Death Eater No More—Chapter Ten (Hell Hath No Fury)
The room was still dim and somewhat stuffy when Lucius cracked his eyes open and turned his head to peer at his wife, who lay uncovered, her tiny nightgown bunching up around her waist. Her blond mane lay splayed across her pillow. Lightly he ran his fingers down the velvety soft skin of her arm, smiling to himself. So beautiful; after all these years she was as lovely to him as the girl he'd become entranced with when he was no more than a boy. How he loved to watch her sleep, so like an angel come down from heaven!
As if to disabuse him of such notions, Narcissa snorted a loud snore, mumbling as she rolled over onto her side. Undeterred, Lucius slyly scooted over beside her, grinning mischievously while plotting his seduction. He raised up on one elbow, gently draping the other arm around her waist, having difficulty refraining from fondling certain choice body parts. With his locks dangling across and tickling her face, Lucius kissed her on the ear, the cheek, the forehead. With his tongue he traced delicate circles and swirls down the side of her face.
Narcissa moaned and waved a hand at the irritant, smacking him on the nose, which elicited an exclamation of pain and surprise. She rolled over rubbing her eyes and sat up. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, honey. I thought it was a dog licking my face, and I wondered when we'd got a dog."
Stroking his reddened nose, Lucius snapped, "I wasn't licking your face, I was demonstrating my boundless love and attraction for you by using the sensual ploy of—well if I have to explain it, it doesn't count!" He pulled back over to his side of the bed to pout.
"I love you, too, sweetheart," she cooed as she snuggled up next to him. She laid a hand on his bare chest to toy with the soft white-blond hair and nibbled his cheek. He stubbornly refused to look at her.
"Humph!" he grunted, though he did move his face a fraction closer, the better to be kissed, and guided her hand down to his nether region, which joyously trumpeted his desire. "If you want to make it up to me, I'd be amenable to that."
"Not in your condition," Narcissa answered. "Besides, I need to get ready for my medi-witch appointment."
She started to rise but Lucius pulled her back. "What condition? There's not even a scar, the bruise is gone." He glanced down at his torso. "Well, almost gone. I feel fine. And your appointment is this afternoon."
"Sorry, love, I won't take chances with your health." She bounded out of bed; when Lucius started to get up, too, she commanded, "You stay right there! You're not well."
"I'm not an invalid, Narcissa."
"You will be if you get out of that bed without Severus' permission!" she threatened, brandishing the wand she'd picked up off her nightstand.
"I cannot believe you're holding your husband at wand-point." The statement had no effect. Grimacing comically, he lay back and crossed his arms over his chest. This was the thanks he got for loving the wench! "I have to pee."
"You didn't have to a minute ago when you wanted to play," Narcissa reminded him. Already she felt her resolve fading. How could she look at that sexy, incorrigible man without her heart flipping wildly beneath her bosom? And what if he actually did have to go? That was one mess she had no desire or intention of witnessing. "Alright, use the bathroom and come right back."
Smirking triumphantly, Lucius shuffled to the edge of the bed and got up. He highly doubted Narcissa had the fortitude to hex someone she loved, especially if she thought he was ill, so he was far from worried. It was the principle of the thing.
He could easily overpower her and take her wand, which he wouldn't do. A Malfoy man respects women…he didn't remember offhand what number on the list that was, but his father had raised him properly. And anyway, he couldn't countenance grappling with his wife; it seemed somehow lowbrow and obscene, something a Muggle would do, not a pureblood wizard. For the same reason he couldn't simply grab his own wand and duel it out. Aside from the respect he held for Narcissa, he might seriously injure her; from years of dueling he knew hundreds of spells, many of them lethal. No, he would never hurt Narcissa. Even sweet talking her to get close enough to snatch her wand seemed too devious to enact on the woman he loved.
Resigned to waiting for Severus to drag his lazy arse to the manor to tell him what he already knew, that he was in tip-top shape, Lucius plodded to the bathroom and back, then sat heavily on the bed. Narcissa tilted her head ever so slightly in a prompting manner and he threw himself back on the pillow.
