Bygone Mercies

by Thinkingtree

Summary:

The summer before his sixth year, Severus Snape finds himself without a safe place to stay until school resumes. Remembering an offer extended by Narcissa Black, the year she graduated from Hogwarts, he reluctantly makes his way to London to see if she can shelter him for a couple of months. Over the course of the summer, the two friends come to better understand each other, themselves, and the wizarding world that is being ripped apart just beyond their doorstep. And it may change everything. Timeline spans the summer before sixth year to the end of the war.

Notes:

Welcome!

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Chapter 1: Homebound: Severus Snape

The oak tree provided poor cover from the rain for the teenage wizard who stood beneath its branches, but there was nowhere else to shelter near his house. Rain easily fell through the gaps in the leaves, and Severus soon found himself as soaked as he would be standing in the open. He had been here for two hours now, waiting for the lights to go out at Spinner’s End when his mother would be able to sneak out to meet him. The house had fallen dark twenty minutes ago, but he knew she had to make sure that Tobias was truly asleep before she risked gathering his things and making her way outside. He tried not to feel resentful as he shivered and cradled an arm against his bruised abdomen. He tried not to think about how, in years past, he might have made his way across the river, to the better side of town, and taken refuge in the warm brick house of the Evans family. He tried not to think about the welcoming kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Evans, the steadfast comfort of Lily, or even the familiar disdain of Petunia. 

 

Finally, the front door opened slowly, and Eileen Snape quietly made her way outside, struggling with her son’s trunk so it wouldn’t scrape or bang loudly against the floor and front steps. Severus strode forward to help her finish getting the trunk to the sidewalk. She gave him a sad, tremulous smile and whispered, “I’m sorry that it took so long. He really worked himself up, and it took me a long time to calm him down at all.” 

 

“How much shit did he break before he stopped throwing a giant bloody tantrum?” Severus asked bitterly and then took in his mother’s face which was mottled with a developing bruise. Scathingly, he said, “At least it wasn’t your nose he broke this time, or your eye socket like last summer.”

 

“Severus,” she said chidingly, sounding exhausted. “I wish you wouldn’t provoke him so much.” 

 

He was so tired of hearing that. Of the teachers telling him at school not to provoke the other students who harassed him, and now his own mother telling him not to provoke the man who heaped verbal and physical abuse on them both. Besides, “He seemed to find the mere fact that I returned home a provocation.” 

 

“You always let him get a rise out of you –” 

 

“Even if I didn’t say anything, he would go off about some perceived bit of disrespect! You know that!” 

 

“Lower your voice,” she scolded harshly, looking back at the house, which remained dark and still. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come back here this summer. He’s been . . . extra volatile lately. First getting fired from the mill and the wreck last month, and we still haven’t been able to replace the car . . .   I’m sure I can have things sorted out by next year, maybe even by the winter holidays if you –” 

 

Severus scoffed, “I haven’t come back here for the winter holidays since I started Hogwarts, Mother. Surely you don’t think that would change now.” 

 

She nodded sadly and sighed, “I just miss you, that's all. I hate this, Severus.” 

 

Not enough to leave, never enough to leave.

 

Eileen continued, “Do you have somewhere to go? I wish you and Lily –” 

 

He cut her off quickly, “I’ll be fine. I think I know someone in London I can stay with.” 

 

“Okay, okay, good. I would offer to apparate you, but I haven’t done it in so long and it’s a fair distance.” She winced, nervously rubbing her arm with her opposite hand. “I think your best bet would be to take the Knight Bus. I don’t suppose you have any wizarding currency left over from when we got your supplies last year?” 

 

Severus socked away every last coin he could, wizarding or Muggle, and had been able to earn a bit of money during the school year helping with - well, frankly, completing it for them - homework for other students. He nodded, and she seemed relieved. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a plain envelope folded once over, “Good. I don’t keep any on hand. Here is some Muggle money to help get through the summer. It’s not a lot, I know, I’m never able to save much up . . . “ 

 

He hesitated in taking it from her, “Won’t you need it?” 

 

She shook her head, “I would rather you take it than Tobias end up getting his hands on it like he usually manages to do.” 

 

“Thank you,” Severus took the envelope and slipped it into his own, slightly sodden pocket. He had to ask her, even knowing he was a hopeful fool for doing so, “You won’t come with me, I suppose?” 

 

She smiled a bit sadly, looking back at the house again, “I’m sorry, Severus. I just – well, I’m sorry for everything. You’ll take care of yourself?” 

 

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he said, trying not to feel too disappointed or angry, pushing it all away. Then she’s hugging him with agonizing gentleness, mindful of his injuries, and he can’t help but lean into her embrace. It’d been an awful day. “You too.” 

 

He watched her go back in the house, where she lingered at the front door as he raised his wand hand to summon the Knight Bus, with the giant purple monstrosity appearing moments later. The door opened, and a bored-looking young man delivered the standard greeting for the umpteenth time that night, “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Melvin Cartwright, and I will be your conductor this evening.”

 

Severus impatiently waited for the man to store his trunk on the bus, eager to get out of the drizzle that continued to fall. He climbed the steps and paid the required sickles, declining the insipid hot chocolate that came with the fare, before collapsing on one of the bedsteads.  He desperately wished that he could cast a drying charm, and the bumpy, chaotic journey into London did nothing to improve his mood as it jostled his injuries. 

 

When they arrived at the cross streets Severus had provided, he was glad to disembark and leave one more unpleasant aspect of his evening behind. Though now that he was there, nerves began to get the better of him, and he doubted his choice to come here. The offer had been made that if he ever needed anything, he should seek her out in London, and at the time, he couldn’t have imagined ever taking her up on it. Even now, his pride felt a bit bruised to be asking for her help, and he briefly considered just trying to get a room in Diagon Alley. That was a long walk, however, and it was early in the summer, so he didn’t think the money his mother had provided would sustain him until September 1st, especially with the eternally abysmal exchange rates for Muggle to Wizarding currency. Never mind having any left over for the following summer if things went poorly. 

 

Resigned, he walked up to the small gap in a row of houses, which seemed to be a small courtyard ensconced on three sides by the red brick of the surrounding homes, with the front cordoned off by a wrought iron fence. He determined which two bars were in the very middle of the fence and wrapped one hand around each of them, letting his magic be felt by the privacy wards protecting the building as Narcissa had described when she made the invitation. The metal warmed under his hands, and when he let go, an opening appeared in the fence before him large enough for two people to enter side-by-side. When he stepped into the courtyard, an ornate double door appeared on the previously blank brick wall in front of him with warm light glowing through the decorative pane of glass inlaid in each one. 

 

He raised a fist to knock, and the door was quickly opened by a doorman who Severus soon suspected also served as a security guard for the building. The room was cavernous - the teenager thought his whole house might actually fit inside - with cream-colored marble making up the walls and floor. Large paintings were hung depicting scenes throughout London, though there was a notable absence of portraits. On the far side of the room from the entrance was an enormous fireplace painstakingly carved with the figures of magical beasts. About twelve feet in front of the fireplace was a large desk made of a light-colored wood that served as a reception area. Severus felt incredibly out of place, and the opinion was clearly shared by the receptionist sitting in the high-backed chair behind the desk, who eyed him up and down with distaste. At least his clothes had dried enough on the ride into the city that he wasn’t dripping water onto the nice floor, though they still felt unpleasantly heavy and damp. 

 

“May I help you?” The witch drawled skeptically. She was a slight brunette with long nails painted dark green and was wearing impeccably tailored black robes in a style Severus had never seen before, but was probably trendy. 

 

“I’m Severus Snape, here to visit Narcissa Black.” He lifted his chin defiantly and was relieved when his voice came out steady. When she didn’t immediately respond, he added, “She’s in flat number twelve.” 

 

“Snape,” she allowed the name to stretch out slightly, emphasizing that she didn’t recognize the surname. It was one of the things that stressed him out about the real world waiting for him after Hogwarts. The importance of blood and lineage was insidious throughout the entire culture of Wizarding Britain. Within moments, everyone felt that they knew someone - or if they were worth knowing - based on little more than a name. “Right. I’ll see if she’s in and accepting visitors.” 

 

She stood up and went to the fireplace behind the desk, throwing in a handful of floo powder and stating the flat number before sticking her head in to initiate the call. A couple of moments later, she straightened up and returned to the desk looking as though she’d sucked a lemon. Her tone was cool but less openly hostile when she said, “You may step through, Mr. Snape.” 

 

That was another thing that he had learned quickly in Slytherin; the right connections could quickly reshape the world around the beneficiary of their favor. It was an unpleasant truth that he understood intrinsically after five years of being immersed in the wizarding world. Mentally shaking off the depressing thoughts, he stepped past the receptionist without another glance, pinched some floo powder from the gold bowl on the mantle, and stepped through.

Chapter 2: Brunch at Malfoy Manor: Narcissa Black

Summary:

Narcissa attends brunch at Malfoy Manor and tries not to think too much.

Notes:

If Narcissa seems a bit judgmental or passive, it's because she is judgmental and passive. A lot of this story is centered around character growth, and Narcissa's character arc is one I'm especially looking forward to writing. I hope everyone is still able to enjoy her POV chapters even at this early stage.

Narcissa was surprised when her floo flared to life just as she was considering turning in for the night. She’d had a relatively productive evening finishing up some correspondence with a couple of friends she had tried not to lose touch with after Hogwarts and studying for her advanced qualification in ancient runes. Leaving the detritus from her study efforts littering her desk, she headed into the sitting room where she found the receptionist from the lobby peering out from the flames. 

 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Black,” she said, voice cloying and saccharine. “You have a visitor in the lobby who claims he knows you. A Mr. Severus Snape?” 

 

“Severus?” Unfortunately, Narcissa’s pleasure at the prospect of seeing her friend quickly turned to concern at his sudden appearance this time of night. “Of course. Please send him through.” 

 

The surprise and disdain that flickered across the woman’s face before being replaced by a polite smile was not lost on Narcissa, so she narrowed her eyes and added, “And for future reference? Severus is a dear friend. I trust he’ll be treated accordingly.” 

 

“Yes, Miss Black,” she said deferentially as she retreated back into the flames. 

 

Narcissa folded her hands in front of her and waited for the flames to flare green and permit her guest. It was mere moments before the teenager emerged. She quickly took in his lanky hair and damp clothing as well as the fact that he had his battered trunk with him. He was holding himself a bit stiffly but she didn’t know if that was a physical ailment or simply discomfort with the social situation. Regardless of her observations, she displayed the discretion that made her a good Slytherin and pureblood daughter. 

 

“It’s so good to see you, Severus.” 

 

“I’m sorry to bother you so late.” 

 

“Not at all.” And because she wasn’t going to make the teen ask for what he needed when the situation so clearly pained him - as reveling in the power of being asked for a favor did not bring her pleasure unlike some of her contemporaries - she preemptively called out, “Minky! Oh, good. Minky, this is Severus Snape and he’ll be staying with me for the foreseeable future. You are to attend to his needs as you do my own. Understood?” 

 

The house elf looked at Narcissa with her giant green eyes and then over at their guest. She nodded firmly and before disappearing with his trunk said, “Yes, Missy Cissy. Minky will be taking good care of your guest!” 

 

One side of Severus’s lips quirked upward at the elf’s address for her and she glared at him good-naturedly. He still hadn’t stepped away from the fireplace and was tugging on the sleeves of his shirt nervously. He said, “You really don’t mind?” 

 

“Of course not. I’m glad you took me up on my offer. What else are friends for?” This made him frown a bit but he nodded at her reassurance. She continued, “Why don’t you go take a shower and change into some dry, clean clothes? I’ll have Minky get you a bite to eat. Your bedroom is down the hall, second door on the right, and has an attached bath.” 

 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, still seeming a bit embarrassed and unsure. 

 

She sighed as he made his way down the hall and hoped that he would become more comfortable eventually. The truth was she worried about him terribly and it was a bit of a relief for him to show up here after not receiving more than one or two replies to her letters throughout the year. She had heard from Regulus - whose frequency in writing her letters seemed to increase in tandem with the strain on his relationship with his brother - about the truly atrocious treatment toward Severus by her cousin and the Potter boy this last year. And his subsequent falling out with his friend whom she had personally never liked - and it wasn’t just because she was Muggleborn, it wasn’t, she insisted to herself - over an insult delivered in the heat of the moment. Then there was his terrible father whom she had always hated seeing him go back to at the end of the year since her suspicions about his home life were all but confirmed in his second year. 

 

Speaking of which . . . “Minky! Would you please put some first aid potions in Severus’s bathroom? Discretely please, out in the open but not too obviously left there. Bruise paste, murtlap essence, and a pain reliever at the very least.” 

 

“Minky will be doing that now Missy Cissy!” 

 

The elf popped out of the room again and Narcissa found herself at loose ends while she nursed her worry. She wanted to talk to him, ask him some questions, make sure he was okay, but in her experience that would only make him withdraw and stonewall. As it was, sending her house elf to make sure he had first aid supplies if needed was a risk as most house elves were not particularly known for their subterfuge - and certainly not the guileless Minky - and likely would just confess that Narcissa had sent her if confronted. Oh, well, at least Severus was here safe and sound now, and she would make sure he had the kind of summer that he deserved. 

 

It didn’t take long for him to return downstairs looking a little better than when he had arrived. He sat down at the dining room table with her and a plate of food appeared before him with the light supper than she had requested along with a glass of water. Narcissa sipped on the tea that Minky had thoughtfully sent up for her along with the food for Severus. He thanked her and she watched as he mostly picked at what was in front of him. 

 

“I really am glad to see you. I was worried when you didn’t respond to more than a couple of my letters.” He frowned at her and she continued, “Of course, I understand how busy your term must have been. I barely remember most of my O.W.L. year with how sleep deprived I was half the time. It’s just a blur of hours in the library and snippy yearmates.” 

 

“Narcissa . . . I didn’t get more than a couple of letters from you. I did write you back, but I didn’t want to pester you beyond responding to your owls. I figured you must be quite busy as well.” 

 

She was a bit confused by that as she had sent nearly a dozen throughout the entire school year checking in with him and discussing what was going on in the wizarding world at large. She knew that his experience at Hogwarts had been disappointing and largely unpleasant and wanted him to know what a small, sheltered part of their world that was. Even amongst pureblood youth, Hogwarts often seemed like the be-all-end-all and she couldn’t imagine how much that must be compounded by being raised like a Muggle, having no example of what it was like to be a proper adult witch or wizard. She wrinkled her nose when she thought of his parents again. Narcissa couldn’t help but feel like it was at the very least neglectful of his mother not to take care to expose him to his rightful heritage. 

 

Regardless, it made no sense that he had not received her owls. True, Hogwarts had certain mail wards in place which prevented (with varying levels of success) harmful or ill-intentioned letters and packages from getting through, but her letters certainly wouldn’t have had any reason to trigger them. Slowly, she said, “Well, I’ll look into what could have happened because that doesn’t make any sense. But you’re always welcome to write to me. You won’t be pestering me at all.” 

 

They talked for a little longer with Narcissa making the standard inquiries he was probably sick of hearing about how he thought his O.W.L. exams had gone and his career counseling appointment with Slughorn. She talked about her own advanced studies, lamenting her occasional dips in motivation that came with studying something at her leisure rather than as a means to an end since she would likely not seek her own employment after her marriage, and gossiped a bit about the insight she had into the going-ons at the ministry. 

 

Eventually, she sent him on his way to bed as she stood up to turn in for the night herself. Before they parted, she said, “Just so you know, I’m planning to have brunch with Lucius tomorrow morning and then take a trip to Diagon for some shopping, but we’ll make some plans for this week when I return. Feel free to ask Minky for anything you need while I’m gone.” 

 

“Okay. You really don’t have to entertain me, though, Narcissa. I can keep myself busy.” 

 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like nothing more than to become a hermit for the rest of the summer, but I’m not going to have that.” She briefly thinks about telling him to stay in the flat and not go wandering about Muggle London or the Alley since these aren’t the safest times but then figures it isn’t really her place to give him those kinds of rules. Instead, she simply bids him a good night. 

 

–

 

The next morning when she gets ready to leave, Severus is still asleep  despite the time growing late. She figures that’s something teenagers do, sleeping in during the summer, though she’d never been allowed that herself with parents who believed a strict schedule and busy days were the best way to keep their children out of mischief. So she leaves him to it and apparates to the gates of Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. 

