Thank you to all of my wonderful readers and reviewers! And special thanks to the new members of the team: my beta, Clumsy Ninjable, and my britpicker, Charlio.

Yes, I know it has been ages, thanks for your patience, and I promise the wait will be MUCH shorter. The next three or so chapters are already written and just need to be edited. Enjoy the story, and as always, please review!

Chapter Eleven: Invicta

"The truth is a terrible thing

for oft what we think

is not how things be."-Otis, from Wilmot Quiverlance's wizard play 'The Warlock of Wiltshire'

Severus cast one last look at the graveyard in Godric's Hollow and Apparated to the rolling hills of Scotland. His feet had barely touched the ground outside of Hogwarts's gates when his left arm burned viciously. His hands clenched at his side, forestalling the instinct to grab his arm. Severus had been expecting the summons for some time now, ever since Ahlgrim had made her announcement, but the Dark Lord preferred to summon His servants in the early hours of the morning or late at night long after everyone had gone to bed. It would not do for anyone's absence to be noted.

As Severus made his way to his quarters, he sent his Patronus to Albus, notifying the Headmaster he had been summoned. Once in his quarters, Severus made his way to his bedroom and, removing the false back of his wardrobe, revealed the hidden compartment where he kept an extra wand, a few volumes on Dark Magic and the robes and white mask he wore as a Death Eater. Pulling the robe and mask from their hiding place, Severus shrunk the items and placed them in the pocket of his robes. Not wanting to incur the Dark Lord's ire by making Him wait, Severus hurried out of the castle and past the gates where he ducked behind a tree, donned the robe and mask and Disapparated.

As soon as Severus appeared in the abandoned warehouse he knew his earlier prediction had been correct: Lucius Malfoy would be fortunate to survive the night. Seeing the Dark Lord angry, truly angry was a rare thing. Yes, He was burning up with hate, revenge and desire for power, but He always held His anger in check. That was what made Him truly terrifying. Any Dark Wizard could cast a curse on someone in the heat of the moment, but whenever the Dark Lord cursed someone it was a calculated move, calm and purposeful.

But at this moment, He was seething. He swept backed and forth before His assembled Death Eaters His cloak whispering across the dusty floor. Again, it would seem all were present, something that usually occurred when there was a punishment to be meted out.

Nagini, sensing her master's fury slithered restlessly, circling around Avery, Nott and Crabbe until she came to rest before Malfoy.

'I have not yet heard back from the giants in the mountains, a dozen of my servants remain imprisoned in Azkaban and the contents of the prophecy are still unknown to me,' the Dark Lord hissed through clenched teeth. 'The time is not yet ripe for a concerted strike against the Ministry or even against the Order of the Phoenix. I was meant to have the element of surprise.' He halted in his pacing and rounded on the pale wizard, 'Please, Lucius, tell me how am I to surprise anyone when this blood traitor calls a press conference and announces my return to the entire world?'

'My L-lord,' the stammer in Malfoy's voice revealed that he was all too aware of the tenuous ground on which he stood, 'Your magnificent return could not be kept secret forever. A precipitous announcement by a blood traitor seeking to grab headlines is unlikely to be taken seriously. Last summer the Dark Mark itself appeared in the sky during the Quidditch World Cup and no one took that as evidence of Your return.'

The Dark Lord paused in his pacing and glanced at Malfoy, his scarlet eyes narrowing. Casually he flicked his wand at Malfoy, 'Insectumicere,' he hissed, his lip curling as he watched Malfoy shudder at the feeling of phantom bugs crawling over him, and then scream as the bugs all began to bite down at once.

'It is true many will be reluctant to believe the witch,' The Dark Lord said calmly, only slightly raising his voice to be heard over Malfoy's screams, 'and it is true secrecy was not my original stratagem. I had planned my return so perfectly, so meticulously. The thought sustained me during the long, dark months before I regained my body. Could you imagine it? All of Britain watching this spectacle- The Triwizard Tournament- unfold at Hogwarts. And then out of the maze I emerge and drop the body of the so-called Boy Who Lived, the one who people thought had defeated me, their only hope, at my feet. Oh, how magnificent that would have been!' The Dark Lord suddenly scowled, irritated at Malfoy's screams and cast a Silencing Charm on the writhing wizard. 'But fortune was not with Lord Voldemort that night. Somehow the boy managed to escape and I was certain the Ministry would have knowledge of my return. Except Fudge's foolishness was greater than I had thought and he refused to believe the boy's testimony. I then considered that perhaps discretion would be best and altered my strategy. If the Minister refused to consider that for me, death was not as final as previously thought, I would be free to operate in the shadows, gather my allies, and wait for the opportune moment to strike. A chance that is now lost to me.' With a deft wave of His wand, He removed the curse and Silencing Charm he had placed on Malfoy. 'You should be grateful that I find myself still in need of your service, Lucius.'

