Severus Snape took a seat at the first table in the Potions classroom. He carefully organized his supplies in front of him before looking back towards the door. She had smiled at him that morning across the Great Hall as they ate and he desperately hoped that she might agree to be his partner in class. His eyes lit up as Lily entered the classroom and their eyes met. He gave her a shy wave and she smiled, her green eyes twinkling. She moved towards him.
"Hi, Sev. Anybody sitting here?" she asked.
"N-no. Please," he gestured to the empty seat beside him, heart hammering in his chest. Severus gazed dreamily at her as she sat down and began to arrange her belongings, until he was distracted by the loud thump of a satchel being slammed down on the table behind them.
"Feel like home, Snape?" Sirius Black and James Potter sprawled behind them, grinning wickedly. "I mean, your family does live in a cave, right?"
James laughed. "Are you sure, Sirius? A cave might be too luxurious. I'm thinking under a bridge, maybe? Honestly, Evans. How can you stand to be so near him? His robes look as if he slept in the greenhouses!"
The door closed with a resounding snap, and the students turned their attention to the Potions Apprentice. "That is quite enough, Mr. Potter!"
Draco glared at the group before making his way to the front of the room. During their visit the previous night, Slughorn had informed him that he would be responsible for certain classes, including teaching the first-year Slytherins and Gryffindors. He was also dismayed to learn that he would be supervising the N.E.W.T. level Slytherins during their brewing labs, thus ensuring that he would not avoid encounters with his parents, or Harry's. Already, he realized he was party to the enmity that would help to encourage the hostility he'd known with Harry during their own childhood. He was also aware that there was nothing he could do to change that, and hoped that he could quickly find a solution to his own predicament that would prevent him from being accomplice to his late mentor's victimization.
"As you well know, I am Mr. Prewett, Professor Slughorn's Potions Apprentice. I will be responsible for a portion of your instruction, and you are expected to conduct yourselves as you would were the Potions Master at the front of this classroom." As he spoke, Draco had a sudden stroke of inspiration as he recalled his very first potions class. He caught the gaze of the young Slytherin sitting at the first table as he addressed the class. "Potion-making is a scientific art which is the most subtle manifestation of magic. Its results can bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses."
Severus was gazing up at him, eyes keenly locked on his, drinking in the very same words that he would use two decades later while standing in the very same space. Draco felt the tug of his characteristic smirk curling at the side of his lips as he continued. "I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death…"
Épiphanie pasted on a smile as she entered The Three Broomsticks and was greeted by Bartemius Crouch. She returned his perfunctory handshake and sat down across from him at the small table tucked into a corner of the pub.
As they chatted over a lunch of lentil stew, she took in his appearance. He was remarkably neat, right down to an obsessively straight part in his hair and a narrow toothbrush moustache. His perfect appearance reminded her a bit of Adolf Hitler.
"I'll be blunt, Miss Legendre. These are dark days. There is a terrible force among us that threatens our very societal balance—perhaps even our existence." His voice was low and ominous as he spoke. "My department is charged with bringing an end to the terrorism that is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and prevent him from amassing more followers."
"The Death Eaters?"
A look of astonishment flickered across his face as she spoke. It was quickly replaced with a glare and finally he schooled his features.
"The sentiment towards pureblood supremacy is growing!"
"I understand, and to that end, you must be prepared for war," she replied. Épiphanie worried what to say, not wishing to alter the course of history.
"War?" Crouch scoffed. "Surely you can't be serious! I am certain that if the Americans were able to capture Grindelwald—"
"Grindelwald's capture in the United States was a fluke, Mr. Crouch. If you recall, he subsequently escaped the MACUSA before he could be brought to justice. I would hardly call that a success. His deep infiltration of our government only bolstered support for Rappaport's Law, which we've only just recently repealed. While he argued that we ought not have to fear the outside world, as many—particularly purebloods—do, his actions served to feed that very fear and mistrust."