 

Brunch is an elegant affair, as one would expect in a home such as this one with a family such as the Malfoys, with Mrs. Malfoy joining them for the first half. She apologizes for the absence of her husband though that has been fairly standard whenever Narcissa has had occasion to be at the Manor. Narcissa fills them in on the fact that she has a houseguest for the rest of the summer though she refrains from giving any details that would violate Severus’s privacy. 

 

Narcissa gets the impression that Mrs. Malfoy is vaguely disapproving though Lucius seems mostly indifferent aside from commenting, “You’ve too soft a heart. You must be careful so you don’t get taken advantage of, Cissa.” 

She opens her mouth to protest but he’s already holding up placating hands. 

 

“I’m not saying that Severus in particular is taking advantage of your good nature. I simply speak in general.” 

 

She supposes that his concern is nice and vents what else is on her mine, “He hasn’t gotten most of my owls throughout the school year which I don’t understand. Have you had any trouble with your post being delivered? I often passed my letters on to you to send out since the flat isn’t set up well for mail service so I was wondering if it’s just me or might be a broader problem with deliveries.” 

 

“Our owls are extremely well-trained and smart enough to circumvent most delivery obstacles.,” Mrs. Malfoy says. “The problem is not on our end. And I just hate that you live in that flat, Narcissa. It’s really not proper for a young lady to be living by herself in the city.” 

 

Narcissa will not have this conversation that she has already had multiple times with her own parents who also wish she would live at home until her wedding. Her parents disapproved enough of the move that they refused to fund her rent or any other living expenses but she was lucky that the Rosier’s had a tradition of providing their female descendants with small trusts in their own names which she had decided to use for a small taste of independence. It was ridiculous; none of her behavior since she started living on her own could be considered improper. Why should the mere act of living on her own be considered as such? 

 

“I haven’t had any trouble with deliveries.” Lucius assured her. 

 

“Okay, well, I thought that maybe the mail wards at Hogwarts? I don’t know why my letters would trigger them, though.” 

 

“I’ve had no returned letters or any trouble having mail delivered to the school for that matter.” 

 

“I didn’t know you were still in touch with any of the students.” 

 

He shrugged, “Some of the students in Slytherin are interested in learning more about the Dark Lord’s beliefs and goals so I’ve offered to correspond with them on the matter. He is invested in making sure bright young minds know the truth of the state of our world and the threats to our heritage so I’ve offered to make myself useful in this way. I anticipate that His plans will be accelerating considerably in the near future and it’s important that witches and wizards coming of age in the next few years are exposed to the right ideas.” 

 

“Oh,” she said simply, not knowing what else to say to that. She had mixed feelings about her fiancé's (and her sister’s) involvement with that group but it wasn’t wise to express such things. Mrs. Malfoy took that moment to dismiss herself, bidding her future daughter-in-law goodbye and reminding Lucius of a meeting Mr. Malfoy wanted him to sit in later that day. 

 

Meanwhile, an image flashed through her head of a smear of blood, the scent of something burning, the heady and invasive pressure of the aftermath of too much dark magic. 

 

“Bella . . . is that your blood?” 

 

A wicked, mischievous smile, “No, sister, it’s not. Don’t fret. I’m not hurt.” 

 

“But what . . . ? Did something happen?” 

 

And the other woman was too close, in her space and leaning close to her ear, her breath ghosting over her skin in the dark hallway, “Do you really want to know? I will tell you if you want. Every. Single. Detail.” 

 

Narcissa had been scared. She’d been scared of her sister before, of course, but there was something in that moment that felt so dangerous, so precipitous. She had shaken her head vigorously. No, she didn’t want to know. She couldn’t . . . Bellatrix had walked away from her cackling. 

 

She shook her head and curled her hands into fists in her lap, a mimicry of her denial that night, and tried to push the memory away. 

 

“In fact, I’ve exchanged a couple letters with Severus as well, and he never seems to have had a problem receiving them.” Lucius continued. 

 

“Really? I didn’t know the two of you were still in touch.” She frowned, feeling wrong-footed and like she was in the dark about too much. 

 

“Well, I was his prefect, too, for those two years,” He reminded her. “You’re not the only one who cares about him starting life out on the right foot.” 

 

“Right, of course not,” she conceded agreeably. 

 

“Cissa, I really wouldn’t worry about it. He’s a teenage boy. Hogwarts is a busy time. More than likely, he told a white lie about not receiving your letters to spare your feelings that he forgot to write or didn’t have anything to say. Don’t embarrass him by making a big deal out of it. The truth is, the two of you don’t have a whole lot in common, and he might not have been very engaged in the correspondence.” 

 

Narcissa frowned. That kind of lie, especially in an effort to spare someone’s feelings, didn’t particularly sound like Severus to her who was direct and frank to the point of it being a detriment to himself at times in social situations. But maybe . . . 

 

“You’re going to be a nightmare when we have children,” Lucius chided gently, seeming amused now. “You’ll expect them to be writing to you every other day.” 

 

“They will write to me if they know what’s good for them,” Narcissa grumbled but offered a small smile at his teasing. 

 

He laughed, “Well, in any case, you have a whole summer to catch up with him and convince him it’s in his best interest to keep up with your letters. By the way, since he’s staying with you anyway, perhaps I could take him to one of the meetings so he can hear what He has to say firsthand. I can convey the highlights fairly well, of course, but it’s not the same as hearing Him speak.” 

 

“I don’t know,” she hedged, not needing to ask what meetings he was talking about. “He’s only fifteen, Lucius.” 

 

“Oh, just to hear him speak, Cissa. Knowledge is power after all. What’s the harm in learning about some new ideas? Hearing what our world could be like if enough people were committed to the cause?” 

 

Blood.

 

Burning. 

 

Dark magic.

 

A shiver ran up her spine. 

 

“Just to hear him speak? I mean it, Lucius. None of . . . whatever Bella’s getting up to. I don’t want him around . . . that.” 

 

He inclined his head. “You know even better than I that Bellatrix is always on the extreme end of the spectrum. Surely you don’t think I'm that reckless.” 

 

“No, of course not,” she says automatically. And she’s never seen Lucius in such a state though her mind unhelpfully provides that she’s seen them leave together plenty of times to go to these meetings. And Lucius didn’t say he would never get involved in such things, only that he wasn’t reckless like Bella was. She was starting to get a headache. “You’d really have to ask him if he wants to go. It’s not like it’s actually up to me.” 

 

“Certainly. Pass on my invitation and I’ll send an owl personally as well.” 

 

Narcissa tells him she really must get going if she wants to get her shopping done and return in time to have dinner with Severus. Lucius walked her to the door, calling for one of the Malfoy house elves to fetch her things that he had taken when she arrived. The elf returned with her jacket and handbag, and Narcissa took them before remembering, “Oh! I think you’ve forgotten my hat.” 

 

An annoyed look crossed Lucius’s face and he turned to the elf who was rambling out an apology, delivering a quick and sharp kick to the creature, “Well? Hurry up. You’ve already kept her waiting long enough. That is the future mistress of this household. Do you want her to think it’s run with such incompetence?” 

 

Narcissa cringed a bit as the elf popped out of the room to retrieve the rest of her things, rather wishing she hadn’t said anything about the hat. These displays of violence and quick changes in temper always disturbed her a little bit, even if it was only toward the house elves. She was sure he would say she was being too sensitive, of course, especially since his parents were the same way with their servants, but she just wasn’t used to it. Not that the Blacks were exactly kind to their elves - they were servants and creatures besides - but such overtly abusive treatment was rare. They were valuable assets to the household. As a matter of fact, as horrible an old hag as her aunt was, she seemed actually fond of her elf Kreacher at times. Besides, the elves had largely been responsible for the sisters and their cousins when they were young children. Elves were exceptionally fond of children - it was what made them such good choices to help with the running of the day-to-day at Hogwarts - and it was them that she remembered tending her minor injuries as a child or telling her stories to get her back to sleep when she had a nightmare. It felt sacrilegious in a way  to enact violence upon someone who had acted as a caretaker. 

 

“Really, Lucius, it wasn’t that big of a deal,” she murmured. 

 

“Narcissa, if you let them just get away with not listening or doing a subpar job, it breeds disloyalty and laziness,” Lucius sounded exasperated, as if this was obvious. When she’s still frowning at him, he leans forward to kiss her, telling her just before their lips meet, “See? Soft-hearted.” 

 

She has to discourage some rather persistent wandering hands which she personally thought was a little hypocritical given all the hand-wringing about impropriety on her part for living on her own. By the time the elf reappeared and she was able to pull away, she was feeling a little breathless. She thanked the elf, feeling a little guilty, and put on her outerwear as Lucius told her to be safe and that he would see her soon. Briefly, she wondered what it said that she was so relieved to be done with her visit there, but she pushed that thought aside as she apparated to The Leaky Tavern to distract herself with some much needed retail therapy.

Chapter 3: Mistakes Are All I See: Severus Snape

When Severus finally woke up the next morning, it was already after eleven o’clock, and Narcissa was gone with just a note saying that she hadn’t wanted to wake him and would be back by dinner. He immediately felt guilty for not only showing up out of the blue and imposing on her hospitality, but also for sleeping away the next morning. In truth, he felt a little better today, at least physically - the first aid potions that Narcissa had obviously planted in the bathroom had done their job, and he was grateful she hadn’t asked him any questions - but anxiety still filled him at his precarious situation. 

 

Narcissa had told Minky that Severus would be staying for the rest of the summer, so he didn’t have to worry about having a roof over his head until the next term began. It was a relief, even if it brought up negative feelings and the word ‘freeloader’ to mind, a characteristic derided by his father and one he had often aimed at Severus for the minimal care the man provided. Of course, he had long since decided to disregard Tobias’s opinions on anything, but certain ideas stuck around regardless. 

 

The problem was, there wasn’t much he could actually do for Narcissa; her household was entirely attended to by a house elf, he couldn’t do magic outside of school, her knowledge in her current course of study far outstripped his own, and he knew instinctively any offer of financial compensation for her help would be seen as an insult. So for most of the day, he worked on his homework and started a book that looked interesting on the shelves in the living room called Unsuccessful Experiments That Shaped Modern Potions Theory by Prudence Brown. He mostly stuck to the room that had been allotted to him and handled the book with utmost care, not wanting to disturb her residence. On some level, he knew he was being ridiculous, but it was hard to feel comfortable in the upscale surroundings. 

 

Around noon, Minky popped into his bedroom to ask him what he wanted for lunch, and he again felt uneasy, not sure what to ask for if Narcissa received a grocery bill from the building she lived in that would be influenced by what he chose, and not particularly wanting to put out the elf. He had the Muggle-raised sensibilities that made him uncomfortable with house elves - and the working class sensibilities that made him uncomfortable with the idea of servants in general - which was yet another source of mocking among his pureblooded peers. 

 

“I could just make something for myself, if you could show me where Narcissa keeps her supplies,” he offered. The kitchen, which he had only glimpsed briefly the night before, seemed to have held little other than a sink, kettle, and cupboards for storage. 

 

He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but the little elf seemed a bit exasperated with him, “Minky be preparing meals for all residents of Bornwright Estates.” 

 

“Oh,” he said, thinking that seemed like a lot of work for one elf. He had assumed that Minky was Narcissa’s personal elf, but it seemed as though her services came with the flat. 

 

She was definitely exasperated, he thought, as she let out a quiet sigh. Then, suddenly, she brightened and snapped her fingers, saying, “Minky will bring Mr. Snape Missy Cissy’s favorite weekend lunch.” 

 

‘Missy Cissy’s’ favorite lunch turned out to be unnecessarily indulgent; warm bread seasoned with herbs and accompanied by whipped butter, a summer salad, and white fish with capers in some kind of creamy sauce, all finished off with a small raspberry tart for dessert. Severus helplessly thanked the elf, who looked quite satisfied with herself, he thought, and ate the lunch prepared for him. Afterwards, he went back to his room and tried to get a start on his summer homework but found himself distracted by rather melancholy thoughts. 

 

He didn’t miss Spinner’s End, of course, but he missed his mother, who he only got to see during the summer, and that wouldn't be the case this year. He supposed he could write to her if he put it through the Muggle post but wouldn’t be able to get a response from her unless she visited Diagon Alley to use the owl post office located there. And she hadn’t been to Diagon Alley since he was eleven and received the admission letter from Hogwarts. The Evans had driven them into the city, and Eileen had taken them around to the shops and answered their many questions about the wizarding world. It had been quite a bit of a shock for the couple; they had overheard Lily and Severus talking about magic, of course, and oddly enough had heard Petunia and Lily arguing about it, but they had rather assumed it was all make-believe. They had thought, on occasion, that the kids were getting a bit old for that kind of pretend play, but the Evanses generally approved of imagination in children, so had never said anything about it. They had felt a bit silly after the fact, but it simply didn’t occur to Muggles that magic might be real, even if the hints were there. 

 

Severus, following his rather nice lunch, thought about that day out which had ended with the Evanses inviting them out to lunch, which Eileen had declined, saying she had something already prepped at home to pop into the oven. This hadn’t been true, of course, but the woman had her limits to the charity she was willing to accept from the more financially comfortable family, whether their children were friends or not. Severus felt a wash of shame again at accepting Narcissa’s hospitality and let out a sigh of frustration with himself, slamming his Charms textbook closed and shoving the parchment that only had an introductory paragraph sketched out in the drawer of the desk. 

 

And now that he had circled back around to Lily, as usual, he couldn’t seem to derail the train of thoughts that led him back to thinking about Hogwarts. It was going to be a lonely year with Lily not speaking to him and uninterested in his apologies. He kept replaying their last conversation in his mind, wondering if there was anything he could have said to make her come around. Well, she had more or less told her what she wanted, he supposed, which was for him to turn his back on his allies in Slytherin, to condemn the growing Death Eater movement and the Dark Arts in general. It just wasn’t something he felt like he could promise with any degree of honesty. He wanted something more than Cokesworth and mediocrity and being afraid all the time of people who had more power than he did, which, in his position, was basically everyone. He was never going to be like Lily; well-liked, trusted, and indulged by their peers for the right reasons. He was perfectly aware that he only had his intelligence, skill, and usefulness to leverage himself up from where he was. 

 

Besides, he was so good at the Dark Arts, the subject matter felt intuitive, and his disposition naturally lent itself to the emotion and intention-fueled magic that depended less on technique and control like lighter forms of magic. It was infinitely satisfying to know that he was better at a type of magic than most of his pureblood peers, who coveted the power that the Dark Arts brought and had a fervent passion for the subject. It was a tangible way in which he was better than his pureblood classmates, something he had that they desired in the same way he felt about their wealth and privilege, and he even enjoyed, on some level, the way they hated him for having such innate talent as a half-blood nobody. 

 

He didn’t really believe that blood status made much of a difference when it came to power and skill, unlike most of his housemates. To truly believe that would be to dismiss his own worth as a wizard, which was indeed the only worth he felt he possessed. Lily herself was powerful and smart, talented and creative, someone he had considered an equal for all of these years. Both in the historical and contemporary wizarding world, there were a great many powerful half-bloods, including Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, whom he might resent for many legitimate reasons and disagree with on a great many things, but he would still count them both among the most talented and powerful of their generation. He didn’t even hate all Muggles - Lily’s parents were amazing, and while most of the other adults in his hometown were a disappointment, they were relatively mundane ones - though he disagreed with the harmless and often infantilizing view that the Light took on them.

 

But this was the way that the wizarding world was going; everything Severus had heard and seen at school seemed to indicate that Voldemort’s rise to power was inevitable. It seemed like, for anyone with any sense of self-preservation, it was a matter of figuring out where one could fit into that world. Something that took intention and planning, and cunning for people like him and Lily, who didn't naturally fit into the picture. Lily was uncompromising in her beliefs, however, and he struggled to overcome his severe pragmatism, so he feared they would never see eye-to-eye. At this point, he was feeling depressed both about his present situation and prospects, and he ended up crawling back into bed and falling into a restless nap. 

