A/N: I ended up fusing parts of Loyal to the Dark Lord in with this chapter and the next, mostly in the form of dialogue, because otherwise anyone who reads just this story would miss a few key things about Andromeda, Godric's Hollow, Snape/Bellatrix, etc. Because of that Christmas had to be split into two parts (morning/evening). If you already read the other fic you can kind of skim through those couple of conversations, but MOST of this chapter and the next are original/organic to THIS fic.

Thanks for the feedback in the reviews! I especially liked the suggestion about including Rodolphus' feelings, which is why I am now adding a little more of his POV into this one and upcoming chapters too.

-AL

PS: I once ate pickled peanut butter cookies and they were surprisingly delicious.

Chapter Twenty – Christmas Morning, 1997

Though his mother had expressly told him to leave his aunt alone, Draco entered her bedroom Christmas morning to see how she was doing. He was shocked and scared by her appearance. If the Dark Lord could do this to His favorite, most loyal, and most faithful servant, Draco could only imagine what He would do to him if it was discovered that his own loyalty to their cause was waning.

Narcissa let herself into the bedroom expecting to find her sister alone. Though she was annoyed that Draco was already there, perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, all she said, was "Oh, good, you're awake," then asked her sister what she wanted to eat.

"I can't eat."

"You must," Narcissa insisted. "Draco, leave us."

He nodded, jumping up from the bed, seemingly relieved. When he was gone, Narcissa used her wand to lock the door.

"This is your punishment for insubordination?" asked Narcissa, settling into the spot her son had just vacated. "For a moment of impertinence He beat you to within an inch of your life?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Bellatrix, haughtily.

"You're right," said Narcissa. She had spent the last day and a half trying to understand and had come up blank. "I understand why we're on the side we're on," she said delicately, hoping her sister wouldn't realize even that was a borderline-lie, "But I don't understand why you worship Him, why you willingly give yourself to Him, why you…"

"Rodolphus left me."

"What?"

"Yesterday. I remember now. When Draco woke me, I was confused, but it's coming back." Bellatrix rubbed her temples.

"Why… why did he leave you? What did he… say? I… Lucius told me Rodolphus decided to bunk in with Rabastan, but I assumed… with you in your condition… I thought…"

"You assumed he simply didn't want to be around me on account of I'm broken?"

Narcissa's eyes widened with shock and guilt. "No! No, Bella, that's not what I…"

"I'm pregnant."

"I… you're what?"

Narcissa had already worked this out for herself, of course, but to hear her sister admit it after all these months of cover up and denial was its own surprise.

"I need to be alone, Cissy."

"Bella, please, if you need me…"

"I don't need anyone, Narcissa."

Narcissa's face flushed. She'd said the wrong thing.

"I'm here," she said softly, rising from the bed, hoping Bella would accept her help once she'd had time to process all she'd been through. "I'll return later."

Narcissa headed straight down to the kitchen, but when she'd almost reached it she heard a knock at the front door. She opened it to find Severus standing there.

"I assured the Dark Lord that I would check on her today," he explained. Narcissa nodded. Then she cast a furtive glance around them to ensure they were safely alone, and kissed him quickly on the lips before letting him into the Manor.

"I'll be in the kitchen. I'm going to make breakfast for myself and Draco. Lucius is no longer willing to eat my cooking. Do you want some eggs and sausage?"

"In the future," said Severus dryly, "You shouldn't ask someone if they want to eat your cooking directly after telling them someone else won't eat your cooking."

She tried to look annoyed, but she wasn't, not really.

"He said it because… well… I tried my hand at black pudding the other day…"

"Not a success?" asked Severus. They made their way down the hall to the kitchen.

"Draco swore it was really good but he only choked down a couple of bites. Lucius said it was so awful he thought perhaps I was trying to kill him without using magic. Rodolphus commended me for trying but said they'd served better black pudding in Azkaban. And Bellatrix suggested I take up a new hobby, like playing piano or monogramming napkins or fox-hunting."

Severus chuckled. He didn't understand how someone so adept at brewing complicated potions at an impressively young age could possibly grow up to be so completely useless in the kitchen, especially in spite of over a full year of practice, but he found it amusing… and endearing.

"I can make soup, though," said Narcissa. They'd reached the door to the kitchen. "Bella says I make decent soup. Maybe that's what I'll do for her later, when she's ready. She says its because I make it from a can, though, not from scratch."

"From a can?"

"You know, how Muggles do?"

"But you don't?"

Narcissa refused to meet his eye. Finally, she said, "I admit, sometimes I use a can for the broth, but that's all! I add other things in. I can bake now, too. My peanut butter cookies are delicious, though my sister prefers them soaked in pickle juice, and you said my shepherd's pie was edible, right?"

"Better than edible," he assured her. "It was good."

"Thank you." She stepped through the kitchen door and glanced around. Happy to see it empty, she gripped him by the front of the robes and pulled him into the room with her, kissing him. "I've been thinking about you non-stop since the other night. I need to be with you."

"The feeling is mutual."

