Disclaimer: The Goddess, J.K. Rowling, owns everything you recognize. All the drivel in between is mine unless otherwise indicated.
The Side I'm Always On
"Whose side are you on?"
"The side I'm always on...mine."
--from Dick Tracy
Author's note: The story picks up a week or so after the end of OOTP. Hope you like it!
Chapter One: The Calm Before the Storm
Time is a train
Makes the future the past
Leaves you standing in the station
Your face pressed up against the glass.
--U2Severus Snape was a wreck; dripping with sweat, hair sticking to his pale face in black tendrils, and a formerly crisp, white shirt clinging to his body like a second skin. Wand still in hand, he smiled grimly down at Alex's prone form sprawled on the stone floor, "You're dead, Miss Borgin."
"That was a dirty trick," she whined.
"It was sufficient to disable you. In a duel, that is all that matters." He taunted her with that arrogant smirk she so detested as he offered her his hand.
"I expected dueling to be much more formal than this."
"As much as you could use a few lessons in formality, I am more concerned with your survival, at present."
Alex chuckled lightly as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet, enjoying the sight of his ropy muscles moving beneath his soaked shirt. The dramatic increase in his activity level this past year had been good for him, toning his body and lightening his often-somber mood. Alex could hardly believe her luck when he volunteered to continue her lessons after last summer ended. How he had carried his regular school work, his work for the Order and her increasingly difficult lessons was beyond her. Now that the school year had come to an end, she hoped that he could catch up on some much-needed rest.
Of course, her life had gotten more complex, as well, but she was accustomed to constant activity, preferred it, in fact. She had remained firm about joining neither the Order nor the Death Eaters, but was running small favors for Voldemort to keep him off of Severus' back. Marry that to being the owner and operator of one of the most popular shops in Knockturn Alley and keeping up with Snape's exacting teaching standards and she was positively swamped.
"How many is that, Sev?" she asked, panting lightly.
"Two-hundred and seven."
"Is that all? How many for me?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Zero, at last count."
"I'll get you, yet, Professor."
"I wait with abated breath."
She laughed outright at that. "I bet you do." Alex fingered her sweaty shirt with distaste. "How about a shower, Sev?"
"Subtle, as always, Miss Borgin."
She rolled her eyes. "Severus Snape, we've been at this for three hours. We're scummy and stinky and we need a shower. That was not a come-on."
"Oh, it never is--" he began, offering her arm and gallantly escorting her from the practice room, "--until."
"You know, you're the only man I've ever met who whines about getting too much sex."
"I am no longer in my youth, Miss Borgin."
"Yeah, you're right, Sev. You're getting pretty old."
Arm in arm , they strolled through Hogwarts, gradually descending into the depths of the school, into the dungeons where the potions master resided and where the only warmth to be had was from their mutual, well--whatever this is, Alex thought with a small sigh. Almost a year had passed since Alex had confessed to Severus that she harbored feelings for him, and it had never been mentioned again by either of them. Severus, in fact, was so wary of the subject that Alex couldn't mention "loving" a lesson without noting a moment's panic cross the Professor's face. And so it progressed, Alex becoming fairly formidable under Severus' teaching skills, Snape gaining favor with the Dark Lord through Alex's apparent slow corruption, and Alex falling desperately and secretly in love with the potions master.
Having finally made it to the shower, Severus started the water with a flick of his wand and Alex began to divest him of his clothing with the efficient hands of a skilled thief. Standing completely still, he allowed her to finish her task, then watched her undress with eyes that never grew tired of the sight. Under the warm water, Alex washed her lover thoroughly, taking the initiative as usual. This was a game they had played from the beginning, Alex doing all the work while Severus lounged. When he was thoroughly clean and even more thoroughly aroused, he leaned against the wall to hungrily watch Alex complete her own ablutions, adoring the sight of her long hair darkening and clinging to her breasts.
