"If I don't find you in ten seconds, so help me Lucius, I'll burn this house down to the ground!"

I hear the declarations but can't quite believe them; the voice is so familiar it hurts to hear it, and the words typical in their annoyance. Severus. But it cannot be Severus, unless he's found a way past the wards or charmed Narcissa into gaining entrance.

"Lucius! Lucius!" Narcissa's voice is sharp and urgent, but there is no fear in it. She must be in on my murder too. I sometimes forget she still has a wand. "Where are you?"

"My study," I call back, sealing my fate. I hear something topple to the ground and crash loudly on the polished floorboards, perhaps the Tsang dynasty vase Narcissa is so fond of. Heavy footsteps move rapidly in my direction, and I think about the fact that I have no wand anymore, not even the heavy cane to swing in self-defence. Perhaps I could manage to get in a good hit with the bookends if I flung them at the right angle, but Severus is already charging in through the door, rushing towards me with his cape billowing, looking every inch the Muggle fantasy of a vampire with his pale face and flashing eyes. His mouth falls open as he looks at me, his hands clutch my cloak desperately, and then he does what I least expect, and throws his arms about my shoulders, giving me his version of a hug, which is much like being strangled by a boa constrictor.

Before I can react, even to push him away, Severus leaps back. He is more a vampire than ever, now that I truly study his face. His lips are streaked red with what smells like blood, coppery and cool, and his black eyes are crazed.

"Draco," he exclaims over the choking tide of breath that threatens to overtake him. Exhaling, then inhaling, he recaptures his oxygen and blinks, frantically, trying to reclaim his composure. "It's Draco. He's been captured."

"Captured by whom? Aurors?"

"Worse," says Severus, and his face is grim. "Voldemort."

I sink back into my chair, looking at the pile of books perched on the low table before me. I had been sorting through my library, trying to find articles whose age and value did not deter me from loaning them out. Fleur's curious pursuit of forbidden knowledge intrigues me, gives me a strange purpose. If I can no longer perform dark deeds myself, due to the absence of the necessary tool of the wand, perhaps passing on some of the finer traditions will make me feel better. If either Narcissa or Severus find it strange that I have taken down over one hundred of my simpler volumes and arranged them into stacks of varying worth, neither of them make mention of it.

"Voldemort?" I ask finally, not believing. "Why would Voldemort capture my son? Draco is a loyalist," I add, scoffing a bit. My poor only child was the wrong type for a Malfoy, prone to following over leading, looking only for the proper authority figure to endear himself to. "And in any case, why should I care? Draco wants me dead. I should be glad he is put to death, for it leaves me all the safer."

"Lucius!" comes Narcissa's outraged exclamation, but thankfully Severus shushes her and sends her from the room.

"If you're here to lure me out of my home with some story about my son, Severus, you may stop your ranting immediately. Draco's well being is no longer my concern. Kill me now, if that is your job. I am wandless, and the wards permit the use of a Killing Curse within the grounds." He should know this already, given the number of people we have killed here, out in the grass or indoors, on the lower floors of the house where Narcissa never ventures, where Draco as a boy believed he saw ghosts.

"I'm not here to kill you," Severus hisses. He thrusts a slim vial at me. "Veritaserum. I knew you'd ask questions. You always ask questions. Give it to me if you like, so you believe me when tell you the truth. Draco was never loyal to Voldemort, just as I never was. It was ruse on my part, Lucius. I left Voldemort before the Potter murders, and when went to Dumbledore to confess my misdeeds, he made me a spy."

"A pity Albus cannot collaborate your story, seeing as how you murdered him," I answer. "The next time you come up with such a tall tale, it might be helpful if your alibi wasn't dead by your own hand. And what's this about Draco, I'd like to know? I have it on good authority, yours in fact, that Draco arranged the method for the Death Eaters to invade Hogwarts and even planned to be the one to murder dear old Albus. All this for a man he cares nothing about?"

Severus looks at me sternly, the way he must glower at his students, frightening them in every Potions class. "For a man he cared very much about, in fact, as well as a woman. The Dark Lord told him Narcissa and yourself would be killed if he did not comply. Afterwards he fled with me because there was no way he could return to school after what he had done. He trusted me to keep him safe. The vow --"

"What vow?"

"Narcissa had me make an Unbreakable vow to protect him."

"Protect him? Is that the euphemism you use for buggery now, Severus? Charming. Although I must say, I had more respect for you in the old days, when you at least at the nerve to call things what they really are." Eyeing him cautiously, for he is a man of formidable temper, I motion a frightened looking house elf into the room. It comes, bearing drinks on a high silver tray, probably courtesy of Narcissa, who is above all an excellent hostess. "You're fucking my son, admit that at least, Veritaserum or no." The house elf gulps and reddens, but it is Severus' flush that pleases me. "Brandy?"

He nods. "I'd better," he says, sitting down. "And you're right," he adds, not looking at me, as the house elf squeaks in shock. It must be new; the old ones are accustomed to hearing of such things, and face each new revelation with the patience of those who have endured much tribulation. "I am. Or rather, I was. It isn't what you think, Lucius," he goes on, glaring at me. "I didn't intend for it to happen."

