WANTING NARCISSA

by Amandah Leigh

Frustrated by 20 yrs of infidelity from her beloved husband, Narcissa Malfoy offers Severus Snape a mutually beneficial arrangement: her body in exchange for his companionship. But what happens when she begins to develop more than lust for the emotionally-unavailable Potions Master? Could falling for him be dangerous? Narcissa/Snape, Narcissa/Lucius, Bellatrix/Voldemort, COMPLETE

36. Narcissa's Birthday, March, 1998

A/N: Hi! Sorry for the delay in posting. This chapter is lllloooonnnnggg. It was all mapped out (they all are) but when I actually sat down to write it, I hated it. Thus I rewrote it. Then I scrapped that and rewrote it again. Then edited it. And ended up with this, over 19,000 words covering exactly one day in the life of Narcissa Malfoy. Anyway, this will probably be my last update for this fic until after Chanukah starts and Christmas ends, since I haven't started my shopping for either yet and it's already December 21st. Thankfully the next chapter is already complete (just needs editing) so look for it on December 26th. Thanks for your patience! Happy Holidays! AL

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Chapter Thirty-six – Narcissa's Birthday, 1998

"It's your birthday, Cissy!" Bellatrix announced over breakfast in the kitchen. No one else was around (save for the Rowles, who were talking about returning home now that the Aurors would be unable to arrest them, thanks to the Dark Lord's complete control over the Ministry) thus it was safe to have the baby downstairs. Rodolphus and Rabastan had already eaten and taken off, destination unknown, and Bellatrix did not know the Dark Lord's plan for the day.

"I'm forty-three," Narcissa said glumly, staring down at the scrambled eggs she'd made, not at all interested in eating. "I'm forty-three and I feel twice that."

"You're still three years and eleven months younger than I am." Bella patted the bottom of baby Nova, who was attached to her via a sling of sorts she'd configured herself from a long, soft scarf. "What do you want to do today? We should go out. I'll take you out for the afternoon. We can leave Nova with that lovesick house elf for a couple of hours between feedings. We'll slip into Muggle London for a couple of extra bottles and some formula, in case I need you to care for her again in the future, then we'll go to Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, window shop, grab an early dinner… It's been two weeks – you realize she'll be two weeks tomorrow? – and I haven't been anywhere in months. I'll treat."

"That would be lovely," said Narcissa, thinking if she could convince her sister to return home without her that would also be a great way to get off the grounds to meet Severus later.

"It's official," said Euphemia, entering the kitchen. "We'll be returning home tomorrow." She looked disappointed, which made little sense to Bellatrix, but Narcissa knew it was due to the fact that Euphemia would now be finding it more difficult to continue her affair with Rodolphus. "We no longer have to hide out."

"That's great," said Bellatrix enthusiastically. "I'm sure you're both relieved."

Euphemia sighed, settled herself at the end of the table, and summoned over a mug and the tea kettle. "Thorfinn says it's overdue. He says I've been worrying for nothing for far too long. The Ministry is under the Dark Lord's control. Thorfinn's ability to get the Taboo in place proves it. He says we could have gone home months ago, but I was too worried."

"Is there anything you need to help you move?" asked Narcissa, hoping not to sound over-eager. "The house elves are at your disposal, of course."

"Thank you." Euphemia sighed again, this time into her mug. The trio sat in silence for several minutes, Bellatrix eating cluelessly, Euphemia sipping somberly, and Narcissa pushing food around her plate with her fork.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed slowly. While Bellatrix was in the nursery giving detailed instructions to Squeakers, Narcissa slipped into her sister's unlocked room to steal a dress. In the wardrobe she found what she hoped was the perfect one – she wasn't sure whether it fit the definition of a 'cocktail dress,' but it was attractive, looked as though it would fit her, and was dressier than the blouses and skirts without being formal. She shrunk it down to the size of a folded handkerchief and shoved it in the pocket of her robes, then hurried back to her own room before she could be caught. A few minutes later, Bellatrix knocked on her door.

"Ready, Cissy? You look nice!"

Narcissa smiled. She was wearing makeup for the first time in nearly a month – since the last time she'd been out with Severus, actually – and her hair was held half-back and braided. Little by little it had gotten darker and darker and she colored out more and more of the blonde, though with it pulled back the light undertones were even more striking. She'd even given herself a manicure – Slytherin green nails, which she'd manage to grow out to be almost as long as her sister's. Her dress was long, plain, and shimmery-white, mostly covered by a moss green fitted witch's robe with a lighter green pattern down the sides. It was one of her most expensive robes, a gift from Lucius during the period she now knew to be when he was cheating on her with her niece, Nymphadora. She fingered the cocktail dress in her pocket, hoping Bella wouldn't realize it was missing, and figuring she could easily transfigure the robe into a Muggle-worthy coat later.

"You look good, too, Bella," said Narcissa genuinely. Bellatrix was wearing her usual black-on-black, a floor-length dress with a corset-style bodice, lower cut than one would typically wear just to go shopping, with sleeves missing material in the shoulders and in between the cords tying the arms. She had lost quite a bit of weight post-baby already, but it was distributed different than it used to be – her chest was noticeably bigger, thanks to the breastfeeding, and she had what she bitterly referred to as a "Nova-induced kangaroo pouch" in her lower midsection that didn't seem to be disappearing despite her efforts to eat well and keep active. Bellatrix placed her hand on it now, trying to suck her stomach in, and looked nervously to her younger sister.

"Do you think… will anyone be able to tell, you know?"

"Hardly anyone has seen you in sixteen years. Those who saw you after Azkaban will think you've gained weight because you're no longer starving, those who knew you before will think you look as attractive as you did then, and those who only recognize you from your Wanted posters will think this is an improvement… if they're not too terrified to look upon you at all. You've got quite the reputation among both our friends and our enemies."

"Don't be silly, Cissy," said Bella, who tugged her sister's braid affectionately. "We haven't got have any friends."

Narcissa giggled. "Alright then. Among our enemies and our non-enemies. More accurate?"

"I'm not even sure which people we know could fit into the category 'non-enemies.' I'm not as popular in adulthood as I was at Hogwarts."

"The lack of sleep post-baby must be making you delusional. You weren't popular at Hogwarts either."

Bella stuck her tongue out at her, but her eyes sparkled with good-humor. "I was too popular. Winifred was my friend and Zillah followed me around like an affection-starved puppy, and our three other bunkmates, Vivienne, Liesl, and Piper, they treated me like I was Queen of the Dormitory. Girls in the younger years both admired and reviled me and the Slytherin boys all wanted me to suck them off."

"That's vulgar," chastised Narcissa, following her sister down the hall. "You ought to clean up your language before that baby of yours learns to babble."

"Why?" Bella flashed her sister a grin. "Are you afraid she'll use her first words to call her uncle Lucius a tosser?"

"Always a class act, Bellatrix," said Rodolphus, entering the hall from his bedroom. "Headed out?"

"I have permission!" Bellatrix snapped defensively, poking her wand in his direction. Her husband held his hands up as if in surrender. "Where are you going? I thought you left already?"

"I did leave already. Now I'm back and leaving again, this time overnight. The Dark Lord is sending Rabastan and I out to do the work of Snatchers, because apparently He's losing faith in them. He'd hoped to have found Potter by now."

"I know what He hopes," Bellatrix replied testily. "And it's 'Rabastan and me,' not 'Rabastan and I.'"

"Thanks so much, dear," he said sarcastically. He looked to Narcissa. "Aren't you eternally grateful that my wife's here to correct everyone's grammar? Whatever would the Dark Lord do without His most faithful and loyal English professor?"

Bellatrix flipped him the two finger salute, grabbed Narcissa by the wrist and pulled her to the stairs. They hurried down to the first floor and out the door without another word. Once at the apparition point, Bella took Narcissa's hands and apologized to her.

"For what?"

"It's not fair that you can't come and go like the rest of us. Only you and Wormtail are stuck. Everyone else has received the Dark Mark."

"Even Euphemia?"

"Even Euphemia."

"What about Juliet?"

"Juliet too."

Narcissa sighed. "If not being able to apparate to or from my own home is the price I must pay to avoid having the image of a snake and skull burned into my skin, I suppose it's worth the inconvenience."

"Is it, though? You could ask Him, Cissy. You could ask Him to brand you. It doesn't mean you have to become a member of His inner circle. Euphemia's barely peripheral. You might not have to kill anyone."

"Might not?"

"Probably might not."

"Probably might not?"

Bellatrix grimaced. "Okay… you probably might not have to kill anyone you'd feel bad about killing, how's that?"

"I'm fine, thanks. The Dark Lord thinks I'm useless and He's right. I couldn't kill anyone. I couldn't even curse anyone. Not really. Not significantly. I wouldn't know how. I'm weak. I've always been weak. You know that. Let's just go?"

"Okay," said Bellatrix, looking somewhat disappointed. She gripped Cissy's hands more tightly, closed her eyes, and apparated.

They were in Knockturn Alley but didn't remain there. It was after three and neither had eaten lunch, so they headed to Dovelings, where Lucius had recently taken Narcissa. Though she'd felt uncomfortable the last time she'd been there with her husband, it was actually one of her favorite restaurants, and even during and after the First War, it had always been relatively Death Eater friendly. The proprietors, Ichabod and Isobel Dovelings, were an elderly married couple, and firm believers in the importance of blood purity. It was rumored they'd even supported Grindelwald at the height of his power, and Ichobod's eldest brother was one of many Nurmengard guards arrested and subsequently imprisoned there after Grindelwald's defeat by Dumbledore.

Ichobod Dovelings himself hurried over to take their order, even though it had been decades since he manned the dining room or kitchen, technically speaking. He was, however, always present, and frequently insisted upon taking the place of his waitstaff when the more important customers were in attendance. When she'd dined at Dovelings with Lucius, Ichobod had merely come to say hello while they were eating, adding credence to her husband's claims that he'd largely fallen out of favor with the entire wizarding community, but apparently Bellatrix, despite her lengthy stint in Azkaban, was not to suffer the same fate.

"Bellatrix Black Lestrange!" The tiny wizard clapped his hands together, then took one of Bella's in his and shook it, looking pleased as punch. "So many years I have not seen you, but I would recognize those eyes anywhere. I remember you as a girl, when you'd come in with your mother and father. Such wonderful people."

"Yes," said Bellatrix, arrogantly but not without warmth. "My father was a wonderful person."

"You'd sit on my knee and tell me tall tales of magical adventures you'd claimed to have had, always casting yourself as the heroine. What imagination! Isobel! Isobel, get over here!"

His wife, who was even tinier and plumper than he, waddled over, adjusting her spectacles. "What is it, Icobod?"

"Look! Look who it is! Little Bellatrix Black."

"I'm not exactly little anymore," Bella pointed out. "I'm a month away from forty-seven."

"Still little to me!" he said. Both Bella and Narcissa rolled their eyes, but the tiny couple didn't notice. Now Isobel was clutching Bellatrix's hand.

"My dear girl! A more precocious child I've never seen. Where have you been?" The white-haired woman dropped her voice and leaned in close. "We know, of course, about your unfortunate imprisonment, but we read the news of your breakout over two years ago, and ever since the second rise of You-Know-Who since then, we've wondered whether we'd see you again. When we'd see you again."

"I wish I could've come by sooner," said Bellatrix, clearly loving this attention. "But I've been kept very busy with my work for the Dark Lord. He regards me very highly. As you are no doubt aware, I was one of few who refused to renounce Him after the fall. I alone knew He would rise again."