Nagini, seeming to sense that there would be no banquet tonight, slinked away into the shadows. But the Dark Lord was not yet through with Lucius Malfoy. 'Observe,' He said, towering over the prone form of the once-proud Malfoy, 'The fate of those who disappoint me.' He ripped off Malfoy's white mask and tossed it aside, then aimed His wand at Malfoy's knee. 'Fracturossis,' He hissed, shattering the knee in an ear-splitting crack that made even Severus flinch.

The Dark Lord would not be so plebeian as to physically strike Malfoy, such brawling was better suited to the Muggles, or so He believed. Not that He was at all lacking in ways to inflict pain. The Cruciatus Curse may be the most infamous, but it was only one of many. With a flick of His wand the Dark Lord produce a whip of fire which he lashed at Malfoy's face, stomach and legs. Lucius shrieked in pain, battling the instinct to crawl away or attempt to defend himself, knowing that to do so would only enrage the Dark Lord further. The scent of charred hair filled the air, mingling unpleasantly with the smell of damp.

The assembled Death Eaters said nothing and did not so much as twitch as the Dark Lord tortured Lucius, fearful of drawing attention to themselves. A purple, almost black light shot out of the His yew wand, casting the Blight on Malfoy's arm.

Severus hoped that the Dark Lord would get swept away by his anger and inadvertently kill him, but Severus knew that he would not be so lucky. The Dark Lord had far too much practice in torture to make such a careless mistake.

The Blight began to ever so slowly crawl up Malfoy's arms, turning his veins black and making his fingers spasm.

Malfoy's body raked with coughs, expelling blood onto the dusty floor. 'M-my Lord…'

His red eyes narrowed, lip curling into a snarl.'Crucio!'

Malfoy writhed on the ground and screamed until his voice grew hoarse. The minutes crawled by. Severus kept his face impassive and the wards around his mind fast, only allowing his hate and anger to slip through.

The Dark Lord was adept at the Cruicatus Curse, He knew precisely how long it would take for a wizard's mind to break, how long it would take to drive a wizard to insanity. And so he brought Malfoy right to the edge of that point, before He murmured a soft, 'Finite Incantatem.' He cast his eyes over the assembled Death Eaters. 'You are dismissed.' And gathered up Nagini in His arms and turned on His heel and Disapparated.

The rest of the Death Eaters followed, filling the warehouse with the whip-like cracks of Disapparation. Severus quickly took in his surroundings, including a brief glimpse of the landscape outside the broken window, familiarising himself with the area. He Apparated to a empty field in Wales, counted to twenty and then Apparated back to the deserted warehouse.

Malfoy lay on the floor, one hand clutching his stomach in an attempt to put pressure on the bleeding wound. A large chunk of hair had been singed off, and he had a vicious burn near his left eye. His Blighted arm lay useless at his side. Severus guessed at the rate it was spreading Malfoy had about an hour before it would have to be amputated to prevent the Blight from spreading into his chest and killing him. The majority of his wounds though were hidden under his robes, which were stained with sweat and, in not a few spots, what had to be blood. As soon as he spotted Severus, he grabbed his wand with his bloodied hand and pointing it at him.

Severus rolled his eyes and disarmed him with a silent spell. 'No need to be so rude, Lucius.'

Malfoy let his head drop back onto the dusty floor, his breathing ragged. Severus knelt next to him, pulling his bag of potions from his pocket. With a wave of his wand the bag assumed its regular dimensions. Malfoy said nothing as Severus pulled out phials of burn paste, Blood-Replenishing Potion and a muscle relaxant Severus himself had created. No potion could eliminate the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, but there existed a few potions with the ability to dilute it, or forestall tremors so flight was possible.

'What…' with great effort Malfoy focused on him, 'what are you doing?' he slurred.

Severus uncorked the phial of burn paste with his teeth and spread some of the orange paste over Malfoy's temple. 'Serving the Dark Lord and doing all in my power to advance His great work. Which at the moment entails ensuring you don't die before you can refute Ahlgrim's spurious accusations of the Dark Lord's return.' He Vanished Malfoy's boot and placed the phial in Malfoy's shaking hand so he could put it on his stomach and leg. He set the Blood-Replenishing Potion next to Malfoy who, despite the condition he was in, eyed it with suspicion. 'Come, friend,' Severus sneered over the word. 'No need to be suspicious. I've had ample opportunity to kill you, were that my wish.'