"You're evil, woman," he drawled. "I still need to talk to Draco about his foolish little escapade. I'm not exactly authoritative while lying in bed."
Narcissa bent down to kiss him once more. "It's only for a little while. Severus said he'd be over this morning. And I don't want you talking to Draco without me."
"Why not?" What did she think he was going to do—beat Draco with his cane? Which didn't seem altogether like a bad idea now that he thought of it. If he'd utilized that cane on his son as often as Abraxas had on him, there never would have been a problem because the boy wouldn't have dared do anything so stupid as running away to join up with Death Eaters!
"I know what you're thinking," Narcissa said with a dangerous glint in her eye. "You will not punish him until we hear what he has to say, and even then I'm not sure I'll allow it. He's not a child, we need to treat him more like a young man."
"Then perhaps he should stop acting like a child," retorted Lucius. Narcissa wouldn't allow it? As patriarch of the Malfoy family, his word was law…or ought to be. Things certainly had changed in recent generations, and not always for the better! To appease her he said, "I'll wait for you, are you happy?"
"Ecstatic," she replied, still regarding him coolly with something akin to the evil eye.
Was he being sincere? He was a Malfoy, there were certain lines they didn't cross, and he'd given his word—word he might unrepentantly break with anyone outside the family, but not within the family. Satisfied, she tucked her wand into her dressing robe and went into the bathroom. Had Lucius' mother ever been forced to put her foot down with a stubborn Abraxas? She'd died when Lucius was only two, yet Abraxas' similarity to his son both in appearance and personality gave her the idea that Thalia had her hands every bit as full as Narcissa herself did. The thought made her smile. Those Malfoy men!
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A pounding in Severus' head jolted him from a sound sleep on the sitting room couch where he'd crashed last night. No wait—the pounding was coming from the front door. He rolled off the sofa and stumbled across the room fingering the wand in his pocket. It probably wasn't a wizard if he was banging on the door, right?
"Who is it?" he growled. His voice sounded especially rough so early in the morning, and his perennially greasy hair hung in limp strands around his beard-stubbled face, giving him a tough, unkempt look that fit right in with the undesirables of the neighborhood.
"It's me, Papa," Jacinta called.
Severus threw open the door, not bothering to disguise his surprise and concern. "Jacinta, what are you doing? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she answered evasively, barging past him. She halted to peck his cheek before walking into the living room. "I didn't come in the back way because I didn't want to run the risk of startling you into thinking there was an intruder. We both know how ugly it could get if you hexed first and asked questions later."
A deadpan expression greeted her. Of course he would hex an intruder, what did she expect him to do? "What brings you here so early?"
Jacinta edged over to the couch, sat down, and patted the seat beside her. "I need to talk to you."
"You're not pregnant, are you?" exclaimed Severus, simultaneously slamming the door and stomping over to her.
The young woman rolled her eyes. "Not unless it's a virgin conception. But thank you for jumping to that conclusion."
"You wanted to 'talk', it's very early, you came here rather than speak to your mother," he retorted lamely. He had jumped to conclusions, so what?
In a fine imitation of her father, Jacinta smirked impishly. "If I was pregnant, it's nothing you and Mama didn't do."
He sneered back. If the girl thought for one second she could out-smirk or out-sneer her father, she had another think coming! "You should be grateful. You wouldn't be here otherwise."
"Am I supposed to thank you?" she asked dryly, settling back on the couch. "And anyway, don't worry. Daddy chases away any young men who express interest in me."
Severus cocked his eyebrow with interest. "Good. I'll have to thank Jack later."
"So much for ever getting married," grumbled the girl. Both her fathers were turning out to be overprotective ogres. "Come sit down, Papa. I have to show you something…you should see it with someone who loves you."