"If only we had known," said Ichobod, looking forlorn. "We'd hoped, of course we'd hoped, but…"

"It's lovely to see you again, dear," said Isobel, cutting him off and glancing nervously around the restaurant, clearly afraid there could be Aurors or Order members nearby. "And your sister. Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy." Isobel had delighted in calling the youngest Black sister "Mrs. Malfoy" ever since she got married, as the name was one of significantly elevated status… until recently.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Dovelings," said Narcissa politely.

"What will you have?" asked Ichobod, pulling out his wand to jot the order into the air and hover it to the kitchen. "The special today is lamb chops and the soup is French onion. You always liked my French onion soup."

"You make the best French onion soup," said Bellatrix and Ichobod beamed in response. "But today I'll have the Dorset blue lobster tail and a baked potato. I've been craving shellfish for months but I couldn't have it because I was pr– ouch!"

Narcissa had kicked her sister in the shin under the table.

"You couldn't have shellfish because you were what, dear?" asked Isobel. Bellatrix and Narcissa exchanged a glance.

"I wasn't hungry," Bellatrix covered. "Though now I am."

Narcissa fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew she wasn't adept at making up a story on the spot (the conversation with the American couple at the play showed her that much) but she'd assumed her sister would be a pro at it. Or, at the very least, not terrible.

"And you, dear?" asked Icobod.

"I'll have the lamb chops," answered Narcissa. "Also with a potato."

"Very good, very good!" said Ichobod. He sent the order to the kitchen, but followed after the floating words, calling, "I need the best lobster!"

"That silly man," said Isobel, rolling her eyes. "He didn't even ask what you want to drink. Eduardo!" She beckoned over a good-looking young waiter with dark hair slicked back into a low ponytail. Narcissa noticed that Bellatrix looked him over appraisingly, seemingly impressed by his physique. "This is Mrs. Lestrange and her sister, Mrs. Malfoy. You will be their waiter. Take good care of them. We've known Miss Bellatrix since she was a toddler. Forty-five years this summer. Seems like yesterday."

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" Eduardo asked. His eyes widened as he looked over Bella as she had him. Clearly the attraction was mutual."I've heard of you."

"Whatever you've heard, it's probably true," she said. "My sister will have a glass of your most expensive red wine…"

"Pinot Noir," interjected Narcissa. "I'll have Pinot Noir."

"And I want a glass of something that will pair nicely with lobster."

"May I recommend a white burgundy?" asked Eduardo.

Bellatrix smiled flirtatiously. "You may. That's what I'll have. Also, it's my sister's birthday, Eduardo, so be extra nice to her."

"Your birthday!" Ichobod, returning to their table, took Narcissa's hand, almost as if he'd just realized she was there too. "Happiest of birthdays, Mrs. Malfoy. I remember you as a little girl too. You only came in once or twice before your father died, because he was sick so long. Terribly quiet you were at his funeral, hugging that stuffed animal. Was it a bear?"

"A bunny," said Narcissa automatically. She shook her head. "I think, I mean, I don't know. I can't remember. It was a long time ago."

"A bunny, of course!" said Isobel. "I'll never forget it. Andromeda crying, Bella putting on her brave face, and little Cissy, hugging that bunny for dear life."

"Isobel! Please! She doesn't want to remember her father's funeral on her birthday!" scolded Ichobod.

Isobel glared at him. "You brought it up!"

"I'll get your drinks," said Eduardo. With one last look up and down Bellatrix, he hurried away.

"Well, we'll leave you to enjoy lunch," said Isobel, taking her husband by the arm. "Happy to have you back, Mrs. Lestrange."

At the sound of her name, several other restaurant patrons glanced over before leaning closer to their dining companions to discuss her presence in hushed tones.

"They're too much," said Bellatrix, once the couple had left them alone and the staring had ceased. "We came here for dinner at least once a week when I was small, before Father got sick. You probably don't remember."

"I don't," admitted Narcissa. "I don't have many positive childhood memories. It seems that the bad sticks so much better than the good."

"That's because you were a baby for all the good ones. But let's talk about something else. As Mrs. Dovelings said, we don't want to think about Father's funeral on your birthday."

"You ordered lobster," said Narcissa. "You're still craving seafood even after that secret crab I snuck you?"

"Yes. And I ordered wine because I thought it would seem juvenile to get anything else, but honestly, I'd rather have a cold butterbeer and I have no idea what whatever I ordered will even taste like. Adulthood rots."

Narcissa giggled. "You'll like it. And if you don't, pretend. That's what grownups do."

The rest of their meal was pleasant. They spoke no more about Father, Mother, or even the Dark Lord, and it was easy for Narcissa to forget all the years that had passed since she'd last been to Dovelings for lunch with her sister, though she couldn't help feeling a pang remembering how she'd come here with both Bellatrix and Andromeda every year when they went to Diagon Alley with Mother to do the Hogwarts shopping, before Bella started insisting upon doing it all herself with a friend instead, leaving her younger sisters at home with Mother and Stepfather, which Narcissa always thought was a selfish thing to do. Thankfully it only lasted a couple of years, then Stepfather was murdered, and later Andromeda was disowned, and for her last year at Hogwarts, Narcissa shopped alone and ate lunch there only out of habit, feeling terrible lonely.

After Bellatrix paid (she insisted her sister should not contribute, being it was her birthday) they wandered around Horizont Alley, Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley, going into many of their favorite shops, but not buying anything save for a couple of Chocolate Frogs Bellatrix wanted to bring back for her daughter.

"It's never too early to start a child's Chocolate Frog card collection," Bellatrix had said to justify buying candy for a two week old. She opened one to eat it right away. "Ew, Dumbledore. The Dark Lord should take charge and make them print new cards." She gasped, stopped walking, and grabbed Narcissa by the arm. "Do you think I could be on a card, Cissy? I should ask the Dark Lord if I can be on a Chocolate Frog card!"

"I'm certain that'll be His top priority," replied Narcissa sarcastically. Bella made a face at her. "Are you going to bring the Dumbledore home for her?"

"I suppose." Bellatrix slipped it into her pocket. "As soon as she can sit up properly I'll buy her a toy wand and she can use it to pretend to fire hexes at him, like target practice. I had a play wand as a child. I used to make believe I was the daughter of Grindelwald, sent to avenge his death, and in doing so I'd end up taking control of the entire wizarding world."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, Bella, but I don't believe he's dead."

"He's not. But that's what I used to pretend. I'd also sometimes pretend that I went back to 1945 using a secret Time Turner and I'd warn him about Dumbledore coming, and then together we'd wait for him, and defeat him, and then go on to rule the wizarding world togeth… why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm batshit crazy."

"I simply never knew this about you, that's all. By the time I was old enough to develop an imagination, the only make believe scenarios I could come up with were terrifying."

Bellatrix was distracted, though, and didn't hear what her sister had said.

"Is that Rodolphus? Over there…?"

They had wandered back into Knockturn Alley, which was dimly lit even in the brightness of the late afternoon. At the far end, just beyond the door to the last shop, stood a couple, holding hands, leaning close to each other. The man whispered something in the woman's ear, placed his hand on her lower back, and she laughed. Though they were not kissing, or anything of that nature, they were clearly a couple. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "That is my husband… and Euphemia Rowle!" She lifted her wand and without a word sent a stinging hex in their direction, which thankfully missed all passers by, but, unfortunately for him, got Rodolphus squarely in the left shoulder.

Bellatrix apparated from where she stood beside her sister, appearing directly beside her husband. Narcissa did the same, but reappeared a few feet away, unwilling to put herself in the middle of a fight.

"I doubt Euphemia is Potter in disguise, dear, so I can't for the life of me figure out why you're here with her instead of off in the woods somewhere tracking the boy with the other Snatchers."

"I don't have to set out for that assignment until sundown," said Rodolphus. "Thought I deserved a little fun first."

Euphemia, on the other hand, looked scared. "Please don't tell Thorfinn. We weren't doing anything, I swear!"

"I'll do much worse than tell your husband!" sneered Bellatrix furiously. "Fucking around on me? In broad daylight? You'll be lucky to make it back to Thorfinn alive! And you!" She turned back to her husband. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You're going to be sore at me for cheating on you?" Rodolphus laughed. "That's rich."

"I've never lied to you, you cowardly bastard! If you were going to go around shagging some ugly housewife, you could have told me."

"Seems a bit hypocritical, doesn't it, to be upset, considering all the many men you've been with since you got married?" asked Euphemia, who immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified by her own words. Bellatrix rounded on her, lifting her wand, clearly about to curse her, but Narcissa intervened. She waved her wand in her sister's face, saying, "Obliviate." Bella's eyes went blank and unfocused.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Cissy?"

"We've just run into Rodolphus," said Narcissa, her voice low. "He's been looking for you. Nova needs you."

"My baby?" Subconsciously, Bellatrix placed her hands on her chest, remembering that it had been awhile since she last nursed the newborn, and suddenly feeling physically uncomfortable. "I have to feed her."

"You should go," said Narcissa, taking hold of Bella's wrists and moving her hands down. "I've had a lovely afternoon with you – thank you for making my birthday a happy one, all things considered… but your little one needs her mummy."

"But Cissy… We didn't… We never went into Muggle London to buy, you know…"

"Bottles and formula? I know. It's okay. I'll pick up what we need, then Euphemia can apparate me back onto the grounds later, before she moves the rest of her belonging back to her home. But you should go. It's okay."

"I… Okay." Bellatrix still looked confused, but she nodded. "Come along, Rodolphus. You can apparate me home, can't you, dear? I… I feel dizzy."

"Uh…" He glanced first at Narcissa, then Euphemia, then at his wife. "Fine."

They disapparated with a Pop.

"Why did you do that?" asked Euphemia, looking over Narcissa with suspicion. Narcissa had to think fast. What excuse could she give the woman? She went with the first thing that came to mind.

"We didn't, you know."

"Didn't what?"

"Kill your friend, Endora Selwyn. Neither my sister nor I was responsible for her death. I know you believe otherwise and I doubt anything I say can convince you, but I've been meaning to speak with you about it for months. I put it off so things wouldn't be awkward around Malfoy Manor, but now that you're leaving… I hated Endora for what she tried to do, don't misunderstand, I hated her and I wasn't sorry when she died, but I didn't kill her, and neither did Bellatrix. She would've liked to, I'm sure, but she was locked up, and trust me, if she'd managed to get out for any length of time she would not have gone back, not under any circumstances. Your friend committed suicide. She was devastated by my husband's rejection and she hung herself to punish him – to punish us – for hurting her. That's the truth."

Euphemia wrung her hands anxiously, clearly wondering how Narcissa knew about her suspicions, and unable to formulate a response.

"When you return to Malfoy Manor, inform Bella that I've decided to go to Hogsmeade to see Draco and that I'll bring the baby stuff with me when I return. And you should probably stay away from my sister's husband. She doesn't like him much, but she also doesn't like to share, and she especially doesn't like it when people take what's hers, or when she feels people are keeping secrets from her."

"Tell me one thing," requested Euphemia, finding her voice again. "The baby's father… is it Rodolphus?"

"I honestly can't say," said Narcissa. "She told me no, but he told Lucius yes. I'm not sure whether either of them really know. Does it matter?"

"No," said Euphemia. "I suppose it doesn't."

Narcissa began to walk away, but turned back. "One last bit of advice… I wouldn't recommend trying to Obliviate my sister as I just did. She's a superb Legilimens. If you, or anyone else, were to try that with her, she'd know. And she'd kill you."

