A/N: Warning. Very obvious drug-abuse is present in this chapter. If you have any objections to this, please do not read this chapter, or any further. Thank you.


Chapter Six
The Abyss

July 29, 1986

Narcissa Black Malfoy glanced over her husband's shoulder. Perched near a gargantuan fireplace was the long, emaciated figure of her oldest and probably only friend. He was wearing black from head-to-toe, ever the saturnine shadow, his harshness made harsher by the burning glow of the fire. Dark eyes peered into the flames, making him appear contemplative. Beside him was a witch whom she knew had recently acquired a fortune from her old, dead husband, speaking towards him and hardly realizing that he was far away, lost in the fire, impervious to her chattering, painted lips.

It was a pity. Not only was she wealthier than him, but she was also far prettier, with glossy brunette hair and eyes like sapphires. Next to the dark, imposing figure which he cut so finely, despite the harshness of his face, she was soft and warm and inviting. Severus, however, did not care for softness or lightness: he was suited for darkness.

Still, as his eyes peered into the flames, she knew that he craved the light more deeply than he would ever admit to another. It made him all the more of a tragic figure, and all the more interesting. Narcissa, in particular, had been fascinated by him from the beginning: when she was a third year and he was a firstie. Once she'd scrubbed away all the muck from his upbringing, he was a quite cultured, interesting man. She'd known it from the beginning, hence why she had demanded her betrothed take him under his wing. It was the first time she'd ever spoken to Lucius of her own accord.

"I think you should keep your eye on that one."

"Snape?" Lucius said after he had gotten over the fact that she'd actually decided to speak to him, "Why? What use would a nameless first-year's loyalty serve me?"

"He will be useful… and you will do it because I ask it of you."

Lucius knew better than to anger her. If anything, he was afraid of what she would make Bella do to him, or that she would convince her father to break their betrothal. Regardless, he'd listened, and they'd bonded over the little project, even if at first Lucius had been skeptical.

Her husband had been wary of her all of his life, considering their four year age gap and her inital... resistance to their match, but once he'd realized she had an eye for talent, i.e. for Severus Snape, he'd warmed up to her. Eventually, after a few tumultuous years, he'd grown affectionate of her… that was enough for Narcissa, at least where it concerned Lucius. It wasn't as if she loved him back.

Unfortunately, her husband found Severus equally as arresting as she did, if not more so (which she supposed was her fault, but she digressed). She had learned long ago not to let it get to her that her husband was far more obsessed with their little charity case than he ever would be with her.

Lucius had a larger appetite than she did—to restrict him would be cruel, and she had long ago accepted that marrying him would be far more difficult than not. Being the Slytherin that she was, she could forgive him for being of a similar nature: he could not help it, just as she could not help succumbing to the weaknesses of motherhood and sentiment.

One of the few things they agreed on was Severus: that they loved him, in their separate ways and together, and wanted the best for him.

Still, she was a Slytherin… while she would love for their pet to fall into a woman like the one who was now draping herself over his arm in earnest, she also felt a twinge of jealousy when the woman touched his arm and he turned, ever so slightly, to face her. Narcissa knew he required much more than lust or circumstance, neither of which she, herself, could give him, truly. Severus was a strange beast, a half-devil who craved the grace of angels, and she blamed him for making her so fascinated with him.

Not only was he a reserved creature, by nature, but behind closed doors he was insatiable for affection. The desire for touch had consumed them both for a long time, when they were young and he had been trying to first, eradicate his desire for another witch, and then, to irritate her future husband after some row they'd had (she faintly recalled it involving a bet of some sort in Severus' fifth year and her seventh). She also remembered the drunken night when all three of them had made-up, in Severus' sixth year, in a bold attempt for him to unite them together after her and Lucius' disastrous honeymoon.

