I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Three

A week since Christmas had passed in the blink of an eye, though it had been spent on a commendable cause. Conspiring with his father, Lucius had dreamed up the perfect belated gift for his wife. Wound up with anticipation of her reaction, he grinned idiotically as he held his hands over her eyes. Abraxas entered the parlor bringing the gift along.

"Ready, honey?"

"Yes, Lucius. Can I see now?" Narcissa felt herself almost leaping out of the chair with joyous expectation.

He removed his hands from her eyes, which flicked quickly around the room, searching for something that had changed. Nothing. The only difference appeared to be a small boy standing next to Abraxas. He looked to be about ten, brown hair and eyes, quite unremarkable. He seemed uncomfortable in his evidently new outfit.

"Lucius, I don't see it. And who is this boy?"

"He's your Christmas present," her husband beamed, coming around to slip down on the loveseat beside her.

"What?"

"My grandfather has a much younger brother, whose daughter has two sons. This is the second of them."

Still clueless, Narcissa shook her head. "I don't understand."

Abraxas nudged the child, who took a few paces forward and made a formal bow. Lifting up, he looked her straight in the eye with a slight air of insolence, giving the tiniest of smirks. "I'm your son, Mother."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Severus, you'll watch the kids while I'm gone," Eileen said, more of a question than a statement. With her mother taken ill, she'd decided to make a hasty journey of two days to ascertain whether the doctor's proclamation was true. In spite of his assurance it was nothing serious, she'd packed an expansive supply of herbs for brewing potions.

"Yes, mum, they'll be fine. Send my love to grandma and grandpa."

Eileen kissed his cheeks, then did the same to the twins. "You behave and do as your brother says. And don't annoy your father—that goes for all of you." She looked pointedly at Severus, as if he deliberately riled the man.

Three black shocks of hair nodded agreement. Tobias, standing in the background, twisted his face. Why must she continually try to turn the children against him? He did his best for the family, and this was his reward—an admonition to the kids to stay out of his way! It shouldn't surprise him, he brooded. She was a witch and he was a lowly Muggle. At times he felt like grabbing her by the hair and shaking her until her teeth rattled.

Eileen came up to her husband. "I'll see you in a couple of days. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"She's your mother," he said gruffly. How could he deny her a visit with her sick mum?

She gave him a light smile and a peck on the lips. "Love you."

"Kind of you to say," he replied just as quietly.

The look on her face bespoke puzzlement, though in her hurry to depart she brushed it aside. There'd be time for hashing over this debate when she got back. From only feet away, Severus observed his parents' interaction as he frequently did, wondering yet again if this was what marriage should be: constant bickering, insecurity, unmet longings. If so, it too closely resembled fishing in a pool of sharks for his taste.

His mother got into the fireplace, tossed her floo powder, and was gone. Tobias continued to stare at the empty spot for some time, then finally turned away.

"I'm going to work. Severus, mind the children, and I'd like supper when I get home. And clean up this house, it looks like a pigsty."

"Yes, sir," the boy answered, secretly dreading the coming two days.

Since the day of his arrival for the holidays, he'd received only a cuff or two, along with the occasional half-crocked monologue listing his perceived failings. As records went, this one stood out as exemplary, and he'd like to keep it that way. As long as everyone conducted themselves correctly, there'd be no problem. Of course, getting everyone to fall in line and behave civilly…well, that was the problem. If only he could pilfer that disgusting whiskey! He heaved a sigh of relief as his father went out the door.

"Tina, Julius, pick up the mess in the living room, then vacuum and dust," he ordered.

"You're not my boss," Julius retorted.

"Mum said to obey me."

Justina had already begun straightening the room. "I'm telling on you, Julius," she threatened. "I'll tell dad."

Enough said. Grudgingly the boy pitched in, leaving Severus to clean the kitchen countertops, scrub the floor, and do the dishes. How he wished he had his wand! He couldn't even borrow the children's wands, as they were forbidden to have one until they started school.

When they finished, he set the children to cleaning both bedrooms while he tackled the bathroom. The place wasn't nearly as filthy as his father made out, he griped to himself. In a few hours, the house was sparkling. He fed the kids a late lunch, then set about preparing the meat and vegetables for soup.

Julius gazed up at him, his huge black eyes pleading. "Do we have to help?"

"It won't take long," Severus answered, trying to sound cheery.

"I'm tired, I wanna go play," Julius whined.

"Can't we go outside, Severus?" Justina chimed in.

They had worked hard, he admitted, and he wasn't so sure he trusted them with knives anyway. "I guess so. Stay out of the street!" he called after their fleeing forms.

