I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter 2
Classes were finally over for the semester, for which Severus was glad; by virtue of that fact, he'd be going home to Spinner's End for three mind-numbing weeks of listening to his parents argue, for which he wasn't in any way thankful. He didn't bother to pack, there was no point. At home he wore Muggle clothing, so he wouldn't be needing extra robes, he'd be leaving behind most of his books, and he had few other possessions to speak of. Without so much as a 'goodbye' to his roommates, who were chatting about the fun they'd have, he picked up the books he intended to take along and made for the door.
"Severus, aren't you going a little early?" Nott asked.
Severus halted, surprised he'd even noticed. "I'm not taking the train. Just gives those damnnable Marauder assholes more opportunity to ply their tricks."
"Then how—"
"Some of us have learned to Apparate, Nott. Maybe you ought to try it," chimed in another boy, making the three of them chuckle.
"Merry Christmas, Sev," said Nott, waving.
"Thanks. You, too," answered Severus, vaguely confused. Why were they being nice to him? Usually they ignored him unless talking about their Death Eater rubbish, which he listened to only to have someone to talk to.
He walked across the grounds until he'd reached the point where he could Disapparate, and reappeared in Hogsmeade. If he didn't live in a Muggle neighborhood, he'd Apparate home, but mum had put a spell on the house to keep people from Apparating directly inside. Instead he resorted to the floo network, which served to bring him into his tiny home. He brushed the soot from his eyes to see his father, a larger, sturdier version of himself, standing in front of him.
"Severus, my boy!" said Tobias, dragging him out of the fireplace. "Welcome home."
"Thanks, dad." He automatically drew his wand from his pocket and placed it in his father's upturned palm, as he'd been mandated to do on every holiday since his fourth year. "Where's mum?"
"She took the twins on an errand," he answered, grinning. "I sent her away to get rid of her for a few hours. I want you to do something for me."
Severus frowned slightly. That could only mean the man had planned something his mother wouldn't approve of, and that something wasn't likely to be good.
"First take off those ridiculous robes."
Sighing softly, Severus put his books down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. In a single motion he shrugged his outer robe onto the floor, followed swiftly by anything remotely connected to wizardry, leaving him shivering in his underwear.
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An animated Dobby met Lucius at the front door when he got home from work, an unwelcome sight indeed. On the best of days Dobby was unwanted, but to see him dancing around like an oversized yard bug was plain disconcerting.
"Master Lucius, Miss Bellatrix asks you not be visiting her," he piped up.
Cocking an eyebrow, Lucius repeated, "She doesn't want me to visit her?"
"No, Master Lucius," murmured the elf, huge ears twitching.
"You just said she doesn't want me to, now you're saying that's not what you said!" exclaimed the young man. "Which is it?"
"Miss Bellatrix says—"
"Oh, who gives a rat's ass!" Lucius fumed. "Why would I want to see her anyway?" He flung his outer cloak toward the wall hook; it landed on the floor. "Hang that up!"
"Because she upsets your wife, sir," squeaked Dobby, scuttling behind the umbrella rack. One bony hand snatched the cloak and hung it up.
Without waiting for an explanation, which he'd undoubtedly find useless anyway, he Disapparated up to his bedroom where, sure enough, Narcissa lay on the bed crying as she'd done for a week, ever since learning of her infertility. He walked over to sit beside her.
"Narcissa."
She seemed not to hear him. He kicked off his shoes and lay down behind her, spooning her, wrapping one arm around her.
"Love, it's alright. What's wrong?"
"Bella—Bellatrix," she sobbed.
That just figured, didn't it? The blasted elf had got something right.
"What did she do?" he asked, already planning ways to torture the conniving witch before killing her.
"She said—she's glad—not—to have—a baby," Narcissa choked out between sobs. "And I—should be—too." Her body shuddered under him.
"Bella's a stupid bitch," Lucius said softly, by way of support.
