"Draco," Lucius said, "would you check on Dobby's progress, please?"
"Make Hydrus do it," Draco said, scowling at his father.
"It's my birthday," Hydrus whined.
"That was weeks ago. Besides, you made me do it on my birthday dinner, so he can do it on his."
A week ago, he'd never have argued, and particularly not with company around; the Parkinsons, Greengrasses, Notts, Bulstrodes, Goyles, Crabbes and Shafiqs all looked stunned to hear Draco speaking so disrespectfully. Narcissa sighed quietly.
She hadn't said anything more to Lucius about his foolish plan to make Draco a Gryffindor after their initial discussion two weeks ago. Lucius, likewise, had been silent on the matter, but this time, it did not indicate a win for her.
This time, it meant Lucius was going ahead with his plan, and trying to do so without drawing her attention.
Idiot, she thought, watching her husband out of the corner of her eye. Lucius was, by no means, an unintelligent man. Quite the opposite, in fact. He just had an unfortunate habit of forgetting that no matter how clever he was, she was cleverer.
"Draco," Lucius said mildly. "I believe I asked you." Hydrus smirked and some of the other children laughed at Draco's expense.
They'll turn against him, she thought, watching her youngest son sadly. Even Gregory and Vincent – neither of whom were what she would call academically gifted – knew that Gryffindor was bad, while Slytherin was good. The Greengrass girls were the only ones who might not be overly bothered by him not being in Slytherin. Narcissa might have taken some small comfort in that, but she knew Draco wasn't overly fond of any of the girls. Daphne, in particular, seemed to annoy him.
She was smirking at Draco now, as he stalked around one of the couches - which had been pushed against the wall to clear the floor in front of the fireplace - and through the double doors.
"Goodness!" Clementina said, staring after Draco. "Who does he think he is, talking to Lucius like that? If you ask me, Narcissa, he needs a lesson to remind him where his manners are."
Narcissa smiled. "But no one did ask you, Clementina," she said, and in such a level, pleasant voice that it took several seconds for the others to hear the insult. Clementina gaped at her.
"Is Draco not feeling well?" Pansy asked. "Is that why he's behaving oddly?"
"That's exactly it," Narcissa told the girl. Her smile was genuine this time – she rather liked Pansy, after all. "He's not himself at the moment." She gave Lucius a sharp look that, unfortunately, he didn't see.
"He's not sick!" Hydrus said to Gregory, Vincent and Theodore in a loud whisper. "He's pretending! He just wants to ruin my birthday dinner." Thankfully, Sonja chose that moment to clap a hand to her mouth and walk quickly out of the room, so none of the adults had been paying much attention to Hydrus' words.
"Hydrus," Narcissa said warningly, as Ernest ran after his wife. Pansy's narrowed eyes followed the pair of them and Narcissa felt a pang of sympathy for the poor girl. Narcissa moved a step closer to her oldest son and gave him a look, which, unlike Lucius, he didn't miss. He muttered a sulky apology and then led the other children out of the drawing room.
Dinner was pleasant enough; there were enough people there that conversation never lapsed and Dobby's cooking was wonderful. Though little Cyril did make a terrible mess with his icecream, there were no explosions; Narcissa had worried about that when she saw Draco sitting between Millicent and Daphne.
After dinner, everyone ended up scattered throughout the house; Lucius and some of the other adults had gone to his study to talk about more serious matters than dinner table conversation usually allowed. Ernest Parkinson and his sister Nola – whose last name was now Shafiq – had gone, and so had Roderick and Audra Crabbe, Aloysius and Clementina Goyle, Magnus and Theodosia Bulstrode and Leopold Nott.
As all of them wore the Dark Mark, it was reasonably easy to deduce what it was they were talking about – Harry Potter as the new Dark Lord - and Narcissa – who sometimes listened in and sometimes did not – had decided to join the rest of their guests in the drawing room. She thought she'd heard more than enough about Harry Potter lately.
Eleanor was chatting with her step-son while he played with his baby sister; Lucius thought it was dangerous for Theodore to be so openly smitten by little Catherine but Narcissa thought it was sweet. All three Greengrass girls and Nadia Shafiq – who was the same age as Daphne - were having a whispered conversation over by the fireplace and seemed oblivious to anything else that was happening.