 

Severus woke up some time later to a soft knock on the bedroom door, blinking groggily in the dark room as he pushed himself up to sit. He suddenly felt embarrassed; that must be Narcissa back from the shops, and here he was sleeping away that afternoon. He had been asleep in the morning when she left as well. She must think he was being horribly lazy and an awful house guest. After closing his eyes for a moment, trying to rein in his thoughts, he called, “Come in.” 

 

Narcissa cracked the door open and peered into the darkened room. The candles had been lit as it had gotten dark out, which was Minky’s doing, no doubt, and Severus noticed there was a steaming cup of tea waiting for him on the bedside table under a warming charm. Narcissa cast a spell he recognized that produced multiple orbs of light that floated lazily about the room, a popular spell older students cast in the Slytherin common room for some extra light in the evenings. 

 

“Severus? I’m back. Are you not feeling well?” 

 

Well, that certainly sounded better than telling her that he had just wanted to pretend he didn’t exist for a while, so he said, “Maybe a little under the weather. I’m sorry.” 

 

“What on earth are you sorry for?” She asked, coming further into the room. When she reached the bed, she reached out a hand to place on his forehead, and he couldn’t help but lean away from her sudden touch. She dropped her hand to her side and looked at him apologetically. “I was just wondering if you have a fever. Can I do a quick diagnostic charm?” 

 

“If you like,” he said gruffly, feeling ridiculous since he knew he wasn’t actually sick. He hoped she would just drop it and allow him to save face. 

 

With a flick of her wand, she was able to produce a reading of his vital signs as well as a positive or negative result for several common afflictions and infections. She read the parchment before ending the spell, which simultaneously banished the parchment. “Well, everything looks okay. We can check again tomorrow if you still aren't feeling well. Sometimes, if the person you cast it on is in the very early stages of getting sick, it won’t show up on the reading, especially if it’s someone without a high level of healing expertise doing the casting. It’s possible that you’re just worn out. Anyone would be after the summer you’ve had so far.” 

 

Severus scowled a bit at the blanket on the bed, hating how weak that made him sound. 

 

“Do you feel up to some dinner?” He nodded, and she continued, “Okay, why don’t you freshen up, and I’ll meet you in the dining room.” 

 

When she was gone, he stood up and made his way to the restroom. He grimaced a bit at his appearance; he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a bit greasy since he hadn’t mustered up the motivation to take a shower yet today. He splashed some water on his face and changed into some clothes that weren’t wrinkled from lying in bed. When he got to the dining room, Minky had already placed all of the food on the table. There was lamb - which Severus had never had and found to be fine though he’d just as soon eat a traditional beef roast, thank you - and honeyed carrots seasoned with harissa, There was also rice that seemed to have been cooked with plenty of olive oil and herbs, and dessert consisted of small bowls of lemon sherbert. 

 

Narcissa told him about her day, complaining copiously about the crowds in the Alley and how hardly any stores allowed you to directly floo to the shop anymore. Severus told her about the book he was reading and his skepticism at the premise, which seemed to be focused on the idea that a certain allowance for mistakes and failures in potion brewing and education could lead to more beneficial outcomes for the field of experimental potions than aspiring for or demanding perfection. 

 

“The actual potion theory they explore, and the historical context, is interesting enough, but it feels like the author is being purposefully contrary to accepted standards for experimentation and instruction. I’ve heard of some of these experiments from other sources, and Brown downplays the injuries, disfiguration, and property damage that these experiments resulted in.” 

 

Narcissa hummed thoughtfully, “Does that reflect the actual value of failure in experimentation and learning, though, or simply poor fail-safes on the part of the potioneers?” 

 

“Both,” Severus said stubbornly. He continued scornfully, “Besides, if their experiments are producing such unexpected results, then their entire planning, research, and theory phase of experimentation was lacking to begin with. I don’t believe we should be praising these brewers for dumb luck. It lowers the standards for the entire field.” 

 

“Well, it’s true, I’ve never known a potions master who celebrated failure in the learning process or their own work. Our tutor growing up was an absolute dictator in his laboratory about every step and technique. He used to cast the most terrible stinging hexes on our hands if we were about to make a mistake, but he would never tell us where we were going wrong! The first time he tried to teach us a Draught of Peace, my hands were terribly swollen by the time we were done! Mother had to apply an ointment to them, and I think she must have had words with him because he was a little less quick with his wand after that.” 

 

Severus winced sympathetically, though Narcissa did not seem particularly bothered, telling the story almost carelessly. He said, “Well, there has to be a sensible medium between that and celebrating incompetence.” 

 

“I haven’t gotten around to reading that book yet, and you’re making me feel like perhaps it’s not worth my time after all. If you’re really interested in potion experimentation, I would recommend Unidentified Substances by Moira Farley. She’s not as well-read here as on the continent, but she’s an absolutely brilliant witch and potions master. You’ll find a copy in my collection.” 

After dinner, the two of them had tea in the sitting room. Once they were settled, Narcissa held up both hands in a pre-emptively placating gesture and said, “Now, don’t be mad . . . “ 

 

Severus just raised an eyebrow, thinking this did not sound promising. Indeed, his expression turned into a frown as Narcissa fetched one of her shopping bags and set it down in front of him. 

 

“Narcissa – ” he began to complain.

 

“I know, I know. But just consider it an early Christmas present, yes? I’d like for you to get some use out of them before then, and I don’t know if I’ll see you in person at Christmas.” 

 

Cautiously, and knowing he wouldn’t win an argument with the woman, he reached into the bag and began pulling out the items inside. As he feared, it was quite an excessive gift: a new pair of dragonhide boots and gloves, a very nice winter cloak that was lined with fur, and even a new set of school robes made of a noticeably thicker material than the basic ones he had purchased a couple of years ago. All things that he absolutely needed replaced, thoughtful and practical, and all in his preferred color of black, except for the fur that lined the cloak, which was a bright white. 

 

A warring mixture of feelings coursed through him: humiliation at Narcissa’s knowledge of his poverty, anger at the idea of being treated like a charity case, and also warmth at being on the receiving end of such consideration and kindness. His first instinct, as usual, was to lash out and throw the gifts back in her face. Something which, obviously, had not been working out for him, he thought bitterly. He took a deep breath and looked up at Narcissa, who was smiling kindly but looking a bit nervous about how her gifts would be received. Severus knew she meant well and was not trying to highlight his shortcomings. 

 

“I got your size measurements from Madame Malkin’s since I thought that the chances of dragging you to the Alley for clothes shopping were zero. They’re probably a little outdated, but the items all have pretty generous tailoring charms on them that will automatically make adjustments over time. Of course, I actually bought them from Twillfit and Tattings because their quality is just so much better, and the clothes last so much longer. Oh! Though I did buy a new work robe for brewing or helping Mother in the garden for Madam Malkin’s trouble.” 

 

Severus stared at her and said, “You just walked into Madame Malkin’s, told her you wanted some random person’s measurements, and she just gave them to you?” 

 

“Well, she’s a tailor, Severus, not an Unspeakable,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. She smiled at him hopefully. 

 

“Well, thank you very much, Cissa. These are great.” He forced the words out, feeling his face flush slightly, and he scolded himself for being so awkward. It was just a couple of gifts for God’s sake! And he was a Slytherin; he should be willing to take advantage of any opportunity that comes his way, right?

 

“You’re welcome,” she beamed. 

 

The problem with calling it a Christmas present was that such things were supposed to be reciprocal, and not only did he not have the money to get anything nice for his friend, but she was hard to shop for in the way that all people who simply bought whatever they desired were. Well, he had some luck in the last year with developing spells and potions on his own, and he thought he was getting better at it. Maybe he could create something for Narcissa? Even if he couldn’t make anything terribly complex by December, it could still be something special, a spell just for her? He would have to do some brainstorming later on. 

 

It was getting late, so they were both ready to turn in after chatting a bit longer, and Narcissa showing him the books she had picked up on her trip. He teased her mercilessly for the copy of Astronomy for Romantics by Tessa Swift, which she had not intended to share with him, but he spotted it anyway. She threatened that she would get him back one day when he fell in love with someone, but Severus didn’t think that was too much of a concern, to be honest. 

 

As Minky cleared away their cups and Narcissa’s purchases, she cleared her throat, “There was one more thing that I wanted to mention. When I spoke to Lucius, he wanted me to extend an invitation for you to accompany him to one of the political rallies being held by proponents of Lord Voldemort. He’ll be sending on an owl of his own, but . . . is that something you think you would be interested in?” 

 

There was something tight and strained about her voice, and Severus searched her eyes to try to discern what she might think about him accepting the offer. He was surprised by the invitation, to be honest, as he wasn’t very close to Lucius and didn’t understand why he would want to be seen with a half-blood in such circles. Lucius was . . . fine. He had always been . . . kind to Severus, for lack of a better word, but not in the way that Narcissa had been. While her interest had always felt authentic and honest, Severus had sometimes gotten the impression that Lucius was mocking him beneath the kind words and assistance. 

He realized he’d been silent for too long and said quickly, “Of course. It’s a good opportunity.” 

 

“You don’t have to go. Or decide right away.” 

 

“Do you not want me to accept his invitation?” He knew he sounded a bit defensive as his unhelpful brain supplied the idea that maybe she was embarrassed for him to be seen in her social circle, as nice as she might be in private. 

 

“It’s not that. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to attend. You just . . . didn’t sound that enthusiastic, is all.” 

 

“I want to go.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

He regretted that the evening ended a bit awkwardly and found himself spending most of the time before he fell asleep berating himself. This was a good opportunity, though, to meet people who existed in the world he wanted to have a place in when he graduated. People who were successful and wealthy, intelligent and engaged, accepted and appreciated. Accepting was only Slytherin, right? 

Notes:

Severus definitely is a bit lost and struggling with some self-esteem issues.

Next: Narcissa reads the news and spoils some plans. She and Lucius argue.

Chapter 4: Remember My Family Name: Narcissa Black

Summary:

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope that you enjoy it too!

Though writing the news article proved to be a challenge for some reason.

Narcissa was pleased to see that Severus came out of his shell a bit in the next couple of weeks, slowly growing more comfortable living in the flat. On a couple of occasions, she managed to drag him out in public to go shopping with her and rewarded his forbearance by taking him to the Library of Arcane Studies outside of Oxford. It was one of the largest collections of magical texts in all of Europe, and she used her father’s name to garner him one of the sought-after memberships that gave borrowing privileges. She was extremely happy to have done so, as she had rarely seen the usually dour teen so excited about anything. She spared a thought to wonder if the Sorting Hat had considered putting him in Ravenclaw before dismissing it, since she thought his cleverness was distinctly Slytherin. 

 

At one point, she even managed to convince him to accompany her to see a play, though her hopes that they might discover a new shared interest were quickly dashed. Though he sat politely through the duration, it was clear he was rather bored by it all. A pity – she loved the theater and could really use a companion for her forays. She refused to ask Lucius to accompany her since the last time when he had made some remarks after the show about the lead actress in front of other patrons that had deeply embarrassed her. Confronting him had led to an unpleasant argument where he posited that, as his partner, she should support him and endeavor to be on his side in every situation in order for them to work as a proper team. Yes, she would just have to continue to attend on her own for now. 

 

Lucius sent his invitation for Severus to join him for a political rally scheduled to be held on June 28th, which he accepted. Narcissa made an effort to remain neutral about the idea, at least in front of her friend, especially because she had no idea why it made her so uncomfortable. She knew that Bellatrix had taken Regulus to a couple of them, with his parents’ blessing, and he was a year younger than Severus was! She was being ridiculous, and Lucius, or anyone in her family for that matter, would be quick to tell her so. 

 

Still . . . 

 

On June 27th, she opened up her morning copy of the Daily Prophet, and her eyes widened slightly as they skimmed over the front page. The picture featured a small group of wixen dressed in black hooded robes and masks, some with wands actively raised, on what appeared to be a residential street that had been utterly razed to the ground. In the sky above the devastation was the symbol of a snake emerging from a skull, glittering like a new, macabre constellation. Beneath the photo is a caption that reads: Photographic evidence provided to the Prophet by a brave wixen, who has requested anonymity due to safety concerns, who witnessed the attack under a disillusionment charm. 

 

Narcissa finds herself automatically leaning close to the paper, eyes squinted and searching the photo intently, but then she startles when she realizes what she’s doing. She’s looked for any familiarity in the figures; a stray wild curl of dark hair, the jewel encrusted hilt of the cursed blade she started wearing in a holster on her left leg in seventh year, the – yes, there, the ostentatious ring, a Black family heirloom her sister still wears despite being a Lestrange now, on the hand holding the wand overhead toward the sky. Narcissa’s breath comes out as a shudder as she lowers the paper from her face. She closes her eyes for a moment and doesn’t admit to herself that she was also looking for a shock of pale, sleek hair against the dark hoods or an engagement ring set with a diamond flanked by two onyx stones. 

---

Terror in Kingsmere

by Williamina Gamp

On the evening of June 26th, the small town of Kingsmere was the target of a large-scale terrorist attack orchestrated by at least five wixen whose identities were concealed under black robes and masks. The death toll currently stands at fifteen, with more injured or still reported missing. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has issued the following statement: 

 

“The incident in Kingsmere is currently under investigation. At this time, we can confirm that we are considering this a targeted terrorist attack against Muggles and are treating it with the utmost seriousness. Although Kingsmere is a primarily Muggle settlement, there are at least two wixen deaths resulting from Friday night’s attack. We believe the wixen victims to be unaffiliated with the perpetrators of the attack and, unfortunately, may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. We expect to be able to share more information in the coming days. In the meantime, the DMLE encourages all wixen to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity to the Auror Office.”

 

(See pg. 6 for current recommended security measures for British wixen citizens, as well as information on the new Public Threat Level Assessment System established earlier this month) 

 

When asked if the attack in Kingsmere was connected to other outbursts of violence that have been seen throughout the country since the beginning of the year, Auror Rufus Scrimgeour said, “The DMLE is working on identifying any possible common thread between these acts. The events in Kingsmere were of a much larger scale than anything else we’ve seen this year and appeared to be a more organized effort. Again, the best thing that citizens can do is keep their eyes open and avail themselves of the resources provided by the Ministry.” 

 

(See pg. 8 for timeline of violent crime so far in 1976, believed to be rooted in anti-Muggle and anti-Muggleborn sentiment)

 

Further independent investigation has identified the deceased wixen as Prunella Dearborn and a Muggleborn who was in her seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who cannot be named due to laws surrounding minor victims of crime. Prunella Dearborn was a well-respected healer at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The night of the attack, she had been visiting the Macmillan family whose family estate is approximately 30 miles south of Kingsmere. 

 

“We think she must have heard about the disturbance that way after leaving here and went to try to help,” Emery Macmillan, patriarch of the Macmillan family, said. “That was just the way Prue was. She took being a healer very seriously. Wizarding Britain is worse off today, having lost her exceptional skill and giving spirit.” 

 

Not everyone has been satisfied with the Ministry response to Friday’s attack, as illustrated by a statement given by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, “I’m afraid that until the Ministry takes an official stance condemning the activities perpetrated by these so-called ‘Death Eaters’, and aligns their actions with that condemnation, we will continue to see these horrific tragedies play out. With every day that passes without a proactive approach, I fear that we ensure more devastating outcomes down the road.” 

 

When asked if he had heard that one of the victims of the latest attack was a student of Hogwarts, Dumbledore replied, “I think it’s important that we respect the privacy of families who have been victimized by these attacks. All I will say is that Hogwarts will continue to serve as a haven for all magical children.” 

 

Still, others caution against the dangers of overcorrection. Lucius Malfoy, son of esteemed Wizengamot member Abraxas Malfoy and burgeoning political star, commented, “The Death Eaters are a political organization promoting adherence to traditional values. Values that Albus Dumbledore has long villainized and blamed for the ills of our world. I’m personally not surprised that he’s using recent events - which have not, by the way, been officially connected to the Death Eaters by any legitimate authority – to further his smear campaign. This is really about censorship by a man who has spent too long running a school where any way of thinking that opposes his own is painted as unacceptable. Dumbledore wishes to paint Death Eaters as pureblood extremists when, in reality, there are people from all walks of life who understand the need for a return to traditional values. For example, half-bloods suffer perhaps the most of all from the mingling of our world with the Muggle one, experiencing a dilution of their heritage and status while being forced to grow up around people who can’t possibly understand them. There is a high instance of abuse toward wixen children born into mixed-blood households, but that’s not something progressives such as Dumbledore want to talk about. Safety for all magical children indeed.” 