Evidently Narcissa's idea of support didn't quite coincide with his. She flopped over to face him, her features streaked with tears but now carrying an expression of outrage. "Don't you talk about my family like that!"
Taken aback, he sputtered, "But she's making you feel bad. And she is a… an unpleasant person."
"She's still my sister!"
"Of course, dear," he murmured, stroking her hair. "I apologize. But what does it matter what she thinks?"
"It's not that, Lucius. She went on about how lucky I'll be not to lose sleep over a crying baby, or have to tell the elves to change filthy diapers, or have a child making messes all over the house and us."
When put this way, Lucius tended to agree with his sister-in-law. A baby would be an enormous amount of work and time involvement. If it weren't for the lack of an heir, he might possibly learn to like the idea of childlessness… until he remembered Niki, Aphrodite's daughter who'd been murdered along with her mother. She'd been a precious, beautiful baby, sweet-tempered and playful. How he'd loved that child, and she wasn't even his! How much more would he love one of his own?
"And I want to have those things!" Narcissa was saying. "Lucius, are you even listening?"
"Yes, love," he said, bringing her back into focus. "I was just thinking about Niki." He pressed in close to his wife, lowering his head to her chest to prevent her seeing the unbidden tears about to drip from his eyes, the primary reason he avoided thinking of his niece.
"Honey, have you considered adoption?" asked Narcissa tentatively. "There are loads of babies who need homes."
"No. It wouldn't be my blood, it wouldn't be a true heir."
Narcissa began to weep again, softly this time. "It's my fault you'll never have an heir."
"It's not your fault," he responded, holding her so tightly surely it must hurt. In the back of his mind, though, it was her fault. Not directly, of course, she had no control over it, yet when all was said and done, she was infertile, he was not.
His eyes drifted to the mantle above his fireplace, to a snapshot of baby Niki lying on his chest, sucking on a lock of his hair. If only he had his own child to pull his hair and spit up on him, to make garbled attempts at conversation and crawl into mischief, to hug him and love him unconditionally…
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"What the hell is the matter with you, shuckin' your clothes like you got no shame?" barked Tobias to his shivering son. "Don't just stand there like an idiot, go get dressed! You think I wanna look at your skinny ass?"
Severus collected his robes in a jumble, hurried to the room he shared with the twins, and dropped them in a heap which he kicked under his bed. His father hated any reminder of the wizarding world, and experience had taught him to tread lightly around the man. When he was ordered to disrobe, he merely thought it prudent to do so immediately. He jerked on a pair of jeans and a ragged sweater, then went back to the living room where his father was waiting.
Tobias put a chummy arm around Severus' shoulders, squeezing as he said, "Now, while your mum's out, I need you to make up that potion for me. The one that makes me feel like I'm flyin'."
"I can't, mum said not to," Severus answered in a timid voice.
"Mum's not here. How long does it take?"
"Dad," he pleaded.
In an authoritative tone bordering on irritation, the man insisted, "Severus, I'm your father and you'll do as I say."
Severus slipped out from under the man's arm, trying to weasel as far away as possible. The living room being fairly small and packed with furniture, he didn't make it farther than the sofa before Tobias caught his thin arm in a tight grip.
"Son, I'm asking you nicely. Don't make me force you."
As if you could, Severus thought subversively. How could Tobias know what should go into the cauldron—or anything else about it, for that matter? Severus could produce any number of potions with similar appearance, smell, and taste, each with widely diverging effects. Of course, the wrong potion would inevitably lead to a vicious beating, which he was in the process of trying to avoid. Wouldn't it be easier to simply cave in and make the damn thing?
He decided to try once more. "Mum'll get cross if I do. She said it makes you do dangerous things."
"Like what?"
"Like you walked in front of a car and it barely missed you. It hit our fence." He gestured vaguely toward the front of the house, where half the fence lay broken on the front lawn.
Tobias sniffed. "She claims I've done worse when I'm drinkin', yet I don't see her tryin' to stop that."