Vincent and Gregory were hovering by the corner table – upon which was a plate of sweets and baked goods Dobby had prepared – and a few feet from them, Hydrus, Draco, Pansy and Millicent had pulled together four of the armchairs and were talking. On the opposite side of the room on one of the couches, Parmenia and Marius Greengrass and Nishith Shafiq were talking about a mutual friend of theirs – both Marius and Nishith worked in the Department of Magical Discoveries at the Ministry – and so it was that Narcissa found herself sitting with Sonja Parkinson.
"Thank you for tonight," Sonja said, wincing as she shifted in her armchair. Narcissa picked up a pillow from the couch she was sitting on and passed it to the other witch. She accepted it with a weak but genuine smile and tucked it behind her back. "I haven't seen Pansy this happy in a long time."
As if to prove her mother's point, Pansy started laughing at something Millicent had said. Narcissa noticed that Hydrus looked disgruntled about it and that Draco was smirking.
"We don't have people over anymore," Sonja continued, shifting again. "Ernest's usually working and I just can't do it by myself." Narcissa wasn't sure what facial expression was appropriate. She settled for an understanding look. "Soon I won't even be able to come to things like this."
"You'll manage, I'm sure," Narcissa murmured.
"That's what everyone says. I know they're just being polite. I see the way they look at me." She smiled gently. "Not talking about it, or pretending everything's fine doesn't change anything. I'm dying. The Healers don't think I've got even a year left."
"So little time?" Narcissa breathed. Sonja was only a few years older than she was. Sometimes that was hard to remember, though; with her drawn face, lank, colourless hair and nearly skeletal appearance, Sonja looked decades older.
"It's a relief, to be honest," Sonja said, with a small, sad smile. "It's been five years and I'm tired."
"You have so much to live for," Narcissa murmured. "There's Ernest and Pansy... Sonja, what about Pansy?"
"She'll be happier with me gone," Sonja said, watching her daughter as she spoke. Narcissa knew Pansy sometimes struggled with her mother's illness, but surely that wasn't true... "You don't believe me," Sonja said. "But it's true. My daughter hates me."
"Nonsense-"
"It's true. Sometimes, I can almost convince myself that it's better for her – if she hates me, she won't miss me when I'm gone... Have you ever lost someone dear to you, Narcissa?" Sonja asked softly.
"You know that I have," Narcissa said. Aside from never taking the Mark, she and Sonja had three main things in common. They had both lost their fathers during the war – that, in fact, was what had brought them together again; Sonja was Narcissa's cousin on her mother's side, but Narcissa's father and her uncle had never liked each other – she'd never been given a reason why. After Narcissa's father's death, her mother had gone to her estranged brother for support and they'd managed to patch things up before he died a year later.
The second thing they had in common was that they'd lost a sibling to the war; Narcissa had lost Bella to Azkaban, while Evan, Sonja's brother, was actually dead. The third was that each had an estranged, blood-traitor sibling – Narcissa's was Andy, Sonja's was Cornelius, who'd married a muggle woman.
"And do you remember the pain? The grief?" Narcissa nodded curtly and clasped her hands in her lap. "Perhaps, it's best if Pansy doesn't feel that."
"You sound as if you're trying to convince yourself."
"I am... Have you seen anyone die, before?"
"I've seen dead people," Narcissa said. Four of Dumbledore's men had been captured and brought to the Manor the night before the Dark Lord was destroyed. Two of the four – the Prewett twins – had escaped, though she knew they'd been killed shortly after. The other two - Caradoc Dearborn, her old Defence teacher, and Benjy Fenwick, the Head Boy she'd swooned over in her second year – had been blown to smithereens by Evan. Narcissa remembered the entire Manor trembling; Draco had been taking his first wobbly steps and fallen over.
She'd gone downstairs to see what was happening – after leaving Draco and Hydrus with Dobby – and found Lucius, Evan, Ernest, Abraxas and Severus all standing, shocked, in the blackened, bloodied cellar, which had since been Scourgified, but she still hated it down there. Someone – probably Rosier, since he'd made the mess – had been responsible for leaving Fenwick's remains where Dumbledore's followers would find them. There hadn't been enough left of Dearborn to return.
"But I've never actually seen anyone die," she said, coming back to the present. "Have you?"
"No." Sonja looked nervous. "Did you feel anything for them? The dead people you saw?"
"I was sad. It was their own fault and it had to be done, but it was a waste of life. They had friends and families and futures..."