"Duly noted," said Euphemia, still looking shaken. Narcissa strode away haughtily, head held high, and hurried toward the Leaky Cauldron, stopping only briefly in the apothecary for much needed supplies so she could brew more Dreamless Sleep, 10 Hour Sedatives, the birth control potion… and even another batch of Amortentia, since Severus apparently Vanished hers the night he found her drunk in the attic, and she couldn't remember what it had smelled liked.

She went through the Leaky Cauldron to get from Diagon Alley to the Muggle world, where she navigated herself to one of the shops where she'd previously purchased hair color. She did a decent enough job of handling Muggle money (the trick was to give them far more than the item could possibly cost, then trust that they'd passed back the correct change). She picked up three glass bottles, new lipstick (dark red), and a box of formula to have for emergency purposes, so she'd never again have to dilute and sweeten cow's milk should she find herself caring for the baby for a few hours. Once her items were purchased, she returned to the Leaky Cauldron. From the area behind it, where she could cross into Diagon Alley, she instead disapparated, reappearing behind the bookshop in Hogsmeade.

It was still only 6:58, which meant she had over an hour to kill. It was unfortunate she and her sister hadn't run into Rodolphus and Euphemia an hour later, but such is life. She went into Gladrags Wizardwear, seeking a handsome new robe for Lucius (for the first time truly understanding why he bought her so many gifts when he was cheating… guilt was a powerful emotion). Next she wandered around Honeydukes, where she picked up peanut butter fudge and salted caramel chocolate quills for Draco. At 7:51 she rushed to the post office, glad it was open late on Saturdays, so she could Owl the baby stuff and Lucius' new robe to Malfoy Manor and the sweets to Hogwarts before meeting Severus.

It was there that she overheard two familiar voices chatting in the back.

Mr. Perchik and Mr. Bagnold. She couldn't recall their first names. They were the two young men she'd met at the Hog's Head on Severus' 37th birthday, the two men Juliet had later assured the Dark Lord would be willing to work for Him. She wondered whether they'd made good on that – Death Eaters, thanks to their separate circles and masks, didn't all know each other, contrary to popular belief. The Dark Lord had done this on purpose during the First War to insure anonymity, especially in the event that certain witches or wizards were captured and tortured for information. They couldn't snitch if they didn't know each other's identities. It was only within His inner circle that they frequently removed their masks, attended meetings like those at Malfoy Manor, and, from the early '70s through the Dark Lord's fall, got together for social occasions unrelated to their work for Him.

"Yeah, I went in there the other day! It's all beat up, lots of dust and mold, looks like a wild animal was caged upstairs. Teeth marks all over. Like werewolves have been there."

"When I was at Hogwarts, we tried I can't tell you how many times to break in, but it was impossible!"

"Not impossible now! The door opens right up with an Alohamora."

"They say it's the most haunted dwelling in all of…"

"I don't know, mate. I didn't hear or see a single ghost. Just creepy teeth marks, overturned and broken furniture, and the brooch."

"The what?"

"I found it on the floor under the couch. Looks expensive. I'll show you; I gave it to the missus. I'll have her wear it when we meet for brunch tomorrow. It's silver with these emeralds and rubies. Had it appraised. They're real. Must have cost a fortune."

Narcissa's eyes widened. She had a silver brooch adorned with emeralds and rubies.

As he went on to describe it to his coworker, she became even more convinced it was the one she'd purchased the day she went to Spinner's End for the first time after entering into her affair with Severus. She'd later worn it Christmas Eve, 1996, and had gone looking for it just yesterday, intending to wear it again on her birthday, but it was missing.

What had she done with it?

She had put it in her pocket. Her coat pocket.

She wore her coat the night it snowed. January 9, 1997.

Severus' birthday.

The night they slept together in the Shrieking Shack.

Had she seen the brooch since then?

That was over a year ago.

Over a year ago.

Had she seen it since then?

She certainly couldn't remember seeing it since then.

Shit. Shit.

She'd lost her brooch at the Shrieking Shack.

And this dunderhead found it.

"Shit!"

"Hullo?" called the one who'd said he'd given the brooch to his wife. That had to be Bagnold. "Someone there?"

"I need to mail two things," said Narcissa.

"It'll have to wait until Monday," he said, coming out from the back, an Owl perched on his forearm. "We're closed. It's after eight."

"It is not yet eight," she replied, standing up straighter, presenting herself the way the world apparently saw her - haughty, demanding, and entitled. She placed baby stuff, the boxed robe, and Draco's confectionaries on the counter. "I demand you send them tonight."

"Mrs. Malfoy," said Bagnold, recognizing her. "My apologies. I'll see to that right away."

"I knew you would," she said. "I've already written the addresses. Here…" She fished a galleon from her pocket and placed it on the counter. "Keep the change. I want them to arrive by Monday morning at the latest, though there's no reason the one headed to Hogwarts shouldn't be there tomorrow."

"Yes, yes of course," he said. "Right away, Mrs. Malfoy."

She nodded, as standoffish and snooty as she'd been prior to her husband's public humiliation. This was the air about her that gave others the impression she was a snob, but it was a role she played, like the actors in the plays and movies Severus likes so much.

"Very well," she said with no intention to add a thank you. "See to it, then."

She turned on her heel and exited.

It was now six minutes to eight. She headed directly for the Shrieking Shack, trying to curb the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was no way they'd ever figure out that the brooch had been hers, thus there was nothing to worry about… right?

When she arrived, he was already standing in the doorway. The sight of him, handsome in his Muggle attire, distracted her momentarily. She froze.

"Evening," he said, almost tentatively, as if he'd been afraid she wouldn't show.

"Are you early or am I late?" she asked.

"Both," he answered.

She glanced around to be sure they were alone then kissed him quickly, tenderly. "Where are we going? I still have to change."

"Come in." He backed up and she entered the Shrieking Shack, which reminded her of the conversation she'd overheard. He closed the door and she relayed it to him as she changed. He noticed that she did not ask him to turn away or avoid looking at her, though she seemed adept at taking one dress off and putting another on without revealing much skin. Still, the level of comfort both made him smile and scared him a little.

"It used to be that the Shrieking Shack was only accessible through a secret passage, the entrance of which is under the Whomping Willow's base, but I suppose when I managed to open the door from inside I must have damaged the protective measures around the Shack. It is most unfortunate that they found your brooch as the only way to get it back would be to admit it's yours, which would surely raise suspicions."

"I know. Zip me?" She turned her back to him. He took two steps closer to her and zipped up the back of the black dress, then, unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed his lips to her shoulder. She reached her right hand up, sliding it under his hair against the back of his neck, and guided him into a kiss. His left hand snaked up her torso to her breast.

"I'm wearing a padded bra, if you must know," she said in a teasing tone. "Otherwise I wouldn't be able to fill out this dress."

He laughed, stepped back, and turned her to face him.

"You're beautiful with or without your padded bra," he assured her. "Shall we depart?"

"In just one moment…" She removed the red lipstick from her robe pocket, applied it, put the robe on, then transfigured it into a stylish Muggle style coat. "Now I'm ready."

They apparated to an alleyway in a relatively empty area that was completely unknown to Narcissa. They were somewhere in London, she surmised, based on the dialect of those around them once they'd walked to a more populated street.

The restaurant was intimate and dimly lit, with candles on each table. In the center of the room was a shiny dance floor, occupied by half a dozen couples, and to one side on a slightly raised stage, a live band. They had a reservation thus were seated right away, even though there was a line of potential customers waiting by the door.

"Popular place," said Narcissa, once they'd placed their drink order.

"It's reminiscent of the '30s, when jazz came to Britain," explained Severus. "Jazz was considered somewhat scandalous at the time." They'd never had a conversation about this before. Music was one of those things that seemed to link Magic and Muggles together, mostly because there were so few pop stars in their world and so many Muggle-born witches and wizards who delighted in sharing their favorite recording artists with their new friends at Hogwarts (mostly by singing their songs, since Muggle technology does not work on school grounds). "Are you familiar with jazz? Or other Muggle music? Or with any music in general?"

"Not really. My sisters liked the Hobgoblins but Mother hated them. Especially after that one song came out in the sixties, 'Making Magic with my Muggle,' the one about falling for a Mudblood girl… sorry…" She winced upon realizing the slur had slipped out in his presence for the first time since she'd learned of his affection toward Lily. "Anyway, I was only seven or eight and didn't understand the lyrics, but Andromeda and Bellatrix sang it over and over again into their hairbrushes until Mother decided music was dangerous for developing minds so we weren't allowed to listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network anymore. Draco likes the Weird Sisters though, and a girl group called Spellbound. He has a poster…" She shuddered. "They don't wear enough clothing."

Severus laughed. "You really have lived a sheltered life, haven't you?"

"I have not!" Narcissa insisted indignantly, but after avoiding his eye for a few moments, she conceded. "Do you mean because I haven't listened to much music or because I think the Spellbound singers don't wear enough clothing?"

"Both. But it's okay." He took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back. "I like you sheltered."

They talked pleasantly over dinner, carefully avoiding mentioning Lucius and Juliet, Draco's recent trouble at Hogwarts, the hunt for Harry Potter, or any other potentially uncomfortable subjects. She did, however, tell him about her night alone with the baby in great detail.

"Her fingernails are so teeny, like specks of dust. My son was never that small. Literally. He was born twice her size. She has the longest eyelashes of any newborn, too. I remember when Draco's friend Vincent was a baby – he had long eyelashes. Very pretty, especially for a boy. But they're nothing compared to Nova's. It felt nice to hold a baby again."

After they were through eating, Narcissa assumed they would pay the bill and leave, but Severus had another idea.

"Dance? With you? You're kidding!" Narcissa blushed, shaking her head. "I can't dance! I haven't the faintest idea how!"

"It's easy," Severus assured her. He stood and took her hand. "I'll teach you."

"Are you a good dancer?"

"No."

She giggled. "Then how shall you teach me?"

"I can teach anything," he assured her. "That's why they call me Headmaster."

Despite her reservations, Narcissa allowed herself to be led to the edge of the dance floor. More couples were out now, swaying gently to the music. Copying the form most of them had taken, Severus put on hand on Narcissa's waist and joined hands with her with the other. They began to move, just barely at first.

"See? It's not so bad," he said, his lips close to her ear, which gave her a chill (the good kind). "Now, step back when I step forward…"

"What if I stumble?"

"I'll steady you."

"What if can't be steadied and I fall?"

"I'll catch you."

"What if I stay upright but can't remember any of the steps?"

"I'll put you under the Imperius Curse so you won't embarrass us."

She swatted his arm, giggling. His eyes were twinkling in that way she loved, the way he insisted they did not, the way even the portrait of Dilys Derwent recognized.

"It's not about remembering the steps, Narcissa. It's about feeling the music and trusting your partner. Do you trust me?"

Her gray eyes met his dark ones and it gave her a second (good) chill to see the sincerity there.

"I trust you."

With his hand still firmly on her waist and her arm around him, their opposite hands clasped together, he began to guide her. When that song ended, a faster one began, and he took the opportunity to teach her a basic foxtrot.

"Walk back with your right, slower, good, then back with the left. Quick side step to the right, bring the left to the right… Let's put them together… back, back, side, close. Slow, slow, quick, quick… Good!"

She wasn't exactly a natural but she picked it up well enough to get by and by the end of the next song, no one would have guessed they'd never danced together before. Then the band launched into a slower song so Severus pulled her closer, his arm around her waist, their upper bodies touching.

