I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Six
April 1980
The moment Lucius Apparated home he sensed the presence and his hand whipped his wand from his pocket. Lucius was quick; Mateo was quicker. In a blur of movement, the vampire circled the man, deftly plucking the wand from his hand, and dashed halfway across the long porch where he stood defiantly sneering at the wizard.
"I feel the love," Mateo said sarcastically, eyeing the wand as if he intended to toss it away or do some manner of harm to it. "Were you planning to kill me, Lucius?"
Although this didn't seem the ideal time for telling the truth, the words came of their own accord. "If need be, yes. I'll protect my family at all costs."
"Admirable sentiment," replied the other with grudging respect. "However, I told you before that I didn't come to hurt anyone. I only want to talk. Are you too thick to comprehend that?"
Lucius didn't move from his spot next to the door. Close as he was, he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to get inside before Mateo was upon him again. "It's been what—four months since I saw you? Why did you come back? To spread more lies like the one you told last time?"
"That was no lie!" Mateo snapped, eyes flashing.
It was Lucius' turn to sneer, and he did it in true Malfoy form—slowly, taunting, disparaging the other with a mere glance. "So you expect me to believe I'm descended from you?" He let out a mocking laugh.
If Mateo still had the capacity to blush, he would have done so, and the very notion that this wizard could make him feel small infuriated him. His lips pinched into a thin line. He could break his promise and hurt Lucius, injure him very badly; it would be so easy to make him beg for mercy, make him beg for the history he'd never been taught, rub his face in the fact that Malfoys were no more perfect than anyone else! But no, he didn't want to take that route.
Shoving down his anger, a hint of bitterness tinged his response when finally he answered, "No. You're the heir, in the line of heirs. I'm just a bastard child of your illustrious ancestor Silvanus."
For a split second Lucius' façade wavered. "That's impossible."
"Is it? Secundus is your ancestor, isn't he?" Mateo needed no confirmation, though he found it gratifying to see a spark of recognition in the grey eyes. "Odd, don't you think, that Silvanus would give his first child a name meaning 'second'?"
It was a point Lucius had wondered about long ago when learning his family tree, but it meant nothing. It was a name, nothing more. "All Malfoys, male and female, make an Unbreakable Vow of fidelity when they marry. Silvanus couldn't have cheated."
"But he could've seduced my mother beforehand, couldn't he?"
Lucius paused, not liking the direction this was heading in. "Theoretically," he admitted.
Mateo gave a smirk. He'd won the first round. "I'm here, I'd say that's more than theoretical."
"You have no proof of any of these assertions."
"I have this, given to my mother by my father." Mateo reached up and unclasped from around his neck a fine gold chain that had been hidden inside his T-shirt. A delicate pendant in the shape of a squirming serpent with emerald eyes hung down. "Shall I read you the inscription on the back?"
"I can read," Lucius snapped, holding out an impatient hand.
Mateo glided forward and dropped the jewelry into his upturned palm. Lucius examined it closely using the porch light hung over the door, then turned it over to read To my precious Esperanza, Love, Silvanus M.
He felt like he'd been hit in the gut full force. There was no denying the symbolism of the Slytherin snake, customarily given to a betrothed or a wife; Lucius himself had once given Narcissa a pair of earrings not so different from this necklace. His practiced eye noted the style of lettering, the decoration of the snake's body, and he guessed them to be dated somewhere around the mid-1600's. This was obviously not a recent work.
"When Silvanus was eighteen he came to Spain with his family, on vacation I suppose, I don't really know. The Malfoys owned a villa outside the town where my mother lived, and she went there to work as a Spanish tutor for the younger children," Mateo explained, relishing the expression of bewilderment on Lucius' face. "Being half British herself, she spoke fluent English in addition to Spanish, which is how I learned, naturally."
"So… how did…" Lucius couldn't bring himself to ask.
"The family stayed in Spain for several months. As one would expect, my mother had contact with Silvanus as well as with his siblings. Sorry to disappoint, she didn't go into details," Mateo noted dryly. "Suffice it to say when Silvanus' father got wind of his affair with a lowly halfblood, he dragged his son back to Britain and married him off."
"You never knew him, then."
"I never even met him."
Lucius held out the necklace to him, feeling the chill of the vampire's flesh as Mateo's fingers brushed his hand. "I'm not sure what to say. It's not Malfoy tradition to have bas—children out of wedlock and then abandon them. It's shameful. We're not brought up that way."
"Yes, I realize I'm a blight on your perfect family," Mateo growled as he refastened the chain around his neck.
