The Dark Mark's True Curse

Late 25th December 1998 Part 2

In the last minutes of Christmas night, Severus strode through the miserable walls of Azkaban. It had been about a month since his last visit and of course, nothing at all had changed. The Aurors were just as disgusted with the mere sight of him. The Dementors were just as hideous and vile. And Lucius Malfoy was just as angry, although his heart didn't really seem to be in his insults anymore. But then he had been alone for a month with only Dementors and vitriolic Aurors for company. Perhaps he was just glad of someone, anyone else, to talk to.

"I've been reminded...more than once today...that Festive cheer does one good," Severus drawled in lieu of a greeting as the door barred shut loudly behind him.

"...Severus..." Lucius hissed at him.

"I can't say I agree with them," the wizard remarked, "And by the looks of things, neither can you."

"Come to gloat again?"

"Perhaps later, Luci," Severus said, reusing an old nickname he hadn't used in years; when they had once been friends. He had to admit, he did rather miss those years.

"...Bastard!" the emaciated, pale haired wizard barred his fists which were chained to the wall. THe chains were more a primate display of barbarism than a magical necessity as the walls were reinforced to prevent magic. It was a far more effective psychological tool, though.

Severus could see the strong, black Dark Mark on Lucius' forearm and he could see the man flinch when the snake moved. It could've just been general aches and pains, the man was chained to the wall, but Severus knew better.

"The Mark," he began, "It's been months...but it's getting worse. Surely you feel it too."

"So what if I do?" Lucius scoffed, "I'm a dead man anyway. It doesn't particularly matter how it'll happen, does it?"

"You listen to me, you pompous arse," Severus growled, grabbing his friend by the throat and forcing him back against the stone wall.

Naturally there was no one who would interrupt and prevent the violence, no one cared.

"You're alive! Do you have any idea how much that means to Cissa and Dragon?!" he demanded, using their nicknames too in the hope that it would mean something to Lucius.

"Show them some respect you half breed," Lucius said, recovering from his shock at hearing his fond pet names for his family.

"This half breed is the reason you're still breathing! If it weren't for me, you'd have been given away to the Dementors as their play thing of the month. They made mincemeat out of Rookwood and Rodolphus Lestrange can't even remember his own name now. Is that what you want?"

Lucius looked away but his fear of the Dementors was clearly evident on his face.

"There's nothing we can do," the prisoner shook his head, "We all know it. Our Lord died in battle and we're to join him. We all agreed."

"Would you show such little regard for Draco's life, I wonder?"

"It's happening to Draco?!" Lucius exclaimed, shrugging off Severus' loose grip on his neck.

"No. You and I both know that he was never loyal."

"...Too scared," the man remarked.

"Too clever," Severus said, knowing that was what his old friend had meant. "He has more brains than both of us and we gave him poor examples to follow. He was given no choice in taking the Mark but at the very least it won't kill him."

"Does he know?"

"I believe your wife may have told him something of it but not all I don't think. He's concerned for you enough as it is. But he'll find out eventually."

"When Death Eaters start dropping like flies, you mean?" Lucius sneered.

"Yes."

"Those are our brothers and sisters!"

"Who care as little for you as you do for them. Don't play me for a fool."

"Which one of us will die first, do you think?" Lucius asked. "It's supposed to drive us mad first, remember? If we don't kill ourselves after that, we'll be torn to pieces by the Mark to join the Dark Lord. I imagine he'll have some...choice words for you."

"And for you, no doubt. You failed him in the end. You were out of favour. You fled Hogwarts before the battle was over. You know how he treats cowards," Severus retorted.

"...You first."

Severus sighed heavily and took a step back. There was simply no taking to Lucius when he was like this. But Severus was tired of fighting. He'd been fighting for two decades and he wanted it to stop. If he was to die by his own Dark Mark it was going to be after he'd put things right with someone he'd once called friend.

"I didn't do what I did simply to piss you off, you bloody great moron," Severus swore.

More often an not when he was angry just lately, he reverted back to old habits now that he didn't really have a reason not to. Swearing like a sailor had been one of his father's favourite past times and when the mood took him, Severus could shock even Remus with his language; a man who'd lived in some of the worst possible places a person could imachine simply because of his condition. This was tame by comparison.

"Ah...now that brings back memories," Lucius chuckled, darkly, "It's your inner northerner, Severus, I suppose all those lessons could only go so far after all."

He was a northerner, or at least he was considered one by a southerner, and he wasn't exactly ashamed of it. He had an accent, more so when he was young, before Narcissa and Lucius had taken an interest in him and started to shape him into the perfect pure blood wizard. Let it not be said that they hadn't done a rather good job.

