. She then felt his fingertips slowly caress downward along the softness of her neck.

He gently reminded her, "Your choice to let me kiss you."

Nagini heard a rushing in her ears and felt like she was plunging heavily into deep water, dizzy and out of control.

Savouring her swooning reaction, Lester emphasised, "Your choice to let me be the first to truly kiss you."

**************

It happened so quickly. Nagini was only aware of Abraxas' fingernails clawing into her flesh, gripping and tugging her to him, her wine glass shattering to the floor, and then Disapparating.

Nagini had swirled around in a flash and, before she knew it, had slapped Lester Qualmsick in the face so hard his drink had fallen out of his hand, splattering everywhere.

Abraxas and Nagini Apparated to her boudoir. His nails pressed into her arms, and they stood frozen, staring at one another, Nagini panting shallowly from the pain and intense fear.

It had all happened so fast.

"You slapped him..." Abraxas' enraged voice was an unstable thin pitch. "You dared to slap him... like a filthy Muggle... in front of everyone..."

Nagini looked up at Abraxas' stretched face, deathly pale and quivering in repressed emotion. Slowly, he hoarsely whispered, "I'll show you what a real Muggle punishment is..."

Not having a wand, but with her deepest wish combined with her Metamorphmagus powers, Nagini transfigured herself into her Animagus form.

Abraxas jumped back in surprise, his niece having dissolved and morphed; he now faced a rearing, hissing serpent of substantial size. But Abraxas was only unnerved for a second before he retaliated against his niece. Wrathfully, Abraxas sent a spell at the Animagus, hitting the creature full force. What followed was a painful, grotesque transfigurement of a half-morphing: Nagini's reptilian form slowly distorted and throbbed before coagulating back into some semblance of her human form, but it stalled mid-transformation.

"You abomination!" roared Abraxas. "You dare to try to intimidate me? Infinite Animagus!" he commanded, and an ear-piercing scream erupted from amidst the remaining serpentine hissing, the force of the spell wrenching the involuntary full transfiguration. Once Nagini was solidly in human form, Abraxas whispered another spell, and the now convulsing Nagini clawed at her neck as if an invisible force was strangling her. She felt the warm sensation of her own blood run down her neck as her fingernails desperately attempted to arrest the invisible force, but to no avail; the smothering, crushing sensation against her windpipe propelled her into darkness.

*******************

Abraxas' purged wrath and punitive action was quick, merciless, effective.

Nagini's body lay motionless and bleeding.

Abraxas' punishment lasted a mere seven minutes, his anger quickly dissipating; he'd used physical punishment as a way of working through his anger – it being more satisfying than magic at that moment, exhausting his inner demons. Quickly cleansing any traces of blood and straightening his robes, Abraxas left Nagini's chamber and returned to the dinner party.

What he left behind was an unconscious Nagini: flogged senseless by a Muggle cat o' nine tails. Her naked torso shone with multiple lacerations, her back reduced to bloody strips of flesh intermingled with torn cloth from the inflicted punishment.

********************

"Severus," called Lucius cheerfully. "Excuse us for a moment, will you?" the blond wizard asked, politely smiling and escorting Severus away. "My father just needs to ask you something; we'll be right back. He's over here," Lucius informed, steering Severus from the group towards the side of the room. Lucius manoeuvred him slowly out into the main hall, and his voice grew in intensity. "We can't Apparate there – the room is now heavily warded. Follow me." They both quickly ascended the stairs, and Severus found himself entering a poorly-lit chamber; it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low, sconced lighting.

He first caught sight of the terrified house-elf Dobby staring with trepidation at them, but Severus' attention quickly zeroed-in on a collapsed figure. He inhaled sharply as he recognised Nagini's body: a sprawled lump faced downwards on the canopied bed. His eyes slowly scrutinised the congealed blood on the lacerated flesh and strips of darkened cloth.

Severus inhaled sharply with a hiss as he noted the frazzled pattern of tattered cloth intertwined with torn flesh and coagulated blood that ran from her shoulders down to her buttocks.

