X: To the Manor Drawn

Chapter X: To the Manor Drawn

It was Sunday morning. Sitting in the elegant drawing room of Malfoy Manor, Severus Snape couldn't help but muse over the different activities he had filled his Sunday mornings with during the course of the years.

When he had been little, his father had always insisted on dragging him to church. 'To make a good impression on the neighbours,' he had always said. How heading straight for the pub after the service had made a good impression on the neighbours, however, young Severus had never really understood. But he had always enjoyed being sent home after church because whilst his father had been at the pub, spending the dole money, his mother had taught him magic.

Then at Hogwarts, he had spent most of his Sunday mornings in the library, at first studying with Lily during the first couple of years and then all alone, reading up on the Dark Arts, after the unfortunate incident by the lake. And once he had turned seventeen and had received the Dark Mark, he would spend his Sunday mornings in the Forbidden Forest, showing hexes and curses to aspiring Death Eaters and enjoying their admiration.

As an adult then, he had spent most of his Sunday mornings alone. While other men his age slept off their hangovers or shagged their sweethearts senseless, he, Severus Snape, was hiding in the darkness, either in the dungeons of Hogwarts or behind drawn curtains at Spinner's End, wishing that the day would pass quickly.

And this Sunday morning, his task was to lie to one of his oldest friends and at the same time to lay the first brick for a road that would very likely lead a young woman straight to hell. And there were people who claimed that Sunday mornings were the best time of the week. Snape almost snorted and doubted that he would ever have what people referred to as a nice Sunday.

Sighing, he looked around the drawing room. He had sat there countless times before, patiently waiting for an elf to inform him that he was now granted the honour of meeting the lord of the manor. And as always, everything in the room was immaculate and sumptuous: the thick Persian rug, the opulent Fabergé-style ornaments; even the velvet drapes that adorned the large French windows were pristine and certainly worth more than most wizards' yearly salary. But Snape knew that although the grandeur remained the same, life was very different for the Malfoys these days: Lucius was locked up in Azkaban and his wife and son were left to fend for themselves. And as glad as Snape was to see Lucius behind bars, he felt bad for Narcissa and Draco. He knew all too well that Lucius' failures reflected upon his family and that they weren't worth a Knut in the eyes of many Death Eaters nowadays, even for all their wealth and privilege. And the Dark Lord took pleasure in humiliating them as his latest project du jour. Not even Bellatrix, once the Dark Lord's favourite, was spared. She, too, was suffering his displeasure now. After all, her sister had made the mistake of marrying a man who was unable to live up to the Dark Lord's expectations.

But the one who was suffering the most was Narcissa. Not only was her husband in Azkaban but now her son was in danger as well. And as any loving mother, she was ready to commit the most desperate acts to protect her child. That had been more than evident when she had come to Spinner's End and begged Snape on her knees to protect her Draco. How much must her pride have suffered that day? And how could Snape have refused? He had known Narcissa for many years, and in all that time he had never once seen her lose her poise. The fact that she had wept and clung to him as though pleading for her life had shown how much pain she was in and how great her love for Draco was. And her tears had shaken Snape's very core and awoken an anger in him he had not felt for quite some time. Was Lucius even aware of how much suffering he had caused? Could Lucius rotting away in Azkaban really make up for it?

The sound of the door opening shook Snape from his thoughts, and as he rose, he came face to face with the lady of the manor herself. Snape was surprised; he had expected an elf.

Narcissa was dressed in a fine silver robe, her platinum blonde hair falling like a sheet down her back. She looked, if possible, paler and more delicate than ever. She, too, seemed surprised, but nonetheless happy to see her visitor.

'Severus! How lovely to see you.' She stepped forwards, concern etched on her pretty face. 'Is everything alright?'

Snape was taken aback by Narcissa's question. If anything, he should be asking her if she was alright.

'Is it not custom for friends to come by every now and then?' he asked instead, deflecting her question.