"After you check on her, you'll come back down to see me?"

"I have to speak with the Dark Lord after I'm through with her, which may take some time, as we have several… several topics of discussion to cover… but I won't leave without speaking with you." This time, it was he who checked to be certain they were alone before going in for a kiss, which built in intensity at a rapid rate as their hands began to roam, until he forced himself to step away, mentally admonishing himself for even letting it get that far when the danger of getting caught was so great.

In the hall, on his way up to the room Bellatrix shared with her husband, Severus ran into Rabastan.

"Snape," said Rabastan, nodding hello.

"Lestrange," Severus replied, doing the same. "How is your brother handling your sister-in-law's… situation?"

Rabastan sneered. "He left her. About damn time, too. Wish he wasn't bunking with me now, but Lucius, the stingy bloke, said they couldn't spare an extra bedroom now that Wormtail will be coming back and the Rowles are staying here."

"The Rowles are staying here?" This was news to Severus.

"Temporarily. The Order raided their home, tried to take Thorfinn into custody. War crimes. He tortured some Muggle family for fun a few weeks back. Not sure what the Order's endgame was, though, since we control the Ministry and Azkaban. No matter. He and Euphemia both escaped."

"Fascinating," Severus said, but his tone said it was anything but. "So how are you two working out your one room?"

Rabastan scratched at his beard with long, unkempt nails. "Transfigured the desk into a second bed. Not ideal, but nothing I can do about it, least until the Rowles are gone."

"Why did he leave her?" asked Severus. He wanted to ask if it was because she was pregnant, but of course, that would be breaking the Unbreakable Vow.

"She's been screwing around on him for too long," explained Rabastan. "Other night was the last straw. Bitch is having a baby and she says it's not even his. Keep it quiet, though. He doesn't want anyone to know he married a whore." A loud grumbling emitted from the direction of Rabastan's stomach. "Sorry, headed down to the kitchen. I'm starving."

"Narcissa's making eggs," said Severus. Rabastan paused. His expression was suddenly one of revulsion, which would've made Severus laugh if he weren't so adept at self-control. Rabastan scratched his beard again, mulling over his options.

"Maybe I'll go out," Bella's brother-in-law said after a pause. "There's a place I like in Muggle London, near St. Mungos. They serve a full English breakfast all day… yeah… no offense to Narcissa, but that'll be much… safer. See you around, Snape."

Rabastan hurried down the hall. Severus shook his head, smiling. Poor Narcissa.

Once he'd reached the door to Bella's room, he knocked, and waited for him to unlock the door.

"Enter," she called in a still-raspy voice.

"Good morning," said Severus, smiling less-than-genuinely. "So lovely to see you."

Bellatrix hastened to pull up her comforter as if she could hide the state she was in. Obviously she had been expecting someone else to be at the door.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Snape?"

Oh, good, he thought with only a twinge of sarcasm. She's feeling better.

"You're looking well, I see," he said, closing the door.

"Fuck you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Lestrange, for that very attractive offer, but I doubt I can afford you on a professor's salary."

"You couldn't afford a moment with me if you were the wealthiest man in the entire United Kingdom," she said almost as if it were a challenge. He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Tell me, what does the Dark Lord gift you in exchange for letting him do…" he indicated her face with a swirl of his right index finger, "This?"

Her smile dissipated. "You think I asked for this?"

"I think you've been asking for it for at least twenty-five years," he said, even though, in truth, he thought what the Dark Lord had done to her was nothing short of absolutely deplorable, and he would be willing to duel to the death against any man who claimed to believe any woman could ask for this sort of abuse.

His comment clearly ruffled Bellatrix, who immediately lit into him about being jealous, which, of course, he was not, but, as per the way their conversations usually went, this led to her doubting his loyalty, questioning him about Dumbledore, then professing that she knew herself to be the Dark Lord's favorite. The same old thing.

"You are jealous of me," she insisted. "You all are. You all know that I am the only one the Dark Lord desires."

Snape smiled cruelly. "How can you be so naïve, Bellatrix? You're not the only one; you're the most accessible one. You, of all people, should know that. You know that He's had others. You've had others with Him, haven't you? I've heard rumors too… rumors about tortured Muggle women… rumors about willing young women seeking the Dark Mark… rumors about you and your own sister…"

This quieted her, at least for the moment, which should have given him the chance to share with her the treatments he'd brought with him, but she just couldn't quit.

"How's your girlfriend's son doing? Still on the run? Too bad she didn't live to see what a nuisance he'd turn out to be, eh?"

Severus fought an internal battle between keeping calm and killing her…

"What do you know of it?"

"The Dark Lord told me," she said, gloating. "He told me all about how you begged Him to spare Lily Potter, how He actually tried to do so but the stupid little bitch wouldn't step aside, so He had to kill her too." She put on a little pout, feigning sympathy. "Do you miss her? Did you love her? Did you love that Muggle-born filth, even after she married Potter? Hmm? You seem surprised by how much I know, but He told me all about that night after He came back, Severus. We do more in bed together than sleep, you know." Taunting him, it felt so good, she almost forgot about the scale of her injuries… for a moment.

