Chapter the Second: In Which Hare-Brained Ideas are Committed to Parchment

Disclaimer: I own neither HP characters nor fairytales. Please refrain from penalizing my impoverished self for playing with them.

WARNING: Reading this fractured fairy tale may prove hazardous to your health. You may want to set that bag of crisps aside until after this chapter—it’s only about a thousand words!

Which was how a gloomily black-clad Severus came to be standing on one side of Lucius Malfoy’s absurdly oversized desk—seriously, the man could field a house-elf Quidditch team over that thing—looking drastically out-of-place in the heavily gilded and malachite-paneled room and feeling deeply disturbed at the animalistic noises that issued from Narcissa’s mouth as she chewed on the Dragon’s Blood resin.

“I’m going to need copies,” Severus said. He tried to read over Lucius’ shoulder. It all seemed to be in order, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was missing something…

“Yes of course,” Lucius said distractedly. “To wit, pause,” he whispered, the words mingling with the scratching of his quill. Severus suppressed a groan. Lucius would be one of those who couldn’t write without dictating to himself.

“Don’t forget that you promised me a proper amount of time with my precious!” Narcissa managed to make herself heard through a mouthful of resin. Lucius shuddered delicately as a few reddish drips sprayed from between her lips. Even Severus felt a trifle disturbed.

“There is no way in hell that I am taking charge of that thing before it’s properly housebroken,” Severus added.

“Oh, very well!” Lucius scratched, scribbled, whispered, and indignantly initialed bits of the contract. “You do realize this is all highly irregular. Does no one study mythology anymore?” Neither of them bothered to answer. Lucius, apparently sensing he was outnumbered and out-wanded, refrained from belaboring the point. “Will seven years do, dearest?”

“I suppose,” she sighed. “I can still see my little darling from here, can I not?”

“My tower is visible from this window. The br—child—can take the entire top floor for all I care, so long as I still get to use it for astronomical observations,” Severus said. “Just don’t get any dunderheaded ideas about traipsing around my grounds for a visit.”

“And I’ll write daily.” At least, that was what Severus thought she said through the chewing.

“Weekly; there is no point to any of this if I don’t allot sufficient time for training.” Severus folded his arms across his chest in what he deemed a fine gesture of implacability.

“Visibility, correspondence, traipsing or lack thereof, it all seems to be in order,” Lucius said under his breath. “Sign here, here, and initial these pages here.”

Severus wondered if he should have a solicitor look it all over. He ultimately refrained from fear that the dual blond menaces might decide to renege if he delayed, leaving him with nothing but the hollow satisfaction of whatever revenge he could manage as payment for his precious resin. It didn’t hurt that the idea of having an apprentice had considerable appeal. He took up a quill and read everything twice, signing as he went. However, his suspicions spiked when the print started to become, well… miniscule. “What is this, Lucius?”

“Hmm?” Lucius contrived to look innocent, which made Severus’s hand jerk convulsively around his wand which he somehow now held in place of the quill.

“This fine print—the bit mentioning princes and rescues?”

“Ah. That, my good man, is in deference to these difficult times. I know that you don’t want your apprentice wandering out into the world and inadvertently sharing your proprietary secrets. I think you would agree, however, that should the political situation become… well, less political and more, shall we say, rambunctious—the child should have a fighting chance to escape. Hence phrasing it as ‘rescue’ rather than ‘permission to leave.’”

It was Severus’s turn to “Hmm.” After some thought he could find no obvious flaw with that, so he duly finished initialing. “I suppose that is that.” He hit the document with a Duplicating Spell before Lucius could move to do so—just in case. It was very distracting with Narcissa still chewing in the background.

“Quite.” Lucius packed off the original parchments with a house-elf for filing. “Well, we shall see you in seven months, more or less, for the Naming. Until then, have your house-elf make arrangements with one of ours for delivery of the resin.”

Severus hastily shuffled through the contract even as Lucius was escorting him to the door and found the relevant passage. He wondered how the hell he had missed it before and had the unpleasant feeling that he may have missed something else.

“Cheers!” Lucius said with land-shark smile that was Severus’s last, not-at-all reassuring sight of him before the massive double doors at the back of the Manor house closed. Severus was left standing on the steps with a sheaf of parchment and a Very Bad Feeling About All of This.

Capitalized, no less.