Without approval of his brain, Severus' mouth said, "There are too many pubs in this place to stop it, or she would."
A backhand across the cheek knocked him onto the sofa. "You're gettin' pretty sassy bein' away at school all the time. Maybe I ought to tell that Headmaster you won't be returning next term."
Severus' heart leapt in his chest. His father rarely made idle threats. "Dad, please. I didn't mean anything by it."
"Then get in there and make me that potion."
"Don't make me do this. I don't want to disobey you or mum."
Tobias leaned over him with a surly sneer. "Think of it this way, son: who would you rather have vexed at you, me or your mother?"
"Severus! When did you get here?"
Tobias grunted a curse and backed off as Eileen bustled over to hug her son, pulling back in alarm at the red handprint on his cheek. The eight-year-old boy and girl with her pressed themselves against the wall, sensing trouble.
"Tobias, did you hit him?"
"He's got a smart mouth, Eileen, he's gotta learn."
The woman looked him over quickly to determine if the slap was all he'd received. "It's a good thing I came back. Someone told me you weren't due home for a couple of hours." She turned a glare on her husband, who ignored it.
"I'm fine, mum, it's nothing," Severus muttered. Why did she have to make a big deal out of it? It only served to enrage his father more, she should know that by now! To the twins, both of whom had mops of thick, black hair, he held out an arm. "Don't I get a hello?"
Julius and Justina ran into his arms, to be tightly embraced and—to the boy's dismay—kissed on the cheek. Severus laughed as the boy crinkled his face and made a show of wiping off the kiss with his sleeve. Looking back and forth affectionately between the twins, he had to admit he was glad they'd taken after their mum, unlike Severus, who strongly resembled their father. He wouldn't wish this hooked nose and drawn features on them.
"Would you like help making supper, mum?" Severus asked, hopping off the couch and heading into the kitchen.
To Tobias, it was an obvious ploy to get out of making the potion, though with Eileen home that idea was sunk, anyway. It irritated him. No, it out-and-out pissed him off. If she'd stayed away like she was supposed to, he could have convinced Severus to make the potion, which would've made a grand Christmas present. Instead, he had to settle for whiskey, which gave him tremendous hangovers, or beer, which gave him gas. As for the witch brew making him daft, sure it did, but no more than liquor, and without the unpleasant side effects of alcohol. She just didn't want him having an escape from his dead end job and pathetic loser life.
He dropped onto the sofa. "Tina, bring me a beer."
The little girl ran into the kitchen. Her twin sat down beside Tobias, looking grave. "Dad, are you mad at Severus?"
"Not really," admitted his father. "I'm more mad at your mum."
"How come?"
"You're too young to understand. With any luck, you'll have a better life than me, and you won't have to understand." He took the beer from Justina and swallowed half of it in one gulp.
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The meal progressed in relative silence except for mundane conversation initiated by Eileen in an effort to get Severus to open up about how school was going. He answered in one-word replies, keeping his eyes on his plate lest he catch a glimpse of his father's accusing scowl. He hated this, the constant tension between his parents, particularly since most of it seemed to originate with him.
Out of the blue Tobias said, "When are you gonna cut that hair?"
Severus looked up. Sure enough, the remark had been thrown his way. He shrugged, not daring to say he preferred longer hair.
"Answer me, boy!"
"I don't know, sir," he said very softly.
"Leave him be, Tobias. He can wear his hair however he wants. Lots of wizards have long hair."
Wrong thing to say. Tobias banged his fist on the table, making the dishes jump, and the three children jump a bit, as well.
"I'm tired of hearing about how wonderful wizards are, how they can do no wrong! Not like your husband, Eileen. I can do no right!"
"I never said that."
Tobias ignored her. "My own son thinks he doesn't have to obey me because he can do magic! I'm sick of it, I'm sick of all of it!"