"I'm aware that you do more than sleep," Severus said, hand clutched so tightly on his wand that his knuckles had gone white. "Somewhere between talking about me and flatbacking for the Dark Lord, you apparently have time left over for Him to rearrange your face. Personally, I like you better this way. It's a good look on you. As damaged on the outside as on the inside. As long as we're discussing people from our past, did they ever find the man who murdered your stepfather almost thirty years ago? You must have been heartbroken when he died. Lucius tells me the two of you were very… close."

"Go to hell, Snape." Her good eye watered and he wondered if she might even cry. "That was low, even for you."

"Your words were just as nasty," he pointed out, but he was furious with himself for having thrown that at her, because it wasn't Lucius who had told him, it was Narcissa. And by revealing his awareness of their childhood abuse, he's just broken Narcissa's confidence, and for what? To hurt her sister in retaliation for goading him? Damn it.

Bellatrix kept going, of course, never one to let anyone else have the last word, but he needed to move on, to get out of there, so he changed the subject.

"How are your thighs?"

"I… Excuse me?"

"The bruising was significant," said Severus, his tone emotionless. "He left his fingerprints across your skin. In case you're wondering, and I know you are, I tended to you the other night, when he nearly killed you. You were passed out. You could barely breathe, your airway was obstructed by the swelling. I gave you this." He handed her the tonic in the green bottle. "You can take more if your throat is sore. I would've come yesterday but I had pressing matters at Hogwarts. Your sister said she'd look in on you. This…" He pulled out a round blue tub, not labeled, "Contains a healing salve of my own creation. It will minimize the effects of the bruising, cut in half your recovery time, and provide you with some semblance of pain relief, though the discoloration of your skin will not be affected so you'll still look as though you've been run over by the Knight Bus. Here."

She took both and placed them on the small table beside her bed.

"You're welcome," he said, aware that she didn't intend to thank him.

She didn't understand why he was helping her at all, not when he despised her as much as she did him, but as he explained, it was on the Dark Lord's order. Like everything else in their lives. Always on the Dark Lord's orders. Severus, knowing that the promises made during the Unbreakable Vow did not apply when conversing with her, now revealed that he knew of her "condition," since it was obvious she didn't remember having communicated with him the night he saved her. She wouldn't give him any further information about it, though, nor did she take the bait when he referenced that time she screwed Lucius in an alleyway (also on the Dark Lord's orders) in an attempt to demean her as she did so frequently to him.

"You said I've been 'flatbacking' for the Dark Lord," she said, curious. "What does that mean?"

"You haven't heard that term before? Think about it, Bellatrix. You'll figure it out if you put your mind to it… Out of sheer morbid curiosity, does He always leave you this way, or were the two of you trying something new?"

"You think I wanted this?" she asked, indicating the bruising on her neck and face.

"I have no idea what you're into, nor do I want to know, but I am aware that the two of you have left others in a similar state… albeit dead… so I assumed…"

"I was being punished for my insubordination at our meeting. He said I needed to learn a valuable lesson about my place."

"And did you learn it?"

"Fuck off. You can leave."

Severus stood but did not make his way toward the door. "Why do you care that I know you didn't want this? In case you think I'm a complete dunderhead, let me assure you that I knew upon first sight of you that you couldn't have. I wasn't certain I could save you, and honestly, I don't know that I would have worked so hard to do so had the Dark Lord not demanded it himself. I've seen our fellow Death Eaters rape countless women since the start of the First War but never once have I seen one left in the deplorable condition in which I found you."

"He didn't rape me," she protested meekly.

"Don't be stupid. You said yourself you didn't ask for this." Suddenly, Severus found himself consumed by the same embittered protectiveness toward her he'd felt toward Narcissa when she was defending her husband after he'd hit her with his cane and bruised her hand. No matter how Severus felt about Bellatrix, he couldn't stand it when women defended the men who abused them. He couldn't stand it when his mother did it, and he couldn't stand it when Narcissa did it, and he couldn't stand it now, when the subject of fifteen years' worth of personal loathing was doing it. Bella, for her part, continued to insist it was nothing, a misunderstanding perhaps, that the Dark Lord got carried away, as the fury inside Severus grew.

"He didn't want me to die," she said, haughtily tossing her wild black hair. "He needs me."

Severus grabbed Bellatrix by the upper arms. More roughly than he meant to, he shook her.

"You say it as if it means something. As if it means He cares for you. He doesn't care for you; He uses you. You're good at what you do – on a battlefield and, also apparently, in a bedroom – and He doesn't wish to lose that. But I've never in my life seen a woman so broken in the way you were after He was finished with you the other night. And you know some of the more disturbing things I've seen." He didn't bother pointing out that she had done some of the more disturbing things he'd seen.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, if you think that's love, or affection, or anything other than a mix of convenience and an innate need to assert His dominance, you're far stupider than I'd previously thought you were, and that's saying something."