Intrigued in the worst possible way, like drunken butterflies rampaging through his stomach, he lowered himself onto the couch. Jacinta opened her handbag and withdrew a copy of the morning's Daily Prophet, which she handed to him with a worried gleam lighting her face. The front page headline, flashing above a particularly dreadful photo of Snape on a really bad hair day, screamed Severus Snape: Death Eater or Hero?
Severus' heart leaped—the Potter brat had finally made good on his promise! Or had he? Jacinta looked afraid to be near him just now, and he'd never laid a hand on her in her entire life. Maybe it was pity he saw; he ought to sort it out but he couldn't, not when he needed to read the newspaper, find out if his life still hung in limbo or if he was free…or a wanted man.
Contrary to common belief, it has been verified that the ex-headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape, is alive and well somewhere in Britain. In a private meeting called by Minister of Magic Kinsley Shacklebolt and the wizarding world's golden boy Harry Potter, twelve citizens—including yours truly and several members of the Wizengamot—were made privy to the memories of a near-dead Severus Snape, memories given to Potter in order to alert him to a task necessary to defeat Lord Voldemort. Until that time, Snape was purported to be not only a Death Eater, but the second in command to Voldemort himself.
Severus snorted. Second in command? Apparently these people had no idea of the power structure within the Death Eater circle…or lack of power structure, as it were. Lord Voldemort did not designate a second, since he had no intention of relinquishing any power. His 'most trusted', the spot Snape filled for the last year, was a most delicate position that could change at any moment on a whim.
One by one we traveled through Snape's memories in the pensieve. We saw excerpts of his traumatic childhood with battling parents, his friendship with a little Muggleborn girl who was later to become Lily Potter, Harry's mother, and his years at Hogwarts. It became evident to all of us that Snape repented of his decision to join the Death Eaters when but a young man, primarily due to the love he bore for Lily Potter. This in spite of the animosity he bore her husband James.
Severus' stomach clenched and he felt his teeth clamp down sharply. That was no one's business! If the council needed to see his pitiful life to free him, so be it, but there existed no reason for anyone else to know! And to drag Lily into this!
We were all of one accord in agreeing that Snape was more than justified in his hatred of James Potter, who had mercilessly tormented him throughout his student years at Hogwarts, to the point of public degradation on more than one occasion. For this reporter's part, when I saw James Potter hanging Snape upside down to pants him in front of a jeering crowd, I wanted to curse the bully myself!
By now Snape was grinding his teeth so hard Jacinta could hear it, his features twisted into a livid display of hatred. Was it not bad enough he had to live with the humiliating memory? To broadcast it to the world was unconscionable! What had any of this to do with freeing him??
It seems only fitting to this reporter that Harry Potter, son of his despised nemesis, should be the one to bring to light the true Severus Snape, the courageous, selfless man who acted as a spy under Albus Dumbledore for over sixteen years at great risk to his own life. The information he gathered as a spy proved invaluable to the downfall of Voldemort. While it is true Voldemort was gone for a long period of time, Snape dared not reveal his true allegiance lest the other Death Eaters try to murder him for disloyalty to their lord.
Snape scanned, without grasping a word, the rest of the article that described in detail his protection of Harry, Dumbledore's manipulations of Snape and the boy, his inestimable aid in defeating Voldemort, even his 'death' in the Shrieking Shack—obviously supplied by Potter himself, and lastly his acquittal of all charges by the Ministry. The fury boiling in his brain precluded comprehension at this point. This was Potter's fault, it had to be! He'd shown them the memories, he could have insured they not be shown the most mortifying one! The wretch had probably laughed himself silly to view it again, and to watch each of the other wizards and witches witnessing Snape's shame must have cheered him no end.
"Jacinta, go home now. I'd like to be alone."
"Papa, I know this is embarrassing, but—"
"Jacinta!" he thundered, making her jump. Through force of willpower he lowered the volume several notches to a mere seethe. "Please go." If he inadvertently trashed the house in a fit of rage, he didn't want his daughter to see it, let alone risk injuring her.
The young woman got up, hugged him awkwardly, and headed for the back garden from where she could disapparate. She paused at the door. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he returned automatically, staring unseeing at the paper in his hands.