"No, you misunderstand…Mateo." It felt odd somehow to say the name. "It was shameful of Silvanus to carry on before marriage; we're taught to be chaste." Remembering how dearly he had desired to break that chastity with Narcissa, he flushed, thankful the dimness hid his embarrassment. "But to abandon one's child is wholly unacceptable under any circumstance. Did he know your mother was pregnant?"
Mateo nodded. "She had told him. She said he was happy…and afraid."
Afraid of his parents finding out, no doubt, Lucius mused. His fear wasn't unfounded. Malfoy fathers were renowned for being strict to the point of cruelty, as he could attest himself, and Abraxas tended to be more lenient than many. Yet if Silvanus' father had known, in all likelihood he would have taken steps to procure the baby, or at least to care for him. It was the proper thing to do, and Malfoys were nothing if not infuriatingly proper.
"Your father failed spectacularly in his duty as a parent. I apologize on his behalf."
Stunned, Mateo gaped at him. That was utterly unexpected—an apology! It made him feel, if not all warm and fuzzy, a lot less resentful. "Well, he didn't completely fail. When I was fourteen, a man came to our town looking for my mother, demanding to see me. He asked us loads of questions—if I was a wizard, what I like to do, stuff like that—and he wrote down everything I said. He kept giving me the strangest looks, then he handed my mother a rather large sack of galleons and left."
"If I recall family history, and I do, Silvanus' parents died in 1668 when a wave of epidemics spread across the land. If you were born—"
"I was born in the year of our Lord 1654. In 1668 I was fourteen." Mateo understood where this was going. "Silvanus waited until his parents were dead, then sent someone to look for me."
Lucius nodded. "Too bad he wasn't brave enough to do so earlier. Or to claim you when he found you."
"Probably afraid it would ruin his reputation to bring his bastard to live with him. He had a legitimate family, after all." Mateo gave a shrug. It had all been so long ago, did it really matter now? "You know, that's the only fond memory I have of your ancestor, and he wasn't even in it. How pathetic is that?"
A grin Lucius tried to suppress flickered across his countenance. "Pretty pathetic."
The vampire burst out laughing in a deep, melodic roll. "I like you, Lucius! And you know something else? If my mother had been pureblood, my father would have married her and I would've been the heir. You would've been my descendant. Isn't life peculiar?"
"Technically, I never would've existed, Mateo," Lucius replied, still grinning. "It would've changed the whole genetic template…." He stopped when he noticed the vampire's quizzical look. "I presume you haven't studied that kind of thing."
Mateo shrugged again as he drew Lucius' wand from the back pocket of his jeans where he'd tucked it, and held it out to the other. "I trust you don't still want to kill me."
Lucius' laughter joined his. "I suppose not." He accepted the wand with a light inclination of his head, slipped it into his robe pocket, and opened the door. "Wait here. Accio Silvanus portrait."
A few moments later a life sized painted bust flew through the air and Lucius caught the heavy frame in both hands. Closing the door, he walked over and set the portrait across the arms of one of the porch chairs. Enthralled at seeing his sire for the first time, Mateo edged up close, reached out, and touched the painting's hair, which although long and held back with a band, was the precise shade of golden blond as his son's.
"Keep your hands to yourself," said the man in the portrait haughtily.
Mateo jumped, startled. "I forgot they move and talk," he said sheepishly.
"Lucius Malfoy, what do you mean bringing me out here? Take me back this instant!"
"Silvanus, this is Mateo. Your son."
Silvanus' blue eyes grew wide in astonishment as he gaped at the young men, then he barked, "That's a lie! He's been dead for hundreds of years."
"I should've been," Mateo concurred, unable to tear his eyes away.
The Malfoy in the portrait, who looked to be forty-something, glared back at him until a sudden gleam of recognition struck. His face lost its expression of indignation; he stretched out a trembling hand as if to reach beyond the confines of his frame. "I see your mother in you," he said, his voice softening.
"She always said she saw you in me," Mateo answered.
"That, too," agreed Silvanus, staring at his son in awe. His voice cracked ever so slightly as he said, "I never thought I'd get to see you."
Feeling like an intruder now, Lucius cleared his throat. "Perhaps I'll leave you alone to become acquainted. I'll send an elf out to collect the portrait when you're gone." He opened the door once more, but before going in he asked, "Will I see you again, Mateo?"
"I'd like that," responded the vampire. He lifted his eyes from his father with some difficulty. "Thank you for letting me meet him."
