Pairing: Lucius and Snape

With prompts:

1.(word) planets

13.(poem) 'The Night Is Darkening Around Me' by Emily Bronte

The night is darkening round me,

The wild winds coldly blow;

But a tyrant spell has bound me,

And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending

Their bare boughs weighed with snow;

The storm is fast descending,

And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,

Wastes beyond wastes below;

But nothing drear can move me;

I will not, cannot go.

15.(emotion) pride

"Severus," Lucius intoned, one eyebrow querulously raised. "You have been acting somewhat foolishly of late."

Severus looked up from his book and blinked, his eyes coming to focus slowly on the blond man. "Oh?" he said, his lip curling. "And how would that be?"

"Is one schoolgirl crush really worth the Dark Lord's ire?"

Snape sneered. "What schoolgirl crush?" He slammed his book shut and moved to stand.

"The girl, Evans." Lucius' voice was calm and quiet, the smirk on his lips audible in his tone.

"What about her?" Severus faced the window, staring out into the night sky as if his distraction could be enough to deter Lucius from his line of questioning.

Lucius merely waited. Reclined in his chair by the fireplace, he tapped his fingers slowly on the upholstery, rhythmic as a clock.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"She is nothing to me," Severus said, turning back to the man he had come to think of as, if not a friend, certainly a mentor.

Lucius laughed, his mouth barely opening to emit the sound. "The eve of the prophecy is upon us." He caught Severus' gaze and held it. "And here you sit. No preparation, but also no defection. A purgatory, all of your own making. Some tyrant spell holds you, and you cannot go."

Severus' pale features darkened, almost ruddy in the light by the fire. "No spell holds me," he spat. "When the Dark Lord calls me, I will be ready."

Lucius tapped a finger thoughtfully on his chin, a small smile on his lips. "For something as important as this, one must be absolutely sure. What if the Dark Lord requires you to kill this little Mudblood of yours?"

Severus' sharp intake of breath was barely noticeable. His pause was more obvious. "I would not hesitate," he whispered.

Lucius looked triumphant. He leaned back in his chair, and accio'd the glass of Firewhiskey that rested on the mantlepiece into his outstretched hand. "You mustn't give the Dark Lord reason to doubt you, Severus," he said after he had taken a slow, indulgent sip. "There is such promise in you. You must give yourself to him without question."

"And you will do the same?" Severus asked suddenly, one eyebrow raised.

Lucius froze; an imperceptible movement.

Severus smirked. "Narcissa's showing now," he said quietly. "How many months along is she? Four? More? I've seen the look in your eyes when she walks into the room. You're a doe-eyed teenager. What will you do, should the Dark Lord ask you to choose between his work and your unborn child? What will Narcissa choose? She may support our Lord, but she will never serve him, not as you or I will do."

Lucius gritted his teeth. "Then my answer must surely be clear."

Severus twisted his wand sharply, and the bottle of Firewhiskey transfigured into a perfect set of rings. One ring was an exact image of the gold on Lucius' left hand; the other, its match.

Lucius' eyes widened, but he said nothing.

"You said it yourself, Lucius." Snape flicked his wand again, and the rings hovered gently in the air, dancing slowly around each other until they were right in front of Lucius' face. "The storm is fast descending. The Dark Lord will call us, and what then will you choose? This dream of family has no place in the life of one who has given all to our Lord. Purgatory, indeed; this fantasy holds you fast. You cling to it, though because of it you cannot truly go to him."

Lucius' hands had turned white where they gripped the arms of his chair. Long minutes passed.

"Precisely," he said finally, his voice cutting sharply through the air. He didn't take his eyes off the wedding rings. "Family means nothing when it comes to our Lord."

Severus made a rude noise at the back of his throat. The rings snapped back into the bottle of liquor, which Severus called toward him. "Then your pride serves you well," he said, catching the bottle and pouring himself a fresh glass. "Perhaps it will lead you to the right decision after all."

Lucius smirked, running a hand delicately over his hair, the movements first sudden and then smooth, as of one awoken from a spell. "And perhaps you will outgrow your idiocy, and move beyond the star-crossed union you dream of."

Severus raised his glass, his face impassive. "No planets could align to bless that union," he said, his lips finally curving into disgust. He clenched his glass tighter. "I am done with the foolish desires of youth. And if the Dark Lord requires the Mudblood's death, it shall be the work of an instant."

Lucius felt the ink on his arm begin to burn. "Our Lord requires the presence of his favourite spy," he said idly. "I'll have a drink waiting for you upon your return."

Severus sculled the rest of the fiery liquid in one gulp. "Until then," he said, and disapparated with a crack.

Lucius leaned back in his chair, swilling his glass slowly. He lifted his hand, examining the ring upon it. Carefully, he stilled his face into an expressionless mask, smothering the hope and elation he felt at the thought of his unborn child, his son.

He let his hand fall and vowed to never allow the weakness of family to impinge upon his service to their Lord. When his Lord called, he would go.