"No, of course not." My voice is amicable, my hand on the heavy bottle of brandy, which would shatter easily over his head and cut him in a million places. My heir, I think. My son! He was only sixteen when Severus took him, little more than a child really, all those fine, pale features and fragile bones. Across from me Severus goes white and chokes on an ice cube. I remember his talent for Legilemency and hate him for it, when I am such a poor Occulemens. "You just happened to awake up one morning to find yourself atop my boy, is that it?"

He musses his hair, raking his fingers through the strands, which are longer than mine. "Not precisely. Lucius, please, there will be time for addressing this later. Can we concentrate on aiding Draco now? His time is short."

"Aiding Draco? Did I give the impression that I was interested in assisting him? Let Voldemort's faithful do as they will to the boy."

"It was my understanding that you gave up Voldemort's secrets and are no longer loyal to him," says Severus violently. "Surely you don't think the Death Eaters whose homes and families were attacked were uninformed about who gave them up? Lucius, please! Set aside your pride and anger and please think about Draco. He needs you."

I struggle not to yawn, my hand fanning before my mouth. "No more dramatics please, Severus. I find it very tiresome. If you want your bedmate back, go and fetch him."

"He's not my bedmate any longer," Severus hisses. "He left a month ago, I'm not sure where to. He'll will probably try to say he was working as a spy, but no one will believe him. He'll be tortured, raped, put to death."

Through the heavy oak door, Narcissa's shrill gasp is audible. She has been listening in all along. I am surprised she hasn't come in to slap Severus, for it seems incredible to me that she already knew about the buggery. Always, whenever I mentioned the rumours I had overheard in prison, she dismissed them as fanciful, but she has always been fond of Severus, exceptionally so. Maybe she tolerates it.

"Lucius, listen to me, you were the one who taught me when I joined Voldemort and --"

"Had I known the sexual privileges extended to teachers, I would have been ever so greedy."

" -- you know my skills better than most. You know I can't do this alone."

I nod. I do know this; Severus' potions are pristine, his Legilemency immaculate and mastery of the Dark Arts powerful, but he is less adept then most at the casting of useful charms, his flying is atrocious and his Transfiguration is at best mediocre. Also, despite his tremendous knowledge of the Dark Arts, he does not use the Dark curses with a natural grace. It takes effort for him to kill, and it is painful for him to torture others. He loves the research but deplores the usage. Typical for a half-blood. "What do you think I can do, Severus? I have no wand."

"You could take Narcissa's!"

"And be arrested, thrown back into Azkaban for violating the terms of my release? Not to mention whatever penalty the Ministry would dream up if they saw me in the company of a Death Eater such as yourself. Ask Narcissa to help you, if you like."

Severus' withering glance is enough of an answer to that. "Lucius..."

"Leave," I demand suddenly. "I don't wish to hear any more of this."

Surprisingly, he rises and sweeps out without another word. For a long time I remain perched on the chair, finishing my glass of brandy and pouring myself another. The strange energy of the room crackles, and the air is highly pressurised, the way it always is when Severus has been here. I wonder without much emotion whether or not he will try to free my son on his own. It is a fool's game, valiance, one better left to Gryffindors. Heroism is an act with which Severus has precious little experience, but I don't doubt he will try his best. When he loves someone, which is exceedingly rare, Severus seems to possess strength.

Much later I wander from the study, determined to wash away the lingering scent of serums and adrenaline that hovers in Severus' absence. I feel grimy, tainted, and there is a slick, cold feeling in my mouth that could be guilt. My boy, my only child, is soon to die, and I have done nothing to help him. I think of the gifts I have doled out over the years, all intended to aid him; the brooms I purchased to sway the Slytherin Quidditch team, the expensive clothes he wanted in order to woo Pansy Parkinson. I remember the way his face lit up on each occasion, and the way it slowly darkened as the last years of his youth flew past. His eyes lost their tricky gleam; his shoulders, once proud, fell as a hundred failures added up, leaving him bereft. He will end up like me someday, I know, if he survives this run in with Voldemort. He will end up a frozen creature like his mother, an icy man with a steely gaze and a deadly silence, priding himself on excess and riches, taking risks not from a sense of adventure but to feel a little less dead. There is already a hollowness to him; Severus did not speak of it, but I know he has run into that darker, lonelier side of the boy. Perhaps that is why Draco left him, for Severus is entirely too needy and together they can only make a troubled pair.

I walk through the entire house on my roundabout path to the bathroom. Each room is dark, carrying the scent of snuffed out candles, the last bit of rich smoke hovering in the air. Already the house elves have made themselves scarce, disappeared somewhere, though they would come if I called them, eager as dogs. Narcissa's scent trails through the upstairs hallway, leaving a purplish aura in the places where she so often hovers, examining her complexion in a mirror or, more often, crying. It does not surprise me when I reach the last unchecked room of the manor and find she is not there.