"It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Severus asked, his accent seeping through a little. Now it was a rather odd mix of north and south as sometimes happened to people who spent large quantities of their time in another part of the country. "There's no one left to impress," he said.

"As long as Draco is alive..." Lucius exhaled, sinking back against the wall.

"What do you think will happen to him if you die?"

"He'll live."

"No doubt, but as what?"

"You actually care?"

"Of course I care! I'm his godfather!"

"...I can feel it...burning every night," Lucius said, gesturing to his Mark. "I didn't really notice at first. But it got worse. I didn't expect it to take this long to start actually causing real pain...as opposed to a little shock now and then. Of course, I'd rather have neither if given the choice though. I'd rather hoped it was all nonsense. I'd never really thought it was real...even after everything I've see no him do," he remarked, "It didn't happen all those years ago when he first..."

"He wasn't truly dead then...and none of us assumed that this...curse...was real. People used to laugh about it as I recall."

"...We all thought it was just a rumour. I thought, well, most of us, thought that Bellatrix had...come up with it to scare the initiates. She did love causing a scene, didn't she? Who knew that she was actually telling the truth," Lucius scoffed.

"Who else could design a curse that would still work even after the caster was dead? He was...more gifted in the Dark Arts than any wizard has ever been."

"And he wants us dead even from beyond the grave," Lucius replied. "We have no chance in stopping him. We couldn't when he was alive, Merlin help us now he's gone."

Severus turned to stare out of the tormentingly small, arrowslit window which offered a cruel glimpse of the sky designed to drive the prisoners mad with longing.

"I don't want to die, Severus," Lucius confided. His anger from earlier and from last month seemed to have faded away with little effort. "But there's nothing we can do. You and I...and all the others...I don't know how long it'll take...but we're all going to die. For some...it might be quick, for the weaker ones, I suppose. I'm hardly in a position to judge power anymore. I'm a prisoner. I hardly get fed and I'm tired. I might be the first to go."

Severus narrowed his eyes out at the moon which hovered serenely above the fortress and clenched his fist at the stone beneath his palm.

"You...might be one of the last. You were one of his favourites for a reason...you're not a weak wizard," Lucius said, "But eventually..." he trailed off.

"I know," Severus nodded slightly.

"So...is that what you came here for? So we can feel sorry for each other?"

"Hardly," he scoffed, turning back to the other wizard. "If anything were to happen to you, Narcissa would kill me in a manner far worse than the Mark ever could. You married a fearsome witch," he said and Lucius smiled for the first time, without malice.

"Yes, I did," he replied, proudly. "But I doubt you came here to tell me that," he added.

"No. Albus made a spell designed to help me when the Mark would burn. Only I know what it is. It doesn't last forever but it'll offer you some respite in the meantime."

"And...you can tell me what this spell is? What good does that do me? I can't use magic in here and neither can you."

Severus raised and eyebrow at him as gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk. "This spell is rather more like instinctive magic that can't be suppressed. Much more difficult to perform but much more effective than conventional spells. But sadly me teaching it to you would be pointless. Looking at you, you hardly have the energy to cast it and it has to be applied by another. My magic will, for a time, block out the Mark. Albus could manage it sometimes for days...but I'm not Albus Dumbledore. I've never cast it before so it may only last a few hours."

"Even a few hours would be welcome," Lucius replied, "But why bother? You betrayed us all. You don't care."

"Of course not. I've been offering to exhaust my magic for every Death Eater in Azkaban just waiting to see their reactions and now I'm off to see your neighbour," Severus rolled his eyes.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," the other wizard retorted automatically but grimaced when he realised what he'd said.

"But the highest form of intelligence," the headmaster responded as they used to and Lucius snorted.

"...Severus..." the man began with a sigh.

"I've been doing what I can, Lucius," Severus admitted. "I know it's not up to the glorified standards you're used to," he said, looking around the pitiful cell, "But it's better than the Dementors."

He'd been bribing guards for months as a matter of fact and if it ever got out, then he'd be in a cell right next to Lucius. But thankfully, not all Aurors had morals like Alastor Moody so it was highly unlikely. Moody would've spat in your face if offered a bribe and shoved you in Azkaban regardless. He knew that because one Death Eater had been stupid enough to try it, many years ago. He never did find out just what had happened to the poor fool.

Without another word, Severus walked back over to Lucius and adjusted the restrains so that he could move his arms a little, for which the wizard gave him a silent expression of gratitude. The headmaster then held the battered wrist of the prisoner and examined the moving, hissing Dark Mark.

"Yours is...the same?" Lucius asked and Severus inclined his head. "Then shouldn't someone be helping you rather than you helping me? You're the headmaster, I'm sure someone in that place would help you."