A hooded wizard passed their table, and a chill colder than ice jolted through Épiphanie, causing her to shudder and lose her train of thought. She glanced over her shoulder at the retreating figure, but the door of the pub was swinging shut and he was nowhere in sight.
"I—um. Mr. Crouch, I don't think it's pureblood supremacy which is problematic for you, as your own family proudly counts itself among the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Your problem is the dark magic that is being used to promote those ideals. I don't know that I have insight as to the solution or end-game to this situation. You do have a fight on your hands, and there will be no rules of engagement. I can only say that your department and your Ministry must make it priority, or it and wizard-kind will suffer greatly."
It took a few minutes for Crouch to fumble for the right words as he tossed back a shot of firewhiskey. "Then we will fight fire with fire!" he declared.
"Well, I—"
"We must stamp out this menace by any means possible!"
"Mr. Crouch. I urge you to proceed with caution. You don't want an Inquisition on your hands either," she said.
"These are perilous times, young lady. Swift response and decisive action are always best. I thank you for your time. Good luck, Mademoiselle." He stood, extending his hand.
"Same to you, sir," she replied, and then muttered under her breath as she turned to go. "You're going to need it more than me."
The moment she stepped out of the pub, Épiphanie knew that she was about to make a monumental mistake. Despite this, she pushed down her misgivings, focusing on only her target as she set off. She slipped her wand into a pocket inside her robes and turned into the shadowed alley that led to the entrance of the Hog's Head Pub. The barman looked up briefly, raising a brow. She certainly stood out in comparison to the other patrons, who all wore dark, well-worn robes, while her heavily-embellished and obviously expensive copper-colored attire was anything but understated. She noticed a familiar sparkle to his eye and felt obliged to order a drink.
He poured firewhiskey into a greasy looking shot glass. Épiphanie took it and turned to the stairs. A cursory glance upon entering had told her that none of the figures huddled over drinks in this room were her quarry. As she mounted the dark stair, she vanished the filthy glass and wiped her hands on her coat.
A door opened a few feet ahead the moment her foot hit the landing. He said nothing when she entered, but sat facing the fire, lightly stroking the hair of a young woman who was seated at his feet, her head resting against his thigh as she gazed reverently up at him. The sight reminded Épiphanie of another time and place. She quickly pushed that image from her mind.
"Leave us," he said. The young woman looked at him with an imploring gaze. He waved her off and she stood, pulling her shoulders back and tossing her dark curls as she gave Épiphanie a haughty and malevolent glare, deliberately brushing against her shoulder as she passed, and swept from the room. Something very familiar in her features caught Épiphanie by surprise, but she wasn't able to place it at the moment.
Finally, the wizard turned around. He wasn't quite what she'd expected. There was a hint of handsomeness in his face, but it was distorted. His skin had a waxy unnatural pallor, and his eyes were ridiculously bloodshot.
"Mademoiselle Legendre," he smiled. She noted his calculating gaze.
"Monsieur Riddle," she replied coolly. His smile faltered.
"Monsieur Riddle is dead," he snapped.
"Of course," Épiphanie smiled. "Lord Voldemort."
"An American! The headmaster certainly has gone to some lengths to have procured a Dark Arts professor from abroad. Yours must be quite a reputation."
"Defense Against the Dark Arts, sir. I suppose that Professor Dumbledore must have recognized something to have offered me the post. I, however, do not consider myself to be particularly remarkable."
"Self-deprecating and yet, the lady is taking luncheon with the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and discussing Gellert Grindelwald."
"Where I come from, sir, eavesdropping, is considered to be in quite poor taste. You might also do well to express this sentiment to your companion." She waved her hand and the door swung open. The young woman shrank back upon being discovered.
"Bella." He arched a brow. "I am disappointed. We shall address your behavior…later." She gave a startled gasp before letting out an excited sigh. Voldemort flicked his wand and the door slammed shut. "Now then,"
"What is it that you want from me, sir?" she asked, scrutinizing him. He stared back at her without speaking.