"Where did you learn to dance?" she whispered, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

"I don't know that you want to know."

"I do want to know. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

He sighed, hugged her even closer, and closed his eyes.

"Lily," he murmured finally. "She took ballroom dancing lessons from about six or seven years old until we went to Hogwarts. Before she met me, she used to make her sister practice with her, but…"

"But she found you a more suitable partner?"

"I suppose so."

"I think that's sweet," said Narcissa. "I bet you were an adorable child, ballroom dancing around your bedroom."

"We didn't ballroom dance around my bedroom," he interjected, but she ignored him.

"I can picture you in a little suit, like the Muggles in that cinema movie film, foxtrapping…"

"It's a foxtrot, not a fox trap."

"Foxtrotting around the playground, with your red-headed girlfriend while all the other little children watched jealously."

"That never happened either." He tightened his grip around her, as if afraid she'd disappear. "She was not my girlfriend, and no other child ever looked upon me with jealousy."

"Were you sweet on her even then, before you went to Hogwarts?"

He couldn't talk about Lily. Not now. Not with her. Not while dancing.

"It's okay," whispered Narcissa. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "You don't have to hide from me."

He opened his eyes, looked down at the woman in his arms, and felt perhaps more conflicted about his feelings for her than he had about anyone or anything else in his adult life, save, perhaps, for his personal views on Harry Potter (son of his greatest love and worst enemy, whose personality was a clear combination of the two).

"I still fantasize about you," he said, his mouth a breath away from her ear. "But my fantasies have changed."

"How so?" she whispered.

"I used to think about seeing you naked or fucking you in the shower…"

Her face flushed, going from pale to pink in a flash. "And now?"

"And now I think about sharing with you the parts of my life I've kept hidden from others, like theatre. I think about making you smile, making you laugh. I think about…" His voice trailed off.

"About?" She prompted, hardly able to breathe.

"About falling asleep with you in my arms. About waking up with you in the morning. About what it would be like not to have to hide at all."

She slipped her hand gently from his, brought it up to cup his face, and guided him to her. Their lips parted just slightly as they kissed. Then she pulled away hesitantly, tilting her chin down, looking up at him the way he found so endearing, eyes full of questions. This separation lasted only a fraction of a second. He pressed his lips to hers, quickly deepening their kiss as the slow song ended and a faster one began.

Suddenly, from the pit of her belly, she was overwhelmed by the feeling of butterflies flittering their wings wildly, as if they'd just-emerged from a cocoon, which traveled up though her chest, filling her with an urgent need to be fulfilled by him.

He, too, was overcome by an innate sensation, a spark, which, as he'd previously realized, felt much like finding his perfect wand at Ollivander's at age eleven, though it was stronger this time, more intense than he'd previously experienced.

He hugged both of his arms around her waist as she brought her free hand up to his other cheek and they kissed again. This kiss was unlike any they'd shared before. There was the feeling of slight hesitation from their very first kiss, mixed with the passion of the many that followed, plus the immediacy and desire that went with their makeout session in the kitchen the night the baby was born, and a tenderness neither had known with another, all balled together and expressed through a sensual kiss in the style of of Shakespearean lovers.

When they parted again, she bit her lip, gazing up at him.

"You felt it?" she asked, voice still a whisper, even though the music had gotten louder and couples all around them were quick-stepping, thus whispering was unnecessary.

"Spend the night with me," he answered, which she understood to be his way of giving confirmation. "I am required to return to Hogwarts, hopefully before anyone discovers I've gone, but you can… but it's late. I'll bring you into the castle. You can sleep in my chambers. No one will know. Narcissa… this is not enough. I need to be with you."

"I want that," she said, clasping her hands at the back of his neck under his hair. "I want you."

He kissed her again, briefly this time, then led her to their table to pay and collect their coats. Once outside, the walked as briskly as possible without arousing suspicion until they reached an alleyway where it was safe to apparate. They reappeared as close to Hogwarts grounds as was possible and, hand in hand, made their way toward the castle. They were all the way to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest beyond Hagrid's Hut when Severus spotted three figures in the distance, heading their way.

"Quick," he whispered. "Into the forest."

She hurried into the thick of the trees and he was about to follow, but a voice called, "Severus? Is that you?"

"Damn it," Severus swore under his breath. He looked to Narcissa and even without Legilimency, she knew he wanted her to remain hidden. She nodded.

"It is I!" Severus called. "Septima?"

Narcissa's eyes widened. One of the three figures was Septima Vector, Severus' 'friend,' the woman he'd been sleeping with off and on since the early '80s! Narcissa hadn't seen her since she was a student at Hogwarts and barely remembered what she looked like. Of course, since it was dark, she wouldn't be able to make out her features well this evening either, but she was intrigued.

"You're out late," said a second voice, also belonging to a woman. She was of average height and slender, with dark skin, royal purple hair pulled into a bun, and an orange witch's hat in the style Muggle children wear on Halloween. Narcissa didn't recognize her.

"As are you, Aurora."

"It's the third Saturday of the month," Aurora replied. Narcissa realized she must be Professor Aurora Sinistra, teacher of astronomy. "It's our regular night out."

"He knows," said Septima Vector. She, too, was wearing a hat, but it was brick red, with long red robes to match. She was pale (though not as pale as Severus), and slightly shorter than Professor Sinistra, with long, straight black hair, and though she was heavier than Narcissa by a decent amount, she was well-proportioned, not overweight. Unable to help herself, Narcissa glared at her.

"Is someone with you?" asked Septima Vector. "I feel like I'm being watched."

"Oh, quit being paranoid," said the third witch, whose gray hair was cropped short and spiky. Her hawk-like eyes darted toward the woods. "You always feel like you're being watched, Septima. Come on, let's be off. Pomona left the castle a half hour ago. If we take too long to follow she'll be tipsy before we even get there." Narcissa wasn't certain, but from what Draco had told her, she assumed this was Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and Quidditch referee.

"Is she alone?" asked Severus, figuring, as Headmaster, he should at least pretend to care about which of his staff had left the castle to visit the pub.

"No," said Professor Sinistra. "Wilhelmina is with her."

"Not Minerva?" Sneaking Narcissa in would be considerably easier if he didn't have to worry about running into McGonagall, who always seemed to know who was in the castle and where, even without the benefit of the Maurader's Map Black and Potter's gang created so long ago.

"Minerva won't come with us anymore," said Professor Sinistra. "Not since you murder… er… I mean, not since Dumbledore… unexpectedly passed away."

"Minerva doesn't trust you to run the school and protect the students," Septima Vector said matter-of-factly. "I told her not to worry, that you could manage a few hours alone, but I didn't know you'd be out. Again."

"Well, I've returned now," he said. "Enjoy your Girls' Night."

"We're too old to call it a Girls' Night," said Madam Hooch. "Call it our monthly coven. That's what a gathering of witches is."

"Shouldn't there be thirteen of you to make it a coven?" asked Severus.

"There aren't enough of us for that these days," said Septima Vector. "Minerva refuses to leave Hogwarts, Bathsheda doesn't drink, Trelawney drinks too much, Cleo's getting old, Irma's already old, Poppy's got kids in the infirmary, Charity's dead, and none of us like Alecto Carrow."

"Charity's dead?" asked Profesor Sinistra, clearly shocked. "I thought she was missing?"

"She…" Septima and Severus exchanged a look, which made Narcissa wonder if he'd told her about the Dark Lord's snake devouring the Muggle Studies teacher. "Of course she's dead," said Septima. "She wouldn't still be missing if she weren't dead. Besides, nobody lives long once You-Know-Who is set to kill them. Right, Severus?"

"Seems like a fair assessment," he said in a monotone. "Good evening, then."

"We will," said Madam Hooch. She tugged on Sinistra's sleeve. "Let's go. The later it gets, the drunker Pomona will be before we arrive, and she owes me money. I want to get paid before the puffy little mandrake spends it all on spiked gigglewater."

Once Severus was confident the women were far enough away, he flew to Narcissa's side in the woods.

Literally.

"Merlin's beard! You can fly?"

"I can," he said. He looped his arm through hers. "It's safe to continue to the castle now. Sorry we had to chat. I didn't want them to get suspicious."

"You can fly!" Narcissa said again. "You can fly without a broom! How did you learn that? I've never seen anyone… never even heard of anyone… save for…"

"The Dark Lord taught me," he explained. "The Dark Lord took five of us aside to teach us in the late '70s. The five of us He considered most capable at the time."

"Five of you? Did you all manage it?"

"No." Though Severus wasn't proud of most of what he'd done during the First War, he couldn't help puffing up a bit. "I was the only one."

She beamed and kissed his neck. "Because you're bloody brilliant! Who were the other four? Anyone I know? Idiots all, I'm sure."

"Your husband and sister were among the idiots," he said, smirking.

"Oh…" she blushed. "Well, I meant what I said. You're brilliant. Who were the other two?"

"Dolohov and Evan Rosier. Neither managed to master it, though Dolohov could occasionally get off the ground. After the Dark Lord fell, I continued to practice as I thought the skill might be useful someday. Dolohov did not. And the Dark Lord… He no longer sees fit to teach His followers any special skills. It's a different war this time."

"Ah. So…" said Narcissa, getting over the initial shock of having seen him fly. "That was Septima Vector, eh? She looked… nice."

"She is nice," he said. "She could feel you glaring at her."

"I was not glaring at her!"

He chuckled. "You absolutely were. Don't try to deny it."

"Well…" Narcissa bit her lip. "Maybe I was glaring a little."

"Don't be jealous." He placed his hands on her hips and pressed his body to hers, pinning her back against the trunk of the tree she'd been hiding behind. "I desire only one woman and that woman is not one hundred and two year old Septima Vector."

Narcissa wrapped her arms around him. "Just who is this one woman you desire, then, Severus Snape?"

Unwilling to let her have the upper hand, he answered with a smirk.

"Minerva McGonagall, of course. You know about my fetish for older women. I wonder what she's up to tonight, since she's skipping the monthly firewhiskey coven."

"You're a horse's ass." Narcissa smacked him on his for effect, which was counter-productive as he clearly liked it.

"Do that again," he said. "Hit me."

"Stop it!" she demanded, pushing him away. Rather than releasing her, he slid one hand up from her hip, over her chest, and rested it gently on her collarbone.

"Maybe Minerva enjoys being choked in bed."

Narcissa let out a loud squeak of shocked laughter and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid of being heard should anyone else be lurking around.

"That's disturbing!" she chastised him, stifling giggles. "I can't believe you even said that!" He laughed too and removed his hand from the base of her neck.

"I almost can't believe I said it either, but it was worth your reaction. You're fun to tease, Narcissa."

"As are you," she said, lowering her voice seductively. She placed her hands back on his arse and grinded him into her. "You could have me here if you wanted."

Though he knew he wanted to take her to the castle, to have her for the entire night and not just for a quick shag session in the forest, he couldn't help being turned on by this. He kissed her, then moved his mouth to suck on her neck, feeling a twinge in his groin as his hands traveled up to her breasts…

"Never mind," said Narcissa, grabbing his wrists and moving them down by his sides. "I don't really want to do it here. I was only teasing you. See? Two can play at that game."

He snorted. "Very well. You win. I'm not sure what you win…"

"It doesn't matter what I win so long as I've won. Come on, now. I'm getting cold. Let's get to the castle before the drunken half-coven returns."