Narcissa gave a small smile, and it seemed to Snape that it had been a long time since she had smiled properly. It was almost as if she had forgotten how.

'Of course, Severus. It is good to see you. It's just that I rarely get company these days, since...' Narcissa trailed off sadly.

Since Lucius has fallen from grace, Snape finished the sentence in his mind. He could imagine that not many people wanted to associate with the Malfoys nowadays. Followers of the Dark Lord were afraid to displease their master, and members of other highly regarded Wizarding families did not, of course, want to mix with the family of a man who was carrying the Dark Mark and sitting in Azkaban.

Uncomfortably, Snape cleared his throat. He had not come here to make Narcissa feel bad.

'You look well,' he offered, merely for something to say. He supposed Narcissa hadn't received a compliment in quite some time, even though she deserved to be showered with praise on a daily basis. She was undoubtedly a beautiful witch, and even with the strain her family was under, she always looked like a lady.

Narcissa inclined her head and accepted Snape's compliment gracefully.

'I admit I do not feel that well. I find myself walking from room to room at nights, looking for Lucius but not finding him. And during the day, I can sit for hours in his office, waiting for him to come home...'

She broke off and shook her head as if to rid herself of her ghosts, and Snape shifted his weight from one foot to the other, genuinely at a loss of what to say. He severely doubted that Narcissa had revealed this to anyone before, not even her own sister. Thankfully, he was spared having to say anything by Narcissa regaining her composure.

'Forgive me,' she said, straightening up. 'Where are my manners? Can I get you a drink?'

'Are you having anything?' Snape answered, hoping that she would. Maybe a drink would be good for her and put her at her ease.

Narcissa smiled. 'Well, I know how fond you are of elf-made wine. We have... I have,' she corrected herself quickly, 'an Amarone which I have been saving for some pleasant company. Would you care to join me?'

'I would love to, Narcissa,' Snape replied. It was not often that he was referred to as being pleasant company, especially by a beautiful witch. He wouldn't have turned her down even if she had offered him vinegar.

Once more, Narcissa smiled briefly before summoning an elf. 'Tomassi Amarone 1989 and two glasses,' she instructed. 'The French-cut crystal.'

And the elf bowed deeply and Disapparated immediately with a crack.

Snape had been around the Malfoys long enough to no longer be impressed by the luxury with which they surrounded themselves as everyday normality, but he knew that today Narcissa was making an extra special effort for him. The French-cut crystal glasses had been a wedding gift from Lucius. Narcissa didn't bring them out for just anyone.

The elf swiftly returned with the wine and made a show of pouring, letting Narcissa check if it was corked or not and then, at her approval, poured a glass for each of them and then stepped aside to await further instructions.

'You can leave the bottle,' Narcissa told the elf, her voice cold and matter-of-fact as was expected of a witch of her background. And the little elf once more bowed deeply and then left the witch and wizard alone.

With the elf leaving, Narcissa's shoulders once more slumped ever so slightly, barely noticeable for anyone who didn't know her. But Snape noticed, and hence, he was not surprised as there was once more the tiniest of trembles in her voice as she spoke again.

'I suppose we should make a toast. This is, after all, a very fine wine.'

'And what shall we toast to?' Snape asked, watching his hostess carefully. If she started crying now, like she had done at Spinner's End, he would not know what to do. But to his surprise, Narcissa smiled.

'To pleasant company,' she proposed. 'May it always be there when we need it the most.'

Snape charged his glass and smiled back at Narcissa before taking a sip. Black cherries and velvet rolled across his tongue, followed by a sweet vanilla finish. He didn't want to estimate how much the wine was worth, but it was certainly up there with some of the best vintages he had ever sampled at Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa took a subtle sip and settled on the sofa, clutching the stem of her glass tightly.

'Severus,' she started, 'about the Vow...'

Snape shook his head. 'Narcissa, don't.' For him, there was no point going over it. It was done, they couldn't change it; the die was cast.