Épiphanie felt her back tingle and for a fleeting moment, her head swam. She cleared her mind until there was nothing but clouds, and narrowed her eyes as she gazed back at him. Suddenly, she saw him in another time and place. He was much younger, and certainly more handsome. This younger version of the wizard wore school robes, a prefect's badge upon his chest. He was speaking to Professor Slughorn, and the older man wore a discomfited expression.
The dark wizard took a step back and shook himself before she could make out the conversation. He glared at Épiphanie, and she knew she'd unearthed a secret that he had not intended to share. She schooled her features and continued to gaze at him, unblinking. After a moment, Voldemort gave her the same calculating smile he'd worn when he'd first greeted her.
"I must say, Mademoiselle, when I first saw you, I was taken by your singular beauty. Such a visage as this is hardly to be found upon these shores, or indeed on the continent."
"You are too kind," she replied. He took her hand, and she made an effort not to recoil from his cool touch.
"I do believe that it would be advantageous for us to get to know one another better. A witch of your exceptional talent surely couldn't be satisfied for very long with just…teaching." He brushed his lips over her fingers and she suppressed a shudder, her back aflame. He smiled.
Épiphanie withdrew her hand from his grasp and immediately felt relief, the fabric of her blouse cooling the skin at her back.
"And what, pray tell, do you surmise would bring me greater satisfaction than revealing the great mysteries of magic to eager young minds?"
Voldemort stepped forward, taking both of her hands in his and pulling her close, giving her a smoldering look. She felt her head swim once more and blinked, focusing more intently upon the void as she pushed back. This time she saw him standing in the second floor girl's lavatory, staring at a particular sink tap.
"Open!" she heard his younger self hiss in parseltongue. The image faded as she felt his grip on her hands tighten. Again the glare flashed across his face, followed for just a fleeting second by fear, before the hot, lascivious gaze settled in his eyes once more.
"Clearly, I have underestimated you, my lady. Such a failure rarely happens to me." He closed the space between them. Their bodies were practically pressed together, yet she felt almost no body heat radiating from him. "However, my hypothesis has been confirmed. You are, by far, too gifted to languish in a dusty classroom. With me at your side, you could unlock the wonders of true power and greatness that magic has bestowed upon us!" he crooned in a sibilant whisper. "You said yourself that Grindelwald was right—we've lived in the shadows for too long! Think of all that I could accomplish with a witch, such as yourself, at my side!"
He met her eyes, bloodshot orbs glistening with desire, and inclined his head towards hers. Épiphanie turned her head.
"You are a most intriguing wizard, sir, to be sure. I have no doubt that yours is a name which will go down in history. However, I really should go. I have enjoyed this little tête-à-tête." She stepped out of his embrace and gave him a polite curtsy. "Besides, I have little desire to arrogate the position that your…companion so clearly covets."
Épiphanie took a step towards the door.
"Foolish girl! Do you really think it so easy to refuse me?" he hissed. The moment she faltered, she knew it was a mistake.
"On the contrary, sir. I am well aware that you have hardly conceded this discussion." She waved her hand, and the door swung open. She returned his shocked stare with a serene gaze as she moved to the door.
Épiphanie turned the moment she stepped onto the landing, and apparated as close to the castle gates as possible, launching herself through them at a sprint.
Draco whistled softly to himself as he strolled through the castle after his final class of the day, and made his way to the second floor where he rapped on "Professor Legendre's" door. He thought he heard something akin to a whimper and knit his brows. Draco looked over his shoulder in both directions and pointed his wand at the door.
"Alohomora!" The latch clicked and he pushed open the door. "Professor?" he called out as he stepped in. Draco closed the door firmly and looked around. All around the room, objects vibrated and levitated above their surfaces. Épiphanie was huddled against the wall, clutching her rosary and muttering novenas as she rocked back and forth in an insistent rhythm. "Épiphanie?"