After she left, he remained where he was for some time as the wrath built up, his body trembling with the adrenalin flowing through his veins. Oh, he was SO going to the Weasleys home tomorrow! And Potter had better pray he didn't wring that scrawny little neck that held up his brainless head!
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Breakfast passed pleasantly enough for the Malfoys, despite Severus' ill-tempered appearance earlier wherein he ranted on at length about the unmitigated gall of the ungrateful Potter whelp. None of the family had a clue what had set him off, but it wasn't unusual for him to verbally tear down Potter, so they let it go. He'd checked Lucius and pronounced him fit—at which Lucius had barely resisted a taunting I-told-you-so to his wife, then Snape had gone off on his diatribe again. Fortunately for the Malfoys, he'd refused their offer of breakfast and stormed out, taking the whirlwind of fury with him. For Draco it was a relief not to speak to his godfather, whom he'd not yet forgiven for his perceived betrayal.
When Lucius picked up the newspaper at the table, he understood what had put his best friend in such a mood. Severus never spoke of his time at Hogwarts for good reason, of which this article was proof. To showcase such a terrible time of his life for public sport…as much as Snape loathed pity, Lucius pitied him now. Those reporters for the Daily Prophet prized gossip over news, and it showed repeatedly in their writing.
When he saw Draco getting up, he laid the paper down. "Draco, your mother and I need to speak to you. We are very disappointed in your actions," he began, quite pleased with himself for his superlative control. His son slid back into his chair, refraining from justifying his actions; he dropped his eyes and mumbled a general apology. It heartened Lucius, for if the whole conversation went this well, Draco would offer to castigate himself and he wouldn't have to do anything. "It was foolhardy and immature to run away merely because I slapped you—under provocation, I might add. I will not tolerate insolence."
"I'm sorry, Father," repeated the boy, staring fixedly at his lap. "But that isn't the only reason I left."
Oh sure, throw a wrench in when it's running perfectly! Narcissa and Lucius both looked at the lad questioningly.
"Why then, Draco?" asked Narcissa.
Reluctantly the young man lifted his eyes to his mother where he knew he'd find refuge, assiduously avoiding even a casual glance at his father. "At school everyone always banded together against the Slytherins. That's how it is now in the wizarding world, only they're all against us, against our family. Our name is ruined and it's Father's fault."
All sound came to a grinding halt. Sisidy, puttering around with the dishes in the corner, lifted her head in horror. Narcissa sucked in a gasp of air and peered over at her husband, anticipating a scathing rebuttal or worse. It wasn't completely unknown for his temper to get the better of him. The man sat absolutely rigid, his face unreadable, which in itself meant his reaction must be terrible if he felt he had to hide it. Only his grey eyes betrayed the slightest hint of life.
"Draco, don't blame your father, there were a lot of things out of his control."
"I went to help free Uncle Rodolphus because I knew Father wouldn't like it," confessed Draco, to the astonished fear of Narcissa. "I was angry because if he hadn't been a Death Eater, I wouldn't have been, either. That's the whole reason we're being ostracized."
Son, please shut up, Narcissa begged silently, but he couldn't or wouldn't heed her.
"He brought me up to be a bossy, manipulative bastard that everyone hates—Goyle told me so, he said he never liked me, nobody does!" Draco stopped, panting slightly from emotion.
Still no reaction from Lucius. Narcissa was becoming seriously worried. "Sweetie, that's not true. Maybe Goyle feels that way, but that isn't everyone. When I contacted Pansy to ask if she'd seen you, she was quite distressed about your disappearance. That wouldn't be the case if she didn't like you."
Tempted to scoff yet heartened a bit, Draco replied, "Goyle said he's going to marry her. They signed the agreement contract."
Gobsmacked, Narcissa hesitated in order to process what she'd heard. Who in their right mind would choose that Goyle blockhead over her darling son? "But I thought she was your girlfriend."
Draco shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "So did I. It's not like I love her or anything, but she could've told me."