'I have been torn up with guilt ever since that night,' Narcissa whispered, her blue eyes full of anguish as she was looking up at him. 'I had no right to ask that of you.'

'You asked me for help, and I offered it gladly,' Snape replied. 'The Vow was just... an unfortunate side effect.'

This was partly true, and it had worked in Dumbledore's favour in the end. Narcissa, of course, was not to know this.

'Oh, Severus, I had no one else to turn to,' Narcissa carried on, the words tumbling from her lips like water burst from a broken dam. 'I am indebted to you. We are indebted to you.'

'As I said at Spinner's End,' Snape interrupted her, sitting down beside her, 'I am sure that the Dark Lord intends me to do the deed in the end. If me doing it means Draco will be saved... Narcissa, you know I care for the boy. And I care as much for you.'

Black eyes looked deeply into blue, and Narcissa put her hand on Snape's. The depth of his honour would have been astonishing to those who did not know him as well as she did.

'You are a true friend, Severus. I will never forget what you have done for me and my family.'

Snape had to resist the reflex to pull back. He was not used to being touched, especially not in an intimate, emotional way. But he resisted. The warmth of Narcissa's slender fingers felt pleasant against his skin.

'I would like to do more for you, Narcissa,' he announced. 'For you and Draco,' he added, realising that his words could be misinterpreted.

'I am touched beyond words,' Narcissa whispered, not able to stop the tears of gratitude and emotion welling in her eyes. And Snape graciously feigned enormous interest in the tapestry at the wall to give her a moment to compose herself.

'Forgive me,' she added. 'You have already done so much.'

'All I have to offer is a suggestion,' Snape clarified. 'The rest will be up to you.'

'And what is your suggestion, Severus?' Narcissa asked quizzically.

'The Dark Lord is angry, Narcissa,' Snape started, well aware that he was stating the obvious. But he needed some moments to gather his thoughts. 'Lucius lost him the Prophecy, and you and Draco are now suffering his anger. I think, however, that there is a way to please him.'

'There is?'

Once more, Snape looked away. The glimmer of hope shining in Narcissa's blue eyes made his heart ache.

'New followers are needed in the ranks of the Death Eaters,' he elaborated. 'And the most prized additions would have old, pure blood. You, Narcissa, have the chance to introduce a new follower to the Dark Lord. A follower he will be only too glad to welcome into the fold.'

Narcissa could not see where Snape was going with this. Her son already bore the Mark; surely Snape didn't mean that she should take it also?

'Can you think of no one?' Snape pressed.

Narcissa frowned, her pretty face screwed up in concentration but in vain. Everyone she knew socially was already a supporter or follower of the Dark Lord in some form or other. Eventually, she shook her head.

'Have you and Lucius not sponsored an orphan for the last sixteen years?' Snape probed carefully. He didn't want to be the one to utter Morgana's name. If Narcissa said it first, maybe, hopefully, he could somehow block the feeling of guilt that was gnawing at his intestines.

Thankfully, Narcissa caught on. She gasped and looked at Snape as if a Lumos charm had been cast in her mind.

'Morgana Belakane! Yes, we supplemented her education! But we have not been in touch since last summer.'

'She has left Hogwarts with some of the best grades in Slytherin House,' Snape explained, feeling more than a little proud. 'Now she is out in the big and scary world for the very first time and might be in need of some guidance. Female guidance, to be precise. The girl turned out to be somewhat of a tomboy. I am sure, however, that can be remedied.'

Like Snape had hoped, Narcissa's mothering instinct immediately came to the fore. He knew how much she had always longed for a baby girl. For some time, he had even brewed fertility potions for her, but to no avail.

'Oh, the poor thing,' Narcissa lamented. 'I should have had more of an input whilst she was growing up. But Lucius was insistent that I keep her at arm's length.'

Snape fought hard not to sneer. One had to hand it to Lucius; he had laid out his plan well and made sure that Morgana never grew too close to Narcissa, even at an early age. Of course, he couldn't have his wife and his mistress-to-be become best friends.