Severus slid down in his chair, trying to blend into the wall. He'd heard variations of the same argument time and again, never with a happy ending. When his father'd had a few drinks, like now, there was no reasoning with him, yet for some godforsaken motive his mother insisted on baiting him and indulging his preposterous delusions.
Eileen scoffed, "Since when doesn't he obey you?"
"Since I told him to make me a potion and he wouldn't do it!"
Shocked into silence, Eileen gaped first at her husband, then at Severus, and finally comprehension lit. "So that's what this is all about. That potion is dangerous. I told him not to make it because it causes you to act crazy."
"So now I'm insane! No wonder the boy treats me like he does!" growled Tobias.
Severus got up quietly, hunching close to the wall, hoping to slink from the room unnoticed. In a flash Tobias was on his feet. He whacked Severus across the face hard enough to spin him halfway around and drop him back into his chair.
"You're gonna sit there and eat, damn it! I don't pay for that food to watch it go to waste!"
Eileen sprang from her seat to grab her husband's arm in the event he intended another blow. Teeth clenched, she demanded, "Why must you pick on him? If you're angry with me, direct your anger at me."
"I don't hit women," he seethed in return.
"I'd rather you hit me than him!" she shouted. "He didn't do anything!"
Tobias made a sweeping motion with his arm as he bellowed, "Get the hell out, then!"
Not needing to be told twice, Severus bounded up and ran to his room where he crouched on the bed, knees drawn up to his chest. Even in there he heard them arguing. He was so weary of fighting all the time, of not having a safe haven anywhere, even at home. In silent desperation he wished he belonged somewhere, that he'd find a place where he'd be accepted instead of being tormented or punished for being who he was.
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As usual, when Lucius knocked on the Lestranges' door, the house elf kept him waiting outside like a deliveryman while it went to fetch the master of the house. Rodolphus came sauntering up wearing an amused sneer.
"You had to come, didn't you?" he snickered. "You're so predictable."
"You heard about Bella upsetting my wife, I take it," replied Lucius, pushing past him into the house. "Where is she?"
Rodolphus' features made an abrupt change. Solemnly he advised, "I would've thought you'd know this by now, but obviously you don't. One thing you don't want to do is get between the Black sisters. Trust me."
"I'm not afraid of Bella," Lucius retorted.
"Well, I am!" Rodolphus exclaimed in earnest. Glancing behind him to make sure she wasn't lurking around, he confided, "She's not right, if you get my meaning. I'm her husband, but she'd kill me in a heartbeat if I crossed her. You she doesn't even especially like, so I'd watch my step with her."
"Are you saying she'd kill me for defending Narcissa?" asked Lucius dubiously.
"I'm saying I don't want to find out. She's severely pissed at Cissy right now."
"For what? Bella's the one who said mean things."
Rodolphus furtively glanced around again. "Your wife blasted her with some spell, then attacked her and scratched her face pretty deep."
Eyes popping like saucers in his skull, Lucius gasped, "You're kidding!"
"I wish! She's been screaming around here ever since."
Astounded almost into speechlessness, Lucius lowered himself into a chair. Narcissa? His docile, sweet wife had attacked Bellatrix? The very thought seemed outrageous, asinine. Bella was a witch he wouldn't want to tackle one-on-one, and Narcissa had done so?
"Are you sure?" he said finally. "Are you sure it was Narcissa?"
"Yes! And then she pointed her wand and ordered Bella out." Rodolphus leaned in conspiratorially. "I think she's mostly aggravated that her sister got the drop on her and that she didn't get to fight back. She's awfully tough to beat in a duel."
"Tell me about it," Lucius answered. He'd seen Bella fight some violent characters, and she'd taught him the hard way how to duel. "I had no idea Narcissa was so sneaky." In truth it gave him a secret rush; he couldn't wait to get back and snatch her in his arms.