He shoved her backwards onto the bed and turned so fast his cloak spun out, making him look like an overgrown bat about to be enveloped by his own wings. He was almost to the door when, in a small, sad, uncharacteristically weak voice, she called him back.

"Snape!"

He paused, then took another step, set to ignore her.

"Stop!" She demanded. "Tell me what I looked like! I need to know."

He turned, sneering. "You know how you look now?"

She nodded.

"Well, you looked worse." He reached for the doorknob.

"I don't remember what happened," she admitted. "I don't really remember yesterday. I don't remember anything about leaving His chambers and returning to my room. I barely remember how our fight began and I certainly don't remember being… being raped, if that's what happened. Tell me, Severus. Tell me what I looked like when you found me."

He paused. He sighed. He shook his head. Then, almost as if defeated, he returned to the bed and sat down.

"You really want to know? Fine."

So he told her. He told her everything. How she'd looked, how he'd cleaned her up, how he'd worked to save her, how, at first, he wasn't certain he could, how he'd carried her back to her bedroom and changed her…

"Where's my bra?" she interjected.

"I never saw it," he answered honestly.

"So you saw me…?"

"Topless?" He smirked. "Yes… trust me when I say it was no more pleasurable for me than it would have been for you."

"Fuck off," she snapped, arrogantly adding, "I'll have you know I've got a fantastic figure. You were lucky to see me."

"Fantastic figure? You're getting fat," he replied. "How long do you think you can hide this mess?"

"You mean my pregnancy?"

"No, I mean your terrible personality. Of course I mean your pregnancy."

She shrugged. "Indefinitely."

He scoffed but refrained from comment, instead completing for her the picture of what happened that night. "Once you were settled, I watched you sleep for about an hour, in case you relapsed. I did not wish for you to die in your sleep, namely because I do not wish to be killed by the Dark Lord for my inability to keep you alive as demanded…"

He continued to lay it out for her all very coolly, in his usual unaffected way, hoping she wouldn't realize how deeply the events of that evening had actually impacted him. Not a moment too soon, he stood to leave.

"Two more questions," she requested, holding up two fingers.

"Ask them quickly. I haven't got all day to tend to you."

She glared at him threateningly, though her attempt to be intimidating was largely ineffective considering her battered appearance.

"First, where was my husband? If it was the middle of the night, he should have been in bed."

"He was in bed," answered Severus, with a hint of malice. "Just not yours."

"Who is she?"

"Is that your second question? Because I won't answer a third."

"No. It's about the baby. You aren't going to tell anyone, are you?"

Severus flashed her a taunting, nasty little smile, and twirled his wand in his hand.

"What if I did?"

"The Dark Lord would be angry. Very, very angry. It would be a grave mistake to cross Him on this."

"You're right," agreed Snape. He informed her that the Dark Lord had already made this much clear, even revealing that he'd made the Unbreakable Vow.

"Who did it? Who presided over the Unbreakable Vow?"

Severus shook his head. He was finished. He'd checked on her as requested, he'd given her the potion and the salve, he'd done all the Dark Lord demanded, and now he was finished.

"You asked two questions and I answered two questions. If you wish to garner more information, ask your lover."

She closed her good eye, lip trembling, and suddenly she looked so small and weak and sad – as small and weak and sad as her voice had sounded when she'd called him back – which caused a knot to form in the pit of his stomach. If he were a better man, or if she weren't certifiably psychotic (not to mention the sister of his… whatever Narcissa was), he would want to go to Bellatrix, to hold her, to comfort her, to convince her to stop serving the Dark Lord, or, at the very least, to stop loving this man who abused her so.

Instead, Severus moved to the door, placed his hand on the knob, and prepared to exit. But as much as he wanted out of that room, the sight of her like this stopped him from departing. He took a deep breath. She opened her eye again, wondering why he hadn't gone.

"Your husband left you," Severus said matter-of-factly.

"I'm aware."

"Are you aware that he's sharing a bedroom with his brother now? They transfigured a desk into a second bed. I'm sure he'd prefer to stay with his mistress, but her husband surely wouldn't like that."

"She's married, this woman?"

"Tut, tut. Didn't I just tell you I'd answer no more questions?"

She glared at him, her good eye full of pure abhorrence, which actually made him feel better. That's how she was supposed to look at him. That's how they always looked at each other. Even when he'd fucked her on the couch at his home on Spinner's End when she'd just broken free from Azkaban, even after they'd fought, when he pinned her wrist down and kissed the bloodied cut his hex had left across her chest, even then, that's how they'd looked at each other. That's why he couldn't leave the room. He needed to know they were back to normal. On even ground.

In her injured state, she failed to block her mind, and he was well-aware that she was fantasizing about hitting him with the Curciatus Curse. He smiled. Equals again.

Now to regain the upper hand.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "And I wouldn't if I were you. When I've gone, use the salve, drink the potion. Do not let your pride get the better of you. I will check on you again in a few days. Try not to die in the interim."

"I'll do my very best," she promised sarcastically.

"Good. Happy Christmas."

Now, he could leave.