'Maybe I can make up for lost time,' Narcissa mused and then paused, looking back at Snape, her eyes once more shining with hope. 'Do you really think this will please the Dark Lord?'

'The Belakanes are one of the oldest Wizarding families in Britain. There is not much left of the family fortune, but the name still means something. And besides, if you help to win over the girl to our side, if you help the prodigal daughter to find her way back home, it will mean that the other side loses a valuable member,' Snape pointed out. Then he screwed up his face. 'Do not ask me where I went wrong as her Head of House, but rumour has it that the girl is playing with the idea of becoming an Auror.'

'An Auror?' Narcissa repeated with astonishment. 'A girl from such stock should be looking to marry an equal and carry on the bloodline, not running around with the likes of that lunatic Mad Eye-Moody!'

The very notion of a pureblood witch from one of the oldest wizarding families having to take a job instead of looking to marry into society filled Narcissa with horror. The reason for Snape almost choking on his wine was another, however. Narcissa had no idea of how close the girl had come to carrying on the bloodline. And of course, she did not know that the one who had fathered the child had been no other than Lucius himself.

'I see you are catching on,' he then pointed out. It was all going according to plan; Narcissa believed that he was offering her a lifeline and was holding onto it for dear life. Whether he liked it, however, Snape was not sure.

'Invite the girl,' he suggested. 'Befriend her, and make a lady out of her. When she is ready, present her to the Dark Lord. He, I am sure, will find someone for her to marry. And you, as her fairy godmother, will receive all the praise.'

Once again, Narcissa was nearly moved to tears. 'Severus, how can I ever repay you?'

Snape cocked an eyebrow. He certainly could come up with a reward or two if he put his mind to it, but for now, he held his peace.

'Another glass of that wine would be nice,' he replied with a smirk.

Narcissa smiled and willingly obliged. 'If there is ever anything I can do for you, anything at all...'

Once again, she rested her dainty, porcelain hand on Snape's.

'I know, and I appreciate it, truly,' Snape replied, not sure whether it was the wine or Narcissa's touch that made his heart beat faster. 'But I must warn you, Narcissa,' he added to distract himself, 'there is a slight problem.'

'There is?' Narcissa withdrew her hand, and her face fell.

'Morgana and Draco... Let us say that for both being members of Slytherin House, they have been quite hostile towards one another.'

To put it mildly, Snape added in his mind. Morgana had punched Draco right in the face at the breakfast table, and had he not intervened, she would probably have torn him limb from limb.

'Ah, yes,' Narcissa said. 'I seem to remember there was a disagreement between the two last year. Do you happen to know why?'

'The girl has quite a temper. And young Draco does not always know when it is better to keep his thoughts to himself. I believe there was some name calling involved.' Not to mention Draco calling the girl who had carried Lucius' child a Bloodtraitor, Snape thought privately. But Narcissa, of course, had no idea.

'I am sure it is nothing that can't be rectified. You know how teenagers can be.' She smiled at Snape, who nodded sagely. 'I must see to it that she comes for dinner with Draco and me soon, see if we can't put those disagreements to bed.'

'I suggest you talk to Draco first. Under no circumstances must he say or do anything to alienate her,' Snape warned.

'Of course,' Narcissa agreed. 'She is too valuable for that. She could be the key to getting us back on the Dark Lord's good side. Draco has enough to be going on with. I am sure a spat with a housemate is the least of his worries, and he'll be able to put it behind him.'

'You can find Morgana in Diagon Alley,' Snape advised. 'She is staying at Madam Nutkins'. I assume you remember the old bat?'

Narcissa wrinkled her pretty nose. 'What on earth is the girl doing staying at that godforsaken place? We will have to rectify that!'

'She will be ever so grateful. I am certain of that, Narcissa.' Snape raised his glass. 'Another toast, I think. To the future.'

'To the future!' Narcissa repeated, the clink of glasses sealing their oath.