Indiscreet Discretion…

The click of the study door and the subsequent muffled sound of it closing told him that she had arrived, the tables were now turned and he was fairly certain he knew why she was there; she was coming to casually lay blame beneath his feet and watch as he crumbled before her eyes. He was also quite certain she would get her wish- he simply put was no match to her heartbreak. Turning to meet her he watched as she crossed the threshold, her foot steps not making even the slightest noise as she closed the distance between them. The woman before him didn't resemble in any form the great Madame Malfoy the world once knew and revered- this creature was the hallowed shell that remained once a heart had broken so many times it had forgotten how to mend. It was sad to think of how she used to be in such control and now the whole world seemed to hinge entirely on her swings- and it was completely his fault. If only she could see her self the way those of us who knew and loved her best saw her; she would have once been horribly appalled. The great Lady of the Manor was gone, nothing what so ever remained of that woman- the one who had lived well and to great excess. That great Lady was gone and he feared he may never bring her back from the edge of oblivion. That thought alone terrified him more than any other ever could.

Once he had dared to ask what she feared most in all the world.

"A cage" she had answered. That he could understand.

She countered him then by asking a question of her own, one he had in no way been prepared to anticipate. "Quid pro quo Severus, now tell me- just what is it that you love most in all the world?"

It briefly occurred to him to lie but instead he gave her the truth.

"I don't like much in this god damned world Cissa. I don't like the Dark Lord to say the very least and I don't like Saint Albus Dumbledore. I don't like children yet I am a glorified school teacher by profession. I loath noble causes yet I stand and fight for one every moment of my life. I despise our ill fated circumstance however I find myself unable or perhaps unwilling to alter my ways." He paused then to see if she would respond however her silence remained stead fast as if knowing he would continue his litany if she offered only silent stoic resolve.

More than all the gold in Gringotts he wanted to forever remember her face as he fired his parting volley. Studiously he held her eyes with his gaze as finally he spoke his final words. "I don't like much do I? But know this for certain, what I do like- I love passionately and I like you very much."

She smiled then, the one she reserved only for him and it had felt good. Perhaps now he could calmly carry on another day, perhaps now he might stand a chance of living to see the end of their collective nightmare after all.

With that memory in mind he steeled himself against her potential tears and hollowed eyes and told himself no matter what he would allow her to lay blame and point all of the fingers she wanted even if they went straight through his heart. This secret life of indiscreet discretion wasn't usually his sort of thing but then again he could remember a time when Narcissa Malfoy had been 'not his sort of thing' as well.

However now, so very many years later he found he was protective and possessive of her and to his amazement she absolutely reveled in it. He treated her with great reverence and made love to her like his possession, and she didn't seem to mind in the least. Before him now stood the woman who tugged on him, who kissed him, whose name still beat within his heart but she was also the woman who refused to let him go even when he had demanded she do so. To that very day he still remembered the first time he told her their actions would get them both killed and that it had to stop. The Professor also remembered just how well that had gone for him.

"We are both being impetuous and becoming careless- this ends now as if it never began. Whatever this was matters to no one, not to me and not to you. Do you understand? It was just a bang- that's all we were; just a bang without blame." He had thought harsh words would push her away and acting as if he was just her kiss and don't tell she would slap his face then turn in anger and walk away forever. How wrong he had been. She had slapped him sure enough but her words told him she would not be leaving quite so easily.

"Don't be so vulgar Severus, it doesn't suit you."

True to form he responded in kind to the banter that seemed to suit their kinship so very well. "And don't be so pious Narcissa- I know where those lips have been."

Unfazed Narcissa threw her next words aimed directly for his very soul. "You think to leave me now- out of concern for my safety? That's what you're telling me. How noble of you Severus… or how cowardly?"

Severus was no coward and she knew that and it vexed him beyond belief that she should employ such infantile tactics. The Professor was a soldier and she knew that as well- his life had never been his own. He belonged to a Legion commanded by Fate her self and marched to a cadence dictated by a greater man's ambitions and sense of fair play. How dare she call him coward? How dare she play so dirty? How dare he consider conceding again to the most beautiful face he had ever seen? How dare she bewitch him so?

He studied her, watching as she silently crossed the room- each step closing the distance between them. She ended her reserved sojourn once she reached his side and he had thought perhaps to be smacked once again. Bracing for possible impact he had been shocked when instead she reached for his face and pulled him towards her lips. "Only together will we go all the way Severus. Never forget that- only together." She kissed him then, a silent but reverent declaration which announced she had gotten her way once again. As if that had ever been in question?