Meanwhile, down in the kitchen, Narcissa and Draco ate eggs and baked beans and sausage and tried to force themselves to engage in normal conversation, though both their minds were elsewhere.

"How's your little girlfriend?" asked Narcissa, hoping he wouldn't realize how much she loathed the girl.

"You don't care," said Draco, stabbing a single bean with his fork. "You've never liked Pansy."

So much for hiding her loathing.

"What's most important is that you like her," Narcissa insisted, even though, frankly, she didn't think that was the most important at all. In a rush, under her breath, Narcissa added, "Just don't get her pregnant."

"What?" asked Draco, mouth full of eggs. "You said something?"

"Nothing, dear," said Narcissa. "More pumpkin juice?"

Draco looked her over with suspicion, but handed her his glass, which she refilled.

"You were married by my age, Mother."

"Yes," said Narcissa, topping off her own glass of pumpkin juice. "So? Oh, Draco, darling, please don't tell me you're thinking of marrying this girl!"

"No!" He couldn't imagine being married to pug-faced Pansy Parkinson, listening to her squeal and whine and generally be annoying all the time. Imagine the obnoxious, pug-faced children they'd produce. They'd probably have his white-blond hair and her too-flat nose. No, thank you. He was as vain as his mother, which meant he was far too vain to risk having ugly offspring.

"I'm curious though, Mother. Why did you get married so young? Why didn't you finish your final year at Hogwarts? When I asked Father, he said you'd been dating for years so it seemed like the right thing to do, but why didn't you wait until the summer?"

To lie, or not to lie? That was the question.

To lie.

That was the answer.

"I was six months away from taking my N.E.W.T.s and I knew I wouldn't… I wasn't going to do well, except perhaps in Potions, though I was also doing alright in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. I was highly adept in History of Magic – I have a good memory – but there's no N.E.W.T. exam for that so it hardly mattered. Transfiguration and Astronomy were always difficult for me… I was intimidated Professor McGonagall, to be honest, so I struggled in her class, and I frequently mixed up constellations and the names of stars, which drove Professor Copernicus batty. That's who had the job before what's-her-name."

"Sinistra." Draco took Astronomy Third year hoping for a class he could coast through, but gave it up in Fourth because he found it more dull than expected, plus the professor was too strict, and that know-it-all Mudblood Hermione Granger was her favorite pupil. (Had he known she was planning to drop the course too, he may have reconsidered.)

"Professor Copernicus would say things like, 'How is it possible you can't remember that this is Andromeda? Your own sister is named Andromeda! It isn't that hard!' And then I'd cry because it was hard… Anyway, school didn't matter to me, not in the long run, because it had always been impressed upon me, since I was very little, that my primary goal in life should be to marry well. Mother… my mother, your grandmother… she didn't want me to return for Seventh year at all. She thought it was a waste of time for her youngest and prettiest daughter – her words, not mine. All through the summer after Sixth she made me practice spells and charms she thought would come in handy when I was a wife and gave me lessons on decorum and grace and how to be an adequate hostess. She thought it utterly nonsensical for me to study anything else. So when your father asked me to marry him over Christmas break… there didn't seem to be much reason to wait."

"So you weren't pregnant?"

Narcissa felt all the blood drain from her face. Afraid that her sister had taught Draco Legillimency in addition to Occlumency, she immediately began to recite in her head, "Clear your mind. Clear your mind." Blue ocean, brick wall, blank beyond that.

"…Mother?"

"Why would you think I was pregnant?" she snapped, more harshly than she'd meant to. He seemed taken aback.

"Sorry! I didn't mean… it's just…" He tried to ignore the fact that his mother was now twirling her hair, a sure sign of nervousness, and slightly changed the subject. "I think Auntie is pregnant."

"Oh…" The color returned to Narcissa's cheeks, but she kept twirling. "Yes, well. Yes, I think she is."

"Why is Uncle Rodolphus so angry with her, then?"

"I don't know, dear, but I…" said Narcissa. She was cut off by the sound of the kitchen door slamming against the wall as someone forced it open.

"He's angry because it's none of your damn business, boy," shouted Rodolphus, who was red-faced and furious. Narcissa swiveled around in her chair, pointing her wand at her brother-in-law.

"Don't yell at my son!"

"It's fine, Mother." Draco wiped his mouth with his napkin, then set it on top of what was left of the baked beans on his plate. The eggs and sausage were gone. "You did well with this meal. I think you're improving."

"Thank you," she said, patting his hand. Ignoring them, Rodolphus made his way to the stove to pour himself a mug of coffee. Draco kissed her cheek and exited.

Once Draco was safely down the hall, Narcissa was set to light into Rodolphus about his treatment of Draco, but Lucius entered the kitchen, distracting her, and decimating the tension in the air.

"Hello, beautiful," said Lucius. He kissed her on the forehead, clearly in a good mood, though she didn't know exactly why.

"Morning, sunshine," growled Rodolphus.

Lucius let out a hearty laugh. "I wasn't talking to you, I was addressing my lovely wife."