Both Cissy and Lucius were rather fond of his rather interesting sexual appetites, his keenness for stirring up passion, his eagerness to please. After all, it was because of him that they had been able to jump the hurdle of their relationship and come to terms with each other so comfortably. Without Severus as the catalyst, she and Lucius would be like oil and water, as they had been when they'd first married. But that was years ago, before… well, before everything changed for all of them. Before the dark lord fell, praise Merlin. Severus was a changed man ever since, for many reasons.

At the dawn the new era, he'd fallen into a darkness she feared might hold him forever, and for that she worried over him constantly, especially now with that damnable potion in circulation, no doubt enjoyed immensely by him thanks to her stupid husband. She wondered, not for the first time, if Lucius gave it to him purely to dull his inhibitions… she wouldn't put it past him. But she also knew that her husband did not like to see Severus unhappy any less than she did. He likely thought he was helping, by providing Severus with an outlet.

But the wizard was unhappy, and had been for years, probably his entire life. It was a part of his charm. But it had grown worse since—well. And what Lucius didn't understand was that lack of emotions was not a healthy replacement for happiness, or that he was an entirely different man than Severus. While the Abyss was recreational for Lucius, it meant something entirely different for their delicate Severus.

With the Abyss to numb his pain, it was a wonder that he'd even accepted their invitation to the Midsummer Night's Gala, him having been holed up in that house of his since the beginning of Summer, high out of his mind—but there he was, lingering by the fireplace, now accepting the petting and fawning of Miss Randall, but still looking rather irked with her presence. Still, any emotion he might show was a fraction of what it should have been were he sober.

He didn't feel loneliness, she knew, but he was lonely. He was without a partner… without the affection he so craved, and denying himself the passions which he was so gifted in receiving and giving. So he sought the nothingness of the Abyss, to quiet his desires. To dull the world.

Narcissa couldn't necessarily understand what was so grand about Lily Potter that would make her Severus, once so hungry, suddenly lose his appetite, but she didn't quite understand her own heart let alone his, and she knew what it was like to love someone from afar... to love someone who she could not have. But, even still, it was not in her nature to cling, unlike Severus, who clung to the light even though it so very obviously wanted to escape him.

When he removed the hand of the widow from his arm, she cringed visibly.

"Gods, this is painful to watch," Lucius murmured intimately into her ear, slightly startling her. She'd forgotten he was there.

"He's oblivious," she murmured, glancing at him through cut eyes, chastising him for his public display. His eyes were dilated, of course, "No thanks to you."

Lucius barely smiled, "You are a killjoy."

She scowled at him.

"Come now, Narcissa. There are benefits to this, even if you cannot see them."

"I can see them just fine, Lucius."

He seemed amused at her reaction, "The thought didn't cross your mind, even for old time's sake?"

She was irritated with his smugness and she took a sip of her drink, "No, it did… he already declined."

The smile was wiped from his face and replaced with a scowl—a real one. She left him to his devices and decided she would try to sway Severus again, just to spite him.

·

"You look parched."

She was a buxom brunette with large, piercing blue eyes and two dimpled cheeks. The ring on her finger was evidence that she was either married or widowed. When her hand trailed up his arm with manicured fingers, he decided on widowed.

Besides, her expression was far too blissful for her to be a married woman.

"Hardly," he answered with a reserved sort of a smile. Another might have called it a smirk.

"Let loose a little, Severus," she crooned towards him, squeezing his arm. He hardly felt it—every touch, smell, sight was little more than a phantom of what it should have been.

It was rather… odd to be touched while in his current state and so he took her hand, pushing it away likely more forcefully than he had intended, "Unlike certain individuals, some of us prefer to maintain their dignity in public places."

To be honest, he would have enjoyed her company, under different circumstances, but he didn't think he could perform at all that night. The Abyss had already dulled his senses, so much that he wouldn't have enjoyed himself. What was the point in letting her have all the fun?

"Then let's find ourselves somewhere more private, hm?"

"No."

She gaped at him, then scowled.

Before she could say anything scathing, he turned his back to her, facing the fire. The sight of it was captivating enough—he watched the flames with intensity that another man would never have managed, even in the right state of mind, hoping she would leave him.