He took her hand as they began to walk, keeping in the edge of the forest for now, just in case anyone else should come walking their way from the castle. Thankfully, he had no trouble getting her to his chambers, as they managed to avoid running into anyone except Peeves, who hurried off quickly when Severus threatened to call for the Bloody Baron.

They were halfway across his office when a knock at the door made them both jump.

"Severus? I know it's late, but if you're awake, this is important." It was Minerva McGonagall.

"Fuck," said Severus under his breath. "It's as if she has radar!"

Narcissa was perplexed. "What's radar?"

"I'll explain later. Quick, through here. This is my sitting room." He led Narcissa through a door to the right of the wall of portraits behind his desk. "I'll get rid of her."

"Don't forget to ask her whether she likes to be choked in bed," Narcissa said in a loud whisper just before he closed the sitting room door.

"Thanks a lot!" he muttered. "Now I'll have that mental image."

"Severus? Are you in there?"

He rolled his eyes, steadied himself, then opened the door. "What brings you here so late, Minerva? Why aren't you at Rosmerta's with the others?"

"I don't fancy going out anymore," she said. Her eyes darted quickly to the portrait of sleeping Dumbledore, but she had to look away. It still hurt too much to think of him… to think about what happened to him. They'd been friends… more than friends, really. Albus had long considered her his closest companion. And she'd been in love with him.

"Why are you here?" Immediately he felt guilty about his rude tone, but he was eager to get rid of her.

"I needed to give you this." She held up a blue folder. "Individual detention slips for five sixth and seventh year Slytherin girls."

"Why are you bringing it to me? Why are you even involved? Horace is Head of Slytherin house."

"They ganged up on a fifth year Ravenclaw."

"Fillius is the Head of Ravenclaw house."

"They were fighting over your godson. I thought you should be the one to inform his parents, though if you'd prefer, I could send them a letter as Deputy Headmistress."

"You've lost me." Severus sighed, rubbing his temples. He chose not to point out that, under him, the Carrows were serving as Deputies, Minerva was not. "These girls were fighting over Draco and you feel this warrants a letter to his parents?"

"They were fighting because apparently he's been entertaining the Ravenclaw girl in the Room of Requirement. Regularly. His girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend, perhaps, I really don't care – caught wind of it and arranged for an attack on the girl after he left her this evening, about eight, eight-fifteen. They went after her, five to one – she's in the infirmary with Poppy now, as is one of the Slytherin girls who got hit with a defensive spell."

"So… what is it you want me to tell his parents? That he's popular?"

"Popular!" Minerva's face went red with anger as her lips became a thin, straight line. "What a sexist viewpoint! I'm certain if he were your goddaughter rather than your godson…"

Severus cut her off. "Minerva, please. I'm simply looking to save myself the hassle. I already know how the Malfoys will react. His mother will blame the girls and his father will be proud. Can't say I blame him."

"Severus Snape!" Minerva McGonagall slammed her hand on the desk, again looking to Dumbledore's portrait, as if she hoped he'd awaken to back her up. "I already gave them all detention, but both his parents and the girl's should know that they've been… what they've been doing."

"Fine. I'll go to Malfoy Manor to inform his father in the next day or two. Will Fillius be contacting the girl's parents? Which girl is this?"

"Astoria Greengrass. I will be contacting her parents myself and Poppy intends to have an important chat with her before she leaves the infirmary. We can't have students doing – that – and not contact their parents to inform them."

"Can't we?" he asked. "Can't we simply assign detention for violating curfew and be done with it?"

Minerva ignored this question. "Additionally, I think perhaps Mr. Malfoy should be removed from his duties as Head Boy, since he was supposed to be patrolling the corridors at the time."

Severus sighed. All he wanted was for her to depart so he could continue with his evening – he hoped Narcissa couldn't hear this conversation, as it might ruin the mood.

"Thank you, Minerva, I'll take removal of the boy's position under advisement."

"I don't know what it is this year, Severus. Perhaps it's the war. Perhaps it's because Dumbledore is gone. Perhaps we, as a staff, have lost control. But in all my years of teaching here, I have never had so many problems with students messing around all over the castle! We taught Sex Education here in the late '60s for this very reason. Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank did it for the girls, while Kettleburn handled the subject with the boys, but so many parents complained the school governors made Albus abolish it after only two years."

"I understand that you're upset," said Severus, wishing he was having almost any discussion with her except this one, "But if this necessitates further discussion, let's talk on Monday. I'm tired and frankly I don't have the energy to worry about what students are doing in the Come and Go Room."

"Oh." Minerva shuddered. "What an awful name for it, considering."

"Perhaps we'll bring back Sex Education," Severus went on. "Alecto can teach it to the girls and Amycus to the boys. We'll jinx the students so that whenever they feel the urge, the faces of the Carrows will pop into their heads. That should deter any more students from engaging in such activities."

"I don't know that we want to punish them that severely," said Minerva. She handed Severus the folder. "We need to avoid scandals, diseases, and pregnancies, not scar them for life. You probably want to inform the Malfoys straight away tomorrow, before the girl's father finds out about this."

"Thank you, I'll do that. Goodnight, Minerva."

"Goodnight, Severus." She glanced for a third time at Dumbledore's portrait, having thought she saw him open his eyes, but alas, he seemed to be snoring now. She sighed and exited. Severus charmed the door locked behind her, just in case she should wish to return and forget to knock.

"You can't pretend to sleep every time she comes in here," Severus griped to Dumbledore before tapping on the sitting room door. "Narcissa? You can come out now."

"Did I hear correctly?" Narcissa closed his sitting room door behind her. "McGonagall gave my baby detention?"

"Your baby was apparently caught behaving inappropriately with a girl in the Room of Requirement."

"I don't know what that is." She sat on the end of his desk, crossed her ankles, and looked to him with concern.

"It's not important."

"No, what's important is that she might strip my darling Draco of his Head Boy title. That doesn't seem fair, does it? My sister had to disappear with a man for an entire weekend to lose her position as Head Girl!"

"Your sister is probably the reason Hogwarts taught Sex Education in the late sixties."

"My poor boy, being punished for the actions of a group of rotten girls."

Severus scoffed. Narcissa cocked one eyebrow, unable to see what it was he found so funny.

"I was right, wasn't I?" he asked, grinning. "I said Lucius would be proud and you'd blame the girls. I don't have to tell Lucius tomorrow to know how he'll feel because we've already had this conversation, so you were the one I guessed on."

"Well… I… you… Lucius… Draco…" she sputtered. "I'm blaming the girls because it's their fault! They shouldn't have ganged up on that other girl. If they hadn't McGonagall would have never known."

"Ah, so I was only partially correct," said Severus. He squeezed her hand. "I thought you'd blame the girl he was with and the one willing to fight her for him, not the gang of attackers."

"Oh, I blame both of those girls, too. Especially the one he was with. What sort of little tramp –"

"You should consider your own history before finishing that sentence." He was grinning cheekily, enjoying teasing her. She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn't stay angry. Not when she knew he was right. With a sigh of defeat, she pulled him close so they could wrap their arms around each other, him standing, her still seated on the desk. They went without speaking for several moments, each alone in their thoughts, when she broke the silence with a slight change of subject.

"Know what I was thinking about when feeding baby Nova last night?"

"What's that?" He reached around her to place the blue folder on his desk.

"I miss having a baby. Know why? Because babies don't tell you they don't want to come home for Easter. Babies don't write their father letters their mother can't read. Babies don't get detention for sexual misconduct at school. Babies don't talk back, or lock their bedroom doors, or go on dates, or put up posters of half-naked singers, or get branded with the Dark Mark. I wish I'd enjoyed it more."

"Enjoyed what?"

"Having a baby." She pushed his jacket off his broad shoulders. It landed on the floor behind him. "I don't know if Lucius ever… if he told you… but I… I was a terrible mother."

"I can't imagine that's true." As he spoke, he uncrossed her knees, parted her thighs, and slid her closer to him, stopping once she was at the edge of the desk with her legs on either side of his hips. He settled his hands on her hips. "From what I've witnessed over the last seventeen years, you're an excellent mother."

"You have too much faith in me, Love." She slid one hand up his torso to the back of his neck, where she scratched her nails lightly against his hairline. "But you feel that way because you never saw me at my worst. No one did. Not even my own mother. No one, except Lucius."

"Whenever I saw you, you were doting on Draco, cradling him, dressing him up…"

"I loved him more than life from the moment he was born. No, before that. From the moment I knew I was having him. It's something so beautiful, Severus, having a baby. You can't imagine until you've done it, until you're gazing down on this living being you created, this darling bundle of unconditional love, a helpless creature who's completely dependent upon you. It's beautiful. But it terrified me. I lived in constant fear that I'd ruin him, just as my mother… I mean, I was afraid that I'd fail him, or lose him, or hurt him, or break him… he was the most precious… and when you… I don't know how Bella could conceive a baby without wanting the father ever present in the child's life – in her own life! A baby is half its mother and half its father and if the mother and father… if they… there's no greater way to express how two people feel about each other than to create a baby together."

"I think your sister does love the father of her baby," he said, but Narcissa dismissed this.

"It doesn't matter. That's not the point." She slid her hands into his back pockets and rested her forehead on his chest.

"What is the point?" he asked, gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She looked up at him, chin tilted down, in that unintentionally seductive way that drove him mad.

"Let's make a baby," she whispered pleadingly. "You and me."

He smiled but shook his head.

"You told me 'no' to that not two weeks ago, and with good reason. I'd lost my head, as apparently you have now."

"I haven't lost anything," she argued. "I shouldn't have told you no that night."

"Yes, you should have. I'm glad you did. Besides, you had a whole plan, didn't you? A timeline. A list of rules a couple should follow in order to ensure they're 'doing it right.' Dating and marriage and all of that? Thus I agreed I'd gone momentarily mental and was grateful to you for talking sense into me. So no babies. Or don't you remember?"

"I remember…" She coaxed him into a kiss, her hand returned to the back of his neck so her nails could resume scratching against his scalp. "Fine, have it your way. We won't make a baby. Not tonight. But I do wish I'd enjoyed mine more when I had the chance… and I think we should practice the fine art of baby-making anyway, in case we want one in the future."

"You're even more mental than I am," he murmured, but he returned her kiss, unable to resist. His hands moved from her thighs to her arse as he thrust once against her, making her breath hitch in her throat. She stopped scratching lightly at his hairline and dug her nails into the back of his neck, eliciting a groan from him. His mouth moved to one of his favorite places, where her neck met her shoulder, and he began to kiss and suck at her skin while she placed one of his hands on her breast, encouraging him to touch her. She was set to resume undressing him when a movement to her left caught her eye. One of the women in one of the portraits was watching them dreamily, her head propped up on her hand as Bella had done while sleeping during the Dark Lord's meeting. She closed her eyes as soon as she realized Narcissa had seen her, but it was too late. Now Narcissa was noticing other things. Like the fact that Dumbledore's snores seemed to be too perfectly timed to be real. And the fact that a vaguely familiar man in another of the portraits was squinting in their direction. And another woman in yet another portrait was covering her eyes with her hands, but clearly peeking out at them from between her fingers.

"Stop, Severus! Severus, stop!" Narcissa smacked him on the bicep twice when he failed to comply. "Stop!"

"What? What's wrong?"

She kept very still, barely even moving her mouth, as she said, "They're watching us."

"They're…" he glanced over at them. "No, they're asleep."

"They're pretending," she insisted, pointing at one of the women. "Especially that one."

"Dilys Derwent." Severus addressed the portrait's subject directly. "Are you pretending to sleep, Dilys?"

