I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-Nine
Severus arrived home from Lucius' twenty-second birthday party in a slightly less morose mood than he'd gone with. He'd dropped Glenna off at her house, staying only long enough to snog on the front porch before her parents signaled it was time for her to come in, leaving him with little choice but to go home himself. He dreaded going home for altogether different reasons than he used to dread it.
He Apparated into the back garden and straightened the fine black robes Mr. Malfoy had given him for Christmas. This was his first opportunity to wear the robes apart from the day he'd received them, and it made him smile. No matter what anyone said, the Malfoys were good people. As noiselessly as possible he cracked open the back door and slipped inside, expecting everyone to be asleep. To his dismay, Tobias and Eileen were on the couch, sitting close together, his arm around her shoulders.
"Hi," Severus said quietly.
The couple turned their heads. "Hi, Severus, did you have a good time?" asked Eileen in a tired, strained voice.
"Yeah. The Malfoys know how to put on a party." He walked around to sit in a ratty armchair facing his parents. "How come you're still up?"
"Your mum wasn't feelin' well," answered Tobias. "She couldn't sleep." The bags under his eyes could attest the same of him.
"I told your father to go to bed, but he won't listen," she said, chiding.
"Dad, go on to bed. I'll keep mum company till she's ready to sleep," said Severus.
Tobias looked at his wife, who gave him an encouraging smile and nod. He got up, kissed her, and turned to his son with an expression of gratitude in his eyes. "Goodnight, son." One hand patted Severus' shoulder warmly, then he went on to his room.
"Goodnight, dad." The tenderness of his father's touch shot through him as something he'd not felt in so long he'd forgotten it existed, and his eyes followed the man out of the room. His gaze drifted back to his mother. "Are you okay, mum? Can I get you anything?"
"I'm fine, sweetie," she answered with the nickname for him she used only when they were alone. "I'm so proud of you, Severus—your dad and me both. This whole—thing—is hard on us all, yet you stepped right up to help."
She was referring to the potions he'd brewed, he assumed, which in his mind constituted practically nothing at all. "I wish I could be of assistance for real, mum. The money Lucius has been paying me isn't enough. When I graduate I'll get a job so I can contribute properly."
"What would you like to do after graduation?" Eileen asked.
Severus paused, stumped. He'd never honestly taken the time to think out what he'd like to be or do, since he didn't envision ever having the chance to create his own path. Lord Voldemort determined the course of his life; whatever Severus might want or like or care about was irrelevant. Still, it didn't hurt to dream. "I'd like to have my own potions shop where witches and wizards from all over the world would come for special brews only I knew how to make."
Eileen smiled indulgently. That was her boy, alright. "You could do it, you know. I'll bet Lucius Malfoy would loan you the money to start a business."
"Maybe," Severus hedged. No doubt existed in his mind that Lucius would loan him the money if he asked—probably outright give him the money if Narcissa got pregnant soon, but he couldn't take advantage that way. How many years would it take to repay such a loan? More than he cared to think about.
"I wish your father and I could lend a hand. We'd like to see our children living in a better place than this to raise their families."
"You did the best you could, mum. I'm not complaining."
"No, you're not one to complain, Severus," she said softly. Then, out of the blue she asked, "Are you planning to marry Glenna?"
Eyebrows raised a notch, Severus shrugged noncommittally. "We're too young to think about that."
"You used to like that redhead girl, what was her name—Lily. Whatever happened to her?"
"We were just friends," he said roughly, blushing. "We don't even speak anymore."
"Glenna's a nice girl, you should think about your future," Eileen persisted.
"Mum, can we talk about something else? This is kind of personal."
"Fine. Come sit with me." Severus got up, moved to the couch, and lightly touched down beside his mother. She stroked her hand across the fabric of his sleeve, delighted by its softness, its sheer finery. Those Malfoys sure do know how to live, she thought. "Tell me a story to put me to sleep."
"You want me to bore you to sleep?" he asked drolly. "How flattering."
"Severus…"
"Okay. Once upon a time there was a Prince and a werewolf…" he began, smiling to himself. With a little tweaking, this story could turn out very satisfactorily, especially at the part where the evil knave who tricked the Prince gets eaten by his own dear werewolf friend.
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"Mr. Malfoy, Douglas Cabe is here to see you." Lucius' secretary waited in the doorway for instructions. She dared not simply send the man in and risk enduring one of Malfoy's calm, snide diatribes that made her feel incredibly small. And the way he condescendingly cocked his eyebrows and gave that arrogant sneer!
"Send him in," said Lucius, not even looking up from the papers on his desk.
A very mediocre-looking man came in and extended a hand to Lucius. From his medium height and build to his average looks to the pedestrian gray robes, he was so ordinary one might forget him the moment he was out of sight. "Mr. Malfoy, how kind of you to call for me. I can't say enough about the generosity of the Malfoy family to St. Mungo's Hospital."