Once he'd finally got the food on to simmer, Severus wearily dragged himself in to collapse on the sofa. He watched television for a while and, becoming bored, went to fetch his favorite school book, Dark Arts Through the Ages. Again he wished he had his wand to practice some of the delectable spells he read about. Immersed in the pages of dark magic and evil wizards, he soon forgot about everything else, including his sister and brother.

Time flew as it always did when he studied the dark arts. The next thing he heard was an angry shout and children squealing. He jumped up, letting the book fall, as Tobias entered the nearly-dark house dragging the twins by their hair, one in each calloused hand. The man tossed them like dolls onto the floor, where they lay begging and crying. He flipped on a light.

"So this is the way you watch them?" he demanded of Severus. "What were you doin'?" Spying the book on the couch, he strode over and snatched it up, read the title, then hurled it across the room.

"W-what did they do?"

"They were playin' in the street in the dark, smartass, which you'd know if you were watchin' 'em! They could've been killed! And whose fault would that've been?"

Severus swallowed hard. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why couldn't anything ever go right?

There was no time for any more reflection. Tobias gripped the front of his shirt in a wad, while the other hand whaled back and forth across his face, rocking his head with the force of the blows. Oddly enough, the lone thought that flitted through the boy's mind was how strange it seemed that he didn't smell alcohol on the man. After five or six tremendous slaps, he pushed his son away.

"Your mother trusted you," Tobias said in an ominously calm voice. "I trusted you."

"I'm sorry," Severus mumbled through split lips. A bit of blood trickled down his chin; he didn't wipe it away. He deserved this. Yes, he'd told the kids to stay out of the street… but he hadn't once checked on them. If they'd been kidnapped or run down, his pitiful effort would provide no comfort. It made him sick to envision it.

Already Tobias had his belt off and was lifting a squirming Julius off the floor by his arm. "You brats know better than to play in the street," he said simply.

Severus averted his face, but the repeated cracks of the leather and his brother's cries tore at his heart. This was all his fault! He had a responsibility and he'd shirked it! He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, unable to block the sound. When his sister's turn came, her piteous wails with each whack made his own body flinch as if he were struck as well. At length it was over; the children huddled on the floor sobbing softly.

Tobias turned on his eldest son. "You let us down, Severus. You let them down."

The boy opened his eyes to look at his father. The expression of condemnation in the man's sober eyes hurt worse than any drunken rant ever had. A random beating when his father had been drinking meant nothing; it wasn't personal, not really. This was different, he'd earned it, and it acted as a confirmation of his worthlessness.

Holding his father's gaze, he nodded, stepped over to the man, and turned his back as he tightened his jaw and braced for his whipping.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Like a dagger to the heart, Narcissa gasped and clutched her chest, unable to believe what she was hearing. Horrified, she spat at Lucius, "How dare you make sport of me! How dare you mock my pain! How could you be so cruel?"

With as much dignity as she could muster in her fury, she got up and ran from the room, knocking Abraxas against the piano in her rush. He righted himself and addressed his obviously confused son.

"You'd better go explain, Lucius. I told you not to surprise her like this."

"It seemed like a good idea," he said defensively, carefully brushing off his spotless robes. "Damien, stay here with my father."

Assuming—accurately—that Narcissa would lock the bedroom door, he Apparated directly into the room to find her sprawled on the floor sobbing. When he attempted to touch her, she swung a balled fist at him.

"Get away, leave me alone!"

"Narcissa, I'm sorry. I wasn't mocking you." He knelt down out of arm's reach. "Father and I, we thought it would be best for the family to adopt him so I'd have an heir."

Incredulous, Narcissa lifted her tear-stained face to glare at him. "You won't let me adopt a baby, but you'll adopt a half-grown boy? What is wrong with your mind?"

He pretended not to hear the last part. "He's of Malfoy blood, the only one available. If there'd been a baby, I would have pursued him. Nevertheless, he's here. His name is Damien, but once we sign the papers you can name him whatever you want."

"How could you do something like this without consulting me?" she shrieked. "And he's a child, not a dog! You can't rename him!"

"Whatever you want," he said solicitously. "I should have told you."

"You should have asked me!" she shouted.

"I thought you'd be glad to have a child."

"Yes, it he were my own child. Were we ten when we supposedly had this boy?" If he'd been a little closer she would have made another swipe at him. "You said we have to sign papers, right? What if I don't want him?"

On the verge of losing his own impeccable composure, Lucius uttered, "You claimed you wanted children. I'm trying to be thoughtful."

"You're trying to gain an heir because your pitiful wife can't give you one!" she shot back. "You don't really care what I think."