"Severus, whatever you need, Dobby will provide you with immediately. Just command him," whispered Lucius, refusing to even look in Nagini's direction.

Lucius then hurriedly made his way back to the door. "I have to return now. The dinner guests are leaving... followers remaining... and the Dark Lord will be arriving... I can't... I'll speak to the Blacks – you'll be our guests tonight, Regulus as well, no doubt... It's going to be a long night..."

Severus turned to him in earnestness. "Lucius, I can't – I'm not a Healer! I can't... She needs St Mungo's..."

"Damn it, Snape! There's no time; just stop the bleeding, clean her up, whatever you can; you know how to do something. My father..." Lucius grasped Severus' arm so fiercely he winced. "We're counting on you – I'm counting on you!"

Lucius' voice was unusually strained as he instructed him. "Stay here... until someone comes for you... care for her... just care for her, Severus!" Lucius dashed out of the room.

The room was then silent, except for Severus' breathing and the house-elf's sniffles, which he was attempting to stifle.

Severus felt sick; he couldn't move. Forcing himself, he timorously approached the bed. Think! Control your emotions; think on what must be done!

"Dobby!"

"Yes, Master Snape?"

Severus started listing the first things to come to mind. "Bring me a cauldron... filled with hot water... dittany, moonstone; bring any cleaning potion for wounds in store, a second kettle, towels, cotton gauze, aloe vera... is there Sleeping Draught in the manor? Calming Draught? You're familiar with Wizarding substances – bring any other similar substances that you can find in the household... immediately!"

Removing his outer jacket and waistcoat as he approached Nagini's body, he drew out his wand and pointed it at the side table. "Engorgio!" It enlarged, allowing Dobby to place all the items upon it when he returned.

Assessing what ingredients he had available, Severus rolled up his sleeves and swiftly set to work together with the little creature; Dobby seemed to instinctively know what Severus needed, and soon, noxious-smelling, but medicinal, brewing fumes filled the air; pulped moonstone and powdered dittany blended with the array of other ingredients that littered the table.

"Oh!" cried out Dobby, cringing. "Master is calling!"

"Go to him, Dobby, you're finished here."

The house-elf popped out instantly, and Severus walked over to the bed with the dittany and moonstone mixture, a wet sponge and gauze. He hesitated before climbing up onto the bed, but he had to in order to reach Nagini's shoulders comfortably.

Tentatively, Severus knelt beside Nagini's body, alternating between straddling her prone form and kneeling beside it, careful of the angle and pressure he placed upon her, as he covered all the wounds. Gently applying the soaked gauze, beginning at her shoulders, Severus slowly and methodically wiped away the blood and peeled away the remains of Nagini's dress, which were partially adhered to her skin with her dried blood.

Nagini moaned in pain, and Severus Summoned the Sleeping Draught, sponging it onto her mouth and nostrils by hand. Within seconds the anaesthetic properties of the draught took effect, and she became immune to the excruciating pain caused by his actions. He gently lifted the locks of her hair that had fallen onto her shoulders following his movements around the bed.

Inch by inch, Severus soaked, peeled and cleansed. While his hands calmly and skilfully continued, his face turned a vivid red, blood pumping furiously, outraged at the way her body had been defiled by such abuse. Severus had to muster all his willpower to dispassionately perform the task at hand – Nagini needed help. His help. Now. Not his barely controlled impulses to find Abraxas and slit his throat like a filthy Muggle...

Grimly ruminating on a variety of excruciatingly slow deaths for Abraxas, it continued to be a struggle, almost impossible, to proceed calmly. Suppressing his emotions was making Severus' eyes smart; he felt like he was going mad with the rage welling up inside as he forced himself to soak, sponge, peel – and then, something else suddenly distracted him. He tasted something: salty and wet. Tears. His.

Mixed with the smell of blood.

The putrid odour filling the room, so stifling that it masked the fumes emitted by the bitter minerals that had been brewed and combined, hit him, and Severus couldn't control his pharyngeal response – he lunged off the bed, barely making it to the feminine boudoir, retching, before relieving his stomach of his dinner.