"But you didn't grieve?" It was times like this that Narcissa was reminded that Sonja had been in Ravenclaw.
"No," Narcissa murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before she clasped her hands together again. It had been sad and shocking, yes – it wasn't every day she saw her Defence teacher splattered on the walls of her cellar – but it hadn't been a personal loss.
"Then perhaps it's good that Pansy hates me."
"You don't really believe that," Narcissa said, watching the older woman's face carefully.
Sonja smiled sadly. "No, I don't. But I want to..."
"Why?" Narcissa had to ask.
"Because I want what's best for Pansy. I don't want her to hurt."
"Then why don't you just let her hate you?"
"Because it's not me she hates. It's the fact that I'm sick, that I'm dying. She's too young to make the distinction yet, but I know and I don't want her to hate me. I'm going to lose her soon enough anyway I want my daughter to be mine for as long as I can have her. It's selfish, I know, but-"
"But not an unreasonable desire," Narcissa murmured.
"I've written her letters, you know," Sonja admitted, dabbing at her eyes, which were beginning to look teary. "For all of her birthdays, and for Christmases and for her first day of Hogwarts... And Ernest has promised to tell her that I loved her, so that she will always know... And perhaps in time, she will forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive."
"Of course there is. I'm her mother, and I'm about to abandon her."
"You're victims of circumstance-"
"Of course we are. Doesn't mean I'm not abandoning her. I'm her mother. I'm supposed to be there for her, to take care of her, and I won't be." Narcissa didn't know what to say. "That's why I've tried not to be jealous that she's so much like her father. They gravitate towards each other – probably would, even if I was healthy – and they're going to need that, need each other soon enough."
"Tried?" Narcissa asked.
"It doesn't always work, of course. I am jealous, sometimes. I never say anything though, to either of them. That wouldn't be fair, and it would be irrational. It makes sense for Pansy to lean on the more stable parent." A small laugh burbled out of her pale lips. "A child's intuition, some would call it. Maybe she'll be a Ravenclaw after all."
"Do you not want her in Slytherin?"
"Frankly, I don't care where she goes, as long as she's happy." Sonja's eyelids began to droop; Narcissa might have been alarmed if this was a rare occurrence, but she'd seen Sonja do this many times before. "She's got a hard few years ahead of her, and I want her surrounded by people that will support her. If she finds that in Hufflepuff, so be it. I just want her taken care of."
"You know that... when it comes to it... Lucius and the boys and I will always be here for her, and for Ernest, of course."
"I know. I know that." Sonja's eyes fell shut and she slumped back into her seat. "Thank you," she breathed. Narcissa watched as her body relaxed into sleep, though a small frown remained on her face. Narcissa studied Sonja for a moment and then conjured a blanket and tucked it around her.
"Thank you," a voice at her shoulder said. "I was just about to come and do that." Narcissa turned, surprised, and then smiled – a little sadly, but she couldn't help it –at Pansy, whose dark eyes were fixed on her mother. "She's dying, you know," Pansy said in a detached sort of way, still watching Sonja.
"I know," Narcissa said softly.
"She's weak," Pansy said.
"I think she's very strong," Narcissa said. "She's been sick for five years now, but she's still here, still fighting."
"But she's losing."
"It's very tiring to be sick all the time."
"That's what Daddy says," Pansy muttered. She took a last look at her mother and then her eyes flicked to Narcissa. "Well, thank you for the blanket, Mrs Malfoy." Narcissa inclined her head and Pansy went back to her armchair next to Hydrus. The six children – because Hydrus, Draco, Pansy and Millicent had since been joined by Vincent and Gregory – started talking again, as if Pansy had never left.
They were good at that now – Narcissa had personally seen to it that both of her boys would not talk about Sonja to Pansy unless Pansy brought it up first, and even then, only if they could reply without offending her. Vincent and Gregory had likely been told not to say anything at all by their parents, and Millicent was clever enough to judge the situation for herself and act accordingly.
Sonja shifted and croaked her daughter's name in her sleep.
We're not all that different, Narcissa thought toward Sonja. We both want what's best for our children.
The trouble was, Narcissa – after two weeks of almost constant contemplation of her options – still had no idea what was best.