An icy voice pierced through his daydream. "What the hell are you doing here, blondie?" When he looked up, her demeanor was no more pleasant than her tone. Rodolphus had apparently retreated down the hallway when he heard her approaching, for he was nowhere to be seen. "I told your stupid elf I didn't want you here."
Erring on the side of caution, he chose his words delicately. "I came to apologize for my wife's beastly behavior."
Bellatrix glared at him, searching for signs of insincerity. Finding none in his habitually impassive countenance, she tossed her head and threw herself on the couch. Any indication that she'd suffered a scratch had vanished, though her mood had yet to improve. "She's lucky I didn't tear her apart."
"She certainly is," Lucius agreed. "I was hoping you could forgive and forget. She is, after all, your baby sister, and she's been very upset."
"I'll think about it," Bella proclaimed magnanimously.
"Okay, then, I guess I should go." Lucius stood up, anxious to leave before she decided to hex him on general principles.
"Why don't you adopt a kid if she's going to be so freaking nuts," Bella said, oblivious to the notion that he'd yet to see anyone nuttier than her.
Lucius stopped in his tracks. "If I adopt a child, it won't be a Malfoy. There's no point if I won't have a proper heir."
Bella laughed in her high cackle. "So you don't go in for all that lovey-dovey kiss the baby crap, huh? Good for you. The brats are nothing but trouble."
All at once Lucius felt something tug at his heart. It wasn't crap, it was a wonderful feeling to have a baby cling to his neck, to romp with him, to love him. If by adopting a baby it would become his own blood, he'd do so in an instant. Nonetheless, his expressionless face betrayed nothing of his thoughts. "Way too much trouble," he murmured.
"Why don't you find some kid who's a Malfoy descendant and adopt him?" Bella proposed. "It's not your blood, but he'd be a Malfoy. That might shut Cissy up, and you'd have an heir."
Lucius was poised to say what a ludicrous idea it was when he stopped to really consider it. The child would have Malfoy blood, meaning it could be an heir, and Narcissa would have a child to dote on, which might help her forget her inability to conceive. Who knows, he might even grow attached to the kid. "That's a good idea, Bella. I'll ask my father if he knows of any relatives with a spare son."
Bella leaned back, propped her feet on the coffee table, and gloated silently. It was about time people recognized her genius.
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"Kreacher! KREA-CHER!" Sirius bellowed through the house. The portraits on the walls glowered at him, some of them hissing reproaches.
The house elf plodded ever so slowly up the stairs, muttering and cursing under his breath, taking as long as he possibly could get away with. "Mistress Black says Kreacher isn't being slave for Master Sirius," he huffed to himself. "Kreacher hates Master Sirius, filthy mudblood lover." At last he arrived at the open door to Sirius' room. "Yes, Master Sirius?"
"You could've Apparated and been here ten minutes ago," complained the boy.
Kreacher stood hunch-shouldered, crossing his stick-like arms. "Kreacher comes," he said spitefully. "Master Sirius undeserves Kreacher, lover of scum."
"Keep it up and I'll kick you," Sirius threatened.
"Leave him alone, Sirius," said Regulus, who happened to be walking by. "I'll tell mum if you hurt him."
Kreacher grinned, making his hideous face all the more grotesque. "Good Master Regulus. Is Master Regulus needing Kreacher?"
"Even you, Regulus!" Sirius yelped. "Why are you turning on me?"
"I'm not. I'm just telling you not to be cruel to Kreacher."
"He's being mean to me!" protested his brother.
The house elf padded over to the younger boy, gazing up at him with affection. "Kreacher isn't busy, Master Regulus. Is you needing Kreacher? Muggle lover isn't deserving Kreacher."
"Sure, go make me a snack," Regulus ordered. The elf Disapparated.
Incredulous, Sirius asked, "He makes food for you?"
"Yeah… doesn't he for you?" The pout on his brother's face answered him. "Don't worry, he always makes a ton. I'll share it with you."
It occurred to Sirius he'd completely forgotten what he called the elf for in the first place.