Her eyes were blank as she continued to murmur softly. Draco rushed to her side and grabbed her arms, giving her a gentle shake. "Ma Zirondelle! What's wrong? What's happened?" He hadn't seen her so worked up since the time he woke up in the hospital wing after Nott attacked her on the Astronomy Tower. Draco pulled her into his embrace. When he touched her, a strong current rushed through him like a jolt of high-powered electricity. The surge of magic was momentarily overwhelming, but Draco managed to absorb it, maintaining his grip about her. He stroked her hair, whispering to her. "I'm here, beloved. Please speak to me!" His ministrations were useless against her out of control magic. Draco stared at her and backed away. He bit his lip and took a deep breath before pointing his wand at her.
"Ipsam Carnem! Épiphanie! Look at me right now!" The curse burned across her chest as the lash made its mark. Épiphanie gasped and let out a cry of surprise. She looked up at Draco, eyes wide.
"I'm sorry, beloved." He pulled her to her feet. "You were so far gone. Please tell me what has happened to work you into such a state."
Épiphanie had opened her mouth to speak when her stomach heaved and she pushed past him, staggering into the bath to empty its contents into the toilet. After several minutes, she managed to lift her head and look at her husband with watery eyes.
"Draco, we have to get out of here! We have to get out of here as soon as possible!"
"Yes, my love. I know. We're going to find a solution. I'm working on it. Why has this gotten you so worked up suddenly?"
"Oh, fuck! Drake! I messed up!" she exclaimed, gripping his sleeves desperately as tears spilled from her eyes.
"How? What happened?" Draco implored. "Did someone hurt you? Is that what this is about? Did you hurt someone?" His eyes were wide with trepidation.
"No—no! It's—"
"What is it!" he demanded.
"I saw him! I talked to him!"
"Who? You talked to—you don't mean—"
"Voldemort!"
Draco reeled as if he'd been punched in the gut. His glamour disappeared, revealing his pale face and hair and he gasped as if all the air had been sucked from the room. He stared at his wife in disbelief and terror.
"What?!"
He cast a privacy charm on the room and Épiphanie recounted the details of her lunch meeting with Crouch.
"You met with Barty Crouch?" Draco was astounded.
"I received an owl from him last night after dinner. I spoke with Dumbledore about it, and he encouraged me to go. Everything seemed okay, and then this hooded wizard walked by, and—I realize now that he confounded me, or at least, he attempted to—I just remember that I was in the middle of a comment to Mr. Crouch and suddenly I lost my train of thought. I also felt this ice cold shudder as he passed. When I left my meeting, I found him in a room with this dark-haired woman. He was waiting for me!"
Draco now felt physically ill. He was afraid to ask what happened next, but he had to know. He staggered and fell into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace as Épiphanie began to pace.
"A dark-haired woman? Did she—" he faltered. "Long, curly hair and heavily-lidded eyes?"
"Yes! He called her 'Bella', I think. She was not happy that I was there, especially when he dismissed her from the room. Do you know who she is?"
"My aunt—Bellatrix" he replied, eyes closed and shoulders slumped.
"The one who tortured Hermione?" she asked incredulously.
"She and her husband are also responsible for what happened to Neville's parents. And Bellatrix is the one who killed Sirius. The woman was deranged! She was also his most devoted follower! Merlin and Salazar, Épiphanie!" Draco ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes. "Do you think he knows you're an imposter?"
"I don't think so. He called me by Philomène's name, but Draco, I think he was testing me! Like he wanted to know just what I am capable of!"
"What did he say? What did he do?"
"He kept trying to get into my head—I held him off, but when I did, I got a glimpse of his memories."
"You—" Draco started to speak, but she cut him off.
"I saw him as a student with Slughorn. It was very brief and I don't know what they discussed, but the look on Slughorn's face was not positive." Épiphanie stopped pacing and ran her fingers through her hair. "There was another memory—he was in the second-floor girls'. Where Artemis was born—Myrtle's bathroom! I think—I think I saw him open the Chamber of Secrets!"