 

Williamina Gamp is an award-winning journalist who has worked for esteemed publications such as The Time Winder Weekly Press and The Scotland Daily Bulletin before finding her home at The Daily Prophet. In addition to being a regular contributor to the daily news cycle, readers can find her opinion column in the weekend edition. 

---

 

It was odd seeing her fiancé’s words in print, let alone giving his opinion in the same article as Albus Dumbledore, and uncomfortable to know how much of what came out of his mouth was bullshit. The journalist seemed to really have a finger on the pulse of what was going on with these attacks, and she wondered if she would be more forthcoming with information than Lucius and Bellatrix had been. Yes, perhaps she would pay a visit to dear cousin Williamina. She would bring a gift to butter her up. What did she like again? Narcissa didn’t think she’d seen her since she was fourteen. Maybe her preferences were still listed in Narcissa’s journal, where she kept notes on just that kind of social information. 

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Severus entering the dining room and sitting down on her right, muttering an unenthusiastic greeting. She doesn’t think he’s sleeping well at night, despite the other improvements she had seen in him the past couple of weeks. He barely even looks at her until he’s drunk half of his morning tea, but when he does, it’s with a frown.

 

“What’s wrong?” Severus asked, tensing. It’s something she’s noticed that the teen always seems to be anticipating something going wrong or bad news. He’s almost irritatingly attuned to her changes in mood, and she might have snapped at him about it over the past couple of weeks if she didn’t recognize the behavior so well. It was the behavior of someone used to having to manage the moods of adults in their lives. Regulus was like this, too, and Sirius used to be before he had apparently decided he preferred open warfare with Aunt Walburga. 

 

“Nothing much,” she assured him. “Just feeling a bit pensive after reading The Prophet this morning, I suppose.” 

 

Narcissa handed him the paper as Minky furnished the table with an excessive amount of breakfast foods. She began filling her plate as he read through the article, frowning as he did so. He placed the paper gingerly back on the table when he finished, but didn’t comment. The meal was more subdued than usual, with both of them lost in their own thoughts. When Minky cleared away the dishes, Narcissa made an impulsive decision that she didn’t entirely understand. 

 

“Unfortunately, I’m going to need you to cancel your plans with Lucius tomorrow. There is something that I really wanted to show you, and I don’t know when the next time will be that we’ll have the opportunity. These rallies take place every couple of weeks; more frequently as of late.” 

 

Severus looked at her curiously and said hesitantly, “Well . . . it’s a bit last-minute. And I did want to attend. Won’t Lucius be upset if I cancel now?” 

 

Narcissa waved her hand in an unconcerned gesture, “I’ll handle it. Please? It’s rather special and important to me that I get to share it with you.” 

 

She knows that he’ll ultimately indulge her, and maybe her words are a bit emotionally manipulative, but it is important to her suddenly for reasons she doesn’t care to examine. As expected, he nods and agrees that he’ll go if that’s what she wants. 

 

In what is perhaps a cowardly move, Narcissa doesn’t contact Lucius until a couple of hours before he is due to meet Severus. She simply doesn’t want to listen to him try to convince her otherwise or try to tempt Severus into going with him instead. She goes down to the lobby and gives her letter to the receptionist, who will send a courier to mail it from the Owl Post Office for her “right away, Miss Black.” Then she returns to the flat and has Severus follow her through the floo to a small wizarding tavern called The Ironbelly Inn. They step out into the night, and she offers her arm so that she can apparate them the rest of the way. Narcissa knows that Severus does not particularly care for surprises, and it warms her that he doesn’t question her or hesitate in following her, simply looking around curiously. 

 

The sharp crack of apparition is particularly loud in the quiet forest clearing where they reappear. It was still a fair distance from the tavern to their destination up in the mountains, and Narcissa could feel the light drain on her magic. It’s colder up here, and night is falling fast around them. She gestures to a path that leads uphill, away from the clearing, which is lit only by bioluminescent plants that grow along either side. 

 

“Starfallow?” He asked, looking at the glowing plants. Narcissa softly affirms his guess, and he murmurs, “Rare. There’s so much of it here.” 

 

They both carefully watch the ground as they follow the sloping path through the dark woods, the ground soft underfoot, giving slightly with each step. When they finally emerge from the trees on a grassy plateau near the highest point of the mountain, Narcissa hears a soft gasp beside her and smiles. She turns around, stretching out her arms in an expansive gesture, and announces, “Welcome to Cassiopeia’s Zenith.” 

 

The night sky is impressive here, every star thrown into shining relief against the inky sky, in their full glory in this place otherwise devoid of light. The moon is nearly full and feels impossibly close, providing just enough light to safely maneuver around the clearing. To say the least, the stargazer’s paradise made the views from the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts look wane and paltry. It’s one of Narcissa’s favorite places in the entire world, and she’s pleased to see that Severus looks appropriately awed. 

 

“My grandfather, Pollux Black, discovered this place in his twenties. He named it and set the enchantments in the area. It’s nearly impossible to find, let alone access, unless you’re accompanied by a member of the Black family. He actually married Aunt Irma up here. Do you see the Sable Frost Roses over there? He planted those bushes when his first son, Uncle Alphard, was born, as a gift to his wife. They’re very rare, believed by some herbologists to be extinct, as a matter of fact. Of course, they have no real use in potions or any other academic field. They’re just . . . pure beauty.” 

 

Narcissa sighs a bit wistfully at the story as Severus goes over to get a closer look at the roses, which are a deep black in color with stems and leaves that appear as though covered in frost. 

 

“There is a bit of a tradition where when each of us children turns ten, our parents bring us here to see this place for the first time. It’s quite special to us.” She can still remember her first time visiting, holding both of her parents’ hands, in awe of both the sky and getting them all to herself, which didn’t happen often as the youngest girl, as they told her the story. 

 

“It’s incredible,” Severus says with uncharacteristic softness. 

 

For a while, they both stand there in the clearing, gazing up at the night sky. Narcissa silently names the constellations and their stars to herself. Eventually, Severus speaks again, rather reluctantly, “Narcissa, why don’t you want me to spend time around Lucius?” 

 

She crosses her arms, hugging them around herself as though for warmth, and responds without tearing her eyes away from the sky. Her boy isn’t dense, she’ll give him that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was looking at the weather, and this was the last clear night there was going to be for a while.” 

 

He’s silent, but she can feel his eyes on her. She tips her head back further as her eyes search the night sky. He doesn’t believe her, she’s sure, but he can’t prove she’s lying, and she doesn’t have a good explanation anyway. 

 

Finally, he says, “It’s amazing here. I’m really grateful that you showed me. Though I don’t understand why you did or why it was important to you.” 

 

Narcissa is silent for a moment and then says simply, “Because you’re my friend and I love you. This is a special place to me, and I wanted to share it with you.” 

 

It’s the truth, but also extremely effective in silencing him. She’s willing to bet that if she were to look over at him, his face would be red in embarrassment at her heartfelt words. 

 

Eventually, they head back to the clearing, where Narcissa apparates them back to the tavern after informing him that he should always be able to find this place in the future now, even on his own. She treats him to dinner at the tavern, which is simpler than what Minky will be serving at home, which she thinks Severus is more comfortable with anyway. He seems relaxed, and Narcissa herself is experiencing a pleasant feeling of peace. 

 

Until, of course, they arrive back at the flat. 

 

Lucius is waiting in the lobby, looking distinctly displeased. When they enter the front door, Narcissa sees him glaring at the receptionist, who is avoiding his gaze as she works at her desk, looking thoroughly cowed. It’s she who spots the two of them first and exclaims, “Oh, Miss Black! I’m so sorry. Mr. Malfoy here isn’t on the list of people who can freely use your floo. I hope that I haven’t made a mistake. As you know, at Wrightborn Estates we only allow individuals specifically named by residents to enter via floo while they are not home to give express permission at the time of the request.” 

 

The receptionist lets out a very nervous little laugh, her eyes darting between Narcissa and Lucius. She seems relieved to see her tenant, and Narcissa knows that Lucius must have absolutely terrorized the woman over having his request denied. As it stands, she does know about policy, and the only people she has on that list are her parents and Regulus. Well, and now Severus since he was staying with her. 

 

“Yes, thank you, Fiona,” Narcissa says calmly as Lucius turns his glare to her. 

 

“Narcissa, may I speak to you in private?” 

 

Well, her upbringing certainly won’t allow her to have this argument in public, so she nods and heads over to the floo with the two men following her. Lucius doesn’t even bother to address Severus, who is now visibly uncomfortable. She gestures for the teen to go first and then follows, leaving Lucius to trail behind them. 

 

“Severus, could you give us a moment, please?” Narcissa asks gently, and he seems happy to comply with this request, leaving for his room so they could have their conversation. She’s annoyed by the apologetic look that he sends to Lucius, as he hasn’t done anything wrong. 

 

She waits until she hears the door click down the hall before turning to her fiancé and gesturing that he should say his piece. Lucius begins, “Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me tonight? Do you know that I was planning on making introductions for the boy to the Dark Lord? I had to explain why I found out less than two hours before the event that he would not be attending after singing his praises at the previous meeting.” 

 

“And? Does your lord not understand that things sometimes come up?” Narcissa doesn’t know why she’s not sorry at all or why she’s responding by taunting him. She is being obstinate and irreverent; if Bellatrix had heard her speak as such, she would already have been cursed to the ground. At the moment, however, she doesn’t care. Regardless of any unresolved feelings she might have been feeling earlier in the day about this whole mess, she’s now angry that he ambushed her and is standing in her foyer making demands after being rude to her staff. 

 

Lucius’s pale face goes a little red, and she knows her mockery has hit a nerve. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Minky appear, probably to ask if Narcissa and her guest need anything, but one look at her mistress’s face has her popping back out of the room without a word. He sneers and says, “I don’t like you like this.” 

 

She doesn’t say anything in response, merely crosses her arms. 

 

“Is this how it’s going to be when we get married? With you undermining my efforts and disobeying me at every turn?” 

 

If his expression of doubt about their marriage is meant to hurt her, it doesn’t have the desired effect. If anything, her anger intensifies, “Disobey? Oh, get over yourself, Lucius. Go home to your mother if you plan on throwing a tantrum because things didn’t go exactly your way. I wasn’t aware that I was marrying an overgrown toddler.” 

 

Narcissa is somehow surprised when he grabs her arm and backs her three steps into the wall. Lucius isn’t rough enough that he actually hurts her, but she finds her senses hyperfixated on where he has hold of her arm and gasps a little in surprise when her back hits the wall. He is considerably taller than her, and he’s leaning too far into her space when he speaks again, “Narcissa, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to or why you think you can speak to me with such disrespect, but I suggest that you reconsider the way you are behaving right now.” 

 

Lucius should know by now that she doesn’t appreciate it when someone tries to intimidate her, and she’s even more surprised that he hasn’t realized she is not easily intimidated. The thing is that Narcissa grew up with Bellatrix as an older sister and had the dubious honor of being the other girl’s favorite person, whom she therefore always kept close. Throughout her childhood, Narcissa’s proximity to her sister had made her the target of many of Bella’s violent outbursts and cruel games, with her favored status only earning her apologies in the days after, where Bellatrix would pat her hair and explain her actions in endless circles until the other girl agreed not to hate her. 

 

It had left Narcissa desensitized to and unimpressed by bullying behavior and attempts at intimidation by her peers. To this day, she was terrified of her sister, even if she loved her, but her experiences had left her truly fearing very few other people. And while she might be reasonably wary of the difference in their size and strength, she was certainly not afraid of the spoiled, arrogant man in front of her. The problem with Lucius, she thought bitterly, is that he was raised to believe in a total absence of consequences for him and his family. Well, the Blacks did believe in consequences, usually ones they meted out personally. 

 

So, considering all of the things that Lucius should know, his surprised expression is almost comical when she shoves her wand hard against his throat, the tip pushing against the skin so that she feels his throat bob through her wand when he swallows. She hopes that in that moment, every nasty thing people say about her family runs through his head; rumors about murder and disappearance and horrific handcrafted curses that didn’t really have a publicly known name, let alone a cure. From the way he very slowly releases her, she thinks that they must. 

 

She hopes he is at least a little afraid because, at that moment, she herself is a little afraid of the darkness she feels in herself, the power with a slightly hysterical edge to it, and a surprising knowledge that, yes, she could bring herself to seriously hurt this person she cares about if pushed. It’s the first time she questions if the so-called Black family madness ever completely passes over a member of the family tree. When he takes a step back, she follows him, wand still aimed at his throat, her grey eyes meeting his blue ones. 

 

“Narcissa?” She startles at the sound of the teen’s voice, which sounds both uncertain and slightly alarmed, so caught up was she in her and Lucius’s own little world that she had not heard Severus approach. 

 

With a final glare, she lowers her wand, though she doesn’t holster it, and spats, “Just get out, Lucius.” 

 

The look he gives her is hard, and as he turns to leave, he tells her, “Let me know when you’re ready to apologize. By the morning light, I’m sure you’ll regret your entirely unbecoming behavior tonight. I’m ashamed of you, Narcissa.” 

 

As he disappears through the floo, she thinks unkindly, I should have cursed him when I had the chance.

 

When she turns back to Severus, she immediately feels guilty for the truly disturbed look on his face. She mentally curses herself for letting this whole thing get so out of hand. What is she doing? She wants Severus to feel safe here, for Merlin’s sake! 

 

“I’m sorry, Narcissa,” he says when she approaches, his face twisting into a guilty expression. 

 

She looks at him quizzically. 

 

“The two of you fought because of me. Over me going with him to that rally tonight.” He explained. 

 

Then she realizes that it wasn’t her who had disturbed or frightened him. No, because the eyes darting over her form are full of worry and regret. 

 

“We fought because Lucius is being an asshole,” Narcissa informs him, and is rewarded with a slight quirk of his lip at her unusually coarse language. She suddenly feels very tired and a bit sad about the whole situation, so she gently sends him off to bed with reassurance that everything is fine. He allows her to pat his arm and steer him toward his room with unusual forbearance for her fussing before she retires to her own room.

Notes:

Next: Severus actually attends a rally and tries to figure out why Narcissa is behaving strangely. Regulus tries to help his cousin but ends up engaged in a huge misunderstanding with Severus. (AKA the one where Regulus fails the stealth check)

Chapter 5: To Be Great and Terrible: Severus Snape

Severus had been growing more comfortable in Narcissa’s flat over the past couple of weeks, but the morning after she had argued with Lucius he found himself hesitating to go out to the dining room for breakfast. He had found the entire incident far more unsettling than he cared to admit. The way in which the argument had devolved so quickly and the way that Lucius had grabbed Narcissa, using his size and strength as leverage in an attempt to intimidate, had been too reminiscent of scenes he’d watched play out countless times at Spinner’s End. Including the argument seemingly stemming from Severus’s place in the magical world, though this was a wildly different version of the arguments his parents had about the matter. 

 

When he entered the kitchen, he found her already drinking her tea with a collection of letters on the table next to her that had been torn into quarters. There was only one letter that was intact and set aside from the others. He took his usual seat and greeted her quietly as a cup of tea appeared in front of him, prepared by Minky exactly how he preferred, and breakfast dishes started to fill the table. 

 

“Good morning,” Narcissa greeted, and smiled wryly when she caught him looking at the pile of ripped-up post. “Lucius’s PR game is very strong.”

“At least one person isn’t buying into it?” He said, inclining his head toward the lone intact letter.

 

“Father.” She confirmed. “He’s biased, though. He’s never cared for Lucius. Says he’s ‘all style and no substance.’” 

 

Severus didn’t know very much about Cygnus Black other than that his daughters loved him and he was known as something of a gentleman scholar. He had written a couple books, written about the history of ritual magic in Great Britain, if he recalled correctly. Severus’s knowledge of pureblood customs was admittedly spotty, but he was a bit confused as to why Narcissa would be engaged to a man her father didn’t approve of via a betrothal contract. He said as much to her. 