After Flooing home from Moony's two weeks ago, Harry and Padfoot had settled right back into Grimmauld Place. There had been cleaning to do – thankfully, a simple Vacuuming Charm took care of the dust and cobwebs Kreacher had conjured, and most of the damage had been magically caused and could be fixed with a quick Reparo or Finite Incantatem.
The cleaning brought back memories of February, when they'd first moved in, but there were a few key improvements; firstly, Kreacher was willing to help – he'd been ecstatic to have them home and regaled them with tales of the Aurors' visits – and provided them with regular meals. Secondly, Harry and Padfoot knew each other better this time and so weren't as edgy around each other as they had been back then and thirdly, Moony was around whenever he wasn't out searching for them and was quite happy to provide help or just company whenever one of them needed it.
With most of the cleaning and repair work done in the first few days of being home, things had gone back to a state of restfulness that Harry hadn't had since before the cave incident; he still had nightmares - either about Padfoot trying to kill Snape or about the cave - but since his room was spelled against fire and he was reasonably sure Snape had been lying, there was no need to worry about either of those and the dreams grew further apart as September drew on.
Padfoot was in a ridiculously chipper mood all the time – or perhaps it was just normal, and seemed unusual after the Dementor's Draught – because he had either Harry or Moony around him for the entire day, and because he was working on his plan to cure himself; Harry now knew that involved Occlumency and the Patronus Charm Padfoot had mentioned that night at Moony's. He'd only had one sick day since they'd got home, and he'd spent that researching, so it wasn't a complete loss.
When Padfoot wasn't working on his cure, he was teaching Harry various jinxes and odd spells that wouldn't be in the Hogwarts curriculum but were useful to know anyway; Padfoot didn't want Harry to arrive at Hogwarts, knowing everything and then be bored as a result. Moony had somehow procured his old homework planner – according to Padfoot, he'd had one every year at Hogwarts – so they knew what general areas of study to avoid.
On the days that Moony only worked half a day with the search, he took Harry's lessons to give Padfoot more time to research. Moony took teaching a little more seriously than Padfoot did – Harry had blown up a cauldron and Moony had made him write four inches on possible reasons why, and on how to avoid any such incidents in the future, where Padfoot would have just laughed – but he was a good teacher and Harry was learning lots.
By the end of Spetember, they'd covered some of the better known magical creatures – things like dragons, werewolves, vampires, merfolk (which were apparently not pretty at all), unicorns and fairies – and Moony had also thought Harry should learn some very simple healing potions and spells – Harry could now successfully brew a Pepper-Up Potion, a potion that fixed headaches – which Padfoot often needed if he was messing around with Occlumency – and a spell that would fix small cuts and bruises. Moony also – secretly – taught Harry several spells that Padfoot hadn't covered yet, and as such, hadn't known that Harry knew about until Harry used them against him.
"Tempus Admonius," Harry whispered. A small, glowing clock face appeared in the air in front of him. He flicked his wand to set the clock to the right time – one minute from then – and tapped the clock face, which shimmered and disappeared. Harry sat down and picked up the pieces of Regulus' puzzle again – he'd managed to make the snake's head and the last inch of its tail.
Two rooms over, the toilet flushed and then Padfoot wandered back in, humming to himself and sat down. Within a few seconds, he was once again engrossed in his copy of the Evening Prophet and didn't even notice Harry sneaking glances at him.
When the minute was up, a shrill ringing noise – similar to that of a normal, muggle alarm clock – started. Padfoot yelped and covered his ears; Harry didn't blame him – he'd cast the spell at Padfoot's chin level.
"Finite," Padfoot yelled, flicking his wand over his shoulder. The ringing continued. Padfoot looked over at Harry, who was trying – and failing – to keep a straight face; he'd obviously remembered the charm could only be deactivated when it was touched by a wand. Harry could see the faint glimmer of the spell but he thought that was only because he knew where to look. "Where is it?" Padfoot asked, with a wry grin.
Harry leaned over and tapped the shimmering charm with his wand. It silenced immediately. Another tap and the spell vanished completely, as it was designed to do; Harry had still not learned how to Vanish things, because Padfoot – in a rare display of maturity – had decided there were more dangers associated with learning it now than there were benefits.
"Is being able to Vanish vegetables off of your dinner plate really worth the risk that you might accidentally shout 'Evanesco' in a duel and Vanish your opponent?" he'd asked. Harry had been scared enough by that prospect that he'd promised – without prompting – not to attempt it until he was told how to, whether that ended up being at either at Hogwarts in several years time, or by Padfoot or Moony.