A hand, however, pressed against his back. He barely registered it, and wouldn't have at all if the Abyss hadn't already begun wearing off.

Before she could ask him again, he decided that it was time to leave this bloody party. He couldn't stand it when women got desperate. He had enough to last him a few more days, and would come to collect from Lucius in good time, when they're weren't so many bloody annoying people around. Gods, even with the drug, the world was unlikable.

Unfortunately, when he tried to Apparate too hastily, his magic suddenly strained, making a loud popping sound in his ear. The fire burned higher, or perhaps he had imagined it, and a part of him registered that something was wrong.

He tried to move his arm, but it did not budge.

Fuck.

"Severus, are you out of your mind? You've splinched yourself!"

"Obviously," he said, although, in fact, it was not obvious. His dark eyes dropped to stare at his arm, where his flesh had split all the way to the bone. Then he looked up and found an entirely different woman in front of him. Had she shape-shifted?

No, no… Narcissa must have slipped into Miss Randall's place while he was occupied with his thoughts.

Her full mouth pouted, "Were you trying to run away from me?"

"Never," he crooned towards her.

The look that crossed her face was difficult to decipher. She was always good at hiding her emotions, especially from others, but she never did so with him. He frowned at her, wondering why she would do so now.

Was she really that angry that he hadn't slept with her, earlier? Perhaps he should have… but he'd hadn't had the urge lately. He hadn't had the urge to do much of anything since the Summer term started. He'd only ever come to this thing because Lucius had promised to provide him with more of what he needed. It was the only thing that made him forget…

He allowed Narcissa to lead him by his good arm into a wing of the ballroom. As soon as they were inside, she began to unbutton his frock coat.

"You are insatiable as ever," he reminded her calmly, feeling no familiar stirring in his body at the notion.

"And you are a bleeding heart fool," she muttered towards him, pulling the coat off more forcefully than she might have. Typically, Narcissa was a reserved woman, even in the bedroom. Poised, even in her most vulnerable state. It had fascinated him in his youth. Now, it almost annoyed him. It was the reason why they could never love one another. They were both too guarded.

Severus bit back a groan of discomfort when she grabbed his arm. Another would have screamed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Being a bleeding heart fool," he retorted evenly.

She refrained from shaking her head at him (an unladylike motion) and continued to peel away layers, and layers, of clothes, until he was bare-chested. Severus didn't seem to mind this fact, despite being characteristically self-conscious. He merely stared ahead, fixated on nothing at all.

With her wand, she began to heal his arm. He registered that it was sort of tingly, although he knew from experience it should have been excruciating.

She asked him, "Do you have any blood-replenishing on you?"

He did. But before he went to reach for it, he drew his dark eyes slowly back towards her, meeting her silver gaze blankly. Something came pecking at the back of his mind, some emotion or another, and he said, "I shouldn't."

"I see," she said with a beautiful scowl. She was a beautiful woman—he had a penchant for beauty. A weakness, actually. It was a great irony, considering he was hardly a beauty himself.

"You disapprove," he noted softly.

"Of course I do."

"Why?"

She wasn't going to play this game with him again, that was clear. He wanted her to love him, but didn't, at the same time. He wanted her to desire him, but didn't want her to when it was inconvenient for him. This was a common occurrence in his life, a product of his shit childhood and violent adolescence. He was a schism of a human being, a creature of division.

Hence, why he used the Abyss. His emotions were confusing and unnecessary. And as much as he was gifted in Occlumency, even that had begun to fail him. This... this was easier. Effortless.

Until it wore off.

"Severus, it's nearly the first of August—a month until Hogwarts begins… how are you going to teach like this?"

He rolled his eyes, "With great ease, I imagine."

"Severus, if anyone notices, you'll be fired."

He made a soft noise of annoyance, "He will never fire me."

"The Board might."

"Lucius wouldn't allow it."