The woman in the portrait kept her eyes closed for a couple of seconds, but once she realized it was futile, she opened first one, then the other.

"Er," she said. "Hello."

"You were pretending?" asked Severus, one eyebrow raised. After a brief hesitation, the woman in the portrait nodded.

"Yes, sorry, I was pretending. But you can't blame me! I've been curious about her for such a long time… Severus Snape, she's just as lovely as you told her she was in one of your secret little love letters."

Severus' cheeks went pink, which made Narcissa giggle despite her embarrassment.

"What's your name, dear? Where are you from? What do you do?" asked Dilys. "He won't tell us anything. We only know what we can read over his shoulder. He firmly believes in keeping his private life private."

"I wasn't aware that you knew the definition of the word 'private,' Dilys," said Severus. He stepped away from Narcissa, who recrossed her legs, feeling terribly exposed, even though aside from removing her coat while in the sitting room, she was as dressed as she'd been upon arrival.

"I don't like this casual way she speaks of conception," said a ginger woman in a shrill, judgmental tone. She had been the one peeking through splayed fingers. "There's a proper order one must follow before bringing a child into the world, and it begins with marriage!"

"Get with the times, Lizzie!" said Dilys Derwent. "It's 1986!"

"It's 1998," said the one called Lizzie. "You 'get with the times,' Dilys."

"Is it 1998 already?" asked Dilys. "My goodness, time flies when you're dead."

"She's quite a bit older than I thought she'd be," said Phineas Nigellus in a gruff voice, looking over Narcissa as if she were a diamond bracelet he'd been charged with appraising. "But she's decent looking. You've done alright, Snape. Was she a Slytherin? Not Muggle-born, I hope? I'd hate to see the first Slytherin Headmaster since my tenure end up with a Mudblood."

"I've told you how I feel about that word. You're not to use it in my presence," admonished Severus. He turned to Narcissa and raised a hand toward the pale, bearded man in the portrait who'd been looking her over, then gestured toward the redhaired woman with the shrill voice. "Phineas Nigellus Black and Elizabeth Burke, meet Narcissa Malfoy."

"Black?" asked Narcissa, turning her gaze to Phineas Nigellus. "I've heard of you, of course. You're my great-great-grandfather. My maiden name is Black."

His eyes widened in surprise. He looked to Severus. "You're seeing my great-great-granddaughter? I don't know whether to be furious or proud! On the one hand, you don't seem to be making an honest woman of her, but on the other…"

Unable to wait for him to finish his thought, Elizabeth Burke dove headfirst into a rant. "Maiden name? Then you're a Malfoy through your husband, are you? The scandal! Are you a widow or a whore? Which is it?"

"Elizabeth's mother was a Malfoy," explained Severus as Elizabeth prattled on.

"Oh, how I wish they hadn't moved that portrait of mine from the parlor in Malfoy Manor to the hidden passage here! That awful Claudia did so back in 1949 because she said she was sick of me meddling in her marriage, but perhaps if I'd have meddled more…"

"You meddled in my mother-in-law's marriage?" asked Narcissa. Elizabeth Burke opened her mouth to answer, no doubt to resume lecturing shrilly, but she was cut off by a dark haired man in one of the other portraits.

"Are you the mother of Draco Malfoy, then? The boy McGonagall caught with a girl tonight?" This was Everard, whom Narcissa knew to be one of the school's most popular past Headmasters, as she recognized him from several other portraits around the castle, including one outside the Charms classroom. "Hm. Like mother like son, I suppose, eh? Not that there's anything wrong with that in this day and age, is there?" He paused. "That's not a rhetorical question; I genuinely want to know. In my day, unwed coupling was considered exceptionally scandalous, as Elizabeth can tell you."

"It was in my day too," Brian Gagwilde, another former Headmaster, chimed in over his chess game. "But it happened nonetheless. I remember back when I first learned of Rowena Ravenclaw's longtime affair with…"

"No one needs to know about that!" Phyllida Spore, former Headmistress and author of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, piped up. "Airing the Founders' dirty laundry for all to hear! That's none of our business, and neither is this!"

"It's our business if we say it's our business!" snapped Elizabeth Burke.

"It's Snape's business and his alone!" countered Phineas Nigellus Black.

Elizabeth Burke huffed. "When I was Headmistress, I never would have brought a man back here!"

"That's because no man would have you!" said Dilys Derwent. "When I was Headmistress, I had an affair with the flying instructor. Now, he was handsome. That's why I hired him. Unfortunately, he wasn't much of a teacher. Or a flyer. Eventually I had to fire him. He broke his own nose by tripping over his broom in front of a class of first years. Pity. Never found another quite like him. Don't misunderstand, I found a much better flying instructor. But I never found another like him for, you know, me."

Clearly Elizabeth Burke found this statement nearly as scandalizing as Severus' choice to bring Narcissa to the castle. She bristled, "Well, I never!"

"You never?" asked Everard with genuine concern. "Perhaps that accounts for your disgruntled disposition, Elizabeth."

Narcissa covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Though part of her felt exceptionally uncomfortable with having been seen by all of them, and with the fact that they knew about her and Severus, she couldn't help being amused by their infighting.

"If Rowena Ravenclaw were alive today…" started Brian Gagwilde. Phyllida Spore cut him off.

"You've been dead since 1364 yet you remain as obsessed with Rowena Ravenclaw as you were in life! Get over it! She's dead! You're dead! Everybody's dead; we're all dead! You're never going to end up together!"

"If my portrait were still hanging in Malfoy Manor…" muttered Elizabeth Burke, folding her arms in a huff. Phineas Nigellus Black glared at her from his painted easy chair.

"Well it isn't, and if Snape wants to hear our opinions regarding his mistress, he'll ask us... though I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about him defiling my great-great-granddaughter."

"I doubt he's 'defiling' her," said Dilys. "What a misogynistic way to view sexual intercourse."

The use of the words 'sexual intercourse' elicited protests and gasps from several former Hogwarts Heads, who clearly found the very term as inappropriate as the act itself, if not more so.

"I was Healer, you know, dear." Dilys Derwent was addressing Narcissa directly now. "At St. Mungos from 1722 until 1741, which is when I came to Hogwarts. At the hospital I championed causes for women, like trying to get a simple birth control potion developed, but the men in the Ministry kept shooting us down and passing laws to make it increasingly difficult to even experiment. I left medicine to mold young minds here instead, hoping the students would go on to change the Wizengamot and thereby the world, and in my first year I started Hogwarts' Witches' Suffrage Movement Club. And it worked! One of my former students became the first female Minister for Magic! Artemisia Lufkin. She took office in 1798. When I taught her, women weren't even allowed to sit on the Wizengamot yet!"

"As well they shouldn't!" said Elizabeth Burke, to which Phyllida Spore called, 'Here, here! Women in the Wizengamot! What's next? Awarding a witch the Order of Merlin, first class?"

"I believe Amelia Bones was given that honor," said Everard, who then explained to Narcissa, "One of my portraits hangs in the Ministry."

"Now, on this one I agree with Elizabeth and Phyllida," said Phineas Nigellus Black. "Teaching is a worthwhile profession for both men and women, but lawmaking should be for the men."

"What nonsense!" shouted a blue-eyed witch in a head scarf. The plaque below her portrait identified her as Edessa Sakndenberg. "I was born in 1503 and even in early sixteenth century Greece I was raised with views more progressive than that!"

"I'm inclined to agree with Edessa," chirped a bored looking, slightly overweight witch named Antonia Creaseworthy, who looked to be much younger than most of the others. She was smoking a long cigarette, blowing puffs of painted smoke around her portrait. "No reason women cannot run both the school and the Ministry. I was a damn fine Headmistress, and before that, an accomplished Unspeakable."

"What did you do as an Unspeakable?" asked Narcissa, never having met one before.

"I can't speak of it," answered Antonia.

Everard raised a hand as if in class. "Excuse me? No one's answered my question about whether it's still scandalous for…"

"To hell with your question!" Elizabeth Burke cut him off. "And enough of this Witches' Suffrage jibber-jabber! The school's reputation is at stake!"

Dilys Derwent rolled her eyes dramatically. "Nothing is at stake! She makes him happy, that's what matters!"

"I concur!" a former Headmaster who'd thus far still been faking sleep spoke up. His plaque was old and worn, thus Narcissa couldn't make out his name. "Let the poor man live! Dumbledore doesn't seem bothered."

This earned a hurumph from Edessa. "Dumbledore? Dumbledore is asleep!"

"He's not asleep," said Brian Gagwilde. "He's pretending to be asleep. How much sleep do we need? We're dead, as everyone sees fit to remind me on a regular basis. Now, back to the topic at hand, I believe Rowena and Godric carried on their affair for at least a decade…"

"I told you, stop with this affair nonsense!" interjected Phyllida Spore. "That was not 'back to the topic at hand' because their alleged affair was never the topic at hand! For the love of all things magic."

Elizabeth Burke was not ready to let up. "Married to a Malfoy and here with our Headmaster… How does this not bother you, Phineas Nigellus? She's your blood!"

"You're one to talk of blood!" he responded in a huff. "You came from a long line of adulterous men who've fathered bastard half-bloods all over the European countryside! How many Malfoys…"

At this point, the arguments all overlapped to the point that Narcissa could not longer make out what each individual was saying, especially now that other former Headmasters and Headmistresses were 'waking up' to join the discussion. Dilys had to shout to be heard, but she managed to make her voice carry above the rest.

"Leave the woman alone! I don't care if she's got a thousand husbands! You've all seen how happy she makes our Severus! He never smiles save for when he's writing in that notebook! Don't go ruining this for him!"

Eyes still closed but no longer 'snoring,' Dumbledore chuckled.

"Merlin's beard!" sighed Narcissa, overwhelmed nearly to the point of dizziness.

Severus held up a hand and loudly cleared his throat. The arguments ceased.

"Her name is Narcissa. She will be staying here in the sitting room tonight because it is too late for her to travel home, which she will do tomorrow. That is all you need to know. And not one of you will say anything about this to anyone. Understand?"

"Understand," mumbled Dilys, Phineas Nigellus, Everard, Brian Gagwilde, Phyllida Spore, Elizabeth Burke, and all the others in disappointed unison, though not one of them believed Narcissa would be bunking in the sitting room.

Dumbledore smiled.

Once the couple was safely out of earshot from the portraits, not in the sitting room but in Severus' bedroom on the other side of it, he apologized for the behavior of Hogwarts' past Headmasters and Headmistresses. As he spoke, Narcissa gazed around the room, taking it in. It was more ornate than she would have expected from him, especially considering his home on Spinner's End, but she wondered how much was by his design and how much he simply hadn't changed – the realization hit her that this must have been Dumbledore's chambers less than a year ago, but she pushed away the chilling thought. The plain but attractive moss green bedspread was identical to the one in the guest room where he slept in his childhood home, though the bed was a size bigger, and he had a wide bureau, a small desk, a bedside table, a bookcase (full from top to bottom), a tall wardrobe, two easy chairs, a large fireplace, and a door that presumably led to the loo. He flicked his wand and a fire roared to life.

"The portraits are created to assist the current Headmaster or Headmistress in his or her tasks, but they have a tendency to get involved even when they're not wanted."

"I liked some of them," said Narcissa quietly, turning away from the bookcase, stepping toward him. "That one woman – Dilys Derwent? – she called me lovely and she said I make you happy. Was she right, Severus?" She took another step forward. Now she was close enough to press her palms to his chest before bringing them up to rest on his shoulders. "Do I make you happy?"