"He knows you're a legilimens! Wait—the Chamber of Secrets? You know where it is?" Draco's eyes were wide and he leapt to his feet. Épiphanie launched herself into his arms, gripping his shirt.
"It's worse—God Draco! Drake, I screwed up so bad!"
"What?" His heart hammered in his chest, dreading what she might say next.
"When I—when I went to leave, he told me that I couldn't so easily refuse him—and before I realized what I was doing, I stopped and—" She was trembling violently against him, but Draco took her arms and held her away, looking into her eyes.
"I don't understand. You didn't agree to join him, did you?"
"No! No! But I shouldn't have said anything! I didn't even think about it—he couldn't even have known that I would understand what he was saying, because—because he said it—"
"Oh, please, Merlin, please, no!" Draco breathed.
"He said it in parseltongue!" Épiphanie gripped his shirt so tightly; he could feel the threads in the seams beginning to break. "Draco, now he knows what I can do! My head aches from the effort to keep my mind occupied or blank, because I don't know if he'll try again to invade it!" She sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. "Fuck! I should have just—I thought I had it under control! Why did I go looking for him?" Épiphanie jerked her head up suddenly. "You don't think he made me come to him, do you?"
"I—but you said—what happened exactly at that moment?" Draco asked. He knelt in front of her, taking her hands.
"Well, I was talking to Crouch about how Grindelwald had infiltrated the MACUSA, and still managed to escape after being captured. The wizard—I suppose it was Voldemort, but he was wearing hood—passed me just then. I'm not sure exactly what I had intended to say next, but I felt as if someone had poured ice down my spine. I just recall struggling for a moment with what to say next."
"What did you say next?"
"I warned Mr. Crouch that the ministry had a serious threat on their hands and that they had to be prepared to go to war. I didn't want to let on more than I should. That seemed to get Crouch fired up and we parted shortly after. I was kind of pissed that someone tried to get at me, and I wanted to find him. As soon as I stepped into the room, I knew who he was."
"But you don't think he suspected who you really are? Are you certain?" Draco asked.
"He didn't give any indication that he thought I was anyone other than Philomène Legendre. He knew that Dumbledore had hired her—me—and confessed to have listened in on my conversation with Mr. Crouch. I think if he knew anything else, he wouldn't have been trying so hard to get into my head. It definitely unsettled him that I was not only able to hold him off, but able to see memories he wanted to keep hidden."
They heard the clock chime the hour.
"It's almost time for dinner. If we're both absent, people will notice." Draco pulled her to her feet, and they straightened their clothes.
Épiphanie splashed some cool water over her face to calm herself and took a moment, hoping to reign in the lingering raw magic. She felt calmer, but she could still feel a strong vibration of magical energy surrounding her.
"Let's go." Draco reached for her hand. He winced a bit, but gripped it tightly and gave her a smile.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" she raised a brow.
"What?" Draco looked at her curiously. She circled an open hand in front of her face.
"Your parents are a bit young for such a shock, don't you think?"
"Oh!" Realization dawned on him and he waved his wand.
Once the face of Lucas Prewett was smiling at her again, Draco suggested that they exit through the Defense classroom.
"Less questions."
"If you say so," she replied. Draco leaned in for a kiss. Épiphanie hesitated a moment before pressing her lips to his. "Surely, I'm a better kisser than Weasley!" he grumbled between kisses, giving her a squeeze.
"Well, unless you've kissed Hermione, we'll never know, because this is as close as I'd like to get to finding out what his kiss is like," she smiled, noting that her magic had settled a bit more. "Now that you've ruined the moment..." She waved her hand at the door and it swung open.
"I really appreciate you loaning me the book, Professor. I think it will be most helpful," he said as they stepped into the hall.
"Good evening Professor Legendre, Mr. Prewett." They turned to see a thin young man with a tremulous smile, nodding nervously as he approached.
"Oh, good evening, Professor Quirrell," said Draco. The thin man gave him a curious look.