Severus hadn't been completely joking with Alex. He was no longer young, but the time he spent in her company made him briefly forget the number of years he'd been alive and how grueling those years had been. The accelerated pace of his life lately and her demanding 'appetites' had been more of a strain than he'd admitted, especially since the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic a few weeks ago which had been more nerve-racking than he could have imagined. The Dark Lord was furious, cursing everything and everyone in sight, and demanding that Snape bring Alex to him with great haste. It was something he hadn't been able to tell her. Just one more day, he kept saying to himself, I can tell her tomorrow that her life is about to suffer yet another cataclysm. Tomorrow, I will explain that our luck has run out.
She was kissing him now, passionately, and her hands roamed over his naked back, fingertips tracing his spine.
Tomorrow, he thought as Alex fell to her knees before him and he felt the welcome heat of her mouth. Most certainly not today, was his last coherent thought for a while as he buried his hands in her hair.
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"Simon!" Alex greeted her associate with a tight squeeze and stepped back to take the item he held out to her. It was exquisite as always, a simple golden pendant housing a flawless ruby that fairly turned her stomach with it's loathsome power. "What does this nasty little gem do?"
"It's a Parasitic stone."
"That's lovely, but what does it do?"
He laughed incredulously. "You mean you don't know?"
"Stop teasing me, damn it." She punched him playfully on the arm. "What does it do?"
"It's a remarkable enchantment." Alex's eyes widened with delight as he elaborated. "This particular stone, if pressed to a mortal wound, draws out the power and knowledge of the victim and transfers it to the wearer."
"Ooooh, Simon. It's fantastic! I'm so glad you came to me."
The burly man blushed a bit. "You know I always come to you first, Alex."
"I do know, and I adore you for it. You're the best thief in the business."
"Only since you retired," he mumbled shyly.
"Oh, Simon. I just have a lot of balls. You have actual skill."
Simon lowered his head at the praise, and Alex smiled, knowing that his face had turned bright red. As unwanted as his attentions were, he was still a cutie. She placed a huge sum of gold in a bag and placed it in his hand.
"Thanks, Simon," she said cheerfully. " See you soon?"
"It's always a pleasure, Alex."
"Yeah, yeah--I know you just love me for my money."
"It doesn't hurt, Madam," he answered, pocketing the large sum and turning away with a smile.
"See ya!" she called to his retreating form.
"You might," he retorted over his shoulder, and then he was gone.
With a satisfied smile, she returned to her work, now cataloguing the new stone, and finding a place to rest it among her other wares. It would fetch a huge price. Probably, a Death Eater would purchase it, as they had most of her more dangerous items. It may even be Lucius Malfoy. She winced. It was never a great pleasure doing business with him, but now that he had bought his way out of Azkaban, he was likely to be even more unbearable. She had tried to tell Dumbledore that people like that just didn't do time. Their bank accounts got them out of whatever they got themselves into.
Not that he hadn't suffered. According to Severus, his wife had waited for him to return to the manor, then had taken the first opportunity to depart for Paris...indefinitely. His staff had also deserted the manor in attempt to escape the stigma of working for a Death Eater, even a 'reformed' one. Reformed, my ass, Alex fumed as she slammed the case closed on the new item. Lucius Malfoy was, is, and will always be a very, very bad boy.
It didn't take long to close the shop and replace the wards. In only a few moments, she was up the stairs and out of her boots, as was her custom. The warming spells on the floor flooded her with a sense of home and comfort and the fire in the hearth was blazing cheerfully in moments as she prepared dinner.
Dinner for one was always an exciting occasion, giving her a chance to experiment and hopefully improve her cooking. She had been trying for ages to become at least somewhat domesticated with Nina's encouragement. It was she who had supplied her advice, recipes, and constructive criticism and she was a frequent dinner guest, mainly for her expertise in the kitchen.
A flick of her wand encouraged her enchanted stereo to come to life, Bruce Springsteen pouring from the speakers. Ah, yeah, she thought, a little silly, but a little taste of home. Dancing and cooking usually didn't go together, but she was determined to try. Soon, she had turned out of her oven a shepherd's pie that even Nina would have to say was perfect. Just to be sure, though, she sat some aside to share with her mother-figure tomorrow afternoon, and sat down to eat at her desk.