 

Narcissa was silent for a moment, and Severus feared he had overstepped, but before he could think to apologize, she spoke, “It’s a very advantageous match on both sides. The Malfoys are a respected pureblood family, of course, but they don’t have the same kind of pedigree that my family does. It’s well-known that their family tree contains several half-bloods. And there are rumors, of course, about their bloodline mixing with Muggle nobility way back in the day. The Black bloodline, for better or worse, is considered above reproach in our circles. Conversely, the Malfoys are extremely wealthy, which appeals to my family.” 

 

“I never got the impression that the Blacks were hard up for galleons,” Severus commented before he could stop himself from being rude. 

 

Narcissa just smirked in response, however, and said, “Well, in general, the Malfoys are wealthy on a different level than, well, any of the other families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. And while the Black family is well-off, the fiscal decisions for the fortune almost entirely rest with the heir and his immediate family. The Black family may be wealthy, but my parents have little other than what Aunt Walburga sees fit to give them.” 

 

“It sounds like a lot of politics.” 

 

Narcissa just hummed in agreement as she helped herself to breakfast, and Severus thought she looked a bit melancholy. He hesitated, an absolutely inane question on the tip of his tongue, but she’d been very open, so he couldn’t help but sate his curiosity. “You’re happy that you’re marrying him, though, right?” 

 

He felt his face flush a little bit as the question sounded childish and inane to his own ears. Narcissa didn’t laugh or make a sarcastic comment but merely looked thoughtful. Slowly, she said, “I have always liked the idea of being a wife and mother. Not every woman in my position does. Andromeda found the focus on the importance of marriage and motherhood for pureblood women reductive, and Bellatrix viewed it as a loss of valuable independence and self-determination. In a way, I’m very lucky that my own dreams align with what is expected of me, as in my experience, those who buck tradition in my family suffer greatly.” 

 

It wasn’t actually a direct answer to his question, but Severus nodded as if it were. He got the sense that she spoke the truth, even if it avoided the original question, and if that was all she was comfortable offering, then he didn’t have any right to push. He just hoped she would be happy and safe. And with that, he wondered when he had become so terribly sentimental. Living basked in Narcissa’s kindness and encouragement was making him soft, something he couldn’t really afford once this summer was over. 

 

In the following days, Narcissa and Lucius rather unceremoniously reconcile, which Severus thought was a good thing if only because his friend’s distress seemed to melt away with their issues being settled. In fact, if anything, the couple seem even closer than before, with Narcissa gone much more than usual, either visiting the manor or going out with her fiancé. Lucius also spends more time at the flat, often visiting to have brunch or a drink while he regaled her with stories of his efforts at the ministry and behind the scenes in the service of Lord Voldemort’s cause. Severus strongly suspected that these tales were a bit embellished, either in terms of how big a part he played or the importance of their outcomes, but he didn’t lack quite that much tact where he would say so. 

 

As a matter of fact, he tried to give them as much space as possible, conscious of his worries that he had caused the strife between them to begin with. He spent a lot of time either reading in his room or exploring the neighborhood surrounding the flat. He wrote a letter to his mother that he didn’t send because the same logistical issues still existed, and searched the Daily Prophet for help wanted ads. He had looked up the labor laws surrounding minors in the giant self-updating law book that Narcissa kept in her study and found that there basically weren’t any, which at this point shouldn’t surprise him about the magical world. Essentially, as long as the person could convince someone to hire them, it was okay for them to work regardless of age. It ended up not really mattering as he couldn’t find anything he was qualified to do in the paper. On a brief trip to Diagon Alley, he was told that basically all of the summer jobs were filled before school even officially let out, with students usually writing letters of inquiry or else their families arranging something for them. 

 

So it was a peaceful summer, albeit a bit lonely and disappointing at times. 

 

Two weeks after the reconciliation, Lucius called Severus into the dining room where he and Narcissa were having tea to again extend his invitation to attend one of the political rallies, “The summer will be over before you know it, and I would hate to see you miss out on the opportunity.” 

 

Severus felt his eyes immediately go to Narcissa, who had been so reticent about his attending, but she just gave him an encouraging smile. She seemed a little bit distracted but definitely not disapproving this time around. 

 

Lucius, seeing him automatically look to his fiancée for approval or permission, frowned a bit, his tone becoming cool, “If you don’t wish to go, you only need to say so. I am trying to do this for your benefit, you know.” 

 

“No, I know that,” Severus said quickly, slightly apologetic. “I do want to go. When is the next one?” 

 

Which led to him wearing his new robes Narcissa had bought him earlier that summer the next evening, fussing irritably with his appearance in the mirror before deciding that was as good as it was going to get. Narcissa was sitting at the dining room table when he exited his bedroom, working on drafting a letter, and she smiled slightly when she looked up, “You look nice, Severus. Are you excited?” 

 

“Yes, I suppose so,” he said, still a bit bewildered by her change in attitude, though he felt that he couldn’t bring it up without seeming like he was trying to cause trouble. “A bit nervous, maybe.” 

 

“It’ll be great. Lucius is very good at navigating this kind of thing. He’ll make sure you make a good impression and get the most that you can out of it. Just relax and try to enjoy yourself.” 

 

Severus opened his mouth to ask her about the change of heart anyway, since that last statement nearly gave him whiplash in its direct contradiction to her previous thoughts on the matter, but the floo flared at that moment, and they heard Lucius call out from the sitting room. Narcissa smiled and greeted him with a light kiss, saying, “Right on time.” 

 

She ordered them to be careful and not stay out too late, but her manner remained easy and pleasant. Severus followed Lucius back through the floo, and they apparated from the courtyard to what appeared to be an empty field with people milling around an empty dais. Wherever Severus had expected this to take place, this certainly wasn’t it, and he stayed close to Lucius as he moved closer to the stage. The crowd was buzzing with barely contained anticipation, and once toward the front, Severus found himself being slowly edged forward as members of the crowd jockeyed to be closer before the event had even begun. 

 

“Lucius!” A woman’s voice rang out, and Severus turned to see a woman who could only be Bellatrix Lestrange pushing through the crowd, her husband trailing several feet behind, maneuvering much less effectively - which was to say much less violently - through the crowd. 

 

Severus had never met Bellatrix in person before, though her reputation preceded her. Students in Slytherin still told stories about her time at the school, and they all invariably portrayed her as wild, vicious, and ruthless. The stories that Narcissa had told him painted a similar picture, tempered by the obvious love the woman had for her sister. Bellatrix looked much as her cousins did: black hair, pale skin, grey eyes, and defined cheekbones. Members of that family all looked as if they were cut from the exact same cloth, save for Narcissa, who had inherited her mother’s Rosier looks. 

 

“Bellatrix. Hello, Rodolphus.” He called this out to the man who was still making his way through the crowd, though quickly losing his polite mannerisms in the process. “No Rabastian tonight?” 

 

“He’s sick,” Rodolphus answered, finally reaching them. 

 

“Heartsick is more like it,” Bellatrix muttered, her tone telling them exactly what she thought of the sentimentality. 

 

“Really? Still? And over the Selwyn girl?” 

 

“Threw him over for the youngest Carrow if you can believe that.” 

 

“I can, actually. When I was in school, she made her way through half of the boys in upper form. Tell Rabastian that he can do better. She’s a tramp, and she has teeth like a horse.” 

 

“Well, they can’t all be the belle of the ball, Lucius,” Rodolphus said, a bit defensively on his brother’s behalf. “Don’t act like you could have landed a girl like Narcissa without that sweet betrothal contract.” 

 

Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes slid over to Bellatrix, who was watching him closely, and he seemed to think better of it. Changing tack, he said, “Let me introduce you both to my guest for tonight. This is Severus Snape, soon to be a sixth year at Hogwarts and a promising future innovator in the fields of spellcrafting and potions. Severus, this is Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.” 

 

Severus had to admit that something was appealing about listening to the way Lucius introduced him. It was flattery, of course, and no doubt had an end goal that was beneficial to the man, but the teen was not used to hearing himself spoken about in such glowing terms. As far as flattery went, it was very effective. 

 

“It’s nice to –” Rodolphus began politely, only to be cut off immediately by his wife. 

 

“Ah, yes, your pet half-blood. He didn’t stand you up this time?” Her tone was unapologetically mocking, and she spared no manners for the situation.

 

Lucius looked at her sharply, “That was a . . . misunderstanding.” 

 

“I hate when that happens.” She said in the same mocking tone and then forged on, still ignoring Severus entirely. “Are you sticking around for the afterparty?” 

 

If Severus wasn’t watching closely, he might have missed the barely perceptible nod that Lucius gave his future sister-in-law. And the way that Bellatrix’s eyes flicked to him, and she gave an inquisitive tilt of her head, leading to Lucius shaking his head no. The two continued to talk while the crowd waited, and their companions listened on silently. Severus quickly realized that he couldn’t tell if the two actually liked each other or not. Finally, a hush fell over the crowd, and he instinctively looked toward the stage to see a man stepping forward. He had dark hair and pale skin, handsome even in the peculiarities of his appearance, such as the slightly translucent and waxy quality of his skin and the fact that his eyes seemed to have a red tint to them. Severus had read that prolonged exposure to certain kinds of magic could begin to alter physical appearance and magical signatures, of course, but had never seen a real person experiencing such effects. 

 

Lord Voldemort’s eyes scanned the crowd, waiting for them to fall into absolute silence, and Severus found their eyes meeting briefly with an uncomfortable intensity that inexplicably left him with a slight headache. Before he could ponder the oddness of it all, the man began to speak, his presence undeniably commanding. 

 

“Greetings. We find ourselves gathered here once again to discuss the state of our most precious and singular world which we continue to see sullied by outside, unworthy influence. Supposedly great witches and wizards are willing to allow any filth capable of even the barest magical feat to enter our world and demand that they be treated as equals. These are the same witches and wizards that would have us constrain ourselves, act as cowed anomalies, so that we do not disturb the mundane and barbaric Muggle world. Hide your miraculous gifts, they tell us, so as to not strain the fragile psyche of these lesser beings.” 

 

It’s more direct than Severus would have expected. It’s a blatant declaration of a system of beliefs that had come under increasing fire in the last decade. The disgust and derision that the man holds for Muggles and Muggleborns is nearly palpable, and it’s clear the crowd appreciates this mirroring of their beliefs back to them. And while Severus can deeply identify with the frustrations of making oneself small for the comfort of Muggles after growing up with his father’s magic-hating tyranny, he’s uncomfortable with just how hateful the rest of the words are and how uncompromising. 

 

“A new school year approaches, and once again, a horde of Muggleborns will be welcomed in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts to be taught as equals among those whose magical legacy goes back generations. With them, they will drag their Muggle relatives into our world, making them privy to wonders that were never meant for their cretinous brains. These Mudbloods will serve to drain our resources as the so-called progressive leaders try to prop up their mediocrity, dragging down our standards for magical development and education as these blood traitors try to prove their fallible point.” 

 

Severus can’t help but think about Lily; how no one could ask for a smarter and more capable witch, and how her enthusiasm for and wonder at magic outstripped that possessed by most purebloods he knew. Hearing the venom dripping from that word as Voldemort said it - Mudblood - he remembered yelling it at her that day by the lake, and while he still feels abandoned by her, disappointed by what at times had seemed like spurious loyalty, the memory makes him flush with shame. 

 

“These progressives claim that the traditionalists among us make this world unsafe for those of mixed blood or from non-magical backgrounds. Yet, they keep bringing these ignorant children into our world where they are, by the vast majority of our society, unwanted and unwelcome. They wring their hands when they see violence being committed against Muggles, but continue to force our proximity to these lesser beings. Why do they continue to expose our world to these unqualified students and their families if they’re so concerned for their safety, you might ask? It’s simple. Because, ultimately, these Mudbloods and their Muggle families are nothing more than political tools being used to oppress a long-standing and noble culture carried on by pureblooded families. They do not actually care for these people. They know in their hearts that they could never be our equals. It is beyond time that they be challenged on how much this is about safety, to reveal that they are willing to endanger countless lives they proclaim to protect and better, all for their political aims. I assure you that the day of reckoning is fast approaching.” 

 

There was applause throughout the clearing, though Severus didn’t think to clap along until Lucius nudged him sharply with his elbow, and he obediently joined in. Once the sounds of approval died down, Lord Voldemort continued, “Now, I will not keep you any longer as I know some of you have . . . plans this evening that you are eager to get to. I will end tonight by saying that I sincerely hope that I can count on every one of you in the near future as real change begins to come into fruition.”

 

With that, the crowd began to disperse, and Lucius took Severus’s arm after indicating that Bellatrix and Rodolphus should wait for him. He said quietly, “I want you to meet him. I’ve told him all about you.” 

 

The blond steered him toward the steps leading up to the stage where Lord Voldemort was descending. When he reached the bottom, Lucius inclined his head respectfully and said, “My Lord? May I take this opportunity to introduce you?” 

 

Severus thought it sounded a little bit pretentious - maybe even a bit silly - to hear Lucius call this other wizard by such a title, but he got the distinct impression that he should keep that to himself. Voldemort gave a thin-lipped smile and said rather imperiously, “Proceed.” 

 

“Lord Voldemort, allow me to introduce you to Severus Snape, who you will recall I’ve spoken about at length with you. Severus, this is Lord Voldemort, who surely needs little introduction after my letters and all of the talk in Slytherin about his revolutionary movement.” 

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Severus. I was hoping we’d have a chance to have a conversation tonight. Lucius has spoken so highly of your intelligence and talent, and I’m sure you realized from my speech how much I value cultivating the power of the worthy among the next generation.” 

 

“Of course,” Severus agreed nervously. 

 

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Lucius said with a nod. “I’ll give you time to talk and come fetch you when I’ve finished with Bellatrix and Rodolphus.” 

 

“Where are you going?” Severus asked, a little more sharply and panicked than he meant to at the idea of being left to navigate a conversation with one of the emerging political leaders of their time by himself. 

 

“We’re just having a little celebration, Severus,” Lucius said calmly, giving him a look which clearly warned him against embarrassing the older man. “I’ll be back soon.” 

 

Severus glanced over at where Rodolphus and Bellatrix were waiting, noting that the woman looked distinctly displeased by what she was seeing. When Lucius went to join them, she hesitated for a moment, looking at Voldemort as though . . . perhaps hoping he would call her over? But he simply waved her off, and she disapparated with a brief glare directed at the teen. 

 

“You’ve had a bit of a rough time of it, Severus,” the man said without preamble, his tone mild and thankfully lacking any pity, though it made Severus wonder what he meant. 

 

“Everyone has their challenges to face, I suppose,” Severus said carefully. 

 

Voldemort let out a short laugh, “Yes, I suppose. Though I question what kind of challenges Lucius Malfoy has ever faced or what kind of mountains a family like the Potters have to climb.” 

 

It could be a throwaway statement, of course, but the mention of the Potters makes Severus look at him sharply, wondering if he knows about his adversarial relationship with their heir or how much Severus despises the spoiled nature of some of his well-off classmates. The man’s smile widens slightly, showing teeth, “I know a great deal about you, child. We have more in common than you would think. Enough that you can rest assured that in the world I envision, such mistreatment of a magical child would never take place.” 

 

“I don’t –” 

 

“It’s so cruel, don’t you think, that the man who is in charge of the education of the children of our world, who purports that his school is a haven of safety and peace for students, abandons that responsibility as soon as the school year ends? That he seems not to spare a moment’s thought for why a magical child might not wish to return home, after being away from it for nine months already?” 

 

Severus feels himself flush slightly, remembering his first year when he had naively inquired if there was any way that a student could stay at Hogwarts over the summer, like they were allowed to at winter break, dreading returning home after his father had been so angry that he’d wanted to go to the school in the first place, somehow feeling betrayed when he told his son that he didn’t have to go to his mother’s alma mater but found the boy desperate to go. 

 

“Or, for that matter, to allow students to be mistreated by their plain and petty peers to the point that it interferes with their education? I don’t know if anyone has ever said this to you before, and certainly it seems that no one has demonstrated it, but you deserve to be protected and celebrated for your merits, Severus.” 

 

Severus cleared his throat, which had gone a bit dry, and said quietly, “I wouldn’t think you’d have such concern for a half-blood. You clearly don’t approve of mixed blood.” 

 

“Ah, but why should you be punished for the poor decisions of your mother?” 

 

“She – her parents disowned her . . . “ Severus defended weakly. 