"I-I was unaw-ware we'd been introduced," he stammered.
"Well, not officially, sir." Draco lied to cover his mistake. Of course he'd known the nervous man from his childhood, having taken Defense Against the Dark Arts from him during his first year, but he shouldn't have spoken so familiarly in this era. "I happened to have observed a few students greeting you after the start-of-term feast when we first arrived."
"Oh. Y-yes, of-of course."
"Mademoiselle Legendre, Professor Quirrell teaches Muggle Studies."
"Really?" Épiphanie smiled at Quirrell, who blushed quite vividly. "Well, I am rather curious about Muggle life here in the United Kingdom. I'm sure you know that in America, we've only recently begun to engage limited contact with Muggles. I'd be interested in learning more. Perhaps we could have tea sometime?"
"Th-that would b-be l-lovely!" He gave another tremulous smile.
"Wonderful! This weekend, perhaps?" Épiphanie suggested.
"I look f-forward t-to it!" Quirrell nodded nervously before bustling off down the corridor. Épiphanie started off, but Draco held her back until the other wizard disappeared around a corner.
"This weekend? Surely you don't think we'll still be here!"
"I hope not, but if we are, it might be useful to get to know him—at least for me. How do you know him? I don't recall him being a professor here."
"He was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor my first year," Draco whispered.
"Oh? How'd he go from Muggle Studies to that? He seems awfully skittish." They began to walk towards the Great Hall.
"It seems that way. I don't know if it was an act or not, but you need to be very careful with him, beloved." They had reached the top of the marble staircase.
"Okay." She was skeptical. "He doesn't seem much of a threat."
"I think Harry would beg to differ, seeing as how—"
Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion down below. They rushed forward to investigate.
They arrived in the Entrance Hall to find a crowd of Gryffindors facing several Slytherins, all with wands drawn. Lucius Malfoy stood behind Severus Snape. James Potter glared behind a badly swollen face, clearly suffering from a stinging hex. Looking at the dark-haired eleven-year-old's swollen face, Draco was reminded of a fateful night at Malfoy Manor when his life would suddenly and dramatically change.
"What exactly is going on here?" Draco demanded. "Duelling in the corridors is strictly forbidden!" The students at the perimeter of the crowd scattered, scurrying into the Great Hall.
"It wasn't a duel, it was unprovoked attack!" James spat, stepping menacingly close to Severus.
"I did no such thing!" Severus argued.
"Mr. Malfoy?" Draco turned to Lucius for more information.
"I'm sorry, sir. When I arrived, the spell had already been cast. I only sought to prevent a duel."
Draco arched an eyebrow. He'd always been able to tell when Lucius was lying. Not the least sign being that he claimed to have been nowhere near the scene of the crime, yet when they'd arrived, he too had his wand drawn on the younger Gryffindors.
"Your wand please, Mr. Snape," said Épiphanie. Young Severus looked at her with an expression that wavered between nervousness and derision as he reluctantly handed over his wand. "Prior Incantato!" She pointed her wand at his.
The wand vibrated for a moment and then a semi-transparent bouquet of flowers appeared in the air. She noted the bundle of butterfly ginger lilies with a slight smile. Épiphanie gave the wand back to him.
"Mr. Potter." She held out her hand. James scowled at Severus as he handed over his wand. She cast the spell again, and saw a form taking shape from the feet up. It was apparent that the victim of the wand's last spell had been hit with a jelly-legs jinx. Épiphanie had a pretty good idea of who that wizard might be, and ended her spell before the form could take full shape above the waist.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," she said.
"But—"
"If you'd like to serve detention once your face has healed, I will be happy to accommodate you," she said. He shook his head. "I figured that much. Mr. Lupin, escort Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing."
"The rest of you lot clear out!" Draco snapped.