"I've not told anyone about it and I don't intend to just yet," Severus replied, tilting his head at the Mark. "I've sworn Albus' portrait to secrecy but I've no doubt he'll find a way round it eventually. In the meantime, I'm working on suppressing the...curse...alone. Curses don't simply power themselves. There has to be something fueling it and I plan on finding it...and destroying it."

"You think you can best the Dark Lord? You're good, but I'm not sure you're quite that good."

"I don't intend on going quietly again," Severus narrowed his eyes at the man. "And neither are you," he added, resolutely.

"Am I not?" Lucius grimaced when the snake on his arm made a partially loud hissing sound.

"No, you bloody well aren't...southern git," the headmaster retorted, making his friend laugh despite the pain he was in.

"Well, challenge accepted. I can hardly allow Wiltshire to concede to the Midlands, now can I?" he asked, haughtily in his best aristocratic voice. *1 Lucius half wondered just how Severus could stand so easily and not show any sign of pain if he was feeling the same agony from the Mark when he himself needed the wall behind him to support him.

"What's so great about Wiltshire?" Severus muttered quietly as he gently placed his palm over Lucius' Dark Mark.

"It's got class," the man replied, snootily.

"And a peacock?" Severus mocked.

"I have lots of peacocks," he nodded.

"I didn't mean those stupid things in your garden...you prance about far more than they do anyway...and you've got more feathers."

"You...you...I am not a peacock!"

"Then Wiltshire concedes?"

"Never!" Lucius replied, just as seriously.

"...Peacock," Severus muttered, just loud enough to him to hear.

"Undertaker," the prisoner shot back, eyeing the black clothes and shaking his head.

"You're literally wearing rags, right now, you do realise that?"

"But I'm wearing them with elegance," he said, flipping back his once lustrous, platinum hair.

"And you smell."

"Well, you're..." Lucius began to retort but stopped when Severus closed his eyes and his hand which was covering the Mark began to emit a very dim light and the snake hissed lousy before it was silenced, taking the pain with it.

Severus fell back against the wall now that Lucius was able to stand, his mind no longer addled by pain. As best as he could, he helped the headmaster to sit back against the wall with his eyes still closed and his breathing, harsh. He was clutching at his own Mark, his fingertips scoring at his clothes.

"Severus?" Lucius questioned, furrowing his brow. "Severus? Headmaster?!" he tried again and shook the man by the shoulder when he got no reply.

"Don't shout," Severus eventually replied and his friend was able to release a sigh of relief.

"Be thankful I didn't slap you."

"...Like to see you try," the man muttered, his voice sounding strained.

"What exactly did you? The pain...it's completely gone."

"Blocked the Mark...for a while...doesn't mean it's not still there though...the curse," he explained.

"And why did you..." Lucius asked, taking in the sight of Severus grimacing face.

"I'm blocking your Mark, I can't exactly ignore my own anymore, can I?" he snapped back.

"...Ah," Lucius breathed.

"Consider it...a Christmas present."

"You hate Christmas."

"Tell that to the Weasley's," Severus grumbled.

"Got you singing carols, have they?" Lucius snorted.

"..."

"Oh, sweet Nimue, they did, didn't they? Please tell me they did. Oh, this is brilliant! Almost makes this all worthwhile. That image will stay with me forever!"

"I wasn't singing!"

"Humming at the very least then?"

"No."

"So you were...what? Their musical accompaniment? Really?"

"...Molly flipping Weasley..." Severus muttered as though that was all the explanation he needed.

"...You really spent Christmas...willingly...with the Weasley's?" Lucius asked, sobering after a moment.

"For a while, yes," Severus answered, raising a daring eyebrow. Clearly he was waiting for an angry retort but it never came.

"...I'm too tired to argue," Lucius sighed, "It hardly matters what I think anymore. They won, I lost. With the Dark Lord gone, I have to accept that."

"And the fact that if you annoy me, I can remove the spell."

"Yes, I suppose there is that, too," he shrugged as best he could.

"At least you're honest," Severus said, pushing himself to his feet, shakily to look out of the window again.

"...We're dead men walking," Lucius replied, still sitting on the dirty floor. "Well, you are. I'm a dead man imprisoned, but...semantics," he shook his head. "Even if this only lasts for a minute...I owe you," he said and Severus knew that wasn't an expression that can easy to Lucius Malfoy. "I haven't had a clear moment to think in months. And I hate to ask but...I don't know how long I'll last. I want to write to them at least once...please, Severus."

Silently, and without turning back around, Severus held out a sealed, white envelope from inside his robes with his hand out stretched behind his back, he held it out for Lucius.

"What...what's this?"

"From Draco and Narcissa. I've never smuggled something into Azkaban before. It cost a small fortune so it better be important."

