19

* * * November 23, 1997 * * *

Draco paused before knocking. You can do this. It's not THAT bad. And the alternative... He didn't want to think about it. He steeled himself and rapped smartly on the door.

Snape opened it with his customary sneer, but when he saw who was calling, he relaxed his features and ushered Draco in with a silent wave. "Good morning," he said rather sharply once the door was safely closed. "A bit early for you on a Sunday, is it not?"

Draco's resolve was rapidly dwindling, but he raised his chin and looked Snape in the eye. "I thought if I came early, you might have a bit of time. To talk. With me. This morning."

Snape had pulled his chair back from his desk, but he froze in mid-sit to eyeball Draco in disbelief. "Merlin's beard, Draco, you're stuttering like a first-year asking a girl to the Yule Ball. What's the matter?"

What's the matter? I wish I knew. Draco's throat began to tighten, and he was suddenly quite sure this was a terrible idea.

Snape, however, eyed him carefully and snapped upright to escort him to the private parlor beyond his office. Draco sighed. The man always could see right through him--well, through everybody, really, but he chose to use that power for kindness only in certain cases. Draco swallowed hard, willing his voice to come out steady.

"Uncle Severus... May I just ask you some things? Without getting the third degree?"

A hint of a smile played across the older man's lips. "No promises, Draco; however, feel free to start this round." Snape settled into an overstuffed leather armchair and clasped his hands over his waist, obviously in for the duration. With silent thanks, Draco took the other chair, though he was far too tense to settle into it comfortably.

He'd thought this through carefully, and paused only a moment before asking, "How did you find your wife?"

His immediate reaction was to roll his eyes, but upon seeing the sincere urgency in Draco's face, Snape relented and sighed noisily. "I assume you want to know how I came to marry her, rather than how we met?" Biting his lip, Draco nodded. Snape stared at the lamp on the table between them a moment before speaking.

"I was assigned to torture her, Draco, by the Dark Lord." He said it matter-of-factly, as though this was a perfectly normal blind date for a Death Eater. "He had specific plans for her. He wanted her will utterly destroyed, yet she was to be left physically unharmed and mentally stable. She'd shown considerable resistance to the Imperius curse; Voldemort knew he couldn't hope to keep her under control with traditional means. So he entrusted me with the task of breaking her.

"Needless to say, this was a daunting task at best, even for an ambitious young Potions Master. I put some study into it immediately, and inquired of the Dark Lord his ultimate purpose for her, that I could tailor my approach. Voldemort didn't want to elaborate, but eventually I convinced him it was necessary." Snape squirmed in his seat and furrowed his brow.

"For lack of a better description, he intended to breed with her, Draco. He wanted her to produce his child. He didn't say why at the time, but I could only assume he wished to have a 'spare' in case he was murdered. It was rumored he had created a Horcrux and it seemed reasonable that he ought to have a vessel to put it in, if the need arouse.

"From there I fell victim to my own scientific curiosity, for I wondered why the Master would insist upon this witch. Bellatrix Lestrange would have gladly birthed his child, as would several witches in his service. Why bother wasting time forcing this particular one to his will? A bit of poking around, and I discovered the rather chilling answer: my wife is Voldemort's daughter."

Draco's eyes went as wide and round as saucers, and Snape stared at him, hard and cold, as though judging whether he must kill the younger man to contain that secret. But the moment passed, and Snape shifted uncomfortably again, then continued.

"Obviously, this was not the Master's first attempt at creating a 'backup body.' He murdered the mother when he discovered she'd defied him and produced a girl, but before smiting the child, he apparently realized that she'd make a fine incubator for a second attempt--and the resulting child would be three-quarters 'him,' as opposed to half. He just needed her to age and grow to fertility, and of course he wouldn't make the same mistake of impregnating her with her will and magic intact."

"That's crazy talk," mumbled Draco.

"My thoughts exactly, Draco. That was the moment when, in my heart, I left his service. I'd seen him make many, many promises to all of us, and I'd even noticed the only ones that ever seemed to come true were those of pain or punishment. But that day, I understood: A man so callous as to use his own daughter in such a fashion... how could any of us expect the rewards he promised? He thought nothing of others, Draco, except what he could take from them. Never to give.

"And then I met her, in her cell in the dungeon." His eyes glazed, lost in memory. "I was doomed from the start," he said wryly, with a fond smile. "She was the most insufferable, defiant, courageous little wench I'd ever laid eyes on.

"You saw what a tiny sprite she is. She was shaking with fear, and rightfully so, yet she asked if I required her attention, as though I was interrupting something important there, in her prison. She was so sincere and droll, I nearly laughed out loud--hardly the proper behavior for a torturer!"

Snape smiled even more broadly and busied himself pouring tea into two cups. "What can I say, Draco? Within minutes I could see she was strong without being overbearing; she was bright; she was kind. Everything the Master wasn't. I couldn't let him destroy her. I told him I must take her home, where I could experiment and adjust my potions. He was so disinterested, he simply waved me away to take care of it and get back to him when the 'project' was complete.

"I spent two weeks giving her a crash course in Occlumency, then fed her a double dose of Draught of the Living Dead and hauled her 'body' before the Master, begging his forgiveness. I'd been tricked by a supplier, I told him, and been given a cheap substitute for one of my ingredients, which killed her. He punished me, of course, but I'd recently curried his favor by bringing him a snippet of that cursed Prophecy that went on to plague your father. So he let me live, and let me keep the 'body' for necromancy--I claimed her organs could be used to make restorative elixirs for him. I was still feeding him a phony pate' up until Potter killed him; thank the Goddess for the placebo effect!"

"Uncle Severus, is this story going to get any more nasty?" Draco croaked.

The older man scoffed, "Don't be such a lightweight, Draco!" but he nodded kindly. "That's the worst of it, though. I kept her hidden, and she charmed me near to death with her gentle ways, and for some strange reason she seemed to think I was all right, too." He raised his hands in a shrug. "I have no explanation for it; she's surely far better than I deserve, and yet she won't even hear of moving on."

That phrase reminded Draco to ask, "When was she cursed with the Vox?"

Snape gazed sadly at the candle. "Voldemort cast it when she was an infant, Draco. I was the only Marked man whom she couldn't hear."