 

“Because she chose a Muggle over them and turned her back on her heritage. For disloyalty. She did a disservice to both them and you. In the world that I envision, we would not propagate Muggle culture and equality to the point where any witch would even consider throwing her lot in with one of them any more than she would consider throwing her lot in with a mongrel dog.” 

 

Severus flinches, opens his mouth and closes it again, feeling anger swell in his chest. Eileen might be a deeply flawed person, but she was his mother, and he loved her despite any of her failings. She didn’t deserve to be talked about like this. 

 

Voldemort tips his head, perhaps sensing he’s gone too far, losing some of his charisma in the process. When he speaks, it’s in a much softer tone, “You think that I’m being too harsh. You found all of this too harsh. Severus, it is harsh because survival is harsh. I know I don’t need to tell you this. And that’s what this is about. Who survives and who thrives because it simply can’t be both us and the Muggles and their mediocrity-endowed spawn. I think your loyalty is admirable, if misguided. Your loyalty to your mother, even to that Muggleborn girl, and it’s just unfortunate that your loyalty has been so unappreciated and unreciprocated.” 

 

“Just how much did Lucius tell you about me?” Severus asked, a bit weakly. 

 

The man doesn’t answer, just continues, “You could be something great, child. Make no mistake, half-blood or not, there is a place in my world for the exceptionally gifted. I won’t lie to you and say that it’s a place of equality among your pureblood peers, but it’s a place of respect all the same. Intelligence and talent, true talent, cannot be bought or even bred. It’s rare and valuable, and we’ll need it to build this future right.” 

 

After the conversation ends, Severus is left alone in the field, sitting on the edge of the stage. Lord Voldemort had implored him to think about what he had said, as if Severus could do anything else. The man had been so confident in his interpretation of the world and had tapped into something Severus believed, which was that he could not live well under the current system. Though he did not think that was because of Muggles or Muggleborns, quite frankly. The system that excluded him was built solely by pureblood hands, and it was purebloods that flourished under it even as they felt threatened by new blood that came into the wizarding world. He felt depression settling in and wished that Lucius would hurry up and return to take him back to the flat. He was beginning to feel like a small child whose parents had forgotten to pick them up after school. 

 

Finally, a loud popping noise sounded in the clearing, and Lucius had returned, though without his earlier companions. Severus observed that the sleeve of his robe was torn and the hem was slightly marred by mud, but didn’t comment on either. His noncommittal answers about how the conversation had gone seemed to displease the blonde, but he declined to go inside once they arrived at the flat, muttering something about needing to go home and get cleaned up. 

 

When Severus entered through the floo, bypassing the receptionist who sneered a lot less openly at him now, his thoughts about that evening were firmly derailed when he saw Regulus Black standing in the sitting room over Narcissa’s drink cart, tipping a clear liquid from a vial into a bottle of wine. 

 

“What are you doing?” Severus barked, making Regulus jump, nearly dropping the vial, which was saved only by his quick seeker reflexes. 

 

Those same reflexes meant that he got off a quick binding spell before Severus had even considered that he might be attacked. Living here was definitely making him go soft; he never would have let this happen at school. Severus reflected on this from the floor as he snarled, rather ineffectually, “Let me go, right now.” 

 

“I will. Sorry!” He made a placating gesture as he knelt next to Severus. “I’ll let you go as soon as you calm down and are willing to hear me out.” 

 

“Being attacked doesn’t typically have a calming effect.” 

 

“Well, sneaking up on a wizard tends to come with the risk of being attacked –” 

 

“Maybe you wouldn’t get snuck up on if you weren’t skulking around people’s sitting rooms spiking their drinks. Didn’t you hear the floo? What kind of Slytherin are you?” 

 

“The kind who was sorted in under thirty seconds. Cissy said you were nearly a hat stall.” 

 

“You timed your sorting?” 

 

“No, but I was told as much by both Cissy and my brother, though they had different opinions on the matter.” 

 

“I wouldn’t trust your brother to count that high.” 

 

“He knows how to count. It’s only when decision-making is involved that his brain completely vacates his skull.” 

 

There was a slightly awkward pause in the bickering, and finally Severus said, “Let me go. I’ll hear you out, but I want you to put your wand over on the mantle.” 

 

“Fine. You promise you’re not going to freak out?” 

 

“I do not ‘freak out’.” 

 

Regulus gave him a doubtful look but released the spell, giving him some space and placing his wand on the mantle. Severus took his wand out just for good measure as he sat down in one of the seats. 

 

“How were you able to do magic in the summer without bringing the Ministry down on your head anyway?” 

 

“Well, they’re not very good at tracking magic done in magical dwellings by minors, are they? Cissy uses magic here every single day, so they’ll more than likely just assume it’s coming from her. That said, I took Uncle Alphard’s wand just in case, so nothing will show up on mine if I have to use magic.” 

 

“You stole your uncle’s wand?” 

 

“Borrowed,” Regulus corrected quickly. “He tends to be a bit forgetful, so he’ll probably just think he misplaced it anyway. Luckily, my family members tend to attract wands that have a lot of the same qualities, so it actually works pretty well for me. Anyway, he was distracted when I left because he was telling Sirius about the time he hid newt eggs all around someone’s dorm and they hatched, so he’s not going to notice anything.” 

 

“Great. So now I have to worry about getting a newt infestation in my dorm, I suppose.” 

 

“Well, you could always put newt eggs in his dorm first.” 

 

“More importantly, what are you putting in Narcissa’s wine without her knowing about it?” 

 

Regulus sighed, “Okay, look. It’s just a cleansing potion. Totally harmless.” 

 

Severus held his hand out in a silent request to inspect it, and Regulus handed over the vial. He had never used such a potion before, or even brewed one, but he had read about the characteristics and the mechanics behind them. They were used to remove spells on the person who imbibed them, essentially resetting them to a clean slate, absent any enchantments, both positive and negative. It was really common for them to be given after duels when there was a risk of missing something after many spells were cast, or in a simpler scenario when something went wrong with spells altering the caster’s physical appearance. He examined the contents of the vial and found that the color and smell, and crystalline quality of the liquid all aligned with what he knew about this particular potion. 

 

“Why would Narcissa need a cleansing potion? And why the subterfuge? Why not just give it to her directly?” 

 

Regulus sighed again and looked down at his lap for a moment before forging on, “I heard my mother and father talking about a spell that Mother used after Narcissa had that big fight with Lucius. She was worried that Narcissa was going to mess up her betrothal contract, saying how the family had suffered enough embarrassment over the past couple of years.” 

 

“What kind of spell?” Severus asked slowly, though he had a sinking feeling that he knew, thinking about Narcissa’s change in behavior and attitude over the past couple of weeks. 

 

“Something from the Black family library. I don’t know if it even has an official name. It would be classed as compulsion magic, though. Nothing . . . nothing so strong or drastic as the Imperius Curse or a love potion, but a spell that increases agreeability and loyalty toward someone and creates a desire for their approval.” 

 

The explanation leaves Severus a little breathless. It doesn’t matter if it’s not an Unforgivable or a highly regulated and unethical potion. It’s horrible, and he can only imagine how devastated Narcissa will be.

 

“Her own aunt cast something like that on her?” 

 

The laugh that Regulus gives lacks any real humor and is tinged with bitterness, “Without a second thought, I assure you.” 

“Does Lucius know about this?” Severus asked suddenly, hoping the answer was no because that would feel so much worse. 

 

Regulus shrugged, “I don’t know. They didn’t say either way. I don’t think her parents know. But, you see, I couldn’t let her go on like that, and the thing about compulsions spells is that people under them tend to have bad reactions to suggesting they are being compelled. It’s an inherent mechanism to that kind of magic.” 

 

The floo flared to life in that moment, and Severus slipped the potion vial into the pocket of his robes just as Narcissa stepped through. She looked at the two boys sitting there and raised her eyebrows, “I didn’t know you were coming over, Reggie. I would have delayed my shopping trip until tomorrow.” 

 

She set down her bags and hugged her cousin. As she walked past Severus, she squeezed his shoulder, and his heart fluttered a bit as she walked over to the drink cart. She needed to be cleansed of this spell, but Severus knew she was going to be upset when it happened. He wasn’t good at being there for people when they were feeling emotional, and he felt entirely unequipped for this situation. 

 

“How was the rally?” 

 

Regulus was giving him a slightly surprised look, but Severus found he didn’t have the capacity to go into any detail about that right now. “It was fine.” 

 

She poured her usual glass of wine that she drank in the evening when settling in for the night and sat down across from him. Severus realized that both he and Regulus were watching her a little too intently and kicked the other boy lightly, which startled his gaze away from her. It only took a couple of sips for the potion to take effect, potent as it was, and Severus could see the exact moment when the realization hit. Narcissa’s eyes widened slightly, and a gasp escaped her lips. She stood up quickly, bringing a hand to her mouth before turning on her heel and rushing from the room. 

 

Notes:

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 6: Build Fortresses, Not Palaces: Narcissa Black

Narcissa sat on the edge of her bed, feeling sick as the previous weeks flooded back to her with a new, clear-minded perspective. A fog had lifted from her brain, casting every action and inaction, words spoken and not spoken into sharp relief. The feeling of violation was total, accompanied by burning shame that she had not noticed anything was wrong during that time. She felt doltish, having carried on without a care under the influence of compulsion magic, none the wiser until her fourteen-year-old cousin . . . 

 

Oh, but she couldn’t break down now, as much as she wished to – as much as she needed to – because she had two worried teenage boys in the sitting room. It wouldn’t do to frighten them by falling apart now and she could hear soft voices beyond her door that she couldn’t quite decipher. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to collect herself enough to go back out there, but a soft knock sounded on the bedroom door before she could manage it. 

 

“Narcissa?” Came Regulus’s soft voice. “I have to get back to Grimmauld Place before I’m missed. Are you . . . will you be okay?” 

 

She stood up, a bit unsteadily, and opened the door. Regulus searched her face worriedly, and she pulled him into a hug. “How did you know?” 

 

“Mother was talking about it,” Regulus explained. “The spells were her doing and she was discussing it with Father.” 

 

Narcissa nodded, still holding him tight in her embrace. Hesitantly, she asked, “Do you know if she had consulted with Lucius? If he knew?” 

 

“She didn’t say. I’m sorry, Narcissa. I hate that you’re so upset. I couldn’t let you go on like that, though.” 

 

“Thank you for helping me. Go, now, don’t get into trouble on my account. How did you get here?” 

 

“The Knight Bus. I would have asked Kreacher to apparate me, but I didn’t want him to end up having to lie to Mother and punish himself. It was the first time that I’ve rode it. I have notes, believe me.” 

 

She smiled a bit despite herself and relinquished him, “I bet. Be careful.” 

 

After a brief, muffled conversation in the sitting room, the floo sounded, and she assumed her cousin had gone. She lingered in the hallway before making her way into the room to check on Severus. He looked at her with concern, and she sighed softly, embarrassed to have the worst of her family laid so bare and by her own weakness in succumbing so easily to such a spell. With a bit of a tremulous smile, she said, “I’m sorry you had to witness that.” 

 

“I’m sorry that happened to you. Is there anything I can do for you?” He took obvious note of her shaking hands and tear-filled eyes, nearly clinical in his assessment, “Should I fetch you a calming drought? There’s only a thirty-minute window between taking the cleansing potion before you can apply new spell or potion effects, and it's nearly been that long already.” 

 

She could have gotten it herself, but sensed that Severus needed something to do, something actionable that would help her, so she said, “There’s a dreamless sleep potion in the stores if you would be kind enough to fetch it.” 

 

He immediately departed to get it for her, and when he returned, she made sure he was okay before excusing herself for an early night with reassurances that she would be okay after having some time to think. Though it turned out that time to think was the last thing she needed because as she waited for the potion to work and sleep to take her, she was already spiraling into a litany of questions and worries and hurts. Despite knowing how ruthless her aunt was, it still hurt that she would go to these extremes in order to control her, in order to prevent her from even thinking of doing something that would embarrass the family. It made her feel disregarded as a human being, a meaningless pawn to be shuffled about for minor gains. 

 

It felt even worse to think about Lucius. Despite their recent friction, she did care about the man and had been betrothed to him since they were thirteen years old. The idea that he might have been aware of this, complicit in her loss of agency, was too devastating to even consider. But even if he hadn’t known . . . 

 

She closed her eyes, not in sleep but again the torrent of memories from the previous weeks, her unshakeable agreeability with him. The feeling of shame when she thought about the things they had done together, the intimacies they had shared with her - the real her, in her full consciousness - barely being present. The fact that she had let him take her to bed after insisting through the duration of their courtship that they wait until their wedding night to the bemusement and frustration of her future husband. The spell had made her completely disregard her own values, and she knew that those values might seem old-fashioned to some and even to Lucius, but they were hers nonetheless, and they had lost all meaning in the face of a bit of magic. 

 

Shame and self-hatred flooded through her once more and she couldn’t help but have the bitter, traitorous thought that even if Lucius had not known about the compulsion, he had not questioned her change in attitude, values, or, indeed, personality. It didn’t escape her that he had been present more in the past couple of weeks with her subject to the compulsion than he had been the rest of the summer, which suggested to her that he found her more palatable in that state. More likable - more lovable, even - when she didn’t have a mind of her own. 

 

She needed answers and determined that she would go first thing in the morning to see him, though she also had the unpleasant realization that she didn’t know if she would actually trust his word if he said that he didn’t know about it. It was an unsettling realization regarding her opinions on his character. 

 

Eventually, Narcissa did fall asleep and did not dream, though she woke several times throughout the night with a vague feeling of dread. The next morning, she rose very early and found herself nearly obsessively checking in with herself as she went through her morning routine to verify that her thoughts seemed to be her own. The violation of the compulsion magic had her feeling paranoid about somehow falling back under its allure. Severus was still asleep at this early hour, and Narcissa did not wake him, opting only for a cup of tea before setting out, as she didn’t think her stomach could handle anything more. 

 

Arriving at Malfoy Manor without any prior warning or invitation was a bit of a social faux pas but Narcissa was past caring about that at the moment. She entered the gates, feeling the wash of magic as she crossed the wards, and proceeded to knock on the ornate double doors. They were answered by a harried-looking elf who recognized her and ushered her inside, murmuring about how he didn’t know they were expecting her and had nothing prepared, wringing his hands with apparent agonized worry. 

 

“They didn’t know that I was coming,” she interrupted. “It’s an impromptu visit. Is Lucius in this morning?” 

 

“Oh, yes, Master Lucius is taking his breakfast in the dining room with Mistress.” 

 

“I don’t wish to interrupt and disturb Mrs. Malfoy. Would you please let him know that I’m here and wish to speak to him?” 

 

It was only a few moments before Lucius emerged into the foyer, frowning in obvious confusion at her sudden appearance, though not yet with displeasure. He said, “Narcissa? I didn’t know you were coming. Do you want us to set a place at the table?” 

 

“No, thank you. I just need to speak with you. Is there somewhere private for this conversation?” 

 

Still frowning, he inclined his head and gestured for her to follow him, taking her to one of the many small sitting rooms, this one overlooking the rose garden. She crossed her arms protectively around her waist as she allowed her gaze to sweep over the peaceful grounds, trying to figure out how to go about having this conversation. 

 

“Is everything quite all right?” Lucius’s tone was starting to become colored with impatience. 

 

“No, it’s not. I made a discovery last night. I have been under the influence of compulsion magic for weeks now. Since shortly after our fight.” 

 

She turned her eyes on him as she spoke, watching him carefully, and noted he seemed genuinely surprised, his eyebrows raising up and his mouth opening in a false start, seemingly left a bit speechless. Finally, he said, “Surely you do not think that I –” 

 

“I know that it was Aunt Walburga who cast the actual spell.” 

 

They were both silent for a moment. Lucius shook his head, “Unbelievable. Whenever I think that woman can’t get any more insane.” 

 

Narcissa eyes him, feeling her guard drop slightly, and asks, voice breaking slightly, “So you really didn’t know anything about this?” 

 

“Of course not! How can you even think that?” 

 

“As you can imagine, this has shaken my worldview a bit regarding what I think I know,” she defended. 