"You should have seen your face," Harry chuckled, tucking his wand back into his jeans.
"Did it look like yours did when I changed your room the other night?" Padfoot asked slyly. Harry grimaced; while he'd been asleep, Padfoot had moved all of the furniture in his bedroom around and so, when Harry had climbed out of bed the next morning, still half asleep, he'd walked into the wall because that was where the door was supposed to have been. Padfoot had been standing in the actual doorway, laughing at him.
"Probably, yeah," Harry muttered, trying not to grin too widely. Padfoot barked a laugh and ruffled Harry's hair.
"Shall we call it a truce, then?"
"Truce," Harry agreed.
"On each other," Padfoot said solemnly. "Moony's fair game."
"Agreed," Harry said, laughing.
"Merlin you're starting to sound like Sirius," Moony commented from the doorway. He'd given up on the doorbell when Padfoot stopped answering it and just invited himself in now.
"How?" Harry asked, curiously.
"When you laugh," Moony said, draping his worn cloak over a seat "I can't explain it... you just sound like him."
"His voice is all James'," Padfoot argued.
"I didn't say anything about his voice, just his laugh," Moony said.
"Right..." Padfoot said, arching an eyebrow. He flung an arm over Harry's shoulder as Moony pulled one of the chairs from the desk around and sat. "Well, kiddo, if you laugh like me, at least you've got one damn attractive laugh." Harry couldn't help it; he laughed. "So," Padfoot continued, looking at Moony. "How was searching? Did you find that poor, innocent Sirius Black and his evil godson?"
"Well-" Moony began.
"I think it's the other way around," Harry said helpfully. "I think I'm supposed to be the innocent one."
Padfoot frowned as if he was actually thinking about it. "Are you- No... No, I'm positive you're the evil one."
"Yeah, actually, maybe that's right..." Harry grinned and added, "Sorry, Moony."
"That's quite all right," Moony said, his mouth twitching. "And no, we didn't find either of you. Matt was devastated," Moony joked, his eyes gleaming. "He was quite put out about it at lunch, actually. He thinks you must have someone on the inside..."
"Where in Merlin's name did he get that idea?" Padfoot asked, grinning.
"I'm sure I have no idea," Moony sniffed. "Of course, Matt being Matt, he thought it was a good idea to share this theory with the rest of the group. Arabella's still certain it's Nymphadora and I think Dirk agrees but he's subtler about it." Moony sighed, as if he wasn't sure whether to be amused or not.
"Is she still going to take over?" Harry asked.
"I'm not going in tomorrow – day of the full moon and all that – but she's got Auror things on Fridays anyway, so I've given her free reign on Saturday, since I won't be there then, either," Moony said. "There's not much to do to be honest, so I'm certain she'll handle it admirably but it'll be a good chance to test her. Depending on how she goes, she might take over soon." He fiddled with a loose thread on his jumper and glanced up. "Have you made any progress with your Patronus?"
"No," Padfoot said. "I did a bit of mind-shaping this morning but that's it until Saturday."
"Why? Last night you said you were close."
"I am close," Padfoot said, beaming. "Very close. But the full moon's tomorrow and if something doesn't work, I don't want to leave you to fend for yourself."
"Sirius-" Moony said, looking uncomfortable.
"Hush, Moony," Padfoot said. "I'm being noble. Don't ruin it." Moony bit his lip. "I can see you're thinking of ruining it," Padfoot said. "Don't do it!"
"I just- if you can get better-"
"And you've done it anyway," Padfoot said, sounding resigned. "Nobility ruiner."
"Sorry," Moony said. Harry was trying not to laugh at the pair of them.
"You couldn't help it," Padfoot said, grinning. "I can deal with an extra day. I just need to find something to do to keep me occupied tomorrow."
"I might have something we can do," Moony said.
"Oh no," Padfoot said hastily. "You'll make us do boring things, like rearrange the library, or-"
"The library does need to be rearranged," Moony muttered, "you said so yourself."
"I did, but that doesn't mean I'm doing it," Padfoot retorted. Harry managed to turn a laugh into a cough at the last minute; he wasn't going to take sides on this one, particularly because – not matter which side he picked – he'd end up helping.
"Hypocrite. And it's not something boring."
"Well, not to you," Padfoot said, "but we're normal people, Moony. We don't want to rearrange the library."