The remaining students hurried to the Great Hall as Remus and James turned in the other direction and headed off to the infirmary. He noticed Lily looking back at Severus with a mixture of sadness and curiosity. Lucius tugged Severus' sleeve and whispered in his ear as they made their way to the Slytherin table. The first year followed the blond and took a seat beside him where he was greeted by the older student's circle of friends, a sight which made Draco scowl as he took his seat at the staff table.
Draco was frustrated that every attempt he'd made to sneak away to the Astronomy Tower was thwarted by Horace Slughorn's insistence that they work late into the night on perfecting new formulas for the wolfsbane potion. Draco inquired as to how the professor would be testing the potions, but the professor always seemed to find a way to change the subject to avoid answering the question, saying only that he hoped to have a usable potion ahead of the next full moon. Draco suspected that the potion was for Remus Lupin, but he wondered if the boy knew that the professor was experimenting with his condition and whether Dumbledore had consciously allowed such a thing to happen.
Between assisting with research, teaching and grading, the weekend arrived without the opportunity for the couple to steal any private time together, as their increasingly busy week prevented them from even attending any meals other than breakfast together. Draco was dismayed to realize that Épiphanie would have to make good on her promise to have tea with Quirinus Quirrell.
He pulled a face when he arrived in the Entrance Hall Saturday afternoon to see Quirrell offering Épiphanie his elbow as they started off across the castle grounds towards the gates. Draco was surprised to find himself making the sign of the cross and muttering one of his wife's novenas as he watched them disappear into the distance.
"That's a rather odd incantation, cousin." Draco started and turned to see Narcissa approaching him with a smile. "What does it do?"
"Oh, erm—nothing actually," he shrugged. "It's rather a bad habit I picked up from a girl I knew at Beauxbatons. Muggleborn."
Narcissa gave him a look of startled distaste. "Muggleborn? Oh, cousin, not you too!" she exclaimed, her hand fluttering to her throat. Draco scoffed.
"Dear me, no! It is but an unfortunate result of my not practicing due diligence before asking the girl out. It wasn't until she invited me to tea over holiday that I discovered my faux pas. So sad, actually—had she been a pureblood, she would have been quite a prospect for marriage. Ah well, c'est la vie. You live, and you learn."
He turned up the marble staircase, and she fell into step beside him. The two strolled amiably along the third floor corridor. "I couldn't help but notice that young Malfoy appears quite taken with you. Are your feelings the same?"
Draco knew he was venturing into dangerous territory, asking about his parents' relationship. However, he was curious. His parents were about as affectionate with one another as they had been with him—which, as far as Draco was concerned, was precious little. He wondered if theirs was a love match.
"Well, Lucius certainly has good breeding. The Malfoys are quite respected, as you well know." The corridors were largely empty as students were outdoors, enjoying their first weekend at school, not yet burdened by copious amounts of classwork. They nodded intermittently to an occasional passing professor.
"Yes. Normans, I believe," he said. Narcissa gave him a look of surprise.
"You're familiar with the Malfoy history?" she asked.
"Well, one is encouraged to make himself knowledgeable about the members of the Twenty-Eight. It does help a gentleman of my position to make informed decisions on a number of matters—not the least of which is courtship. I might have saved myself that bit of embarrassment had I done the same while in France." He chuckled lightly. She joined in. "With that in mind, I do recall there being some talk about Abraxas perhaps having a hand in the previous Minister leaving his post rather unceremoniously."
"So I've heard. But honestly cousin—the man was muggleborn. Who knows to what bizarre types of ailments they are prone."
"So true. I've heard some disturbing stories." They had reached the Clock Tower Courtyard and stepped into the afternoon sun, taking a seat beside the antique fountain at its center. "I am still curious, Narcissa. It seems fairly obvious in his manner that Lucius has intentions. While there is certainly benefit from attaching the Malfoy name to the Noble and Ancient House of Black, would such an arrangement be agreeable to you?"
Narcissa gave him a discerning look, her blue eyes turning icy. Draco almost drew back. He was accustomed to his mother's haughty demeanor. He had even seen her frigid with terror, but suspicion and coldness was a complete surprise to him.