 

With a sigh, Lucius opened his arms, gesturing for her to come closer. It was so tempting to just fall into his arms, cry in relief that he hadn’t been an accomplice in this, and tell herself this was her salvation in getting away from her horrible family. Something held her back, though, and her movement toward him was aborted prematurely. 

 

“But didn’t you . . . didn’t you notice anything was off? Didn’t it seem strange to you that I had changed so much in a short time? That I had changed my mind about so many things?” 

 

Lucius shook his head, “I simply thought you had seen reason. If you recall, Cissa, I told you the night we argued that I believed you would regret how you had been going about things. I truly believed that and simply thought my prediction had come to fruition. And I . . . well, as unfortunate as what your aunt did was, I hope we can still agree that things couldn’t have continued the way they did with you fighting me every step of the way.” 

 

“Unfortunate? Is that the word you’d use?” 

 

“I . . . what would you like me to call it? It was wrong, of course. We will take precautions in the future, and when you’re my wife, no one would dare cast that kind of magic on you ever again. We’re just lucky that there was no lasting damage.” 

 

“Other than me not feeling like I can trust my own perception? Other than me feeling ashamed and violated?” 

 

“What would you have me do, precisely? Publicly censure your aunt? To what purpose, other than further publicizing the madness that runs in your family and bringing scandal to what has otherwise been a very successful courtship?” 

 

Narcissa’s voice was soft, “I just want you to understand how much this hurts me. And I want to know . . . how you could not know me better than this after seven years of being in a marriage contract. I want to know how you can bed someone, share that kind of intimacy with someone, and not realize that they’re a mere shell of themself. I have told you so many times how important it is to me to wait until our wedding night, and you just didn’t even question the sudden change of heart?” 

 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Lucius said, impatient and defensive. “So this is my fault somehow? Why are you here, scolding me, when it’s Walburga who did this?” 

 

“Maybe because I don’t really expect any better from her, Lucius. I certainly wasn’t planning on spending the rest of my life tied to her.” 

 

“It’s not . . . This doesn’t have to be as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be,” Lucius said, urgently now. “Narcissa, there’s no harm done, don’t you see? What really happened, other than you being a bit more inclined to agree with me for a couple of weeks, and intimacy between two people who are to be married within a year anyway? Don’t blow this up into something it’s not.” 

 

It felt like a slap in the face for him to claim the whole ordeal wasn’t a big deal and to suggest that she was being dramatic. She looked away from him, back to the gardens, thinking about what a beautiful place Malfoy Manor was and also that she could never possibly be happy here. She would always be small, dwarfed by legacy and grandeur, her feelings and desires a constant inconvenience in the face of bigger concerns like image and power. She was heartbroken, but also something finally settled in her, a surety she hadn’t possessed previously. 

“I’m not going to marry you.” 

 

And Lucius, the arrogant fool, actually laughed at her, “Of course you are, Narcissa. This has been nearly a decade in the making. The date is set, guest lists are made, and contracts are signed.” 

 

“I know.” She looked at him again, letting him see the sureness in her eyes, “But unless someone intends to imperius me down the aisle, I’m not going to marry you. We would never be happy, Lucius. You don’t care about me, not as a real person, and frankly I don’t think you even like me.” 

 

The usually dignified man sputtered a bit at her declaration, and Narcissa took that opportunity to turn on her heel and escape Malfoy Manor, walking briskly to the gate as she ignored her name being called indignantly. As soon as she reached the boundaries of the wards, she apparated away to her childhood home. 

 

Black Manor was a large, stone structure that was blocky and stout where Malfoy Manor was lofty and ornamental. If the Malfoy estate was a palace, then the Black estate was a fortress, and Narcissa felt a profound sense of relief as soon as it was in view. There was no gate and fence but rather the house was surrounded by a dense wood that extended for miles in every direction. That forest had been the backdrop for most of her childhood that had not been spent with expensive tutors or at family functions, running wild through the trees with her sisters and cousins.

 

She let herself into the house, breathing in the smells of home, and called out, “Mother? Father? Is anyone home?” 

 

Cygnus quickly made his way into the foyer, smiling at the sight of his youngest child, holding out his arms to her, which she rushed into with rather alarming quickness and ferocity. Her shoulders shook as she let go of all of the stress she’d been holding onto since the day before, finally feeling that she could break down here in her childhood home, and she felt her father’s arms tighten around her shoulders as her audible sobs filled the room. 

 

“My word. Narcissa, what’s the matter? Did something happen? Are you hurt? Come along, into the sitting room, now. I’ll have the elves bring us some tea. Should I have them fetch your mother? She is visiting the Brocklehursts, but to be honest, the only one of them she actually likes is Hattie, who is in Italy, I think. Narcissa, you’re worrying me.” 

 

Cygnus kept up a litany of such questions and concerns until they were settling in the sitting room, and he was attempting to ply her with tea and a calming draught. The whole story came tumbling out, unfiltered and unedited, with Narcissa only pausing long enough to finally accept the calming draught from her father. When she had finished, he rubbed her back and gently shushed her, “I’m so sorry, Narcissa. You poor thing, you’ve truly been through the wringer, haven’t you? Shh, it will be okay, I promise you.” 

 

At some point, she must have ended up falling asleep, exhausted from finally unburdening herself and her outburst of emotion and the dreamless but restless night before. When she woke up, her head was resting on a pillow in her father’s lap, and quiet but tense voices were having a conversation above her. 

 

“I don’t want to see her ever again, Cygnus.” Druella hissed, voice full of uncharacteristic venom. Narcissa stiffened, her sleepy brain unhelpfully postulating that her mother must be speaking about her, that her father had told her that Narcissa was calling off the wedding 

 

“Please be reasonable.” 

 

“You think I’m being unreasonable?” 

 

“I didn’t mean that, exactly. Your feelings are reasonable and understandable, but it’s not practical just to say we’ll never see her again.” 

 

“Merlin forbid practicality from getting in the way of Black family politics. How much more is that woman going to cost us? She drove Andie away, and the girl has yet to set foot back in this house. She wouldn’t let us get help for Bella for fear of how it would affect the image of our family, like everyone doesn’t already know mental illness is rampant, and I barely even recognize her anymore. Now this!” 

 

She was speaking of Aunt Walburga. Narcissa felt relief wash through her, along with a bit of shame that she thought her mother could renounce her that easily. Cygnus, for his part, did not attempt to defend his sister or himself. “I know. I’m sorry, Dru. I wish there were more I could do. We will make sure Narcissa knows she is supported through this. And you know that I have never had a problem if you want to go see Andromeda.” 

 

“She won’t. She won’t have anything to do with a family that might ever make her daughter feel lesser, and I can’t even blame her because it makes her a better mother than I.” Druella sounded absolutely despondent. “And what will you do when Walburga wants to disown our youngest for breaking a betrothal contract?” 

 

“I won’t let that happen,” Cygnus promised. 

 

“I don’t believe you. None of you ever stands up to her. Why would you start now? I swear, sometimes I think that if I had truly known what it would be like, I never would have –” Druella stops herself abruptly, taking a deep breath to settle herself and keep something she didn’t really mean from crossing her lips. Narcissa felt awkward and disturbed to hear her parents arguing like this, but felt like there was no graceful way to enter the conversation since she hadn’t immediately indicated she was awake. 

 

“I am sorry if I have disappointed you,” Cygnus said a bit stiffly. 

 

Druella was silent for a moment, “Oh, but what about you? Perhaps you could have had all the sons you could ever want, and no one would live under that woman’s wretched thumb to begin with.” 

 

“Don’t do that. You know I have never blamed you nor had any regrets about our decisions. I would not trade our girls, and I certainly would not have had you risk your life attempting another pregnancy.” 

 

Narcissa heard her mother let out a shuddering breath and couldn’t help but open her eyes at that moment to look at the older woman. Her face was transformed by her quiet grief; the few wrinkles found there seemed deeper, and she was turned slightly away from her husband and daughter. Her blonde hair was pulled up into an elegant bun, but some of it was coming loose as she had obviously been anxiously fussing with it. 

 

“Mum,” Narcissa said softly, before she could even think, and found herself sitting up abruptly. The grief of the woman who raised her felt crushing all of a sudden. “I’m sorry. I tried . . . “ 

 

Druella stood up and came over to her other side, shushing her and taking her daughter’s hands into her powder-soft ones. “It’s okay, darling. I understand. It’s going to be okay. Your father will take care of it, yes?” 

 

This despite her earlier doubts she had leveled at her husband, though Narcissa did not miss the glare that Druella sent over her shoulder at the man. 

 

By the time Narcissa left her childhood home to return to her current one, she felt marginally better, having unburdened herself and allowed herself to be bullied into eating lunch with her parents. She didn’t know what would happen, what the fallout would be with the rest of the family, but quite frankly, she was too tired to care. As she arrived home, her mind drifted to Andromeda whom her mother so clearly missed despite never speaking about her openly around her other daughters in the past. Narcissa wondered what her life was like, free of the influence and expectations of her family, and wondered if she thought about any of them. 

 

She had half-expected Lucius to be lingering in her foyer to talk to her again, but that wasn’t the case. After briefly checking in with the receptionist to let her know that the man wasn’t to freely come and go from her flat - realizing that she had permitted this when under the influence of the compulsion spell the previous week – Narcissa used the floo to go back upstairs, hoping belatedly that Severus had not worried too terribly and had found the note she left that morning. 

 

There was no sign of the boy when she entered the flat, but her eyes were immediately drawn to a pretty vase of flowers on the table in front of the sofa. They were not roses or anything romantic or expensive, but rather a colorful summer bouquet with dahlias, daisies, and sweet peas. Next to the bouquet was a plate of petit fours, which she recognized quickly as the work of Minky, which were a favorite indulgence of Narcissa’s though she rarely asked the little elf to go through the trouble. Finally, there was a book lying next to them with a folded piece of parchment on top. The book was titled The Beltane Bride by Belinda Blishwick, who was one of Narcissa’s favorite authors, and she had spent much of the summer trying to catch up on her Pagan Brides series, of which this was the latest book. 

 

She unfolded the note and nearly laughed: 

 

I hope you feel better. 

 

Severus

 

The note was so awkward, so lacking social niceties and nuance, and would be nearly inadequate in its brevity if not for the sincerity she knew was behind it. In fact, she was deeply touched as she looked fondly at the offerings, knowing that this was so very far out of her friend’s comfort zone. There had been not only a real effort to put this together but also a shocking amount of thoughtfulness to have recognized the petit fours as a favorite treat, as well as her voracious consumption of this book series. As she thought of how awkward the boy must have felt buying these flowers and particularly this book, Narcissa reveled in feeling genuinely cared for and seen. 

 

Leaving her gifts on the table, Narcissa went in search of Severus, who she found in his room, seated at his desk and working on his summer homework. He looked up as she entered and said simply, “You’re back.” 

 

“I am. Thank you for the gifts. That was so kind of you, and I really appreciate it more than you could know.” 

 

“They helped then?” He didn’t look at her, clearly feeling a bit mortified by the sentimentality of his own actions. 

 

“They definitely made me feel a little better. I’m lucky that I have people who care about me without expecting me to fit a certain archetype.” 

 

Severus turned to her then, meeting her eyes and saying with some urgency, “I’m really sorry, Narcissa. I think . . . I think I should have realized what was wrong. I felt like you were acting differently, and I should have spoken up. I just didn’t want to cause trouble, and I didn’t think it was any of my business, but maybe . . . “ 

 

“Oh, no. Severus, stop. You have nothing to blame yourself for. I would not have believed you even if you had tried to push the issue. That’s the nature of those kinds of spells.” 

 

“But Regulus had the idea for the cleansing potion, and I was around you every day since the spell was cast, and that’s something I should have been able to think of –” 

 

“Severus,” she said, gently and fondly, “The fact that it didn’t occur to you that I was being controlled by a compulsion spell is not a failure on your part as a friend or an academic for that matter. It’s . . . a mental situation, honestly. I don’t know if it even would have been Reggie’s first thought if he hadn’t overheard his mother, and he knows what she’s like. I appreciate how much you care, but it wasn’t your responsibility. Now, I’m pretty tired, but I think I can handle playing some cards, and you’ll tell me what happened at the rally now that I have a clear head, and in exchange I’ll tell you about my nightmare of a day.” 

 

Severus hesitated and then nodded, accepting Narcissa’s attempts to clear his conscience and following her back to the dining room, where she began to shuffle the cards. 

 

Notes:

Next: Severus grapples with the lengths some people will go to, both personally and politically, to uphold their ideologies. He meets some more members of the Black family and receives an owl from an old friend containing bad news. (Alternatively, Nymphadora Tonks is a chaotic little shit.)

Chapter 7: Relentless: Severus Snape

Despite claiming that she was okay, Severus noted that Narcissa was much quieter and more withdrawn than usual in the following days. He couldn’t blame her, of course, as he still reeled a bit from the ruthlessness of her aunt’s actions. There didn’t seem to be any resulting explosion from either her family or Lucius that Severus would have anticipated. When he had asked her if everything was okay with her family, and if she was in trouble for breaking the betrothal agreement, Narcissa had only smiled, tired and sharp. 

 

“It’s a pretty big deal in our world. It’s technically the kind of thing that can cause blood feuds between families.” At his alarmed look, she continued quickly, “That won’t happen for a couple reasons. One, basically every cautionary tale there ever was about why blood feuds are a bad idea involves the Black family. Our reputation is . . . useful, on occasion, in that way. Two, though Lucius might be the type to act on emotions and wounded pride, Abraxas Malfoy is a pragmatist. He will see himself and his time above such nonsense. I would guess from the quiet that he told his son to be glad he was well shot of me.”

 

Still, Severus couldn’t help but be concerned especially on the occasions when Narcissa would seem to zone out, getting completely lost in her own thoughts, and he would have to say her name several times to get her attention. It drove him to take a painfully long Knight Bus journey to the Library of Arcane Studies one Saturday just to research if there could be lingering side effects from compulsion magic. The books seemed to indicate that this would only be the case if one was held under the thrall of such magic for an extended period of time - at least six months before any lingering effects had been noted - but did detail the psychological and emotional impact being exposed to that kind of manipulative magic even for short time periods could impart. Not the quick, practical fix he was hoping for and he returned to the flat feeling a bit defeated. 

 

When he entered through the floo into the sitting room after this fruitless excursion, he was surprised to be greeted by the sight of a young girl with bright blue hair in Muggle clothes. She was wearing a pair of those Muggle shoes that lit up when the wearer walked and had been jumping about, purposefully setting off the rainbow colored lights in the heels. The two seemed equally surprised by the presence of the other so Severus could only watch as she landed poorly from the jump she had been executing when he came through and tumbled to the floor. 

 

Whoever she was, he prayed she would not start crying as he was not equipped to deal with crying children. She didn’t, however, instead scrambling up quickly with practiced ease, looking him over with dark, curious eyes. She offered, “I’m Dora Tonks, who are you?” 

 

“Severus Snape,” he responded, taking her proffered hand bemusedly and allowing her to shake it. 

 

“Aunt Cissy mentioned you. She said you live here.” 

 

“Aunt? Oh, you must be . . . Andromeda’s daughter then?” 

 

“Yep,” she said, popping the last letter obnoxiously. “Do you know her?” 

 

“I know of her. That is, your aunt has spoken of her before and I know her by reputation..” No need to mention how unflattering the things that the students in Slytherin said were. 

 

“I hardly knew anything about Aunt Cissy before a few days ago,” Dora huffed indignantly at having been left in the dark, especially when this stranger knew about her mother. Then, more cheerfully, she said, “I like her though. She’s very pretty.” 

 

With that assessment, Severus watched in amazement as the blue hair the child sported lengthened and turned a light blonde that matched Narcissa’s uncannily. When he saw her still looking at him expectantly, he tried to school his expression into something less shocked and said, “Yes, she is. You’re a metamorphmagus?” 

 

“Oh, yeah,” she sighed. “People usually are pretty impressed about that. But, oh! I can do a duck bill now, I just figured it out last week, do you want to see?” 

 

Severus had the sudden image of this child getting her face stuck in half duck form while under his unwilling supervision and quickly said, “That’s okay, maybe later.” 

 

He went in search of Narcissa and didn’t find her in any of the common rooms they shared, finally ending up at her bedroom door for lack of other ideas. He knocked tentatively and called out, “Narcissa? Are you in there? There’s a little kid out here.” 