"I never said anything about the library!"
"Did so! You said it needed rearranging!" Padfoot turned to Harry. "He'll make us rearrange all of these," he said, gesturing to the shelves around them, "and then, when we've finished that, he'll send us upstairs to clean your room-"
"I only did that a week ago!" Harry protested.
"I know," Padfoot said. "Horrible, isn't it!" He glared – though there was no real force behind it – at an exasperated Moony. "He's-"
"Oh, shut up, Padfoot," Moony said, rolling his eyes. Padfoot continued to complain dramatically so Moony talked over him. "I was actually going to suggest we go through a certain box that's been tucked away in my spare bedroom for far too long," he said loudly.
That shut Padfoot up.
"Jordan, name one of the twelve properties of dragon's blood." Jordan - who had, until that moment, been laughing at something one of the Weasleys said – jerked and looked up.
"Uh..." he said. "Well, my Dad got into this fight in the Leaky Cauldron once and he put dragon's blood – I mean, it was a steak, but steaks have blood, right? – on his face to make it better."
"I asked for a property of dragon's blood, not your father's life story," Severus snapped, and took five points from Gryffindor.
"He gave you a property though!" one of the insufferable Weasley brats piped up.
"Five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn," Severus said. Yaxley and Joffs, who were sitting at a desk at the back of the room, sniggered. "And no, Mr Weasley, he did not. He did, however, hint at one. Yes, Miss Fawley?"
"Dragon's blood has healing properties," Fawley said, smirking in the Gryffindors' general direction.
"Ten points to Slytherin," Severus said. "You should all be writing this down! Spinnet!" The girl squeaked. "I trust you know of another property because I can think of no other reason for you to be speaking with Miss Johnson during my class."
"Erm..." Spinnet played with a strand of her hair, looked up – seemed alarmed to find Severus was watching her – and then looked down again. "Well, sir, dragon's blood is used in potions."
"Name one such potion." The entire Gryffindor side seemed to hold their breath.
"Blemish Blitzer," Spinnet said tentatively. Severus curled his lip. Jordan and the Weasleys groaned.
"If I had wanted a specific brand, I would have asked for it," he said. Spinnet's upper lip trembled. "If you intend to pass this year, you need to learn to follow instructions. Another five points from Gryffindor for failing to do so. My, my, Gryffindor is suffering today..."
He was about to take more points – probably ten this time, because he really did loathe the twins – from one of the Weasleys for wearing such an insolent expression in his classroom but he was interrupted by a soft knock on the classroom door. Frowning, Severus did a quick count of the class, but they were all present. Severus strode over to the door and pulled it open.
"Severus." Narcissa Malfoy held out a pale hand for him to shake and he did so. He didn't allow her to see how surprised he was.
"Narcissa." Severus stepped out of the classroom and – after a brief debate about whether it was better to be able to keep an eye on his class (particularly since it contained two Weasleys) – closed the door. He just hoped he didn't regret it. Narcissa looked faintly surprised. "What can I do for you?" She looked lost for a moment and then took a deep breath and smoothed her robes.
"I'm sorry for interrupting your class," she said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I only wanted to inform you that I was here and that I need to speak with you, when it is convenient."
"Does the Headmaster know of your presence here?"
"I did not inform him I was coming," she said, shaking her head. "But that does not mean he doesn't know."
How true, Severus thought, allowing himself to smirk.
"I had Dobby Apparate inside your office – I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," Severus said, though he did a little. He was more interested in what had brought Narcissa here, alone, and via house elf; it was not something most purebloods would even think of, let alone consent to. "What is it you need?"
She glanced at the classroom door and then said, "It can wait until the end of the lesson."
"After which I have a double period with my N.E.W.T. class." Her face fell just enough for him to notice. "One moment," Severus told her. He strode back inside, startling the class. "I am required elsewhere." It was better not to give them an estimated time – not that Severus had one anyway – because that kept them on their toes and meant they were more likely to behave. "While I am not here, you are to look up the twelve uses of dragon's blood in your textbooks and write a summary. You will hand it to me, complete, when I return."
"Sir?" Poole had her hand up. "How long does it have to be?" Sometimes, Severus wondered why the girl had been placed in his House and not Filius'.