The election was a battle Ahlgrim would have to win on her own, for as easily as Severus could eliminate Lucius Malfoy from the election, to do so would be to alert the Dark Lord to the existence of a traitor in His midst.

Malfoy downed the phial, then dropped in shock when he saw the item Severus had pulled out of his bag. 'What in Merlin's name is that?' he asked, his voice hoarse from all of the screaming.

Severus screwed the needle onto the syringe and grabbed a rubber-topped phial full of a white liquid.

'Is that thing Muggle?' Malfoy demanded, outraged as Severus stuck the needle into the phial and slowly filled the syringe.

'It's a potion that will stop the progression of the Blight.' Severus cast a Scouring Charm on the Blighted arm. 'Theoretically.'

'Theoretically?'

'It's proven effective on pigs.'

With great effort, Malfoy shook his head. 'There is no way in hell you are-'

'Petrificus Totalus.' Malfoy froze completely, save for his eyes which narrowed at him accusingly. Severus paid him no mind as he lined up the syringe with the median cephalic vein, pulled the skin taut and plunged the needle into the vein. As soon as he pushed the plunger the veins in the Blighted area turned from black to blue. 'There. You'll still need a Healer to remove the Blight, but now he won't have to take your arm with it. I trust you know someone who is discrete?'

Malfoy blinked at him.

Severus undid the Full Body Bind, gathered up the empty phials and rose to his feet, kicking Malfoy's mask into the man's reach. With a wave of his wand he conjured a splint and bandages for Malfoy's knee. If the break had been in a toe or a nose, Severus would have been able to heal it easily, but a break in the knee would be tricky to heal without causing stiffness. 'Will you be able to stand?'

Malfoy frowned as he tied the splint around his injured leg, a feat made difficult by his still frozen hand.

Rolling his eyes, Severus hauled the man to his feet and looped one of Malfoy's arms over his shoulder. 'If we Side-Apparate to the Manor, will the wards let me through?'

Malfoy slowly nodded. 'As long as I am with you.'

Draco Malfoy leaned back in his chair, chewing the tip of his quill in thought. His copy of Intermediate Transfiguration was opened before him but his mind couldn't be further from the text. McGonagall's essays were tough, as tough as Snape's, except he didn't have the advantage of being able to write McGonagall and ask for help. Snape would never give him the answer, but he'd go over concepts Draco had trouble with and point him in the direction of other resources.

It used to be that Draco could go to his godfather for more than just help with lessons, but that time was long past. Growing up, Snape had been a fixed, if aloof, presence in his life. Snape watched him a couple of times and sent him pocket change for his birthdays. Snape even took him to his first Quidditch game. But as Draco grew, so did the distance between him and his godfather. Draco had hoped that having him as a Professor and Head of House would help shrink that distance and bring them closer. If anything, the opposite had occurred.

Ocassionally, Draco had wondered why Severus was his godfather when he didn't seem at all close to his father. The stories his father told of Hogwarts, like the time in his sixth year he won the Slytherin House Cup by docking twenty House points from a Hufflepuff whose laces were untied, always featured one Lucius Malfoy. Snape was never mentioned.

Secretly though, Draco liked the stories his godfather told better. It took a lot of pestering, but it was worth the effort. Once, in an attempt to convince Draco that the Forbidden Forest was, in fact, not a place to be wandering after curfew, Snape told him of the time in sixth year he snuck into the Forest in search of Flitterbloom, a rare plant. He was deep in the Forest when he heard screaming, and rushed forward to find a young centauress cornered by a wolffin. With magic, he was easily able to scare the beast off, though the noise had attracted a herd of centaurs. It was then, his godfather said, he was in actual danger. For the centaurs believed Snape had been with the centauress as some kind of romantic outing. Draco was disgusted, but Snape seemed amused by the whole affair, and was particularly proud of the fact that the Headmaster never found about his many excursions into the Forbidden Forest.

Lucius Malfoy never appeared in any of the stories his godfather told either.

Draco threw his quill down, scowling as ink splattered over the opening paragraph on his essay. The truth was he could use his godfather's advice. Ever since he had returned for the summer holiday, his mother had been acting off. She was short with his father and impatient with the house-elves. Some days she would wander around the Manor looking as if she hadn't slept, and other days she wouldn't get out of bed at all. Last night, after listening to Ahlgrim's speech on the WNN, his mother took him to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She remained silent as he worked his way through a sundae, and when he asked if she was going to have some ice cream as well, she burst into tears, right there in the middle of Diagon Alley. Mortified, Draco had no choice but to use a Portkey to take them home.