Lucius rose to shake the man's hand, though he found it hard to smile through his troubled countenance. "Of course, Chairman Cabe, the Malfoy name is synonymous with altruism." Here the corners of his mouth jerked upward involuntarily. As a rule, unselfish concern for others hardly made the list of the top ten priorities when donating to a charity. "Won't you have a seat?"
Cabe settled himself in the chair across the desk from Lucius. "Your father is a strong supporter of charitable causes. It's heartening to see his son follow in his footsteps."
"My father is an excellent teacher in many ways." Lucius finished scribbling in a lavish figure on the check before him, then signed his name with a flourish. He held out the check for Cabe to get a glimpse of the number, and watched the man's eyes grow wide with disbelief. "I believe St. Mungo's is hoping to build a new wing. This should assist along those lines."
Cabe managed to snap his gaping mouth shut, then he nodded and cleared his throat. "This is a substantial amount, Mr. Malfoy. We can't thank you enough."
Lucius smiled and nodded in his polite-businessman fashion. "Of course, as you are the Chairman of the Board at St. Mungo's, I must assume you carry great weight in policy matters, or perhaps even isolated cases."
"Yes," Mr. Cabe admitted with a fleeting look of worry, envisioning the money slipping through his grasp.
"So I trust that if any member of the Snape family were in need of care, they would receive said care at severely reduced fees."
"I think that can be arranged," said the Chairman, brightening. "But why reduced fees? Why not free of charge?"
"The family is proud, they would view it as an insult and shun it as such," explained Lucius coolly. Severus would, at any rate. Even if he accepted the care for his mother's sake, he'd resent Lucius for making him feel impotent to pay even a portion of his own way. Malfoy leaned in, eyeing the other man, and drawled, "Naturally, they wouldn't be informed that their rates differed from any other."
"Naturally," agreed Cabe.
Standing up once more, Lucius presented him the check and extended a hand. Cabe pumped his arm up and down furiously while going on about how grateful all the people of St. Mungo's were and what a beneficent being Malfoy was. Lucius walked him out to the corridor where witches and wizards scurried by, others appeared and vanished through the floo network.
"Good day, Chairman Cabe. Oh, and—" He lifted a finger, frowning slightly as if he'd just remembered something. The other man halted in his tracks. "Would it be too much trouble to send a medi-witch round to the Snape residence? I understand Eileen Snape visited someone at St. Mungo's recently. The family perhaps didn't understand that treatment options rival those of the Muggle world, at a fraction of the cost of private care, without a waiting period for services."
"I'll see to it, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you, sir, and have a wonderful day." Cabe stepped into one of the chimney niches and floo'd away.
Long after he'd gone, Lucius continued to stare at the empty spot, unseeing. Only a few days ago, at his birthday celebration, Glenna had taken him aside to let it slip, evidently intentionally, that Severus' mother suffered from inoperable lung cancer. Obviously the girl knew her boyfriend well enough to anticipate his silence on the subject, for Severus hadn't brought up so much as a hint that anything was amiss. He wondered how many other undiscussed calamities had befallen the family in the years he'd known Severus.
The sound of unruly children jostling each other and making undue commotion in a public space caused Lucius to turn around. Three red-haired boys ranging from a toddler to approximately eight years of age were racing down the corridor. The youngest, a wiry little runt, tripped over his own feet, flew through the air headfirst, and collided heavily with the floor face first. His explosive screams ripped down the hallway.
Lucius grimaced as he covered his ears. What kind of parents permitted their children to run wild like barbarians? Malfoy children were polite and well behaved in public, if not always in private. They didn't make scenes, they didn't squall, and they certainly didn't bleed on the floor. Oh, good Lord, the brat was bleeding!
The little boy had been aided to his feet by his brothers; from his nose and mouth, streams of blood dripped onto the second-hand robes that looked suspiciously like a poor attempt at Muggle clothing. Lucius feared if the holy terror of a child weren't soon silenced, everyone within listening distance would become hearing impaired.
With a disgruntled sigh he strode over, waved his wand to staunch the flow of blood, then again to scourgify the pathetic clothes. "I take it nothing is broken," he observed dryly, watching the imp try to wiggle out of his brother's grip.
"Thanks, mister," said the oldest boy. "Percy's okay, he's just clumsy."
"Indeed."
"Biw, wet go!" Percy whined. "Charwie, hewp!"
"Where are your parents?" inquired Lucius with a stern gaze.
"Dad's coming, he got held up—oh, there he is!" Bill pointed down the corridor at none other than Arthur Weasley hurrying toward them. Percy took the opportunity to break free and tear toward his father, who caught him as he plunged once more headfirst at the floor.
