“It hardly matters whose,” Severus pointed out wryly, continuing to wash the blood from his arms – he was drenched in it from nails to elbows, though his face was mostly cleared now, he had missed some along his neck and a fleck still clung like a macabre decoration upon his earlobe. The water was warm on his skin, too warm to be reminiscent of what it was clearing away with the scrub of soap and cloth.
His tone remained level, unaffected by the gorey mess he was filling the sink with as he continued, “I am not so amateur as to come in here covered in my own blood, however.” That would be like a wounded beast striding into a predators den and expecting something other than to be torn apart while it was weak.
A brief flutter at the peephole before the locks were turned and the door thrown up. “Sev!” Her smile took up her whole face; she hadn’t been expecting him, but a visit from her best friend was never unwelcomed. “God, you’re all bundled up, it must be colder than I thought out there.” Stepping back to let him in, she snapped a scarf off the hook by the door and tossed it onto the chair where her coat was laying, ready to be slung on.
“I’m making dinner before I head to work. I think there’s enough for two,” she said, voice fading as she disappeared into the tiny kitchen. “I have maybe an hour before I have to go.” Her head popped around the corner to grimace at him; they never got to spend enough time together. “I hope spaghetti is okay. Come on, take your coat off, get comfortable.” A soft laugh; there wasn’t much room for comfort in her tiny flat, where the options for sitting were the rickety chair she’d rescued from the side of the street or the bed. With Severus, though, she wasn’t concerned. They’d been too close of friends for too long to need any sort of formality. Besides, he knew it was the best she could manage on her paltry salary.
“What would you like to drink?”
Her greeting was almost jarring in the warmth that it exuded, his mind still lost in the mire of violence and horror he had seen already today. It was such a stark reminder of the double life he was leading that as he drew off his coat and watched her disappear into the kitchen, he was left adrift in the contemplation of it all.
Snapping to when she mentioned dinner, he hung his coat up and replied, “I’m not all that hungry, actually.” The idea of eating was – not appealing at the moment. He could still see the blood from the curse that had poured from Destin far too clearly – he could only hope his expression would not give away anything too awful while she ate.
Heaving a sigh, Severus took a seat on the chair with care not to cause any damage to the rickety thing and wondering not for the first time if he could patch it up with transfiguration. He always got distracted before he thought to suggest it, and he knew today would be no different.
“I don’t suppose you could call off today?” He asked, not wasting any time getting to the point of matters, if only because he knew it would take some convincing – and with only an hour ahead of him, he did not wish to make any slips because the time restraint made him foolish.
If looks could lacerate, Severus would have been made a greater criminal this night than he already knew himself to be. The loss of his mask had been a deliberate act on her part – and he realized she must have recognized something. his casting, his voice – he knew not what she had identified, only that he was made.
Fury coursed through his veins at her words – not because she was here, when he expressly told her not to come to the Ministry tonight, and not because she had dared say love in a context so bizarre as this, but because he knew he had done this to them. He had sworn himself in with his friends, and every act he had taken since to protect himself, to protect them, had all devolved down to this moment, where he found himself facing down the business end of his dearest friend’s wand. All for what? For what? Blood? By all rights, if Voldemort cleansed the Muggleborns, he would be next on the list as a half-blood. He was racing toward extermination all to guard the privileged who would never be aimed at and for nothing but survival. Was this broken world really so worth living in?
“Then make it quick.” His wand lowered, and no excuse – no reason fell forth from his lips. He would not make this harder for her than it already was – and the longer they lingered, the longer he went with his wand down the greater the risk to her would be. Even if he let her go, there would be someone who would see, someone who would report it. One way or another, tonight he died – and if he had to choose a way to go, he would rather it be at the hand of someone with the right to kill him, than someone who would do it purely for the pleasure.
Lucius was neither amused by his current predicament nor by his friend’s teasing,
and whatever sense of appreciation the Malfoy patriarch felt towards Severus for his effort
to rescue him from Narcissa’s unyielding tenacity vanished as quickly as it came. The older
man didn’t even care to put on his usual mask of cool indifference and all but slouched in
his seat. “Well, Severus, I’m pleased you’re tickled.” He did, however, drew the line at
grumbling and instead opted for saccharine sarcasm. There was only so much lack of
grace he could display in one sitting.
“Your cheek aside—” He paused to give the potion professor an indulgent look,
one so often used during Draco’s most trying moments, “You did try. For that, I thank you.”
He relented, slightly begrudgingly, and made a small nod of his head in acknowledgement.
He supposed he could afford to be grateful, as grateful as any Malfoy could be anyway, if
only to ensure Severus’ talent for manipulation for next time he wants to get out of an
obligation to his wife. “Narcissa was none too pleased when she found out I had sent
you, so, I can only image the tongue lashing she no doubt subjected you to.” And that would
be enough punishment for anyone.
The corners of Severus’ lips twitched – a sign of his comfort in Lucius’ presence that anything resembling a smile might come naturally rather than by conscious effort. The older man’s ire was something he worked to avoid, but in this context he knew the frustration was not directed at him so much as the situation – making it more a source of amusement than anything resembling concern.
He said nothing in regard to the he had received ( for there had been one )as he knew better than to confirm or deny when either of his friends made anything resembling a criticism of the other. It never panned out well for anyone in the end, and he pitied those who agreed as surely as those who denied when such occasions arose.