She ended the kiss and punctuated the action with her parting words, sentiments to remind just whom in fact he was dealing with. Untangling her fingers from his hair she released her hold and turned to leave. "We're wounded ghosts, all of us-you, me, even poor Lucius' she had told him, 'de-fanged serpents mourning our former lives and haunting each other but its all we've got so it matters."

Mea Culpa.

And it had, it had mattered a great deal in fact- sine qua non. That had been two years ago, two very long years in which he had personally witnessed her will to live diminish before his eyes. He was so very dangerous for her and worry constantly ate away at his conscience. He loved her, of that he never once doubted but his love put her in more danger than she need ever be in. The lives they navigated through were dreadful enough without adding fuel to the Dark Lords displeasure and lets not forget to mention her husband- dare he say, his closest friend. An indiscreet discretion with the Madam Malfoy put her at risk and above all he would not gamble her for even the sake of all wizard kind. The greater good could be damned to hell where she was concerned. The world was simply not enough when compared to her.

The second time he had told her they had to stop he had half expected to be slapped again and had already steadied himself for the blow. However that time she hadn't slapped him, instead she inflicted the maximum damage with only the slightest strike- her silence and her tears. She had cried, silently wept until he relented and wrapped her within his arms- whispering words of comfort and remorse. More than any demon of the underworld her tears terrified him beyond reason. They spoke volumes of perpetual sorrow and stood as tangible testament to her internal torment. Only once in the almost two decades he had known her had he ever seen her cry and that day had been uniquely extraordinary to say the least.

Young Mister Malfoy had turned up missing over summer holiday and it had been inevitable she ask the Professor for help. Unable to deny her he did as asked and succinctly regretted the undertaking- he knew what he would find and it would not be a beautiful sight. Realizing he could prove his worth to the mother no other way he set out knowing he would eventually return only to break her heart.

Later that night, beneath a star filled sky he finally came across the boy lying broken beneath a canopy of Yews. The Professor saw him, cold and dead with his own eyes and he had been right- there was nothing beautiful about a fallen angel. Not one word ever escaped her mouth as he recounted his tale; instead she sat completely still and cried until her body refused to produce any further tears. For that reason alone it terrified him when she cried, it was not something she did lightly or for effect, it meant quite plainly she was coming undone.

Months passed as he waged war with his guilt and called himself a coward for not putting a stop to their entanglement every waking moment of his life and yet he didn't dare risk her tears as they would be his undoing- he simply had to find another way. The next time he made to end them he decided perhaps his casual indifference would serve him best; not answer her owls, refuse to see her alone, create distance forcing a great divide between them. Eventually she would have to give way to reason and sense. Her owls did come and in great abundance but they were all sent straight away without her correspondence being read or responded to in kind. He had been terrified to think the power her words might have and imagined seeing her sorrow scrolled across tear stained parchment. That he could have never survived so he simply ignored her and swallowed his pain until it became a ball of ache buried deep inside his soul.

Oddly enough it had been her husband that drew them back together that final time. The stench of irony hadn't escaped him then any more than it did now as he currently stood but a few feet away from the woman who completely ruled his world.

Casually Lucius sat one evening across from him at Spinners End, brandy in hand staring blankly into the hearth seemingly mesmerized by the flames he studied. A low hesitant confession fell from Malfoy and it proved to be Severus's undoing, again.

"Narcissa isn't well- she's done something." It was evident Lucius was concerned and that whatever he was dealing with was completely beyond him and that put the Potions Master immediately on edge.

Leaning forward he asked the question he wasn't really sure he wanted the answer to. "What has she done Lucius? What has happened to Narcissa?"

Without his eyes ever leaving the flames Lucius answered hesitantly; his voice fading into the charged stillness. "She tried; well you see she tried to end her life- thankfully though without success."

Masking his face to hide his overwhelming sense of dread he pressed Lucius until finally the other man relented and he told Severus a very sad story indeed. Never once as he spoke did Lucius turn his eyes from the fire. It had been as if the sadness would somehow lesson if Lucius could tell his story to only the flames and not to the man he held responsible for Narcissa's current state. Lucius was no man's fool and Severus Snape knew that. It was obvious to the Professor that the man before him knew without a shadow of a doubt he was confessing just enough to save her- confessing just enough to the man his wife held most dear. Severus had not been certain he could have done the same.