Arthur lifted the boy into his arms, breathlessly approaching the others as he tried to imagine what Lucius Malfoy was doing with his family. "Lucius. Is there something you need?"
With a straight face, Lucius drawled, "Yes, Arthur. After your child's little display, I may need a trip to St. Mungo's to repair the damage to my eardrums."
"I'm sorry to inconvenience you," replied Arthur. To the three lads he said in a tone that didn't quite pass as cross, "I told you to wait for me." The boys muttered insincere apologies, though Arthur wasn't listening. He was still wondering why Malfoy hadn't gone on his way.
"You know, Arthur, I didn't realize today was 'bring your litter to work' day. Perhaps I should have marked it on my calendar."
Unable to resist a cruel retort, Arthur said pleasantly, "As soon as you manage to have a litter, let me know. I'll be sure to keep you posted." He hustled the children off down the hallway.
The wand in Lucius' fingers twitched with a sheer desire to hex the man out of existence. While he couldn't tolerate the horrid thought of raising dozens of brats as Weasley apparently did, it struck at his heart to know he never could have a troop of his own. It seemed blatantly unjust that blood traitors like Weasley could produce children on practically a daily basis, yet he and Narcissa struggled to conceive even one.
Brooding silently, he stalked back to his office and slammed the door.
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Severus hated the Hogwarts train. If it weren't for Glenna, he'd shun it for the rest of his life. However, since Glenna liked riding with her friends, and more especially she enjoyed the hours together snuggling with Severus, he'd consented to step foot on the loathsome express. Already he was beginning to regret it. First he'd had a minor run-in with Peter Pettigrew, who'd turned tail and scurried away like a rat when Severus brandished his wand. Now his roommate Nott was bothering him.
"Sev, can I talk to you?"
"Can't it wait until we get to school?" He found it patently pointless in belaboring the issue of being called 'Sev'; it had done no good for the past two years, it would likely do no good now.
"I don't think so."
Severus got up, stepped outside the compartment, and slid the door closed. "What is it, Nott?"
"There's something wrong with Mulciber," said the boy in a hushed voice.
"And that concerns me how?"
"Everybody knows you're good at healing. Can you help him?"
Severus rolled his eyes. Admittedly, Nott wasn't the brightest candle on the stand, but he had to know of the rivalry for Glenna's affections, the ensuing animosity. "Could I help? Maybe. Do I want to? No."
He placed his hand on the compartment door handle; Nott tugged on his arm, pulling him away, upsetting his balance and nearly sending him face first into the opposite wall. Glowering fiercely, Severus stood up and wheeled to face him.
"Do that again and you'll be in need of healing," he hissed.
"Sorry," squeaked Nott. "Snape, come on, at least look at him."
Demanding that he send Mulciber to the hospital not being an option at the moment, Severus said, "Aren't there any teachers on board?"
Nott shook his head. With a disgruntled grimace, Severus followed him down three compartments. Inside, Jack Mulciber lay on his side across one full seat, moaning softly. Opposite him sat another seventh year, looking extremely grave. Severus came in and knelt down beside Mulciber, wand in hand. If this was Mulciber's idea of a joke, Severus would give him reason to need the infirmary.
As soon as Severus laid eyes on Jack's face, he knew it was no prank. One eye was bruised and swollen shut, and his hands gripped his abdomen. He pressed a palm to Jack's forehead; the skin was warm with growing fever.
"Mulciber, what happened?"
"His dad did it," Nott answered for him. "They were on the platform waiting for the train, I saw the whole thing. He was chewing him out about something, then he hexed Jack in the stomach when he thought nobody was around. Well, he saw me, but he didn't care."
Severus gingerly rolled the boy face up, revealing what appeared to be an older bruise on his other cheek. With gentle, palpitating motions he inspected Jack's abdomen, where the pain and tenderness on the left side under his ribs was more severe.
"Mulciber, this is very important, listen to me. I think you may have a ruptured spleen. Do you feel dizzy or confused? Can you see alright?"
"No, I'm okay," he mumbled back.
"What's a ruptured spleen?" asked Nott.
"The spleen is an organ. If it gets ripped, it causes internal bleeding. Even a small rip can cause bleeding to death if he doesn't get medical assistance," explained Severus, feeling like he was talking to a ten-year-old. Honestly, didn't half the students at Hogwarts ever crack a book?
"Can you fix it?"
"I don't know." Severus pointed his wand at the damaged area, muttering sing-song incantations to stem the flow of blood and to repair tissue. How successful he was, he had no idea. Another spell to alleviate abdominal bruising and swelling brought some relief. "As soon as we get to Hogwarts, you need to go to the infirmary."
"They'd tell him! That's all he'd need to prove how weak and worthless I am," Jack said bitterly. His voice was stronger now, less full of agony.