Unsteady yet determined, Severus slowly crossed back to Nagini. His hands had begun to shake and tears continued to silently pour down his face.

"I will not be weak!" he growled aloud. He felt his control over his anger slipping. Damn you, fucking Malfoys!

He cursed further under his breath and huffed heavily as the taste of salty tears mixed with the sour aftertaste of his stomach juices. Gritting his teeth, Severus once again climbed onto the bed to finish what needed to be done. I will not be controlled by my emotions! By my body's weaknesses!

A surge of anger filled him, defying an open wound of raw pain unleashed within. Severus hadn't allowed himself to cry since childhood, or express his emotions in any way, not even at his mother's death. He was the last to see his mother's body; it had lain cold and bloated, distorted from its time in the water. Severus had identified Eileen, a mere formality, but he had controlled himself admirably.

Stoic and strong, he prided himself on his inner strength and self-control. He refused to express any weakness now, never mind the sickening situation he found himself in.

Staring at Nagini, he told himself, This is just a body... She means nothing to me... nothing... How could she? The detachment process was winning. Cool objectivity flowed through Severus, empowering him, allowing him to adopt a detached stance towards Nagini. This is just a body, wounds in need of disinfection... an object, no emotion to be attached...

Severus muttered instructions to himself, soak, swab, peel, chanting and burning the process into his brain. He worked in a methodical, hypnotised fashion, unaware of the time passing. Finally, the deed was done.

Nagini's body lay naked and sterilised.

In the half-light of the approaching dawn, Severus took his wand and began chanting healing spells on the larger gashes – spells his mother had taught him and which they had each used on the other after Tobias' brutal attacks. Utterly absorbed in healing Nagini's wounds, he was caught off guard when the door was flung open.

Before Severus knew it, the Dark Lord swept into the room followed by Abraxas.

Severus quickly stifled a gasp, scrambled off the bed and, with one swift movement, knelt and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robe.

Voldemort's red eyes flashed with a taut leer as his waxen, stretched features slowly assessed the lacerated body on the bed along with his kneeling servant.

Voldemort idly remarked, "So... this is the offspring of the fecund womb of Lucretia?"

Abraxas grunted in the affirmative.

Voldemort stepped closer. Flicking his wand, he gracefully raised his other hand, and with a sustained motion, he spelled Nagini's body to slowly levitate upwards and then turned over. As he lowered Nagini, a cry of pain issued from her stuporous body when her open wounds pressed down on the mattress. He repeated his actions, and she slowly rolled over to once again lie face down. Voldemort's slits narrowed, and his taut features distorted to form a cryptic smile.

"She has the gift, you say?" asked Voldemort softly.

"Yes," hissed Abraxas. "But is as belligerent, unpredictable, wild... as Lucretia..."

Voldemort leered malignantly.

"Witches have never interested me... however," Voldemort's eye was drawn curiously to Severus' kneeling figure, "wizards' weaknesses have always highly amused me..."

A sinister silence ensued. Barely breathing, Severus dared not move a muscle.

"You will remain to take care of her, young Severus."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Severus?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Look at me!" Severus instantaneously looked up, and the Dark Lord locked eyes with him.

Voldemort raised his wand and with one quick jabbing motion, he penetrated Severus' mind.

Severus felt a razorblade slicing into his mind, an appalling blankness, except for the sharp shots of enforced pain as his mind was plundered by Voldemort. He lost control of all his senses except for a dull, cascading sensation as the recesses were thrust open, and finally, the Dark Lord found what he was searching for.

In a precise jerk, Voldemort pulled out of Severus, languidly holding his wand, but his bloodshot eyes were still boring into his young, vulnerable follower.

Severus felt something warm and wet flowing down from his nostrils onto his lips, seeping in between them.

His own blood. Severus tried to steady the sporadic trembles that shot through his body.

Voldemort meditated on the sequestered revelations drawn from Severus.

Voldemort had felt Severus' yearning desire, his former arousal and unbridled, lustful images, fantasies he hadn't remembered having – Lily and him.