Lucius smiled and nodded, closing the door behind him.
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Abraxas fairly ran up the staircase when he spied his daughter-in-law struggling up the last few steps. He took her arm and helped her the rest of the way. "Narcissa, are you feeling well?"
"If feeling like a bloated whale is well, then I'm just dandy," she returned moodily, her voice increasing in pitch as she went on. "And I'm only seven months pregnant! By nine months I won't be able to fit on the stairs, you'll need to put a bed down in a parlor for me!"
Abraxas draped an arm around her admittedly thick waist to guide her down the hallway. "You look beautiful, Narcissa. Hasn't Lucius told you so?"
"Yes," she said sulkily. "But he's only saying it to make me feel better. He thinks I'm a cow."
"He thinks no such thing." Abraxas conjured a padded bench and pulled her over to it, settling her before seating himself. He looked her in the eye as he said, "Lucius loves you with all his heart. If you were morbidly obese, bald, and toothless, he'd still love you."
Horrified at the very prospect, she gasped, "Why would he? I'd be hideous!"
"You'd still be you," the man answered quietly. "That would be enough."
"How do you know?"
"Because that's how I felt about Lucius' mother," he said with a shrug. "When my wife was pregnant, I thought she was utterly captivating. I'd have thought so no matter what she looked like. My son isn't so different from me, for better or worse."
Narcissa beheld the sadness shining in the man's eyes, and she took one of his hands between hers. It was the same size, with the same sense of strength as her husband's hands. "He's very much like you, and I understand more all the time how lucky I am for that."
Abraxas smiled at her, and she saw once again a handsome vision of her husband in twenty-six years. With a light gesture at her protruding abdomen, he commented, "It's cumbersome and irritating at times, but once the baby comes you won't regret any of it…well, maybe the morning sickness. And the labor."
She laughed before growing pensive. "Abraxas, I'm… I can't bring this up to Lucius…"
"What is it?" he asked, growing concerned.
"What if it's a girl? I can't bear him any more children, and he'll be so disappointed not to have an heir." Tears had sprung to her eyes.
"Need I remind you that Lucius loves you? Any child will make him happy, Narcissa. Remember how he loved Niki?"
She nodded. He'd loved his niece with a ferocity she'd never seen in him with anyone else…except herself. "Yes, he'd love our daughter, but—"
"Who says a girl can't be an heir?" Abraxas interrupted. "It will be Lucius' fortune to pass on to whomever he wishes. She'll simply have to keep her name when she marries, and pass on 'Malfoy' to her children. Honestly, the Malfoy name carries such clout I wouldn't doubt her husband would change his surname."
Narcissa laughed again, yet in truth the man had a point. There were plenty of wizards who'd be willing to cast off their family names in favor of the Malfoy moniker, leaving any children to bear the Malfoy name as well as blood. "I hope you're right. Lucius is so traditional."
"Don't you worry, Narcissa. Boy or girl, this child is the Malfoy heir." Just to be on the safe side, lest his son contradict him or say something idiotic that inadvertently hurt Narcissa, he'd better have a talk with the young man. He couldn't really blame Lucius for his occasional lapse into thoughtlessness, he supposed, since his mother died when he was only two; he'd never had the chance to see how a loving couple should interact, what they should say—and NOT say. All in all though, he was proud of Lucius, proud of his splendid choice of a bride, proud of the love his son heaped on the young woman. There was no reason to worry, this baby would be in good hands.
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Jack was nowhere in sight when Severus brought Jacinta home. He was glancing around, sure Mulciber was lurking someplace nearby, when Glenna came rushing in smiling. Before she even spoke to Snape she took the baby and kissed her all over her face as Jacinta giggled hysterically.
"Hi, Severus. You're back a little early."
"That's because I need to discuss something with you," he answered. He leaned over to give a final kiss to his daughter.
"Let me give Jacinta to her fa—to Jack and I'll be right back." With an abashed look she fled the room.
Severus glared after her. Jacinta's father? He had an urge to punch Jack in the nose on general principles. Yes, he realized everyone assumed Mulciber to be her father, and it was an act that had to be kept up, but he didn't like hearing it. Glenna was gone only a minute, verifying his suspicion that Jack had been hovering close by.
"Okay, what did you need to talk about? Is everything alright with Jacinta?"
"Yes, she's fine. Her birthday is coming up in less than a month and I'd like to take her," he stated, bracing himself for the inevitable reaction.
"No! How could you even ask that?"
"Oh, I don't know," he drawled. "Maybe because half of her DNA is from me."