"An inch per use," he said curtly. Quite a few students – and not only the ones from Gryffindor – groaned. "You may share textbooks if necessary, and confer amongst yourselves, but the work is to be your own. If you do not have the equipment required to complete the task, I suggest you borrow some from someone else." And then, because he wouldn't put it past his Slytherins to with-hold parchment or ink from those Gryffindors that would not have thought to bring their own, added, "No one leaves this room until I have collected everyone's summary."
"But, Professor-" Joffs whined.
"No one leaves until I have collected everyone's summary," Severus repeated. "Do not make me say it again." Students started pulling out textbooks and parchment and quills. He waited until most of them were working – or doing a passable imitation of work – before he slipped out of the classroom again. Narcissa was waiting patiently. "We will speak in my office," Severus said, gesturing for her to follow.
"Thank you for doing this," she said, sounding remarkably sincere. Severus had nothing to say to that – if he did reply, he might accidentally incite a menial, continuous exchange of pleasantries; Narcissa was in an odd mood today. Severus pushed open the door to his office and allowed Narcissa past. She took a curious glance at the potions and ingredients lining the shelves but her gaze did not linger; she'd probably had a good look when she arrived.
"Sit," he said curtly, gesturing to the seat in front of the desk, as he took his own chair.
"Is there any chance of us being overheard?" she asked nervously. "Is anyone likely to come searching for you?" Severus cast a non-verbal Muffliato at the office door, as well as several other protective and privacy wards. It would, perhaps, have been easier to take her into his quarters – accessible through a door that was hidden behind one of the ingredient shelves – but, while he trusted Narcissa more than Lucius, he was not prepared to trust her that much.
"Not anymore," he told her.
"I-" Narcissa began and then seemed to lose her nerve. "Oven cleaner."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Dragon's blood," she said blithely. "It can be used as oven cleaner." Severus blinked. He was aware of that, of course, but couldn't for the life of him fathom how she knew that. Narcissa was clever, yes, but not at Potions – she'd only just managed to scrape an A in her Potions O.W.L., if Severus remembered correctly – and he wasn't sure how a witch who'd probably had house elves her entire life would know anything about oven cleaners.
"It can, yes," Severus managed to say. He wondered if she'd brought it up to throw him off. If so, it had certainly worked.
"It's funny the thing you remember from school, isn't it?" she said quietly. "I think it's the only thing I remember from Potions lessons, other than the time Bella was sent to the Hospital Wing because Slughorn knocked a cauldron over with that enormous stomach of his." Severus remembered that too. It had probably been the highlight of his fifth year; fifth year had been a bad year.
"I take it you have more to say, however," Severus said, still stymied that she knew about oven cleaner.
"I do, yes." She clasped her hands in her lap. "I am in need of... advice. You know that I love my husband, don't you, Severus?"
"Of course," Severus said, and then inched his chair back, just in case. She smiled slightly, and he wondered if she knew what he was thinking. "Was the fact ever in doubt?"
"I hope not," she said, bristling slightly. "But, then again, he does not know that I am here and I must ask you to keep what you are about to learn a secret."
"And if I do not?" he asked neutrally. Narcissa looked lost.
"Well," she said, looking remarkably close to breaking down there and then. "Well- I-"
"Whatever you say will be held in the utmost confidence," Severus assured her; Dumbledore didn't count. Astoundingly, her eyes filled with tears, and her shoulders slumped, as if a burden had been lifted.
"Draco will be in Gryffindor," she whispered. Severus stared at her, wondering how that was even possible. The boy was as Slytherin as it was possible to be. "I assume Lucius is planning to alter his personality?" That was the only possible explanation.
"He is," Narcissa said, looking irritated.
"May I ask why?" he asked finally, unsure of how he was feeling.
"So that he can be close to Harry Potter."
"I see," was all Severus said, but his mind was reeling. "And you're telling me this why?"
"Because I don't know what to do," she whispered. "What if Harry Potter isn't Sorted into Gryffindor? Draco would be there for nothing! What if Harry Potter's dead, and he doesn't even show up to school-?"
"Harry Potter is alive," Severus said. Narcissa sat perfectly still. "Dumbledore has people situated in the Department of Magical Records and the boy's name is yet to show up. And Lucius told me you knew about Pettigrew."
"I do," she said stiffly.
"Then why would you think Harry Potter is dead?"