"Happier than I thought possible," he said. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, expecting him to take her to the bed. Instead he walked in the opposite direction, sitting her down atop his short, wide bureau. "Does that surprise you? I would have thought you'd be aware of the affect you have on me."

"You make me happy too," she said as they moved into the positions they'd been in at his desk, with her legs on either sides of his hips, his hands on her thighs, her arms around him, the nails of one hand scraping lightly against the back of his neck. "It's still my birthday."

"For a few more minutes," he said, glancing at the clock before leaning in to kiss her. When they separated, she shook her head.

"No, I was born at 8:56 in the morning, which means I have another nine hours and two minutes during which you can spoil me."

"Gladly." He unzipped the back of her black cocktail dress, all the way down, and was pleasantly surprised to find she wasn't wearing a half-slip under it – just a black lace bra (with a bit of built-in padding, as she'd previously admitted) and matching black underwear. He pushed the dress down over her shoulders, letting it pool at her waist, running his hands up and down her bare back before relieving her of the dress entirely. She reached down to undo the straps of one of her high heeled shoes, but he stopped her, his hand on her ankle. "You can leave those on for now." He slid his hands back up her legs, over her hips and back, to the band of her bra, where he fiddled with the clasp in the back. "Though I'll take this."

She let him remove it, tossing it to the floor, even though the lights were still on.

"Your chest just shrunk two sizes," he teased, taking her breasts in his hands. "What unnatural sorcery is this?"

"No talking, you terrible man," she scolded.

As he kissed and touched her upper body, she began unbuttoning his shirt, pushed it off his shoulders as she had his jacket, and then turned her attention to divesting him of his trousers. He was already hard. She took him in her hand, squeezed gently, and began to stroke, making him groan.

"Fuck… yes… Narcissa…" he moaned between kisses placed on her lips, her jawline, her shoulders… "Never… Never before… with any other woman with whom I've been… Never before have I… Never before have I wanted… Oh, fuck, yes, keep doing that… Never before have I wanted what I want with you…"

She ceased stroking him, making eye contact, unblinking, barely breathing. "What's that? What is it you want with me?"

Rather than answer, he grabbed her arse, pulled her to the edge of the bureau so their chests were pressed together, and resumed kissing her, his arousal pressing against her lower abdomen. She welcomed both his tongue in her mouth and his closeness to her bare skin, but after a few moments she pulled back. "What is it you want with me, Severus?"

He was no coward, but at the same time, he was afraid to answer, for he knew after tonight there would be no turning back – and they'd already gone too far as it was.

"Severus? What is it…?"

"A relationship," he answered with a quiet vulnerability she'd never seen him display before. "I want to date you, Narcissa. To take you out like I did tonight. To stop pretending that I'm having sex with you because I want sex, when the truth is, I want you. I've never…" He turned his head slightly, letting a curtain of hair fall across his eyes, partially blocking him from her view. "I've never had a romantic relationship before, and I don't know…" With a sigh, and despite obvious discomfort, he pressed on. "I realize it's mad. I'm aware that it's dangerous. I know you're married. And though I've been telling you for two years that our affair can only be physical, and can't shake the notion I'm making a terrible mistake now, I think…"

"Make love to me," she interjected, taking his face in her hands, pushing his hair back behind his ears, and turning his face toward her. His eyes met hers and he saw in her the same vulnerability she'd seen in him. "You can finish undressing me, you can leave the light on, you can even look at me if you must, but all I wish for my birthday is for you to make love to me."

"No," he said, but before she could be crestfallen, he clarified, "With. Not to." He cradled her face as was doing to his, stroking his thumb gently across her cheek.

"It's semantics," she said softly, unable to look away. "With, to, isn't it the same?"

"Why 'make love?'" he asked. "Why not 'shag' or 'fuck?' That's semantics too."

Her brow furrowed. "Why? Because… because… because it's not the same. The words matter."

"Precisely," he said. "The words matter. Thus it is not to, but with. I'll make love with you."

Those butterflies from earlier returned, as a fluttering filled her from her heart to her belly to between her legs as desire for him consumed her.

"Yes," she whispered, glancing down to his lips and back up to his eyes. "Okay. Make love with me."

"Yes." He captured her mouth with his, picked her up as he had before, and this time, carried her to the bed, where he gently laid her down on her back. He settled not on top of her, as she'd expected, but beside, and ran his fingertips from her shoulder, down her side, past the curve of her breast, to her waist, hip, and thigh. "I can look at you?"

She nodded, eyes closed, as he felt her body tense under his hand.

"Don't be frightened. I won't hurt you. Open your eyes… look at me."

She obliged.

"Do you trust me?"

"I… I trust you."

"You hesitated."

"I trust you," she insisted. "It's me I'm not sure I can trust."

He kissed her gently. "Then I won't look."

"But I want you to be happy."

"Making you happy makes me happy."

She reached her right hand up, resting it at the back of his head, and guided him on top of her. "Making love with you will make me happy."

"Good."

She welcomed his tongue into her mouth as they kissed over and over and over again, breaking only to breathe. His hands moved to her waist, where he pinched the sides of her black lace knickers and removed them, leaving her completely naked in front of him with the lights on for the first time in the nearly two years since they'd entered into this affair.

He slid his hand between her legs and was pleased to find that she was already slick and ready for him. She cried out when he entered her with his fingers, arching her back, aching for more. He took her breast into his mouth, licking and sucking at her nipple while speeding up the movement of his fingers until he brought her to orgasm. Her entire body trembled as the climax broke over her, leaving her weak. Then he flipped her onto her belly and placed a trail of kisses from the back of her neck, down her spine, to the small of her back. He sat up, and began to massage her back and shoulders, kneading her skin with his fingers and palms. She brought her arms up to rest folded under her head, her face turned toward the fireplace along the opposite wall.

"Damn," she said. "I love this."

"I love the softness of your skin," he said. He leaned forward to place a kiss on the back of her neck. "I love the strawberry scent of your hair."

"I love the way your eyes crinkle in the corners when you smile," she said. "I love the way you make me feel beautiful."

"You are beautiful."

"I love that I feel safe with you."

"You are safe with me." He kissed her shoulder, moving one hand back between her legs, running the fingers of his other hand along her arm. He kissed her wrist as she squirmed under him. He flattened his body on top of hers and murmured in her ear. "I love that you can make me hard with only a kiss. I love it when jokes fly over your head."

"Seems like a non-sequitur," she said.

"I love that you just used non-sequitur incorrectly."

She giggled and shrugged her shoulder, as if to force him off of her, but without conviction. He laughed and returned to straddling her, sliding his hands to her hips.

"I love that you don't correct my grammar," she said. "Even though I can tell you must want to."

He laughed. Then he parted her legs with his knee and propped her up, touching her intimately with his tip.

"What do you want?" he asked. So she pleaded with him to fuck her. Now.

"No," he answered, still rubbing himself against her there. "I'm not going to fuck you tonight, remember?"

"Make love with me then," she begged. "Make love with me, Severus. I want you. I want you now. I need you."

"Very well."

He entered her slowly and began to thrust, holding her shoulder for leverage. Once they were moving together, he sat back, pulling her with him, as he had the night he'd killed Dumbledore and called her his. He kept one hand on her hip, guiding her up and down, while the other snaked up to her breast and his lips moved to her neck.

"Oh, Severus," she cried out, close to a second climax. "Yes, Severus… yes… please… Severus…"

"Narcissa," he said, ceasing movement. "I love it when you call my name but you have to stop."

"Why?"

"Because…" he felt his cheeks redden uncharacteristically for the second time that evening and was glad she wasn't looking at him. "Because you're going to make me come."

"Is that bad?"

"It is when I only have a limited amount of time with you and wish to make it last."

"Oh!" Now she was blushing too. "I'll be quiet…"

"You don't have to be quiet." He re-positioned them so that she was again on her back, bringing her legs up around his waist. She was still wearing the strappy heels, which he liked.

"I know you don't want me looking," he said, "But I love the way you look."

"I love it when you're on top of me," she said. She dug her fingernails into the backs of his shoulders, urging him to continue. "I love being able to touch you, to kiss you."

His lips met hers as he resumed thrusting. When their mouths parted, she bit her lip to keep from crying out, but ultimately she couldn't hold back, calling his name over and over as he increased his speed, and he found he couldn't hold back either.

"My beautiful Narcissa," he murmured into her ear, just before coming inside her.

"Yes," she moaned, not wanting him to stop. "You're mine, Severus. You're mine and I'm yours."

Afterward, she removed her shoes, he threw a quilt over them, and he held her, content to be close, thankful that they had all night.

"I wonder if anyone will even realize I was gone," said Naricssa, her left cheek resting against Severus' shoulder, with her right hand on the center of his chest. He had his arms around her and was lightly running his fingers up and down her spine and from shoulder to shoulder across her back. "What do you suppose would happen if I just never went back?"

"I think Lucius would look for you. He loves you, Narcissa."

She scoffed. "He has a funny way of showing it, then."

"I'm not excusing his behavior, but I do believe he genuinely loves you. The fact that you're bothered by his extra-curriculars perplexes him, as he sees sex and love as two completely separate acts, the latter of which he reserves for you."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you see sex and love as completely separate acts?" She propped herself up to look at him, but he coaxed her back down, stroking her dual-toned hair.

"I've had nearly twenty years worth of perfectly satisfactory sex with half a dozen women I don't love, thus I think it's conceivable to separate the two as he does," he answered honestly.

"But isn't it better…" She nibbled her lip, wondering whether she'd regret asking the question that was wriggling about in her brain. "Isn't sex better when you love the person?"

He closed his eyes as if counting to ten, as many professors do when praying for the patience needed to avoid hexing their idiot students into oblivion. He felt her hand leave his chest and knew without looking at her that she was twirling her hair around her index finger. He wondered whether she'd picked up on the fact that he'd said 'half a dozen women,' which was one shy of the number he'd been with, but at the same time, he couldn't tell her he loved her because it would be dishonest and unfair. There were things he loved about her, as he'd told her, but he didn't love her… or, at least, he didn't think he did. Not in the same way he loved Lily, in any case. And he hoped she didn't love him.

…except a tiny part of him, a tiny part of him that had been lying dormant since the death of his beloved childhood best friend, did indeed want to be loved…

Fuck.

Why had this non-emotional affair become so complicated?

Because it was unquestionably complicated.

What had changed? When?

Was it that night in the attic, when he said he'd risk getting her pregnant?

Or was it when he asked her on their first date, for New Years Eve?

Was it when he called her his in that moment of passion?

Or was it when she first told him there were things she loved about him?

Perhaps it was before any of that. Perhaps it was longer ago than he could ever admit. Perhaps it when he told her his secret about Lily? A secret he'd never revealed to anyone except Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, one he'd never shared with Lucius or Septima. Perhaps that had been the turning point?

He supposed he'd known it was more than physical for her about eighteen months ago, from the way she looked at him after they'd made the Unbreakable Vow.

And, he also supposed, this affair hadn't been strictly physical between them the night he agreed to brew the abortion potion, then held her while she cried and slept.

But he didn't love her.

He couldn't.

Love was more dangerous to him in his fight against the Dark Lord than anger, fear, revulsion, apathy, or a sense of duty to keep safe the son of the woman he…

Loved.

Despite Dumbledore's silly beliefs, Love was not what they needed to win the war.

Not for the first time since he'd started seeing Narcissa, Severus was reminded in this moment of the knowledge he once imparted on Potter: "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked easily… they stand no chance…" Severus knew that he himself was not among the weak people referenced in his warning to Potter. He'd proven that over and over again during both the First War and this Second one.