Becoming conciliatory, Glenna got a pained expression. "Severus, I can't. It would look suspicious for her not to be here on her first birthday. We're having a party, for heaven's sake! You'll see her there."
"As Zeb," he responded bitterly. "What about my family? They'd like to be with her, too. Mulciber's family gets to see her whenever they like. Jack spends way too much time with her."
"I know you don't want to hear this, but Jack is an excellent father to her—"
"And I'm not?"
"I didn't say that! Would you prefer he ignored her or was awful to her?" she shouted, her green eyes engendering a dangerous look. "He doesn't have to love her, but he does! You should be grateful."
Having seen Glenna angry in the past, Severus knew better than to proceed with the argument. It was futile, potentially hazardous, and she wasn't without a point, Jack was very good to Jacinta. It was better to have his ex-friend be attentive to his little girl than to have to kill him for mistreating her, which come hell or high water he'd do if it came down to it.
Hesitating, but determined to come out with it, he said, "It shouldn't be like this, Glenna. We shouldn't be like this." He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching up to brush her hair, his meaning becoming very clear.
"Severus, don't. I'm married, I love Jack."
"As much as you loved me?" he murmured.
"I said don't!" she cried, pushing him hard in the chest with both hands. "You had your chance, I can't do this!" Tears hung ready to fall from her eyes.
Still he persisted. "You never gave me a chance. You didn't tell me you were pregnant."
The lioness in her came roaring out, driving Severus back another step. "Don't you dare act innocent in this whole thing! You didn't want to marry me without a baby, why on Earth would I think you'd want me with one?"
Because he feared she might physically attack him—and short of holding her at bay he refused to lift a hand against her; because she looked so upset, angry, and hurt; because she was right, he hadn't made any effort to let her know how he felt when it would have made a difference, he shook his head as he studied the floor.
"I'm sorry, Glenna. I won't bring it up again."
For several agonizing moments there was no answer, then she said quietly, "We need to remain friends for Jacinta's sake. Please don't ruin it."
"I won't," he whispered, feeling like a total ass. In his ignorance he'd believed that his affections for Glenna would dissipate, and they had somewhat when she was pregnant and he never saw her. Being face to face on a regular basis was torture, pure and simple, yet he'd brought it on himself, hadn't he? He deserved it, and he had no right to make her feel guilty or torn. If he could endure the torments meted out by Lord Voldemort, surely he could learn to live with this in silence.
"You can take Jacinta in the morning on her birthday," she said. "We'll have the party in the afternoon. Will that work out?"
He nodded. How badly he desired to reach out to her, only he couldn't, not now, not ever. Just one more emotion he must crush into a helpless puddle at the back of his mind where it couldn't hurt him. There was so much pain in his life that ended up suppressed and hidden away…
"Thank you, that'll be fine." He edged back into the fireplace, waved, and floo'd home.
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It was the middle of the night. The twins were asleep when Severus crept out of bed, yanked on his trousers, and stumbled through the dark into the living room to be alone. Had it not been so chilly outside, he'd have taken that route. As it was, he flopped onto the couch, his mind replaying and punishing him about the earlier conversation with Glenna as it had all evening, refusing to let him rest.
What was wrong with him? Glenna hadn't given him the slightest encouragement or sign that she wanted him back. He'd acted like a complete fool and almost endangered their relationship, tenuous as it was, in the process. He shook his head morosely. He was clueless and stupid like he'd been all his life, that was his problem!
Picking up the remote, he flipped on the television, turning the volume down low. There was nothing good on; boring talk shows, silly re-runs of game shows. It made him smile sadly; Regulus would have been enthralled no matter what the subject, no matter how silly. And yet, despite his seeming innocence and naivete, he instinctively understood things about life and relationships, he cared about people. Severus could've talked to him about anything, for which he now berated himself for not taking advantage of that gift, for shoving it aside, for not listening to the advice Regulus had given him on various occasions. At times Reg might have been deliberately annoying, yet he was also funny and kind, the whole Snape family loved him—something Severus wouldn't admit to even under torture from the dark lord himself.
He didn't realize he was crying until he felt the tears from his cheeks splashing onto his bare chest. He hadn't wept at the funeral, he hadn't wept in these months after, and here he was bawling over his friend because of a sodding TV program! A chuckle at the incongruity, the ridiculousness of it, forced its way out, and he found himself laughing and crying at the same time.
"What happened to you, you little jerk?" Severus growled, wiping at his eyes.
His only answer came in the form of a laugh track on the TV.