"If Lucius is right, and he's the next Dark Lord, then it would make sense for Sirius to kill him. Sirius always fought for Dumbledore, remember-"
"I remember," Severus said, and then sighed. "Harry Potter will not be a Dark Lord, not with Black raising him. He will be a Gryffindor, I have no doubt of that. So, unless Lucius is willing to bend his proud neck and follow Dumbledore's Golden Boy, placing Draco in Gryffindor is a useless act."
"But Potter is powerful," Narcissa argued. "He killed the Dark Lord!"
Lily's sacrifice did that, Severus thought irritably. Instead, he simply said, "The Dark Lord is not dead." Narcissa's eyes widened, but he couldn't decipher her expression.
"Has he contacted you-?"
"No," Severus said. "I base that on Dumbledore's word only-" Narcissa at least, had more respect for Dumbledore than Lucius did; she didn't sneer or make any disparaging comments. "-but Dumbledore is rarely wrong about matters this important."
"No," Narcissa said. Severus couldn't be certain if she was agreeing with him, or if she was speaking a thought she'd had aloud. "He's gone-"
"Gone, yes," Severus agreed. "But not dead. He will return, and he will want Harry Potter and all those who stand beside him destroyed."
"I said this to Lucius," she said, suddenly, squeezing her eyes closed. "I didn't think- I was only trying to make him see sense-" Her eyes opened and flicked to Severus' face. "Severus, please, speak to him. Tell him-"
"I have tried," Severus said flatly. "More times than I can count, but Lucius has little regard for Dumbledore's opinions."
"But Draco will be killed! Killed or forced to spy-"
"That remains true, no matter which House he is placed in. With Lucius as his father, he will be pressed into service as soon as he is old enough. To refuse would be treason. There are only two options here, Narcissa, and they are life, or death." Narcissa's chin trembled.
"I just want him safe..."
"Then you've chosen life. Draco will serve the Dark Lord, as will Hydrus, presumably-" Narcissa's expression twisted into one of distaste and then smoothed a second later. Severus wondered whether he'd seen it at all. "And, as Lucius will not listen to reason, it seems Draco will serve from Gryffindor, unless you can persuade your husband to give the position to Hydrus instead." Narcissa was staring at her lap. Severus thought she was fighting tears again. Mutely, she shook her head.
"Either way, a son of mine will become a blood-traitor and then be forced to spy," she whispered. Personally, Severus would prefer it if Drace was not the blood traitor, but didn't say so. "But it will be Draco. Hydrus is too set in his ways. Draco is younger, easier to influence..." It was probably safer for Draco, too, Severus conceded; Bellatrix, as Hydrus' godmother, would want nothing to do with Hydrus if he was placed in Gryffindor, while Severus would continue to tolerate his own godson. She took a slow, shuddering breath and put her face in her hands. "My son, my poor son..."
Yes, Severus thought, and was surprised to find how miserable he felt; he'd always taken an interest in Draco, of course, but it he'd been careful not to get too attached. He and the Malfoys were on opposing sides, after all. And now they definitely were, because Draco was going to be a spy for the Dark Lord, stuck in Gryffindor for seven long years and have to put up with the Potter brat.
Perhaps the Dark Lord would try to have Draco kill Potter... and then, Draco would become more than just something to be wary of. He'd be a threat, and threats would have to be dealt with. Poor Draco. If he doesn't serve the Dark Lord, he'll be killed. If he does, he'll probably be killed anyway, and I could even be the one to have to do it.
"'... where better to stand than at Potter's shoulder'? Oh, Lucius..." Narcissa murmured, a moment later. Severus pulled himself out of his own thoughts and glanced across the desk at her. Tears were still running down her pale cheeks, but otherwise, she looked remarkably composed. "Teach him," she said, more to herself than to him, he thought.
"Teach him what?"
"To lie. To notice things," she said. The words seemed to be torn from her against her will, but she said them with conviction. It was... odd. "Teach him to survive, like you have." Severus just stared. "You fooled Dumbledore, for Salazar's sake! Teach him to do the same!" She leaned forward and gripped the front of his robes. "Please, Severus. Train him to be a spy, so when the Dark Lord returns, Draco will be ready, will know what to do. Please."
"This is what you want?" he asked stiffly.
"Yes," she whispered, but her expression and tone said the opposite.
"And what about what Draco wants?" Severus asked softly, though it was more to buy himself time. Narcissa took another shuddering breath.
"What he needs is more important."