"She is home now- she was away for awhile. You may not have known. Not that it really matters that much I suppose." Here the mans voice dripped with evident defeat and it had been at that exact moment he realized Lucius Malfoy if nothing else- loved his wife. It was clear, crystal in fact he suffered the madness with her and would go to any lengths to save her. Narcissa's husband clearly loved her, absolutely adored her and yet he knew she loved another.

Severus wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that epiphany. Narcissa's safety was tantamount to him as he would defend her to the death and yet her husband had made no accusations or pulled his wand. The man before him loved his wife- clearly, and yet it was obvious to everyone concerned she quite simply did not love him in return. Just her husbands' love alone would never be enough. She was not happy, so miserable in fact she was willing herself to die. Lucius still fixated upon the flames continued his confession. "She has shut herself away- hasn't left her rooms since her return." More to himself than anyone else he added quietly, "I hadn't realized how much I would miss her."

If the man said more Severus did not hear him or perhaps he had and simply refused to comprehend the spoken words. He could think of nothing other than she had almost died and by her own hand but he knew, he knew who was ultimately responsible for that. The guilt and shame of her actions fell squarely upon his shoulders; he carried that banner and wore it well. In every sense of the word he had held her hand as she tipped the devil's brew to her lips.

Once Lucius left that night he watched the clock and waited, waited through each agonizing moment until he could safely go and save her from a hell of her own making. He would go to her humble and unassuming but with every intention of raising the dead, unwilling to accept she may have already given up. He would insist she carry on and promise- promise to never tell her good-bye again. Quite simply he would do whatever she asked of him in order to justify his love and prove his worth as that had suddenly become very important for him. His actions had been deplorable- unspeakable even- and had inflicted her pain. It was now up to him to take all that away. His whole world now hinged entirely upon her survival.

His sudden unexpected presence within her rooms did not startle her, she didn't step away from the window nor did she reach for her wand instead she merely lowered her eyes and watched as he crossed the room reverently, as if in the presence of another worldly being. Instinctively his hands reached for her face and cradled her features within his palms. Silently he tried to will his sanity inside her mind, hoping he was not to late, hoping she would stop her self imposed exile and refuse to give up and die- hoping beyond hope she would not leave him so thoughtlessly.

Not only did he love her beyond what he even knew the word to mean but he was a selfish greedy man and he could not in any way reconcile his world without Narcissa within it. Simply put, she was completely required for him to continue living and that was what he had told her. "You have a little worry and I know it all to well. I am always with you, always inside of you and no one can take that away. Love doesn't end just because we don't see each other. Hear what I am saying to you and remember these words…always."

"My life has always been held within your hands and if you leave me you will kill me as sure as any wand ever could. Do not die on me Narcissa for my life is forfeit if you do. Please tell me you understand this." He hoped he had made it very clear in fact that she held his life not only figuratively but quite literally within her grasp.

She smiled at him then- the one that reached from the corner of her lips and went all the way to her eyes; the one she reserved for only him. The words that followed told him she in fact understood and was not so far removed from herself as he feared.

"I suppose darling… one must always have things to regret."

She kissed him then and once again all felt as if it might just stand a chance with being right in the world. He stayed that night, all night and made love to her like an emotionally starved man. Point in fact, he most assuredly was. He had been beyond starving, he was emaciated and the one desire which could fill that void had lain beside him for one glorious night and it had been utter brilliance. For hours he stayed, well through the night holding within his arms the greatest power in the world. He had often speculated but now he new for certain she simply was the reason he chose to carry on.

She was still sleeping when he made to leave and internally his mind had warred in regards to the merits of waking her verses silently slipping away. No harm, no foul- so to speak. If he left now they all stood the chance of surviving another day but if he woke her and she asked him to stay- would he be able to tell her …'no'? That one elusive answer was what held him up. He just hadn't been sure he could watch her face as he told her good-bye- knowing he was leaving her to remain behind, surrounded by things he could not protect her from. How on earth could any mortal man be expected to do that; as he was quite certain he could not? How could he not love her, simply put she was his wanton muse. There wasn't a man dead or alive who wouldn't want her.

Instead of either option he chose to softly kiss her and whisper words he hoped would find there way home inside her mind and resonate at its very center.

"Forfeit without you. Always." He never knew if she heard him but he had sometimes wondered.

Since that night he had thought a hundred times to leave- thought a hundred ways to say goodbye and died each time he silently attempted to withdraw and remove himself from what he knew as sanctuary. She had become his addiction, brutal fact but fact all the same- so he stayed. He was drawn to her like moth to flame, kin to kindred- always back to her, always back to Black.