“Perhaps we had best tend to Draco then,” Severus suggested – not about to volunteer himself after Narcissa’s talking to, but willing enough to follow Lucius and provide… moral support, if needed.
ALright, so maybe he was enjoying this a bit overly much.
“Then go and do not linger at my door any longer,” Severus replied, his lips twisting against the raging grief that swelled within him. There was no denying the truth in her words, no good that could come of their continued acquaintance. He was to her what his father had been to his mother – a dark, overbearing force that smothered all hope of light, extinguished good piece by piece until even breath came ragged and death was a blessed reprieve Eileen had welcomed the escape death brought her, and he would be damned before he became the man that pushed Lily Evans to the same exhaustion, the same husk of what once was so blinding and pure. “The dark is no place for the light to flourish.”
His mask had been lost in the fight, but he had managed to keep his face hidden thanks to his scarf. Things had escalated so quickly, there had been little to do beyond fight and keep himself alive. He lost track of even that much when Destin went down – and now he had to face the consequences of his choices in a new light.
It had made sense at the time, to follow the crowd and try to carve out a name for himself by staying among the proud Slytherin purebloods that had deigned to accept him despite his lower status as a halfblood. When it had become clear the only thing he would be carving was a path of destruction through the lives of innocent people – staying alive and protecting the ones he cared about had mattered more than finding a means to liberation.
Now he had to reconsider. Destin was dead, Lucas was absolutely terrifying about it, and Severus had just helped him and Eric dispose of a body like that was a normal habit. With the airs his friends put off, he feared that if it wasn’t – it certainly would be.
And now this. The pending attack on the Ministry had his heart hammering in his chest – he’d barely made it through the preliminary round and now he was expected to take on the aurors tonight. Worse, he knew who the primary targets were – and he knew there was no way he could allow things to pan out the way they were headed.
Dropping his scarf not long after he had apparated into her neighborhood, Severus hurried down the street with his guard up. Visiting her now could prove dangerous – but he could not afford to have her show up to the Ministry tonight. If he could convince her off, then maybe he could convince himself to keep walking this dreadful tightrope. If he couldn’t – if he couldn’t –
His fist raised, rapping sharply at her door. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what he would do if Lily wouldn’t listen. What he would say to keep her home – what it would cost to protect her. He didn’t know, but with Destin’s unseeing eyes still staring up at him in his mind’s eye, Severus knew one way or another he had to try.
Were it any other than Lucius, the subtle hints of amusement
that flickered over Severus’ typically dour countenance would have doubtless
gone unnoticed. As it was, in his own reserved manner he all but laughed at his
companion’s predicament. He had taken
the liberty of attempting to volunteer himself in the man’s stead to spare him
the overall tedium of the affair, but as it was, “I am afraid Narcissa is quite
adamant this time. I assure you, it is not nearly as terrible as you think it
is.”
Arguably, it was far worse depending on Draco’s mood by the
time one got around to it – by Severus’ experience at this point, the more that
child had to wait, the fouler he became. Very much like his father, in that
respect – not that Severus was so unwise as to voice such an observation. “Might
I suggest a bubblehead charm?” Alright, so now he was being facetious about
this, but there was something absolutely fantastic about observing Lucius through one of the greater indignities that came of parenting.
An annoyed little frown dragged on her sharp features at the observation, and she wanted to turn to Severus, a snap ready on her lips ( resistance, what resistance? They’re all dead. They are all dead and gone and wiped from existence and— ) and then he mentioned another name. And her frown deepened. Gaze flickered around, and found… Well, not what she was looking for.
Panic. She managed to keep it off her features for the most part, except for the slight narrowing of her dark eyes. ❝ It seems to me that he may have figured out a way to sneak past the spells you put up, Severus, ❞ she noted, frown turning into a sneer. ❝ How did that happen—did something distract you? ❞
“This oversight is no fault of mine, thank you,” Severus hissed, hardly about to take the fall for her. Had he been working with Lucius today, he might have fallen for his leader, but not for Bellatrix. She’d never given him cause to be that kind of loyal. “The wards held – he must have had a portkey and a considerable well of cowardice.”
Stepping deeper into the devastated room, he did not look down as he strode over a small wrist, refusing to pin anything to his memory, refusing to follow the pale trail of flesh to find a face just as disquieting. Surveying matters, he gazed up the stairs and remarked, “Or we may be lucky, and our cohort kept him busy. If not – then I suggest you come up with some orders quickly, because if we don’t find him tonight, we’re all sunk.”
“I wouldn’t claim to be above anything in the presence of one such as yourself Narcissa,” Severus assured mildly, not deigning to lower the book he was presently perusing, “I’m merely extrapolating on the fact I have learned to operate within the parameters of what is expected of me and to relish in being underestimated.“
Gazing down as though meeting her gaze may provoke her, Severus considered the destruction for which she was so proud with an almost thoughtful expression. There was no denying that it took incredible skill to mete out this kind of devastation and contain it to a particular area, so he began attempting to pick out her spells in particular, trying to piece together exactly how things had come to be this way.
“It seems you met some resistance,” As impressive as this was, there was, of course, one thing worth noting – one not particularly redeeming in this line of work. It could mean a rather particular brand of cowardice and oversight – cowardice in he who would abandon his family to the wrath of Bellatrix Lestrange and oversight in that very woman who seemed more proud of her overall ability to destroy than in the fact there was a corpse missing. “Where’s Jonathon?”
Severely Archived 