Balancing the monthly expenses had been her favorite task from the very beginning, making those columns match up had been a challenge to end all challenges, but in the end she had brought them all into line with her own system, and was rewarded by a perfectly-balanced book at the end of every month. This particular period was easier than most as she had taken in much more than she'd paid out. With the exception of the few items she'd purchased from Simon and some of his less-talented affiliates, she had only had to spend a few galleons from the bottom line to have her broom closet rid of an unwelcome boggart. No way was she going after it. Damn things freaked her the hell out.
There were also several letters to answer, she noted. Early on, after a few mishaps with on-the-spot delivery, she had talked Zephyr into dropping her mail into an 'in' box on the desk instead of delivering it personally unless it was an emergency. Things had gone much more smoothly since then. Still, she'd answer her letters later. The day had gone too well to allow it to be spoiled by an angry letter from an unhappy customer or another notice from the damned Ministry that she wasn't operating things exactly the way they would like her to. Why can't those worthless stuffed robes just leave me alone? Don't they have rich Death Eaters to let out of prison and old Headmasters to harass? She spotted an official-looking envelope a few letters down as soon as she finished the thought and knew that it would be from them.
She definitely wouldn't be opening the mail tonight.
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Draco Malfoy paced the hall outside his father's office, eating the distance between the stone walls in a few long strides, then turning abruptly on his heel, exactly the way his father paced the sitting room when he was agitated or excited. Unbeknownst to the senior Malfoy, his son had spent years watching him though the flames of the fireplace from his own room, memorizing his mannerisms in his efforts to emulate the man.
"Draco?" The voice stilled his incessant pacing and turned him around in one graceful movement to see the imposing figure of his father standing in the doorway.
"Yes, father?"
"I will see you now."
Draco nodded once in compliance. He wasn't often asked to attend his father in the office unless he was in some sort of trouble, but his grades had been more than satisfactory this year. He had even avoided open conflicts with Potter--unlike his father. What was this about, he wondered as he took his seat opposite the enormous desk.
"Draco," his father began, "How old are you?"
A shadow of worry crossed his young features. Why such a rhetorical question? "Nearly sixteen, father."
"Do you consider yourself a man?" he asked, stone-faced. Of course, that wasn't surprising. His expression hadn't changed since he was freed from Azkaban.
"Yes, father."
"Our Lord will soon demand an act of loyalty from you, Draco. Within the year, no doubt. It is a great honor to be chosen by him. You do understand that, do you not?"
He swallowed once, and cursed himself for it. His father would interpret it as a sign of fear, which was unacceptable. His heart beat a little faster under the careful scrutiny of those cold, gray eyes. "I understand, father, and I am honored."
"But, are you prepared to be in his service?"
"Of course I am, father."
"You understand how important this is to your family?"
"Yes, father. I understand."
"Make your father proud, son. Be worthy of your name. Nothing is more important than that."
Draco lowered his eyes for just a moment. So, that's what this was all about, the noble Malfoy bloodline. Next, he'll be choosing my bride, so I can be just as miserable with my wife as he was with his. At least it wasn't frowned upon for nobles to have concubines. Merlin knew his father had had more than his share.
Draco had known that this conversation was coming, but had hoped that it would take place amid a bit more of their customary warmth, that their relationship would return to the way it had been after Alex Borgin got away. His father had been proud of him that day, had told him as much, and they had enjoyed a closer rapport for an entire year. But, since his return from Azkaban, he was a changed man. Gone was the warm smile, the easy, confident air, and playful sense of humor. In it's place was an icy shell which seemed impossible to crack.
Draco sighed as his father dismissed him with a wave of a black-gloved hand. He had an entire summer to look forward to interactions with this stranger in the guise of his father. He'd have to write to Crabbe and Goyle, who would likely be getting the same speeches from their fathers. Though they hadn't the Malfoy intelligence and influence, strong arms were always needed to assist in Voldemort's dirty work, and he was never one to pass up the opportunity for more willing servants.
Life would never be the same.