In a rare show of frustration, her blond brows lowered, "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Why not?"

She hissed out a breath and said, "She's dead, Severus."

His eyes, black, clouded, turned to hers, "That's the crux of the problem, isn't it?"

"Not really," the witch said, "She never wanted you, anyway."

That should have made him angry, but it didn't. After all, it was true.

"You did," he reached out a hand, touching the back of his knuckles to her forearm.

Narcissa's flesh pimpled at his touch, but she resisted, "You can't go on like this."

"Why?"

"Why not?" she retorted tautly.

"It matters little what I do with my body, or my mind. They don't belong to me, anyway."

"Severus—"

He leaned forward, capturing her mouth in his, stealing away every word. But he tasted different—sickly sweet, rather than minty. She hissed, knowing that he would pass on some of the potions' properties to her. But even when she put both palms against his chest, he did not remove himself, but pulled her closer to him. Only when she pulled her wand on him and pressed it into his throat did he break away.

His dark eyes flashed; at least there was that.

"Kiss me again while you are like this and I will hex you into oblivion."

"You wouldn't."

"I would," she promised.

He huffed out a breath, "I don't understand you."

"You never will," she promised, "Especially not if you let yourself waste away with that drug."

"As I said—"

She silenced him with a piercing glare.

"I expected this behavior from my husband, but not from you," she hissed at him, leaning close enough that their noses nearly touched, "I expected him to walk away with his tail between his legs, to pretend that nothing ever happened—but I thought that you, of all people, would learn from your mistakes—"

"I have learned," he retorted.

"No, Severus, you haven't. You haven't learned anything," she reminded him, "You are still the clingy little boy from first year, lost in a world that you will never have."

"It wasn't so long ago that you were clinging to me," he reminded her, scowling.

"Clinging to your cock, perhaps," she told him with a grim, taunting smirk. At that, his eyebrows flew to his hairline, "Because it was convenient and because I am self-destructive. But I knew from the beginning your heart was off limits."

"Then why do you care?"

"Because, Severus, I care about you… and I know what it feels like to watch someone you love, love another," his expression wavered between indifference and guilt, "And I know what it is like to lose them."

Severus reached out a hand. It wasn't often that Narcissa opened up to him, but when she did... gods, she bloomed like a flower. He could enjoy her, when she was like that, when she was open and welcoming, but she rebuffed him... ever the cold-hearted ice-queen.

"Get your shit together, Severus," she told him stiffly, "Get on with your life."

"You don't own me," he snapped.

"No—but neither does Albus Dumbledore, or the dark lord. And neither does Lily Potter," she reminded him, "Not anymore. It's time you realized that."

"Do you have any other words of wisdom to impart on me?"

"Plenty, but I shall save them for another time, when you're of a mind to actually listen to me."

"Don't wait on bated breath for that, Cissy."

She rolled her eyes, "As if I would."

He snorted again, then grabbed his shirt and began to put it on. She watched him dress, feeling a twinge of nostalgia. It wasn't so long ago that they were both so young, and hurting, reaching for each other in place of the ones they couldn't have. In another life, they would have been good together. In another world, they could have been whole, together.

But this was not that world.

"Severus…" she began to say, wondering—

A voice interrupted her, "My, my… what have we here?"

Narcissa scowled inwardly. Lucius had terrible timing, as ever.

"No invitation to the VIP party? I am wounded. Honestly, my dearest friend and my wife... I should have known."

"Don't get excited, Lucius," Narcissa turned to glare at him, "Severus was just leaving."

"Come now, Cissy," the Malfoy heir crooned, "What did you do to drive him away, this time? A lecture?"

"Or two," Severus quipped.

She tossed him a spiteful look, then crossed her arms.

"You both deserve each other," she told them both, before she spun on her heel and left them. She only prayed Severus would meet someone who would finally kick some sense into his head and that her husband would be gracious enough to let him go. If not, she feared he would never find peace... and neither would she.