He wondered if his mother was pregnant again.

When Draco was six, his father had called him into his study, a room that, until then was strictly forbidden to him. His father had told them he was getting to be a big boy and that his father had a very important job for him: soon he was going to be a big brother. Draco was ecstatic over the idea of a playmate, and though ill, his mother was the happiest he had ever seen her. One of the numerous guest rooms was redecorated in pale pinks and yellows and Draco helped pick out the soft toys that covered the shelves.

Then one night, the Healers came. Draco recognized them from when he had been sent to St. Mungo's after he caught dragon pox. Back then, they had given him a lolly and patted him on the head; now they looked worried and their arms were laden with potions. The next morning his father ordered the house elves to change the pink room back into a guest chamber. His little sister was never mentioned again, and even though he didn't understand what had happened at the time, he knew it was a question he could not ask.

Seizing a fresh piece of parchment, Draco came to a decision and scrawled Dear Severus across the top. Snape had forbidden him to call him anything other than "Professor" during school, but the holidays were another story. Even though he had made the decision to write to his godfather, that did not make the words come any easier. After several scratched out paragraphs, Draco decided a walk in the garden was in order. Normally, he would have taken his Nimbus for a spin over the Quidditch pitch, but his mother suddenly didn't want him flying after dark. If she wouldn't let him play on the Slytherin Team, he'd have to get his father involved. There was no way he was going to let Potter and the Gryffindor Team take the Quidditch Cup again.

The pitch was located in the north garden, so Draco headed the opposite way- if his mother should happen to see him he didn't want her to think he was going against her wishes. The path was lit with bioluminescent azaleas and the chirping of crickets could be heard. He had just turned the corner when he heard the whip-like crack of Apparation.

Draco froze. No one, except for his father, was able to Apparate onto the property. His father had Apparated into the water surrounding the south fountain- a gleaming marble dragon that spewed water out of its mouth. His father's face was burned, bleeding and patches of his hair were singed off. Another Death Eater was holding him upright. Seeing that his father was hurt, Draco made to rush forward- until he saw his father's face. There was so much hate- so much rage that for the first time in his life Draco was afraid of his own father. He crouched behind some rose bushes. His sleeve caught on some brambles, snapping a stem. The Death Eater glanced his way, and for a second Draco was sure he had been spotted, but the Death Eater shaking his head, looked away.

Aurors, Draco thought, clenching his fists. Aurors have hurt my father.

'You should consider yourself fortunate you weren't killed.' The Death Eater said as he removed his mask. Draco recognised the voice instantly: Snape.

'Fortune that had nothing to do with you.' His father's sneer rivaled Snape at his most scornful.

'You expect me to defend you? To stand against the Dark Lord?' Snape abruptly released his hold on his father, who fell into the shallow water with a splash. 'He was right to punish you, you have become complacent. Because of Ahlgrim, the public will be on guard and the Dark Lord will be unable to advance His great work.' Snape leaned forward over the fallen body of Dracos's father. 'You're lucky the Dark Lord needs you alive... and able. If not you would soon find yourself envious of the Longbottoms.' Snape straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. 'You may need your life and mind to continue your campaign, but you do not need a son. The Dark has not forgotten this fact. Nor have I,' Snape added as he stepped out of the fountain and dried his robes with a flick of his wand.

Draco shrunk back. He thought of the letter on his desk -Dear Severus- and feared he might be sick.

Snarling, Lucius raised his wand, but Snape disarmed him without a word or backward glance, sending the wand flying onto the cobblestone path. Snape leveled his wand at Lucius with a casual, almost disinterested air. 'Your actions as of late are making me doubt your loyalty. Bellatrix has sacrificed her freedom; years she has spent in Azkaban because she would not renounce her Lord. Selwynn killed his Mudblood wife and Squib daughter to prove his allegiance. And you Lucius...' Snape took a scornful glance at the palatial surroundings. 'What have you given up? What have you sacrificed? If you wish for me to be your ally, I have to know your loyalties are true. If the Dark Lord commanded it, would you be willing to sacrifice Narcissa, hmm? Or Draco?'

There was silence. Draco realised he was holding his breath.