"Of course I do, Narcissa," he said through gritted teeth. "His parents sent him to us to get to know him before we officially adopt him."

"Speaking of whom, what kind of parents give away one of their children just because someone asks?" Here she sat up, crossed her arms, and cocked her eyebrows.

Unfazed, Lucius answered, "They're practically poor as Weasleys. They know that as my heir, he'll lack for nothing."

"I cannot believe you're doing this."

"This is all new to you. In time you'll see it's the right thing. You'll come to love Damien."

"Will you?" she challenged.

Lucius shrugged as if the subject wasn't worth thinking about. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" He held out a hand to her, the tone of his voice strangely aloof. "Come and meet our son."

"What if I refuse?"

The effort Lucius put into maintaining a cool façade became very evident as he struggled to hold back his emotions, none of which seemed to be pleasant at the moment. He clipped at her, "Damien is to be our son."

"What if I don't want to be his mother?" she pressed.

"I'm not sure either one of us wants to find out," he returned, then whirled on his heel and stalked out.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The sound of someone tripping and stumbling across the floor woke Severus. In the blackened room, he made out only an outline, right before the man pitched forward to land on his legs, pinning him in place. Heart racing, Severus yanked at his legs; the smell of whiskey rising up made his stomach turn. It was his father, he'd come to beat him again! In his drunken state he must have brooded over the day's events and decided the punishment hadn't been adequate!

Torn between wanting to escape and fear of movement, Severus fell back, pretending to be asleep. Never in the past had Tobias dragged him out of bed to pound him, hopefully he'd be fooled and go away, putting off his wrath until tomorrow… or better yet, forgetting it completely.

"Severus," the man whispered loudly.

Eyes wide open, panting in fear, the boy said nothing.

"Severus!" he repeated, shaking the limp figure.

Unable to feign sleep, and unwilling to awaken the children by a scene, he said quietly, "Yes, sir?"

"Good, you're awake." Tobias swung around and flopped onto the bed, again onto the boy's legs.

Severus grimaced and sat up, jerking his legs free. By now it was apparent his father had progressed to the falling down drunk stage which was, ironically, a good thing. It meant he'd bypassed the middling ground where his aggression was worst.

"Dad, it's the middle of the night."

Tobias seemed not to hear him. "I 'ave to talk to you. We don' really talk much, me and you."

"We can talk in the morning."
"I jus' want you to behave right. Can't abide no troublemakers. Don' want no jailbird son," his father slurred.

"I don't have any intention of going to prison, dad. If this is about today, I really am sorry I didn't watch the kids. I don't blame you for punishing me." Please go to bed, he implored silently.

Intent on his prattling chit-chat, Tobias went on, "You done a fine job cleanin' the house."

"Um, thank you. Maybe you should go to b—"

"I love you, Severus," he said in a confiding manner, leaning in close so his hot breath stung his son's nostrils. "Your mum thinks I don', but I do."

Shocked into silence by the declaration he'd not heard since he'd been a little boy, Severus stared through the dark at his father's beaked profile. He'd honestly forgotten how very wonderful it felt to hear those words, like a tight band snapped off his heart. "I love you, too, dad," he said truthfully.

"I wish your mum did," he rambled. "She don' want me no more. She don' love me." The man bowed his head and started to cry, which threw Severus into a tizzy. Drunk, obnoxious, abusive—those things he could handle, but this went beyond the pale. He'd never seen his father so vulnerable, and frankly it scared him.

One hair shy of freaking out completely himself, Severus pleaded with him, "Yes, she does. She's always loved you. She worries about you is all."

"Really?" he sniffed. "But she don' act the same."

The fact that this man had a marked tendency to mistreat her children might play into it, Severus thought, never dreaming of saying it aloud. "Ask her, you'll see."

"I wish you was normal, not one o' them. We c'd be happy…" He wiped at his eyes with his sleeves.

"But—"

" 'S not your fault, I know," the man continued over him. "You're a good boy, Severus. Not your fault you're a wizard."

How exactly was he supposed to respond to that?

"You think I'm mean, but I 'ave to teach you to respect me. 'S my job, right?"

Finding no point in arguing or contradicting him, Severus agreed softly, "Yes, sir."

Tobias reached out a large hand and, to his son's discomfiture, began to pat him on the head, every so often one of his pats bumping on Severus' nose and dragging down his face. "Not s'pose to say I love you, 's not manly." All at once he tipped over onto his son, unconscious.

Severus carefully wiggled out from under him and got off the bed, laying the man down and covering him as best he could, then he crept into the living room to sleep on the couch. For the first time since he'd come home, he wasn't sorry to be here.