"You should call on her, find out what's going on. She suggested it."
"She did?" he asked, truly surprised. "Maybe I will."
Just when things seemed to be looking up, Lucius cleared his throat. Not daring to avoid the man any longer, Draco warily swung his head toward his father. "We have not finished our discussion, son."
"Father, I was only being honest! I didn't mean any disrespect, I shouldn't have said—"
"You're right, Draco. This whole situation we find ourselves in is my fault," said Lucius quietly. His wife and son stared in open-mouthed wonder at his admission. "The motivation that prompted me to become a Death Eater is irrelevant."
At this Narcissa paled. Draco had never heard the truth, that Lucius had been a mere boy of sixteen when he pledged himself to the dark lord in exchange for a favor: the elimination of Narcissa's fiancé. She'd been forced to make an Unbreakable Vow promising to wed Ivan, a man she despised. There had been no way for Narcissa to be with Lucius, short of Ivan's death; while he didn't repent of marrying Narcissa, many times he'd bemoaned being in service to the maniac.
"Because of my affiliation, you were forced to serve Lord Voldemort, and I'm sorry. I never wanted that. I hold the deepest regret for all the hurt I've caused my family, and I intend to do everything within my power to rectify things. You believe I've raised you improperly…I'm afraid I must agree. The world isn't receptive to pureblood superiority, and though I will not denounce it, I should have been more circumspect in teaching you when and how to express that superiority."
Draco seemed at a loss for words. Lucius Malfoy did not make a habit of apologizing or of admitting he was wrong, and yet he'd just done that very thing. And he'd done so without shouting or hitting or utilizing any form of intimidation!
Lucius went on doggedly, saying what must be said to clear the air, to begin anew. "However, your mother and I have a child on the way. I cannot and will not roll over and die because the world hates me. I will be strong for my baby and for my wife and for you, Draco. I owe that to you."
"I'm sorry for what I said about you not having any business having another kid," said Draco in a murmur. He really didn't want to make his sire angry all over again.
"Accepted," said Lucius, right before he went on, making the boy cringe. Now the shoe was going to drop! "Additionally, I want you to understand that your brash behavior will not be permitted in the future. You will work together with us to promote the family's well-being."
"Yes, Father," said the lad meekly.
"I also expect you to apologize to Severus."
At this Draco balked. "Why? Everything I said was true!"
"There are many things you do not understand," clipped Lucius with a hard edge to his voice. "If Severus hadn't been watching over Potter, where would we be now? Squirming under the Cruciatus while proclaiming our undying devotion to a madman? Is that what you want?" His voice oozed contempt.
"No, sir, but Snape worked against us! He made you go to Azkaban!"
"Severus never meant to hurt me—or you—but his prime objective was to get rid of the dark lord by whatever means necessary or possible, and that meant keeping Potter alive. Yes, I'm sorry I went to Azkaban, I'm sorry you think he doesn't love you, but he does. He had to choose the nobler cause, and I don't fault him for it. Voldemort is gone, thanks in large part to him. Our lives would still be hell if the dark lord hadn't been killed. If you give yourself time to think about it, you'll see I'm right."
You're not always right, Father, thought the boy subversively. And yet, his father was usually right, and very intelligent. He wouldn't stand by Snape if he had an inkling that the man couldn't be trusted. "I'll think about it," he promised.
"Think about it in your room. You're grounded for the rest of the day. And be grateful I didn't make it a month," drawled Lucius smoothly.
Now that sounded more like Father! Draco got up, excused himself, and headed upstairs. He'd gotten off quite light for his stupid antics, much less than he'd feared. Either the elder Malfoy was growing soft, or he truly meant everything he'd said. Still, to be on the safe side he'd best not piss him off too often.
Narcissa reached across the table to intertwine her fingers with her husband's. He shot her a tiny leering smile that clearly suggested he'd done as she wished, now where was his reward?
Narcissa smiled coyly. "Thank you for going easy on Draco, my love. You did the right thing. Would you like to accompany me upstairs?"