'I.. of course I would.' Lucius pulled himself out of the fountain and staggered over to his wand. Snape arched an eyebrow, but he only used it to dry his robes. 'You forget yourself, Snape. I have been in the Dark Lord's confidence for much longer than you!' Lucius spat. 'His Mark on my arm before I even graduated from Hogwarts. My father, Abraxas was among His closest friends. A Death Eater before the name itself was-'

Snape didn't bother to contain his snort. 'It's a good thing the accomplishments of your ancestors are so relevant, otherwise your argument would have little ground to stand on.' His voice dripped with sarcastic derision. He brusquely pushed past Lucius and made his way down the path, stopping mere metres from Draco's hiding spot. 'The boy will be expected to take the Mark soon. Given his present level of skill, he will not last more than a week. Perhaps you should do something to remedy that.' And then Snape walked away and was swallowed up in the darkness. Even with Snape gone, Draco dared not approach his father.

There was the clacking of heeled boots on the stone pathway and Draco's mother rushed past and wrapped her arms around his father, just as Lucius's strength finally gave out. With a deft wave of her wand, she cast a Feather-Light Charm to lessen her burden. 'Oh, my love…' Her fingers hovered above the grotesque burn on his father's face, eyes full of tears she quickly blinked away. 'Can you walk?' Her voice was little more than a whisper, as if his father was so fragile, so close to being broken that even a loud noise might cause him pain.

'Yes,' he rasped, and took a hesitant step forward, he stumbled, but strong arms kept him upright.

'I'll send for Evander he'll be able to…' Narcissa cast a despairing look at the myriad of wounds, and left her thought unfinished.

Draco, holding his breath, waited until the pair had turned the corner and then counted to a hundred in his head before he emerged from his hiding place. He glanced around uneasily at the looming shadows, half-expecting Snape to ambush him. Draco peered around the fountain, then frowned.

Between the dragon's magnificent claws was a plaque bearing the Malfoy family motto: Invicta, but something about the plaque looked… off. Draco took a tentative step forward, squinting in the darkness. The plaque was smeared with blood. His father's blood.

His heart was hammering in his chest and Draco took off at a run, not caring about the direction; away was the only place he wished to go. Somewhere far, far away. He only slowed slightly when he reached the sprawling hedge maze west of the manor. He had explored the maze enough as a child to reach the clearing in the center without hitting any dead ends. There was a small fountain and a bench flanked by pot plants. He knew he would not be found there. Panting, Draco sat on the ground and leaned his head against the bench.

The Dark Lord had tortured his father. He couldn't understand it. Sure, the Dark Lord killed people- Muggles, Mudbloods and blood traitors, but that was to preserve the wizarding world, to stop the pollution of non-magic kind. Draco ran his hand across his face and was shocked to find tears. His boggart, the one he had faced in the werewolf's class was himself, Knutless and poor. But now he had found something far more terrifying. The Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard alive, had hurt his father. And his father was going to let the same thing happen to Draco. For years, ever since Draco could remember, he had been told about the road that lay before him. Except his father had lied about where the road lead.

He started, his blood running cold as he realised that this was the reason for his mother's strange behavior. She was scared, terrified for she too knew the truth of the Dark Lord and what it would be like to be in His service. And she had said nothing. He thought of the countless sweets she sent him while he was at Hogwarts, tucking him in at night when he was a little kid, the bone-crushing hug she had given him when he had stepped off the Hogwarts Express that summer. All those years and she had said nothing.

Draco turned and vomited into the pot plant.

He heaved until there was nothing left and his stomach hurt with the effort. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and leaned back against the bench, craning his neck so he could look up at the countless pinpricks of light dotting the night sky. He'd pay Vincent Crabbe a visit, he decided. He hadn't seen his friend at the start of the holiday. In the morning he'd grab his Nimbus and fly over to Crabbe's (after leaving a note for his mother, of course). Maybe he could convince Crabbe to let him stay over for a few days. Draco scowled. He could not tell Crabbe what he had learned though. For if he told Crabbe, Crabbe would tell his father who in turn would tell Draco's father. Draco crossed his arms against a sudden chill. Nor could he tell Goyle, or even Pansy. Though truthfully he wasn't even sure if Pansy was speaking to him. On the train ride home, Pansy had gotten into a row with her friend Tracey and apparently because he didn't kick her out of the compartment it meant he sided with Tracey. Or something.

He kicked a pebble with his boot. There was no one he could share his discovery with. In this matter he was completely and utterly alone. Draco yanked up his left sleeve and stared at his forearm. The light of the moon reflected off white, unblemished skin.