As Voldemort had ravaged Severus' darkest desires further, forcefully tearing through his undying resistance, Voldemort had revealed other buried images and suppressed feelings, liberated and responding to the basest instincts: sensory recollections of the gratifying feel of Narcissa's delicate but stimulating touch, segueing into a pleasurable arousal in response to Nagini...

These fleeting flashes of imagery and emotion satisfied Voldemort.

The pain stopped. Severus' eyelids were frozen open, forced to stare mesmerised into the waxy, distorted features of his Dark Lord.

Voldemort remarked softly, "You see, young Severus? I told you before that there are other witches of pureblood, more worthy of you than your filthy little Mudblood. There will be no denying it."

"No, my lord – I mean, yes, yes, my lord..."

"These things must be dealt with, Severus; you must purge yourself of these distractions; the Dark Lord wishes to reward you with... position, power, prestige... even the unworthiest witches of your desires if you still wish them; you shall be fulfilled beyond your imagination ... All good things will come to you..."

"Yes, my lord," Severus mumbled. "Thank you, my lord." Trembling uncontrollably, he kissed Voldemort's hem again.

"Ah, the young, Abraxas," observed Voldemort sentimentally.

Abraxas' facial muscles flinched in fierce disdain.

"No need for modesty, Severus!" Voldemort's tone was laced with disgust. "It is not a trait I'll endure to witness or tolerate."

Severus quaked, barely managing to keep his balanced kneeling position.

Mercifully, Voldemort neutrally ordered, "For now, you will remain and take care of Nagini." He slowly turned his head to gaze at her once more.

Abruptly, Voldemort announced, "A young wizard burning with impatience and ambition awaits us..." and he gloated, "Another Black to be welcomed to our cause."

Voldemort turned and glided out of the room with Abraxas following in sync.

Severus, still kneeling forward, shivering, wiped at the blood running from his nose.

He collapsed back onto the floor to lean against the bed frame, gulping in air, he breathed deeply to steady himself. Soon, the nosebleed trickled to a halt, but his shaking continued.

Distraught in frustration and blinded by tears, he lay prostrated in weakness. He hated himself more than anyone or anything in the world at that very moment.

In his incapacity, he lost track of time. The time ticked by until he noticed that the room was now lit with a soft, golden light from the dawning sun. Severus blinked; the realisation that a new day had finally arrived, ending the nightmarish evening, slowly invigorated him into action. Severus grabbed the bedpost to steady himself and clumsily rose to standing. He was determined to finish what he had started.

Shakily, Severus knelt beside Nagini's body once more, applying the healing balm here and there, where he could, interspersed with moments of using his wand, chanting in the low lilt of a lullaby. He continued, at the same time determinedly reminding himself that he would remain void of feelings regarding Nagini; he'd treat this and any future interaction with her clinically, as needed. Whatever pubescent impulses he had felt before would cease immediately.

Resolved to this decision, it was easier for Severus to admit to himself that he burned with another desire – to be the best he could be in all things; and he was the best, better than all of them – no one could take that away from him. He was above the Malfoys and their sordid affairs; he would heal Nagini perfectly, but detach his interests from wandering further. Voldemort's brutal plundering had once more unearthed his yearning for someone pure and solely his own, someone unmarred by the darker side of life, but who would one day be the most cherished, person in his life, truly his for always – Lily Evans. The thought and prayer of her calmed his stressed mind and renewed his strength and austereness to get through whatever awaited him this day.

Tomorrow, he'd be back at Hogwarts, back in familiar surroundings, and Lily would be there, and she had promised to meet with him. Mordantly reminding himself of the task, Severus methodically resumed applying his healing balms to Nagini's flesh whilst excogitating his next meeting with Lily. He had to make everything perfect; all good things would come to him – he resolved it would be so.

But then the Dark Mark erupted, searing through his arm. In a gurgling gasp, Severus was reminded that he would not be alone in his declared resolution. Ever.

****************************************

AN: My indescribable appreciation to betas: Sempra, blue artemis, star_girl and Agnus Castus, each contributing their own special expertise and support - thank you!