"I made eggs and sausage and beans," she said, smiling at his silly quip. He'd seemed so dark and different post-Azkaban. It was nice to see him the way he once was, the way he rarely behaved in front of others. "Plus there's pumpkin juice."

"We used to use house elves for this," he reminded her. "Back before you decided you wanted to start doing everything yourself."

"It gives me something to do," she said softly. "I need a hobby to occupy my time."

Lucius kissed her on the nose this time, before heading to the stove.

"Is it palatable?" he asked Rodolphus, who was adding milk to his coffee. Lucius poked at a sausage with the tip of his wand.

"I didn't try it," said Rodolphus gruffly, stirring. "I'm still recovering from that black pudding."

"You can choke on a bezoar and die, both of you," snapped Narcissa. A shuffling behind her made her turn. It was Severus, entering the kitchen. She smiled at him as suggestively as she dared, considering the close proximity to her husband. "Severus will eat it, won't you?"

He froze.

Misunderstanding his friend's hesitation, Lucius laughed and waved his friend further into the room.

"Don't worry, mate. I won't allow her to subject you to such torture; you're a guest in our home."

"Wish I were a guest," said Rodolphus, eyeing the eggs with suspicion.

"If you're hungry," added Lucius, "The house elves can fix you something."

"I'm not hungry," said Severus, his eyes darting from Lucius to Narcissa and back again. "And, for what it's worth, a bezoar would save a dying man, not kill him."

"No, a bezoar would only save a person who's been poisoned," she argued. "But shove a large enough stone from the belly of a goat down the unwilling throat of a man who has not been poisoned, and I can almost guarantee he'll choke on it."

"Touché," said Severus. "I stand corrected."

Forgoing the eggs, Rodolphus stabbed a sausage with a fork and took a bite, still standing up against the counter. "Not bad, actually."

Lucius chuckled, smiling condescendingly at his wife. "Don't encourage her, Rodolphus. I don't trust her not to give clothes to our remaining house elves in an attempt to ensure she's the only cook permitted inside the walls of Malfoy Manor, which would surely end up being the end of the rest of us." He chuckled again, kissed her on the top of the head, and took a swig of her pumpkin juice. "You're lucky you're not married, Severus. Wives can be such silly nuisances."

In response to this, Narcissa's gray eyes flashed dangerously. "I'm going out," she announced. "New Year's Eve. I trust that won't be an issue for you, my darling husband, assuming you'll be otherwise occupied?"

Lucius regarded her quizzically, confused both because of her sudden declaration and because he had no idea why she seemed upset with him. He was only teasing her, after all. Still, he answered honestly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have plans that night, most unfortunately, but where exactly do you think you're going? And with whom?"

"I'm going out. I need to get out of this Death Eater hotel for the evening. Maybe I'll head to a pub, maybe to a nice restaurant, maybe I'll go get pissed off overpriced red wine… maybe I'll go out with Severus."

Lucius looked her over, looked over his friend, then looked to Rodolphus. Lucius and Rodolphus cracked up laughing at once. (Severus did not. He was thinking about throttling her, despite how strongly he felt against abusing women.)

Rodolphus coughed on a bite of sausage while Lucius wiped a tear from his eye. They struggled to compose themselves.

"Okay, dear. You have my permission and my blessing," Lucius said once he'd stop guffawing. He was clearly humoring her. "You'll go out, split a bottle of red with Severus, get a headache like you always do, and be in bed before midnight."

"That's the plan," she said. "We'll go out, split a bottle of red, and be in bed before midnight." Lucius had his back to her and Rodolphus was stabbing another sausage, so she felt safe enough to wink at Severus, who could only stare back at her, unmoving, open-mouthed.

"Don't pay Narcissa any mind," said Lucius, directing this toward Severus. "She's only bitter because she thinks I spend too much time away from home. She doesn't understand how important it is that we continue to serve the Dark Lord in any way He requests, and currently, for me, that means training our new, young recruits. You keep cooking, Narcissa." Lucius, coffee in hand, moved back to her side, kissed her temple, and chuckled yet again. "You're right; it's good for you to have a hobby to occupy your time. Come, Rodolphus. We have to discuss yesterday's events - Potter escaped the Dark Lord again at Godric's Hollow. Severus already knows, but you, Draco, and Rabastan need the update…"

Rodolphus shoved the rest of the sausage in his mouth and grunted. He took his coffee with him. Lucius moved to follow, but paused to address Severus.

"Don't let my wife force you into eating her food," Lucius said, clapping his old friend on the shoulder as he passed. "I know you're too polite to tell her no."

Once the two men were safely out of earshot, Severus shut the kitchen door and rounded on Narcissa.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Are you really too polite to tell me no, Severus?" she asked, her voice soft, sensual. She stood, smiling, and stepped close to him. "What if I asked you to take me, right now, right here? Would you be too polite to tell me no?" She did not make eye contact, nor did she touch him, which was good, because if she'd done either he might have taken her up on the offer.

"Are you insane?! Have you switched brains with your sister?"