"What exactly are you getting at, Lucas? Is there something you believe I should know?" she demanded. Draco actually leaned away from his young mother.
"Goodness, cousin! Why so passionate? I am only inquiring out of the genuine concern any male member of the family would have for an eligible female member." He gave her reassuring smile and took her hand. "Narcissa, I realize that we are not well acquainted, but we are family and I am honour bound to look after your well-being. As I am working here, it would be folly for me to ignore such a duty."
Narcissa's features softened and she cast her eyes away for a moment. When she looked back at him, there was a different intensity in them.
"Yes, of course. Forgive me cousin. It's just that I feel so overwhelmed at times. Bella has made a respectable marriage with Rodolphus Lestrange. However, Andromeda—we aren't to speak of it, but I know you've heard—she's disgraced herself with that muggleborn! Now, it's imperative that I too make a respectable match like Bellatrix!"
"I see." Draco noticed that his mother's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He felt awkward and ashamed to have been the cause of her distress.
"I—I like Lucius. It's just that—well I can never be sure of his true feelings. He's always so controlled and calculating." She looked at her hands. Draco nodded sympathetically. Of course he knew all about Lucius' shrewd and devious manner.
"I suppose that I could learn to love him. He has his moments of sincere kindness, and he can be awfully dashing!" Narcissa sighed. "I should probably count myself fortunate. Poor Elvira Crouch has just been betrothed to that crass Gideon Goyle! They're not even listed in the Twenty-Eight!"
Draco didn't bother to hide his scowl as he thought of his beloved oldest daughter's biological father, remembering how Harry had described the manner in which he dismissed the kidnapping of his only daughter and the murder of his wife at the hands of his own comrade. Narcissa, noticing his dark expression, touched his cheek reassuringly, and Draco suppressed the urge to lean into the gesture and take her hand as he had so often done throughout his youth, when she'd shown him this limited affection.
"Do not worry for me, cousin. Ours is a tradition borne of the ages. Mother and father have managed to keep their bond, despite the lack of a male heir. I am sure that whomever they select as a suitable match—be it Lucius, or another worthy wizard—I shall endeavor to be a proper wife."
Draco gave her a warm smile. "I have no doubt that you will, cousin. Any man should consider himself most honoured to have your hand. If he doesn't, I will see that I personally make him pay." The words of his pledge came out in a venomous growl that made her look at him in surprise. Draco winked and patted her hand. She gave him a hug.
"Narcissa!" Draco turned to see Lucius striding out into the courtyard towards them. Several expressions moved across his face as he approached—at first hard and covetous, then dark and suspicious. Finally, his features settled into his characteristic cool and calculating smirk. "Ah, Mr. Prewett! I do hope I am not interrupting; only I had hoped that Miss Black might do me the honor of a stroll along the lakeshore. It is such a lovely day."
Lucius' gaze was almost challenging. For a brief moment, Draco was confused as to why the Slytherin would be jealous of Lucas Prewett. After all, he and Narcissa were family. It then dawned on him that he recalled his father once commenting disdainfully that the Blacks were not entirely above intermarriage in order to preserve their pureblood status and that Walburga and Orion—Sirius' parents—were, in fact, second cousins. He wondered if perhaps Lucius perceived this private conversation as a more intimate moment than it actually was.
"Well, I do have some neglected research to attend in the library. If Narcissa is so inclined, then I shan't impose upon her time any further." Draco gave Narcissa a pointed look, as if to silently say, "You don't have to do anything you do not wish to do."
"A stroll along the water sounds delightful, Mr. Malfoy." She smiled at Lucius before turning to Draco and giving him a slight curtsy. "Cousin, I have enjoyed our little chat. I shall write to Mother and Father, letting them know that you are taking a keen interest in my academic and social well-being."
"Please give them my regards. Well then, I'll leave you to it. Good day to you both." Draco gave them a nod, fixing Lucius with a significant gaze, before turning away and heading back into the castle.