A/N: I have nothing to say for myself.

She'd been alone before. She was no stranger to the silence that met her across the room, to the sound of her thoughts echoing off the walls of her mind. There'd been moments in her life when Severus was her only friend. Her only everything. Never had it been as painful as it was now.

She had never understood why Severus called this place a prison, not fully. She could comprehend the idea, of course, but now, she was living it. The bars around the castle were more than metaphorical. Meant to keep the darkness beyond these grounds just that. But, they also kept her inside.

After the fire, the loss of nearly everything, the latest attack in a series that was never-ending, their capture. Their escape. Lily had known. Known that they had to stay here where they couldn't be touched by Voldemort's men. They were safer here, it was simply reasonable and she hadn't questioned it.

Now, she wanted to rage against the bars that had never held ill intent but kept her feeling like a caged animal all the same.

Before this evening she had thought they had the option of leaving, of fleeing to another place and abandoning the hatred here, the pain, the loss. It was simple, wasn't it? To forget everything that had hurt them here. The boys could go to Illvermorny or Beauxbatons, or even Durmstrang — if they were desperate. They could have left this all behind. And maybe they should have, long ago.

But, Slughorn had changed that. Changed everything she thought she knew. She had lost more than her family that Halloween, but her future as well. Harry's future.

They had gone after Slughorn with the hope he would provide them answers. Never had she thought he would just give them more painful questions. He'd left without giving them the most important answer of all.

Despite the sobering potion, the alcohol in his blood had loosened his tongue. The potion had unfogged the drunken state that clouded his mind, but it didn't change that he had held it all in for this. For the question she had nearly begged him for. How to destroy a horcrux. How to save Harry.

She'd let him leave, but how could she not? She could have bound him, poured veritaserum down his throat, forced him to tell her what he knew, but Slughorn had known that she wouldn't. That she couldn't. They both had.

And she'd been left alone, terrified of where Severus had gone, of what he was doing, of what would happen to Harry. Fear that she hadn't felt for some time — not like this.

Severus sat, the chaise stiff beneath him, a piece of furniture meant for style, not comfort. It was the very definition of the Malfoys. The green vase was still clutched in his fingers, his mind had stayed in America, not bothering to return with him.

He couldn't stay, there was no reason to. What spells had been cast on Quigg? How old were the wounds that dotted her? How often had the torture been inflicted? He couldn't answer any of the questions, he simply didn't know. Lucius should have been there, Lucius would have known. He had known and hadn't said a word.

Not that Severus had asked, had even given Quigg a second thought. He'd taken her place amongst the living and practically forgotten her existence. And, wasn't it his fault that this had happened at all? She had been disposed of to make room for him. A place in this world he had lost.

But, Lucius had been called away, the fire of urgency exploding inside his veins, snaking along them as much a part of him as anything else. And Severus had felt it. The vase dropped from his fingers at the remembrance, shattering on the hard floor beneath him.

His hand gripped at the flesh of his left arm, the dark mark gone, but the magic lingering in him still. Did the Dark Lord know? How could he not? But, then, how was Severus alive at all?

"Oh, Severus." The voice, plummy and pretentious, edged its way through his thoughts, distracting him from himself. He looked at Narcissa, her hand clutched over her heart in surprise.

He looked at the mess of broken ceramic that he had created, regret and embarrassment flourishing inside him. "I apologize."

Before his wand was held tightly in his hand enough to cast a spell, the slivers of what had been a vase minutes before realigned themselves, the pattern of marbled green becoming whole again.

"It's no matter. I wasn't aware you were here." She took a seat beside him, nearly as stiff as the lounge itself, perching on just the edge of the cushion

They sat in a silence that at any other time could have been considered comfortable. The relationship between them — though now distant — had evolved beyond the necessity of words.

"Lucius, he's returned to the Dark Lord's side, hasn't he?"

Severus nodded. She knew that he wouldn't have been here without an invitation. Had already pieced together her own version of events. One that separated the two men and bordered on the truth.

"I fear the war is drawing near." The words sounded dumb, even to his ears. The war had done more than draw near. It had persisted for most of his life, the entirety of others. Even with the fulfillment of the prophecy, the war had only lulled. Never-ending. Only a few of them had known it. But, she silently agreed. She knew the meaning behind his words. How could she not?

Even from within the castle walls Severus knew that things were worsening, Voldemort's defeat seeming like more of an impossibility. The air around them was charged with magic, spells of dark intent. It was just as things had been before when the power within Voldemort had only strengthened. Severus could feel it again, now, and though none of them spoke of it, he was sure he wasn't the only one.

He could see it in Narcissa's eyes, knew that the words were safe to speak in her presence. Knew that he didn't need to question aloud which side would succeed. They were growing desperate.

They remained that way, two old friends beside one another, a friendship no longer truly between them. Instead, a sense of duty, of obligation. The fact that they had come this far together.

Severus couldn't find it in himself to leave. The questions inside him we're simply too heavy and he couldn't move beneath them. He couldn't help but wonder why the Dark Lord had been called. If he had discovered Quigg's absence, Lucius' assistance. He couldn't help but wonder if Lucius was still alive.

Her son. He was no longer the helpless infant he'd been when Voldemort came for him the first time. That vulnerability had been stripped from him in the years past, but she could still fool herself into believing he was a normal thirteen year old. Times like this, when his voice — now varied with the depth of manhood — filtered through the wood of his bedroom door, was when she fooled herself the most.