She pressed the long, silver-painted nail of her index finger against his Adam's apple, then ran it slowly down to his waist as she spoke. "Now there's no reason you shouldn't take me out for New Year's. We've even got my husband's permission, his blessing. The only question is, whose bed should we find ourselves in before midnight?"

Though he wanted to be annoyed, Severus couldn't fight away the grin creeping across his lips. "You're incorrigible, woman."

She slipped her arms around his waist and nipped lightly at his neck.

"It's a week away," she whispered. "Can you wait that long?"

"As it so happens, I already made plans for New Year's, Narcissa."

She released him and stepped back, hurt evident on her face. "You did?"

"Yes. I am going to see a play."

"You are?"

"Yes. And you are coming to see it with me. I already purchased tickets. It starts at eight. But it'll run until about eleven, so I doubt we'll have time to drink enough to get drunk and fall into bed before twelve."

She breathed a sigh of relief as her smile returned.

"I've never been to a play."

"You'll like this one, I hope. It's based on a book by Agatha Christie. This traveling theatre company specializes in her work. They do a production of one of her best plays every December 31st, to ring in the New Year. You remember Agatha Christie is…?"

"The Muggle mystery author your grandmother liked so much, the one whose work you read once, every Christmas. I remember. I have an impeccable memory."

"I cannot continue to keep the Dark Lord waiting." Severus tilted her chin up, the same way he had when searching through her mind the other night, but this time he kissed her. "I do, however, have more to tell you, thus I'll return later."

"Please do," she murmured, as he retreated from the room. She was longing to kiss him again, longing to give herself to him, already trembling with excitement over their upcoming New Year's date. Goodness, she thought, as it fully hit her. They were going out, to a play, on a holiday… it was a date. Was he thinking of it like a date? She hadn't been on a date in over 25 years. Evenings out with her husband didn't count. Once they were married, they ceased to date, which Bella told her was a problem.

"I don't even terribly enjoy spending time with my husband, and yet we still date," Bella had told her, back when Narciss was pregnant for Draco and afraid her marriage was collapsing.

"You should try it, Cissy. I get dressed up, he shaves, we part ways a couple of hours before and then meet somewhere we haven't been before, or maybe at a restaurant we like, and then, afterward, we go home and mess around. It's fun. Sometimes we don't even wait until we get home. That's more fun. We had sex on the Muggle Underground once. Of course, in general, my husband's not my first choice for a fuck, but you work with what you're given."

Narcissa had been appalled. "On the Muggle Underground? In public? Bella!"

"Quit being so scandalized, you adorable prude. Sex is so much more exciting in public," Bella had assured her, grinning wickedly. "It's like daytime Muggle torture. There's always the thrilling chance you'll get caught."

That didn't sound exciting to Narcissa. It sounded terrifying. At that point, in early 1980, she'd been married for eight years, with Lucius for twelve, and had had sex in five places: her bed in the room she shared with her sisters at Mother's house (secretly, while Mother was out), her husband's bed at Malfoy Manor (which they shared until his parents died, then they moved into the Master bedroom), the bed in the expensive hotel in the small wizarding enclave in Dubai where they'd spent their honeymoon (the week she lost their first baby), against the wall and on the hard stone floor of the Hogwarts astronomy tower (which was done out of necessity for lack of another location, not for excitement enhancement) and in the Forbidden Forest on her fifteenth birthday (which was as close to public as she'd ever want to get).

Narcissa was lost in thought when a pop! took her by surprise. It was one of the house elves, who bowed low to the floor upon realizing her Mistress was present.

"Missus Malfoy, Mistress, Ma'am, wishes the kitchen cleaned, yes?"

"Yes," said Narcissa. She took her wand off the table and slipped it up her sleeve. "Thank you."

"Missus Malfoy is most welcome, Mistress, Ma'am!" squeaked the house elf, wide-eyed. She had never before been thanked by any member of the Malfoy family. Or any member of any family, for that matter. Certainly never by the Dark Lord, the Lestranges, the Rowles, or Wormtail, and those were all the people she knew.

Narcissa blinked back an eye-roll. She hadn't meant to make the ugly pipsqueak so happy, the words had just come out automatically (was having an affair making her more polite?).

But what the hell. It was Christmas.

"You're a good little house elf," Narcissa said, patting its tiny head. "What is your name?"

They'd gotten this one a few years ago, after Dobby's unfortunate departure. She was still young. Eager to please. It was pathetic, but at least she did a good job at her job. They didn't have to worry about her sneaking away or disobeying direct orders.

"Squeakers, Missus Malfoy, Mistress, Ma'am!" The house elf hopped from one foot to the other, its tiny hands clasped in front of it, grinning broadly. It was a girl, Narcissa was reasonably certain, but it could be hard to tell with house elves, especially young ones like this.

"Happy Christmas, Squeakers," Narcissa said. She left the room. From the hall, she could hear the delighted undersized house elf singing to herself with (high-pitched) joy.