 

There was the sound of unfamiliar but undeniably female laughter from inside and Narcissa called out, sounding a bit strained, “Severus? Don’t come in here. Could you entertain Dora for a bit? We’ll be there soon.” 

 

Raising his eyebrows, and slightly scandalized by the idea that Narcissa thought he would just burst into her bedroom uninvited, he retreated back to the sitting room. Dora gave him a deeply unimpressed look and said, “I could have told you they were busy.” 

 

“What are you and your aunt doing here anyway?” 

 

“She’s helping Aunt Cissy with some kind of rune project. I don’t know, they were talking about it, but I didn’t understand most of it and what I did was kind of boring. Are you sure you don’t want to see the duck bill?” 

 

“No, that’s okay, really. Just . . . go back to whatever you were doing before.” 

 

She ignored his suggestion, instead investigating the books that he had picked up at the library and deposited on an end table near the sofa, “What are you reading?” 

 

“They’re about magical liminal spaces.” At her utterly blank look, he sighed and said, “Spaces that are discrete from their surroundings and fundamentally altered by magic. Common examples would be structures that are expanded to be larger inside than they appear outside. Less commonly, time might move differently within a space, either slowing down or speeding up compared to the outside world. Even this flat exists in a magically discrete place, only accessible via floo rather than physical means, and there are more flats than would physically fit in a building of this size. According to Minky, all of the flats somehow provide the exact same excellent views of the city even though in most buildings your view would vary depending on what floor you’re on and the side of the building where you’re situated. But, really, we’re starting to get into dimensional magic there which is a bit more complicated. I would have checked out a book on that, as well, but the library has a ridiculous limit of two books at a time for the first year you have a membership.” 

 

“Who is Minky?” Dora asked simply at the end of his impromptu lecture. 

 

“The house elf for this building.” 

 

The creature in question suddenly popped into existence, looking a bit run off her feet, “Did Mister Severus call for Minky?” 

 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I was just telling Narcissa’s niece about the building.” 

 

“Ohh!” Dora cried, delighted. “She’s so cute. Hi, my name is Dora!” 

 

As lovely an elf as Minky was in terms of disposition, Severus thought it a bit of a stretch to call a house elf, which were a bit homely by nature, cute. However, Minky was immediately as equally enamored with the little girl as she seemed to be with the elf which relieved Severus of the need to engage her. He sat down on the sofa and opened up the first of the books A Time and Place to Grow: Case Studies on Liminal Spaces by Heather Llewelyn. 

 

It wasn’t long after that before Narcissa and Andromeda emerged from the bedroom. Andromeda looked startlingly similar to Bellatrix, a fact that likely did her no favors nowadays, with dark curly hair and hooded grey eyes. She was dressed in a casual Muggle fashion, however, and had a warm and genuine smile, neither of which Severus thought Bellatrix would be caught dead in. She said apologetically, “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble. It’s nice to meet you, Severus. Narcissa has told me so much about you.” 

 

When she held out her hand, Severus shook it, nodding a bit shyly, “It’s nice to meet you, too.” 

 

Andromeda turned to her daughter who was still engaged with the house elf and said, “Dora, you leave that poor elf alone. I’m sure she has a lot to do and doesn’t need you pestering her.” 

 

Minky said she would go get tea, embarrassed to be caught shirking her duties, and left after patting Dora on the arm a couple of times.

 

“Thanks, you scared her off, Mum,” Dora sighed. Then, to Severus, “She never thinks anyone wants to talk to me. She always accuses me of bothering them.” 

 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Andromeda said, waving a hand dismissively. 

 

They sat down together as Minky brought in the tea, Dora was obviously restless as she lightly kicked her heels against the chair she was sitting in. A moment later, however, she straightened up, eyes bright with interest, “Aunt Cissy?” 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Is Severus your boyfriend?” 

 

Severus thought he must have nearly sprained his neck as his head swiveled to stare at the child in shock. He sputtered, “Why would you think that?” 

 

The two older women burst into a fit of laughter at his reaction, though Narcissa - while still a traitor - had the decency to try to hide her mouth behind her hand and try to stifle her reaction. Dora looked at him seriously, “Well, you live here and we’re not related, and you said earlier that you think she’s pretty.” 

 

Severus was pretty sure it would be a social misstep to hex a child but thought no one could blame him if he nursed a grudge over this for a long time going forward. He said, a bit sharply, “If I recall, it was you who said that she was pretty.” 

 

“You agreed with me though.” 

 

He was absolutely not going to bicker with a six-year-old, especially not with the two Black sisters looking on with such obvious amusement. Narcissa had mercy on his plight, however, and said gently, “Severus is just a good friend of mine, Dora. He’s living here because it’s the best place for him right now, and he’s still attending Hogwarts besides.” 

 

“Oh.” She looked at him a bit accusingly, as though he had purposely deceived her, “You’re basically just a kid too, then.” 

 

Severus shook his head, completely exasperated and done with that conversation. He said pointedly, “Anyway, Dora said the two of you were working on a runes project?” 

 

He supposed he could have asked about their sudden reunion but to be perfectly honest the prospect of a major runes magic undertaking was more interesting. Narcissa and Andromeda exchanged a look and then with a sigh, the blonde angled herself with her back to Severus, undoing the top few buttons on her robe so she could lower the back and reveal a complicated, interlocking runic array that spanned her upper back. The runes were burgundy in color and seamlessly integrated into the skin as if they had always been there.

 

“Not just runes. Blood runes. Actual, practical application of blood runes.” He’d never seen them before, barely in books and certainly not in person. It was very old magic, requiring a high level of both theoretical and practical understanding of runic theory and an intimate familiarity of one’s own magical core and signature. They were permanent and dangerous to attempt under the best circumstances and a legal grey area only because they weren’t common enough to make it worth legislating more aggressively against them. “That’s amazing. What do they do? 

 

Narcissa rebuttoned her robes and didn’t answer for a long moment as she smoothed her sleeves. Andromeda said, “Nymphadora, why don’t you go take your tea and biscuits into the dining room?” 

 

“Oh, no fair, I want to hear,” Dora said, pouting though she was already gathering her biscuits with an air of defeat. 

 

Sure enough, Andromeda pointed to the door and said sternly, “Out. And don’t let me catch you eavesdropping either or we won’t go to the park for the rest of the week.” 

 

The little girl retreated, muttering to herself about how mean her mother was which Andromeda responded to with an eyeroll. When she was gone, Andromeda cast a privacy spell regardless of her warning. Narcissa finally spoke, “This particular array, when applied correctly, makes the wearer essentially immune to all compulsion spells and potions. Not just the Imperius Curse but also something like the Confundus Charm. Not just love potions, but also Veritaserum for example.” 

 

“Almost like spell warding but for your mind,” Severus said in wonder. “It sounds almost too good to be true.” 

 

“It’s very powerful but not exactly something most people would undertake despite the comprehensive protection. First of all, the knowledge is not readily available. The book we worked from had no title and was handwritten as well as being completely immune to duplication magic. It’s also very dangerous, possibly debilitating, if done incorrectly, and in this case the runes had to be drawn on the front and back of the body in tandem meaning you need a second person who you trust not to mess it up. Not to mention that it’s very dark magic given both the use of blood and the fact that it’s technically permanent body modification.” 

 

Severus felt belatedly alarmed that Narcissa had done something so dangerous. He had been so caught up in his academic interest that he hadn’t even thought of the safety implications. Andromeda said, “Well, I’m glad we pulled it off, I really should be getting home. Severus, it was nice to meet you. Narcissa, please don’t be a stranger and think about what I said.” 

 

The sisters embraced for a long time, making Severus feel a bit like he was intruding and he considered slipping away despite his remaining questions. Soon they parted, however, and Andromeda was herding her daughter through the floo who was now asking her mother if they could “adopt” a house elf. Narcissa looked after them as they disappeared in the flames with a fond and sad expression on her face. 

 

“I’m glad that you’re okay,” Severus said carefully. “It sounds like there was a lot that could have gone wrong.”

 

“I had to do something,” Narcissa answered, not looking at him. 

 

“Were you afraid she’d try it again?” 

 

“Maybe but it wasn’t really about that.” She tried to think of how to explain it to him. “I constantly find myself questioning if my thoughts and decisions are my own. It’s driving me crazy. I haven’t felt safe since the spell was broken even when I’m insulated in my own little bubble in this flat. I have nightmares about being under compulsion spells. I’ll dream of a whole day under the thrall of someone’s magic before waking up and questioning my own reality for hours after. I can’t live like that.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Narcissa,” Severus said quietly, feeling a heaviness settle in his chest at her obvious pain. He wondered if her aunt realized exactly what she had done and felt a flare of anger on his friend’s behalf. “I hope the runes help you feel safe again. You must trust Andromeda a lot to let her help you with something like that after not speaking for so long.” 

 

“She’s my sister.” Narcissa said softly. “And . . . we were talking and I guess this wasn’t the first time Walburga has done something like this. Andromeda was telling me that she spent a couple of family functions under the effects of similar spells when she had entered what my aunt decided was her ‘rebellious phase’ in an effort to prevent her from embarrassing the family.” 

 

“That’s horrible. Is that why she left?” 

 

“I’m sure it didn’t help. The particular incident that caused her to leave happened when she found out she was pregnant with Dora in her last semester at Hogwarts and really involved Bellatrix more than anyone else in the family. It’s not really my place to tell that story in its entirety. Suffice to say, I don’t think she trusted my parents to protect her from either our sister or my aunt’s displeasure. I was . . . really disappointed to find out that our parents knew about my aunt’s use of compulsion magic on her. She said that Father had a go at her about it but he still exposed us to her over and over even after he knew what she was capable of.” 

 

“He should have protected you.” 

 

“I think,” Narcissa wrung her hands together anxiously. “I think my parents are good at burying their heads in the sand, acting with willful ignorance. The worst part is that I think that’s something I have in common with them. I was so mad at Andromeda for leaving, brushing our family’s treatment of her under the rug and ignoring the fact that they never would have let her raise a halfblood as a member of the Black family. I ignore how horribly my aunt treats everyone, how abusive she can be, because it makes it easier to sit at the same dinner table as her. I avoid thinking about the fact that my sister is a terrorist because of the moral dilemma it puts me in and I ignored the fact that Lucius openly recruiting school children to a radical political organization is quite predatory behavior because I didn’t want to think about what it said about his character.” 

 

Suddenly it made more sense to Severus why she had been so reluctant to let him go to the political rally with Lucius. He is both impressed and uncomfortable with her candor and vulnerability and finds himself wanting to respond in a way that made her honesty feel worth it but was ill-equipped for this kind of conversation. 

 

Finally, very tentatively, he offered, “I think it’s easy to lie to ourselves, to omit hard truths from our own daily consciousness. I usually consider myself a pretty logical and observant person but I’ve been guilty of that too. At least you’re acknowledging those things now? I mean, how old are your parents and you said they’re still lying to themselves? You’ve got decades on them to try to act on those truths.” 

 

Narcissa sniffled a little bit and swiped at the corners of her eyes, “Yes, you’re right, of course. You’re such a smart kid, you know that? Thank you for listening.” 

 

She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder as she went to her bedroom to take a nap, claiming exhaustion from the runic ritual, and left Severus to think about his own willful ignorance. It was clear to him that he had been lying to himself all of this time when he had told himself that merit might protect Muggleborns in the blood purist circles. That the exceptionally skilled or intelligent or useful might find a place to belong. He felt stupid not to have realized what a hard line was drawn with these people. There was no room for moderation in that world, the extremism ran deep, right down to personal relationships within families. It wasn’t just terrorist attacks of Muggle areas or the exclusion of Muggleborns but also in the families themselves who were willing to bully and threaten and disown and traumatize their own for the sake of these ideologies. 

 

Not just that but this behavior seemed to proliferate not due to a desire to change the world or achieve any grand ends but often simply for the glory of individual families. They took such pride in their old-fashioned and backwards beliefs, many of them unable to acknowledge simple truths such as the fact that inbreeding was destroying their precious family lines. Even where the wizarding world had initially seemed more progressive, such as attitudes toward homosexuality, Severus noticed a certain regression when convenient. He had heard on more than one occasion students in his house proselytizing about the contribution of accepting same-sex partners to dangerously plummeting birthrates. Anything to avoid confronting the real issues that were materializing their greatest fears. 

 

Severus felt his lip curl into a sneer, feeling an unfamiliar and deep disdain for the people he had once admired and envied. When assessing his peers in the harsh light of day, he realized that many of them were not actually ambitious. In fact, he could argue there was a distinct laziness among many purebloods whose plans actually boiled down to inheriting their family’s wealth and position and spending a lifetime enjoying the spoils. And, really, Severus was no better, taken in by the gilded facade that claimed rarefied power and stewardship of the magical world. He snorted derisively as he thought of Andromeda and her daughter, the little metamorphmagus, and wondered how long it had been in the Black family since that particular family magic had manifested. Was it a coincidence that it had appeared with the mixing of new blood into their old line? What did it say that the Black family thought her lesser when she possessed one of the rarest known magical gifts in existence? 

 

Such thoughts haunted Severus over the next few days, eliciting feelings of disdain both for his pureblood peers and himself, and Narcissa’s attempts to draw him out of his regrets proved futile. It wasn’t until the following Saturday that a more immediate concern pushed such thoughts out of his head. 

 

That morning at breakfast, Narcissa handed him a letter that had showed up in their post that she had collected from the receptionist that was addressed to him. Severus had taken it curiously and felt his heart jump into his throat at the recognizable handwriting, neat and without flourish and littering the margins of his textbooks with either annotation or notes they had made to each other during class. The letter was from Lily and he found himself unable to imagine what reason she would have for writing him though he was forced to stamp down on the fluttering of hope that she had changed her mind about ending their friendship. Indeed, it was not a deliverance from his mistakes but another devastating blow. 

 

Severus – 

 

I had my parents take me to the owl post office in Diagon Alley to send this. 

 

I heard some of the church ladies talking about your mum’s passing. I guess they are taking up a collection to have a proper funeral since Tobias doesn’t have the means or any plans. Figures, that man has always been absolute trash, I hope he 

 

I went to your house but your dad said you weren’t there and he hadn’t talked to you since the beginning of summer. I would have asked more questions but he was very drunk and belligerent and I got nervous. 

 

I worried thought it was odd when he said he hadn’t spoken to you since the beginning of summer. I wanted to make sure you knew when the funeral was in case you want to attend. I know you hate the old biddies from the church but I thought you might still want to go. It’s this Monday at 11:00 in the morning. I wanted to ask – Are you okay –  Severus, are you okay? 

 

I’m really sorry for your loss. I always liked Eileen. I’ll always appreciate her introducing me and my family to the wizarding world for the first time. 

 

Sincerely, 

 

Lily 

 

He just stared at the letter for a long time, stunned and cycling through denial and devastation and anger. He had just seen her not even two months ago! What had happened? How did a perfectly healthy person just suddenly die with no warning? He flipped over the letter as though it might have more information but of course the back was blank. Lily seemed under the impression that he at least knew that she had passed if not when the funeral would take place. 

 

“Severus? What’s wrong?” Narcissa asked worriedly. 

 

He handed her the letter without speaking and then buried his face in his hands with his elbows on the dining room table, rubbing his face before fisting his hair in frustration. Narcissa read silently and immediately stood up when she finished, rounding the table to go to him and wrapping her arms around his hunched form. She whispered, “I’m so sorry darling. I’m so, so sorry.” 

 

“It’s one thing after another,” he said despondently. “It never stops. I’m so tired Narcissa.” 

 

“I know. I do.” She gently untangled his hands from his hair, clasping them in her own as she held him in her embrace. Severus couldn’t even think to be embarrassed by her coddling, he just leaned against her. “What can I do?” 

 

He didn’t say anything and she didn’t push, they just stayed like that for a long time. Finally he said, “I think I want to go to the funeral.” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

He hesitated, not liking to ask for things and not liking to be vulnerable and thinking briefly that he had already asked her for so much, but he finally said in a small voice, “I don’t want to go alone.” 

 

“Certainly not. I’ll be right by your side the entire time if that’s what you want.”

Notes:

Next: A funeral, a second take on an apology, and the peculiar xenophobia of purebloods.

Thanks for reading!