"Dammit, Mulciber, you could die! I can't verify that I fixed your spleen," Snape argued irritably.
"I don't care, let me die!" answered Jack. "It's better than having him find out people know what he did. He'll punish me again." All at once his tone changed to pleading. "Anyway, it was my fault for embarrassing him by getting suspended, and he was just warning me not to get in trouble again. He's hit me with that spell lots of times before without hurting me. Don't tell him."
Severus and Nott exchanged grim glances, and in that instant Severus recognized something that made him almost physically ill: Nott had known all along about Mulciber, Sr., the way he treated Jack, the Cruciatus. None of it was new to him. It shouldn't be surprising, though, since Nott, Sr. was also a Death Eater, their families were likely friendly with each other. But why had he never said anything? Then again, why would he? It was only asking for problems.
"We're not telling anybody," said Severus gruffly. Another few swipes and flicks of his wand eliminated the facial bruises and substantially reduced the swelling to nearly unnoticeable. "When you go to the infirmary, say you fell on the step getting on the train. That will account for any accumulation of blood."
Jack nodded. "Thanks, Snape."
"Yeah." Severus got up. "By the way, I thought what you did to the Potter puke was brilliant. I wish I could've been there."
Mulciber grinned in spite of the pain. "I thought it was pretty clever myself. If I hadn't got caught, I'll bet my dad would've laughed his head off about it."
"He probably would," Severus concurred. "I'm going back to my compartment now. Nott, make sure he doesn't move around, and drag him to Madame Pomfrey if you have to." He slid open the door and left.
Nott, who'd been hovering above Severus during the ministrations, finally sat down next to the other boy, his eyes still fixed on Mulciber. They'd been friends since they were small boys. His dad hadn't meant to hurt him, had he? No, of course not, he'd hexed him that way before, Nott had borne witness to it on other occasions. Yet, so close on the heels of the meeting with the dark lord…
"Extend your left arm," ordered Lord Voldemort.
Nott had done as asked, felt the wand touch his flesh, and he'd screamed with an agony he'd never felt or knew existed. Then it was over. As simple as that he was a Death Eater like his father.
Nott rubbed a hand across the sensitive flesh of his forearm. It would take a few days to stop hurting, he'd been told. A range of emotions ran through his mind: pride, fear, uncertainty. He was a Death Eater now, he was special. Because of who he was, he dared not fail in whatever the master demanded of him, yet his father had assured him Lord Voldemort wouldn't ask anything right away, and even later it would be simple things. Simple was good. He scowled to recall the way Mulciber's father had spoken of him, saying things Nott wouldn't repeat to him.
Lord Voldemort turned away from Nott, who now knelt on the stone floor hugging his arm. Aside from his father, Nott recognized Jack's dad, Avery and his son, and Dolohov. The master was speaking to Mulciber, Sr.
"Lewis, your son is of age now, isn't he?"
"Yes, my lord." He seemed honestly confused as to the nature of this questioning.
"Avery brought his son a few years back. Nott has brought his son. Do you not see fit to bring your own into my service? Are you disloyal to the cause?"
"My lord, I'm completely loyal!" Lewis Mulciber exclaimed, falling to his knees. "I've served you for over twenty years! If I thought my worthless spawn could serve you properly, I'd have brought him when he turned sixteen."
The master stood over him, intimidating in his savage visage, in the wand nonchalantly balanced on his palm, in the snakelike hiss escaping him. "I think myself competent to judge whether a candidate is acceptable, Lewis."
"Yes, my lord, it's just…" Mulciber actually blushed as if from shame, ducking his head. "He's…he's only a notch above retarded, master. He'd be worse than useless, he'd be a hindrance to our noble cause. How could I show you such disrespect by asking you to include him among your Death Eaters?"
Lord Voldemort's wand snapped up, lifting Mulciber's face. He took two steps forward to peer into the man's eyes. After only a minute he let Mulciber go. "I suppose your hesitancy was valid. I hardly need a cretin prattling about."
Nott clenched his fists in silent fury. Jack wasn't retarded! And yet, his dad must view him that way, for Voldemort was satisfied with his explanation after sifting his thoughts and memories. Jack would never be permitted to be a Death Eater now, he'd be lucky not to be killed on the spot if he convinced someone else to take him to the dark lord. Nott would have to talk to him about that, make sure he understood where he stood with the master.
He leaned back, letting the tension ease from his body. It was just as well. Jack only wanted to be a Death Eater to please his father; since that wasn't going to happen, he'd be better off this way. He hoped they'd still be friends after they graduated and went their separate ways. And Severus. He was a Death Eater, yet he never wanted to talk about it, maybe because Nott wasn't yet one of the fold. Now he was, and he couldn't wait to hear what Severus had to say about it.