She remembered only two years before when Harry had sobbed into her, had clutched at her for stability in his world that so often seemed too broken. They were tears he hadn't shown others, not even his friends. Wails he had reserved for private moments when he knew no one was there, his mum a safe exception.

Her fingers had run through his hair, parting the ever tangled and standing mess, smoothing it against his scalp. She'd shushed him, willing the tears to dry, but could provide no other comfort. The things he had seen. The things he had been apart of. Even now she'd been unable to give Severus the details. She'd provided him with the knowledge of Voldemort's return, a curt explanation, and he had let things be.

She had known even then that it was only the beginning. That Harry would have to face the monster again. Never would she have guessed that part of him lived inside Harry, tethering them both to this world. Thriving on every part of him that was good, festering like a parasite inside of Harry's own self-doubt.

The idea of Harry facing Voldemort again was mortifying, even worse than it had been before because now so much more lay at stake.

If Dumbledore had known, he hadn't said. Lily should have been angry, should have been outright furious at the number of secrets the man had kept, but she was so bloody tired of the rage inside her. The fury that always threatened to boil.

She chose to live with her own delusions. That Dumbledore hadn't known, hadn't expected the things that had been done to Harry. That he hadn't brought Quirrel into the castle for that very reason. She chose to believe that he had been just as surprised — disappointed — as the rest of them, otherwise, how could she continue to send both of their sons into the castle where their safety was not only no longer guaranteed, but threatened.

He'd told her the things that Harry had been unable to. Of the cauldron that had burbled in the deepest depths of Hogwarts, the potion inside viscous, surging precariously. The potion held together by Harry's own blood. The body that had crawled from it, skeletal and inhumane. The ignition of Harry's nightmares even still.

Of Voldemort, brought back by a professor. By a man Harry had spent hours upon hours with, Voldemort with him all the while.

What terrified Lily most was that Harry had brought himself willingly to the chamber, the Gryffindor inside him searching for the same thing his father had years ago. Pushed forward by a desire to protect others, to protect his friends, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

"I'm sure the poor girl is paralyzed with fear." Narcissa urged him, prodding him from her chaise and her home with her words.

Severus knew it was the truth — even if he wasn't fond of how she referred to Lily, treating her like a child when she was more of a fighter in this world than Narcissa had ever been. He had left with no explanation, not even a goodbye and had been gone for what he was sure was nearing hours.

He stood, the muscles of his body frozen, exhausted by the flood then lack of adrenaline. He paused for a goodbye, his eyes already set on the fireplace across the room. "When it is safe, be sure that he contacts me again. We have things to discuss."

She had begun to nod before he had even finished. The words unnecessary, merely pushing away the oppressive silence. They both knew what had to be done, what would be asked of Lucius. They had both been held inside the Dark Lord's shadows before.

With a final glance, a dipping of his chin, a silent farewell said in only movements, Severus stepped towards the fireplace. His fingertips once again reached for the magical soot, giving it a toss and allowing the word "Hogwarts" to escape him as he stepped inside the flame. He fell once more into a world of glimpses. The privacy of the floo system nearly nonexistent. He was given little into the lives of others, but it discomforted him all the same. How many had seen him through the green of flame, whether or not they were able to place who he was?

Still fighting through the thoughts of the day, he landed, his feet meeting the unyielding stone of the castle, His eyes finding Lily immediately.

She was alone, Slughorn surely having seized his escape. He hadn't expected the man to still be there. But, the blotched cheeks of her face, the sniffles that echoed inside the barren room, those hadn't been expected either. Something here had happened and he had allowed himself to be carried away by less painful things.

They stared at one another, each full of questions, each seeking answers, but they said nothing. The day had been too long, the knowledge inside it too painful. How easily it would have been to go to bed, to snuff the light and retreat into dreams that were much simpler and much more enjoyable. But, it could not be, and they both knew it.

He took the seat beside her, the chair still pulled out at an angle from when she had left, leaving him and Slughorn alone. His hands found hers in the shadows, her fingers cold beneath his. He didn't need to ask. The words freed themselves from her in an urgent whisper, too painful for her to hold inside any longer, but she was too terrified anyone but him would hear them.

"He's a horcrux."

Severus' mouth dried, his breathing stilled. He had considered such magic a possibility, but surely he must have misunderstood. He was tired, eager to accept the night which edged him toward his bed and so, his hearing must have faltered.

"He can't be." Severus insisted, his words firm, if only for himself.

"And yet, he is." Her neck bent, her forehead coming to his shoulder. Her body trembled wearily, tears that had already been shed that night and that had depleted her. He knew she would have questions. They both knew he had answers. That he had been far too experienced, far too swallowed up by the dark arts to expect anything else, but he wasn't sure he could give them.

I fear the war is drawing near. Words he'd spoken not long before though his meaning then had been different. He could hunt for objects, could find a way to will Voldemort's soul from within them, but to do the same to his very own son…

He held her close, allowing his own fears to pour from him. He couldn't add to her misery, not now. The information he had brought would do little good. Nothing could soothe her.

There was a knock at the door, an interruption of their grief, and she pulled away, wiping at the fresh tears that dotted her face. With a flick of his wand, the door was opened, the frame of Sirius standing behind it. A person he wasn't sure he'd grow used to seeing.

Sirius stepped into the room with hesitation, the distraught Lily and Severus had provided thick in the evening air. He stole a glance around the room, grey eyes searching for what, Severus didn't know.

With a clearing of his throat, a practice of his underused voice, Sirius spoke. "I've found something."