But Narcissa?

She wasn't strong enough.

He couldn't let her love him.

It wouldn't be safe.

Now he was truly torn.

Half of him wanted to tell her right now that they were over, that they had been behaving rashly, that no good could come of this and it would be better to end it once and for all before they somehow managed to compound their mutual mistake.

The other half of him wanted to tell her to get dressed, grab her wand, and be ready to go, to run away, to forget the war and desert the Dark Lord and leave the danger behind, to get married, have a baby, and live like Muggles somewhere they'd never be found.

He settled for an average of the two – not doing a damn thing.

"Severus?" she whispered, a slight tremor in her voice. "Are you asleep?"

"I'm not asleep."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't know that I can."

"Severus?" She shifted so she was looking down at him. Her hair tickled his cheek and neck, and he could sense her lips a breath away from his. "Severus… darling… Whatever you feel for me aside… I think you should know… I'm falling for you."

"I know," he said quietly. Though she'd been too drunk to recall saying those very words to him a month ago, he'd replayed them over many times in his mind.

"Does that bother you?"

"It worries me."

"Why?"

Finally, he opened his eyes to meet hers, which were wide and full of apprehension and insecurity that he felt compelled to kiss away, though he refrained.

"I couldn't live with myself if I got you hurt. Or killed. I care about you." He ran his hands up her back, pulling her on top of him, and wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"You care about me?"

"Very much, yes."

"Don't you think sex it better, then, if it's with… if it's with someone you care about?"

He rolled them over so she was on her back and ran his fingers lightly over her hip before squeezing his hand between the mattress and her arse, thrusting her against him. "Didn't I tell you long ago that you've ruined sex for me? I can't enjoy it with anyone else."

"Only me?"

"Only you."

"You don't want anyone else?"

He shook his head. "Only you."

"Well I hate to be the one to tell you, Love, but if that's the case, it sounds like you might be falling for me, too."

He smiled in spite of himself. "First thing tomorrow, before I bring you home, we're going to practice Occlumency." He kissed her temple. "Fair enough?"

She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, moving him down to kiss her properly. "Fair enough. But not until tomorrow."

"No." He slipped his thumb under the crux of her knee, bringing her leg up so that her calf was against his chest, knowing she could feel the effects of his growing arousal against her inner thigh. "No, my beautiful Narcissa. Not until tomorrow."

They made love for the second time that night, this time expressing their feelings for each other without words, and when their coupling was complete, he used Nox to put out the lights, covered them with the top sheet and blankets, turned onto his side with her back against his chest, kissed her shoulder, and held her until they both drifted comfortably off to sleep.

Around 4 in the morning, Narcissa had a dream, as usual.

A dream that morphed into a nightmare.

As usual.

She was holding infant Nova in the nursery, feeding her a bottle, reciting for her the story of Babbity Rabbity, when the door opened and a pudgy-bellied toddler with wildly curly hair in pigtails toddled in on unsteady legs. The little girl had wide, dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and was wearing a black dress with cut out shoulders that looked as though it had been designed for an adult then shrunk down to fit an eighteen month old.

"Auntie!" said the child, putting her hands in the air. "Up! Up!"

"There you are, Nova!" Bellatrix entered the nursery and picked up the toddler, balancing her on her hip, a yellow rubber duck in her free hand. "You get around so fast now that you're walking!"

"Nova?" asked Narcissa, confused.

"Yes, Nova," said Bellatrix, looking her over as if she'd gone mad. "Remember her? Your niece? My daughter?" She turned her gaze toward the little girl. "It's time for your bath, Nova Black. Come on, now. I bought you that ridiculous Muggle toy you wanted." She held up the duck. "We'll put it in water and see if it has any reasonable function other than looking stupid."

"But if that's Nova…" said Narcissa slowly, gazing down at the baby in her arms. Her eyes widened. The little girl's face had changed. Her eyes weren't dark, as Nova's were, they were silvery-gray. She had heart-shaped lips, a button nose, pale skin and a head full of thin, straight hair, and she'd grown from the size of a newborn to that of a six month old. Narcissa glanced around the nursery, confused. This is when she realized she was not in Draco's babyhood bedroom in Malfoy Manor, but somewhere foreign, somewhere she'd never seen before, though the crib was the same, as was the rocking chair.

"I think you're not getting enough rest," said Bellatrix, still looking her over in a peculiar way. "It's alright. I was the same way after I had my daughter. I used to fall asleep while the Dark Lord was speaking! I was a mess. Right, Nova, Love?"

"Mummy!" cried the toddler gleefully. She reached out for the yellow rubber duck. "Lovey! Duckie!"

"Everything ends in 'e,'" said Bellatrix, rolling her eyes. "Annoying as all fuck."

"Fuckie!" said the little girl, who had succeeded in grabbing the duck from her mother.

"Great, she's learned a new word," said Bella sarcastically, but with a smile. "Listen, Cissy, why don't you put down that baby and take a nap? I'll come get her as soon as Nova's bath time's over. Don't worry. I can handle two at once. I'm highly capable. That's why I've always been the Dark Lord's most faithful and loyal and valuable follower. That's why He chose me to mother His sole heir in the first place. So don't worry. Put her down. You need sleep."

"I… yes, sure," said Narcissa, still confused. "I will."

"Buh-bye, Auntie!" said little Nova, waving her duckie, smiling at Narcissa. Bellatrix and her daughter left the room, closing the door behind them.

"If you're not hers," whispered Narcissa to the infant. "Whose are you? And why do you have my mother's eyes?"

"Don't you know?" asked a voice from the hall, startling Narcissa, who hadn't heard the door reopen. Her son entered. The hall beyond him was dark and silent. It was a hall she did not recognize.

"Draco, this baby – is she yours?"

"Mum," he said with a laugh. "You really don't recall?"

"You haven't called me Mum since before you started school," she said. Until he was four, she'd been Mummy. Then, for a couple of years, Mum. And finally, just Mother, and Lucius was Father, same as she called her own parents. It had stung at the time. It made her feel like she was losing her little boy. But Lucius encouraged this, believing "Mummy" and "Daddy" were titles to be used by babies, not big six year olds. This was also the year Draco had gotten his first hair cut and started choosing playtime with his friends over cuddles time with his mother.

Draco stroked the hair of the baby in her arms. "She's not mine, Mum. I'm barely out of school. I don't even have a girlfriend anymore, thanks to McGonagall's letter to her parents."

"Then whose is she?"

"How've you not figured it out? Mother, she's yours."

Narcissa gasped. "Mine? But I didn't want any more babies."

"You should have been more careful, then," said Draco with a shrug.

"Who's her father?" Narcissa inquired, though this was a strange question for a mother to ask her son. Draco seemed surprised it by.

"Don't you know? Don't you remember?"

"I… I remember," she lied. "I simply… I had a moment of confusion. Where is… he?"

"Mum, are you feeling alright?" Now her son looked upon her with genuine concern, as Bella had. "Perhaps you should take a nap. I can watch the baby while you get some sleep."

"I don't want sleep," she insisted. "I want to know where… where the baby's father is."

"He's dead," said Draco. "You know that. The war's over, remember? And everyone's dead. Her father's dead. The Dark Lord is dead. Harry Potter is dead. Auntie Bella is dead. Everyone's dead."

"Your aunt isn't dead," said Narcissa. The baby in her arms began to fuss. Narcissa bounced her lightly. The bottle was empty. Perhaps she needed to burp. "Bella was just in here. She was about to give Nova a bath."

"Nova, her daughter? Mum, you have lost it, haven't you? It's alright. Stress will do that. You haven't been sleeping. But Mum, baby Nova is dead. Auntie Bella brought baby Nova to the final battle and now they're both dead. You know that. All the Death Eaters are dead."

"What about your father?"

"Father was a Death Eater. He's dead."

"No! But… but what about… what about Professor Snape?"

"I told you, he's dead. One of the first confirmed dead. All Death Eaters are dead."

"This doesn't make sense, Draco. They can't be dead. They can't all be dead!"

"But they are, Mother." He smiled, stepped forward, and tried to touch her arm comfortingly, but his hand went right through her. He rolled up his sleeve to show the Dark Mark, barely visible on his rapidly paling skin. "Even I'm dead."

"You're not dead, Draco," she said, panic rising in her voice. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the baby's whimpers turned to wails. "You're not dead, darling, you're standing right here!"

"I live only in your memories," he said, growing lighter by the second, becoming ghost-like. "When the Dark Lord fought Potter for the final time, I was killed. We were all killed. How many ways must I explain it? Father, Auntie Bella, baby Nova, Uncle Rodolphus and his brother, the Rowles, cousin Juliet, your niece called Tonks, the Dark Lord Himself and Harry Potter of course, they were the last two, plus that Mudblood Granger, the entire Weasley family, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape… all of the Death Eaters, Mum, every last one of us." He was becoming more ethereal by the moment.

"How did I survive? Why did I survive?"

"How? You weren't there; you stayed home. Why? Because you were pregnant. Remember? But everyone else is dead, Mum. Everyone who went to fight is dead. We're all dead. I came back only to tell you you'll have to accept our deaths, because this – talking to us as if we're still here – isn't healthy."

"No!" she was sobbing now, as was the baby. "No, please, this has to be a mistake!"

"I'm sorry," said Draco, dissolving still more. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. But on the bright side, at least you and this baby have each other. You have the chance to be a better mother this go 'round. And you'll have to be, for her sake. She won't have a father to save her if you lose your head again." Draco had now faded so much he was nearly gone. She reached out to him but just as had happened when he tried to touch her, her hand went right through him, as if he were nothing but air.

"Draco, please! Don't go!"

"I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't want to remain on this earth as a ghost, which means my time here is over. Take care of your new baby. Do a better job with this one."

"No! Please! Draco! Come back! Draco!"

Narcissa woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in the bed, her chest heaving. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and with whom she was in bed. She could see Severus silhouetted by the light from the fireplace, breathing comfortably, sleeping peacefully. Luckily, her jolt hadn't awoken him. She settled back down, her head on his chest, trying to force the nightmare from her mind, already losing the details. It had been about Draco… and baby Nova… and a rubber duckie… someone had died...

Instinctively, subconsciously, Severus wrapped his arms comfortingly around her in his sleep. Her heart was still pounding, but listening to the steady rhythm of his calmed her.

In a few minutes time, she fell back to sleep.

When she awoke again in the morning, she'd completely forgotten the dream.

---

A/N: Just want to brag for a sec – I researched all that Headmaster/Headmistress stuff to have the right years, places other portraits hang, bloodlines, first female Minister for Magic, etc, because I'm a total dork. Hahaha. Anyway… now for review responses. Thanks all! AL

Slughorn – Thanks for discovering and reading this fic! Sorry about the C-word… if it helps, I did a Word search and it doesn't come up again for the rest of the fic. Love that you read all in one go, though! Wow!

Everything Hurts – lol Thanks! Glad you're still loving it.

Harry Hobbit – I have almost everything mapped out, except I haven't decided exactly how they get revenge on Juliet yet… assuming they still do. Looking forward to writing it, though.

Shira – Aww thank you! I love writing the Bella/Cissy scenes. I hope you liked the portraits in this chapter!

Trickster32 – I realized later that by making Severus Draco's godfather and Bella his godmother that he loses both of his godparents during the Final Battle. So I made myself sad there.

Firetemplar415 – Your reviews make me laugh. Thx!