"You..." Lucius breathed and snatched the letter from his hand he shuffled as close to the window as he could to read it by the moonlight and Severus tactfully moved to the other side of the small room, waiting silently. The man must've read it at least three times before he let out a quiet sob and folded it up again. But, Severus said nothing as it was handed back to him. "Thank you," Lucius said, quietly, "But I don't suppose I can keep it."

"Not advisable," Severus said. "As for writing back...that could prove to be more difficult," he said.

"No...that's enough. I didn't expect...Now I really do owe you, don't I?"

"I've been promised full access to Narcissa's private accounts. She kept a well hidden vault. Even the Ministry don't know about it."

"That's my Cissa," Lucius grinned. "Well, at least if I'm bankrolling this smuggling operation, do me one small favour with at least some of the money."

"What?" Severus asked, warily.

"Get some decent clothes," he replied. "You're trying to imitate a priest or an undertaker and I simply won't let it stand any longer, you're far too young to be either. My tailor would be delighted to make you some..."

"No."

"Just one set of robes..."

"No."

"One waistcoat?"

"Not even one glove," Severus deadpanned.

"But always the same clothes, Severus, every day for two decades! It's boring!"

"It's practical."

"Fine, if you won't have new ones made then use mine. I hardly have reason to use them, do I?"

"I don't look good in feathers," Severus remarked.

"I'm perfectly serious."

"So am I."

"Severus, those clothes were made to be seen, not to rot in my wardrobe. It's criminal," he gave a small smirk.

"You've been trying to dress me up since my fifth year. I'm not a doll."

"Give a dying man a break," Lucius replied.

"I'm dying too."

"Ah, you admitted it," Lucius exclaimed, childishly and then laughed.

"Hmmm."

"You seem remarkably calm considering..."

"Years of practice," Severus replied. To look at him, you'd never guess that he was in pain anymore.

Suddenly, startling them both a little, someone banged on the door, loudly, "Time's up!" an uncaring voice cried out.

"Oh, bugger off!" Lucius shouted back, surprising his friend, "It's Christmas!"

"Not in here it isn't!" the Auror shouted back.

"Charming people, aren't they, Aurors?" Lucius asked, dryly when his friend sighed.

"It wouldn't do to irritate them. There's only so much that money can do," Severus said, reluctantly.

"Ah...how the mighty have fallen," his friend replied, sadly yet theatrically.

"You'll fall further still if you give them reason."

"They don't need a reason."

"Neither did we."

"...True...true," Lucius conceded. "So...next time, bring me a book or...something," he said in a much more enthusiastic tone.

"You never read."

"I need something to do! Something other than counting the stones in this room. I'm this close to naming the blasted things! Take pity on me, headmaster."

"Would you like an espresso machine, perhaps?"

"What on earth is one of those?" Lucius asked, perplexed and Severus suppressed a smirk.

"A muggle torture device," he replied, completely serious.

"Are there muggles for me to torture?"

"Luci..."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes yes," Lucius grumbled, rattling his chains, "I'm in chains, Sev, what can I do anyway?"

"I've been promoted from 'bastard' to 'Sev' in one night. Will wonders never cease?"

"You haven't been this sarcastic since school," the older wizard remarked. "Have you been going to that old Parisian brothel again? You were always sarcastic and smug when we left."

Severus said nothing but he did glare at Lucius sardonically. "Does that mean Paris is not responsible?" Lucius asked, disappointed, "It does, doesn't it? Oh, you old boring headmaster. You've turned into a monk, haven't you? If I can't live what's left of my own life, at least let me live vicariously through you."

"One minute of clarity and your heads' already migrated between your legs," Severus lamented rather crudely.

"Have you ever known it to be anywhere else?"

Again, the Auror outside, slammed his hand against the door and Lucius practically growled. "Yes, yes, he's leaving!" he shouted. "Remember...a book...make it a good one," he muttered as the door opened.

"By 'good' am I to assume you mean..."

"I mean 'good'," Lucius emphasised, and Severus rolled his eyes while the impatient, self important Auror practically ushered him out even if he was scared witless the entire time.

Severus left the prison feeling surprisingly worse than when he'd entered it. When he'd arrived, he thought he was going to visit a man who hated him. But clearly that wasn't the case. He left behind a friend who didn't hate him at all , feeling utterly and completely useless.p about the whole thing.

A.N. I didn't want it to seem as though they've just forgotten how angry and frankly, cruel, Lucius was the last time they met. But they're both being faced with the likelihood that they're going to die and they were, at least in my head, good friends at one point. With no Voldemort looming over their heads, I guess they could start to be friends again. Why wouldn't they if life's literally too short?

*1 In case it needed explaining; Malfoy Manor is in Wiltshire so I'm assuming Lucius was born there. Severus was born in the Midlands.