In the mere seconds it had taken her to cross the study and find his side he remembered all the other times he had tried to push her away as well, all the times he told himself he was doing it because he loved her and that it was the good and true thing to do. But now he knew- heknew for certain he had been a complete bastard and had done nothing but waste so much of their lives which could have been lived so differently.

Taking in her face he could see she had more than a little worry plaguing her thoughts and more than anything he wanted to share in her sorrow- prove to her somehow he was worth all the misery. She asked nothing of him when she finally paused at his side instead she reached for his arm and grazed her fingers along the length as she passed him by, his gaze never once loosing contact with her stony grey eyes.

Behind him he sensed footfalls and the immediate aroma he always associated with Lucius Malfoy assaulted his faculties and he suddenly understood why she strayed so far from him and that realization wounded deeply. The Manor was obviously not empty that night and the man who could claim the woman he loved had done just such. That had hurt, and it had probably been meant to. MeaCulpa.

Casually there were drinks and discussions before the hearth and once again Lucius studied the flames as if this time they held Narcissa's secrets and it was painfully obvious more than anything he just wanted to understand. The Professor well understood that sentiment. Both men loved her for certes, but neither of them would ever truly understand her.

A sudden breeze blown in from the garden stirred the air and brought with it the unmistakable scent of clove as rich perfumed smoke settled around him and immediately he felt his tension release. For hours after they all three sat in silence, the only sound to fill the room came from crackling wood within the hearth and the ticking clock above the mantle forever chipping away at their lives. He had felt content, safe in the knowledge he was surrounded by people just as broken as he felt himself to be- and it had felt good. Lucius would always go back to her; the Potions Master would always go back to her.

Always back to Black.

At some point that evening his attention turned intensely upon Lucius- still compelled to study the fire and he saw before him a man clinging to the only life he knew as he watched it being taken silently away. Shifting his eyes his gaze then fell upon Narcissa who sat silently staring intently into the night through the glass panes of her self imposed cage. It had been so sad to see her that way- so far removed from all of them. Only the continual scent of bergamot and clove stood as testament she still drew breath and chose to carry on another day.

What sad pitiful misfits they had been, all three needing to let go of the other but none likely to be the first to sever the ties. He realized then that his love for the both of them was a selfish, dark love that was created out of his own personal need. But, it was love, which could count for something on the karmic scale of love. They had each been lost, and rather than finding themselves they had found someone else who was just as lost as the other. They had all three become lost together.

Sometime before dawn he took his leave pausing long enough for his eyes to fall upon the sleeping form of Lucius Malfoy, his head slightly titled against the cushioned back of his chair. Narcissa was no longer there and had obviously left them to their own devices sometime during the night. Severus tried but could not remember when she left but then again there was a lot he did not remember. Except of course the scotch- he did remember quite a lot of scotch.

Silently he left the study and promptly headed for the ground floor. Not pausing until reaching the main door he reluctantly slipped outside and headed straight for the approaching skyline. As he walked the grounds he reflected upon his great love- his great Lady of the Manor who was silently slipping away into madness. She was in fact no longer the glamorous fatal she once had been as the war had not been kind to those unaccustomed to ugly things. Now he saw her more as a great tragic beauty made only more spectacular by her suffering. She simply was the most radiant creature he had ever seen and the fact she actually loved him was reason enough to keep calm, carry on and chose to die another day. War was not a kind mistress, which was a harsh reality he knew to be completely true. War loved no one and was only after what it could steal and it was proving quite jealous of a once great beauty.

Before taking the final step that would quite literally separate him from her world he turned back to the manor and saw through the etched glass of her rooms the very clear image of Narcissa watching him as he left. He was killing her, slowly but most assuredly killing her. The loss of her son had practically destroyed her. Lucius Malfoy's love was killing her and they both new the war was killing her. Closing his eyes he willed his words to cross the space between them until they found the recesses of her mind.

"Forfeit without you… always."

Before sending a response she paused- her words would have to be perfect- they would have to carry great meaning. Slowly she lit a cigarette and took a moment to inhale the clove infused smoke before replying silently back through the fading night.

"I heard you the first time."

Instantaneously he had been relieved and was suddenly immensely pleased with him self. Smirking to no one in particular he turned from the Manor and left through the gilded gates of her self-imposed prison. Narcissa Malfoy was going to be fine, she simply had to be. He refused to accept no less and perhaps- just perhaps if given enough time all might just end up being right with the world.

But if not- he would always and forever go back to Black.