"We three elves of Orient are, bearing gifts we traverse afar…"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Narcissa muttered, using a phrase relatively recently added to her regular vernacular, though she wasn't sure whether she could blame it on her sister or her lover, since both used it. She was glad her husband hadn't seen that ridiculous Squeakers exchange. He already thought she was forgetting her place, turning into the wrong sort of house wife. She could only imagine how he'd react to catching her patting the elf's head.

Narcissa went up to her room to take a long, hot shower, then put on a different dress, a nicer one, in respect of the holiday. While she fixed her hair and makeup, she wondered whether she should have the house elves prepare a big meal for that afternoon, since it was Christmas, or whether they should skip it altogether, considering everything that had happened in the last couple of days.

She then realized she'd wished Happy Christmas to the damn house elf, but had neglected to do so to her own son that morning. She would have to bring his presents to his room, since he rarely left it these days and they hadn't bothered with a tree this year.

She'd had sex with Lucius early that morning, so she figured that could be his gift (perhaps it accounted for his good mood?) though she couldn't help wondering where hers was. Usually, when he was having an affair, he bought her more presents, better ones, expensive ones, and as much as she's always hated knowing what he was doing behind her back, she rather looked forward to the trinkets he'd bestow her, all given as much to assuage his guilty conscious as to keep her happy.

This year, she was hoping for jewelry. Lucius had great taste in jewelry. And if it was something particularly pretty, maybe earrings or a bracelet with diamonds or rubies or emeralds (her favorite stones) she could wear it on New Year's out with Severus.

Narcissa checked herself over in the mirror. She needed makeup, and maybe something to do with her hair. She tried gathering it into a braid, but didn't like that it made her look like a school teacher, then tying it loosely in a low side ponytail with a ribbon, but that look hadn't worked on her since she was seventeen, so she simply brushed it until it shined and left it down, free. She smiled at her reflection. The few years had been rough on both her appearance and her psyche, especially since turning forty (ugh, forty!), going gray (grayer by the day, it seemed) and then having to accept that she was the mother of an adult (but still her baby) son.

She was now three months away from forty-three, but if she was being honest, she wasn't bad looking. Sure, there were lines by her eyes that hadn't been there before, and she was having to color her hair more often, even though the dark roots were easier to maintain than the blonde, and she didn't find keeping her figure quite as easy as she had since she'd finally managed to drop off the last of the baby weight she'd gained with Draco many years ago, but she couldn't be too hard on the eyes, right?

Severus certainly seemed to think she was attractive enough.

Didn't he?

Or was she merely available?

"Don't do this again," she scolded herself aloud.

That morning, before sunrise, when she'd been with Lucius, he'd said something that surprised her:

"You're as beautiful today as you were the day I married you."

Two years ago, maybe even six months ago, those words would have thrilled her, but this morning, they only served to make her feel confused. If they were true, why had he been ignoring her since September?

Unless there was something else wrong with their marriage. Maybe his lack of interest wasn't wrapped up in her looks. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with her appearance at all.

That was a novel possibility.

The first time he'd had an affair (the first time she knew about, anyway) she'd been sure her looks were a significant portion of the reason. She was depressed and miserable and overweight. She rarely wore makeup or fixed her hair, her eyes were permanently swollen from crying, her chest wasn't as pert as it had been pre-motherhood, and she was pale a way that made her look sick, as Mother liked to let her know every time she visited.

"You look awful, Narcissa. Your skin's so white, you look sick. And you're fat. He's going to hop into bed with another woman if you don't fix yourself up."

"Yes, Mother," Narcissa would say, ever the most obedient Black daughter.

But she couldn't fix herself. She couldn't fix the way she felt.

And, just as Mother predicted, he started hopping into bed with other women, most notably Endora Selwyn.

Endora Selwyn, the attempted homewrecker. A woman who decided when Draco was just under two years old to visit Narcissa at Malfoy Manor while Lucius was out, to inform her of their affair, to reveal that they were in love, and to insist that he'd sworn to leave his wife and son for her. To add insult to injury (as Narcissa viewed it) Endora Selwyn later committed suicide, revealing in the note found beside her body that she'd done so when he'd refused to abandon his family "as promised," which made their private business public, fodder for the now-defunct Daily Prophet Gossip Column, the cherry atop of a sundae of complete embarrassment.

Lucius hadn't wanted anything to do with her since September, and suddenly, that morning, he couldn't keep his hands off her.

"I love you," he'd said, over and over. "I love that you're mine."

But she wasn't his. Not in her heart. Not anymore.

And she felt terrible about it.

Seated in front of her vanity, staring at herself in the mirror, suddenly Narcissa felt that every line on her face was deeper than it had been moments ago. Every gray hair was highlighted more brightly. Ever flaw and imperfection… She'd never be as pretty as she'd once been.

Did Lucius really think she was still beautiful?

Did Severus think she was anything more than a convenience?

Narcissa was overwhelmed by confusion and guilt and self-doubt.

She wanted to cry.

She also wanted a drink.

Was it too early to drink?

Probably.

But perhaps a little wine wouldn't hurt…