Severus was always going to be invited to Lucius's wedding, but there was being invited and there was being invited. He was not relegated to the back, he was not there as a peculiar act of charity on Lucius's part, or as Abraxas's apprentice. He belonged, he knew the most important people there on a first name basis, he was dressed the same, he talked the same, and he was there with Regulus Black, the bride's cousin himself.

Days before the wedding, he woke up in Regulus's flat. He felt groggy from his experience at the Marking ceremony, and he watched Regulus, blissfully asleep. He struggled to remember, and he struggled to forget. Memories of unspeakable things, memories he was not supposed to have, had threatened to drive a wedge between them before, and Severus was determined not to let it happen this time. After all, he told himself, there is no proof that it really was like that. It's just in your stupid mind. He got out of the bed and washed his face. Kreacher the elf had already made some breakfast, and it was waiting on the kitchen counter, magically kept warm at a perfect temperature. The elf himself was sleeping in his crib-sized bed. As he stirred awake, Severus told him he'll bring Regulus his breakfast and to go back to sleep. Giving Kreacher orders felt very strange to Severus, and he felt strangely denied as he'd been spared making his own breakfast as he was used to. He wondered if he would ever have the chance to show Regulus he was not a bad cook, either.

He looked at his left arm as he carried the tray. There was no denying the Mark was beautiful, and Severus could not wait to show it to one Walburga Black. He could not wait to hear her opinion about it - it was her outburst that inspired him to ask Lucius to vouch for him, after all, and he was not so rude as to deny her credit where credit was due. He could barely feel the doubt that gnawed at him when he remembered the way she'd spoken to him - about him. Mongrel from the Moors... only after their money... In his mind, he asked Walburga: You've been very good at keeping it in the family, haven't you? He looked at Regulus, impeccable and regal, and marvelled at the fact that he was indeed related to her and to his brother. The breakfast tray hovered, and Severus slipped back into the bed, under the blanket, which was still warm. It was an advantage of not needing to cook - he was back in bed with food in two minutes. Maybe I will get used to this, he thought. Regulus woke up. "Good morning," Severus said, and pulled the tray closer to them. "Good morning," Regulus replied and yawned, stretching his left arm... You are finally equals, just be happy.

"I've been thinking," Severus said, "perhaps we'll pay a visit to your mother today. I don't want her to think I'm not a man of my word, you understand." Regulus smiled. He hoped against hope that this would help - that there was a way to hang on to everything, to be Regulus and to be a proper Black, somehow. For almost his entire life, he had loved being a Black, and he hoped his parents would be proud of him for something he had accomplished, for more than being not Sirius.

"Please try to be gracious," he asked Severus. Severus's desire to one up those who'd hurt him brought him nothing but trouble, and Regulus had had enough trouble for a long time.

Severus answered: "I will try." A raised eyebrow later, he added hastily: "I promise!". They resolved to go there that evening. As Regulus spent the rest of the day reminiscing about the night before, and the Marking, Severus's mind absorbed his love's recollection of the events with greed - yes, this is what it was like, that is exactly what it was like - shaking hands with the Death Eaters, enjoying a feast, drinking the best elf-made wine, already discussing their future plans... how everybody there despised the Ministry and Dumbledore, how everybody loved magic, and wanted to push it further, to push themselves further... "and I saw you speaking with Rookwood, I think it's terrific, you'll do wonders at the Department of Mysteries if you can get in, at least I think so - who knows, right?" Regulus finally said something he needed to respond to.

"Yes, yes, it was very interesting," he said, and he hoped he sounded natural. But you're not lying, what are you worried about? It was fascinating, and you'd love a job at the Department of Mysteries!

"Don't let it go to waste, Snape!" Regulus ordered him. "It's time they all start adoring you like I do." It was one of those things Regulus said that warmed Severus's heart even as they made him more acutely aware of how different he was. If Regulus thought there was a chance of Severus Snape being adored by anyone, he was wrong. But this was not the time for arguing about minute points.

Evening came, and the two apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place. The door opened to let them in, but seemed to close a little too fast, as if to keep Severus out. Don't be paranoid, he told himself, as he pulled the end of his robe to prevent the door from closing on it.

"I think you should talk to them alone first," Severus suggested, and Regulus agreed. Moments later, he heard her shout, "WHAT?!", and moments after that, he saw Regulus storm down the stairs. "She thinks you've confunded me, she doesn't believe you've been Marked, I can't believe it-" and Severus felt the graciousness he had tried to muster transform into grudge, and pushed past Regulus. Confunded him, have I, he thought, and stomped up the stairs as Walburga stormed down. They bumped into each other so forcefully that he nearly fell backwards.

"Thought you'll get me too, I see!" She shrieked. "You've kept my son away from me for too long! I've had enough of you, whatever you want with my family ends now, the house of my fathers has been dishonoured enough!"

She did not know the half of it. Severus had had enough, enough , and indignation eclipsed the doubt. It is not I who is dishonouring the house of your fathers, you miserable old hag, he thought to himself, and before he knew what he was doing, he pulled up the left sleeve of his robe. "There! There!" He showed her, his half-blood hand inches from her nose.

"Do you think you're the only one who walks around with a fake mark?" She asked. "Diagon Alley is crawling with people like you, miserable frauds pretending to be something that they're not!"

"I dare you to touch it, if you want to draw the Dark Lord's attention to the fact that you've insulted someone he accepted!" He hollered at her. It felt so good, to tower over her, to watch her expression change, to finally demand recognition, not to try to disappear or fade into the background... this is what you got the Mark for... He was a new man, a man at last, he could protect himself, he had power, a presence that commanded respect...

"Stop it!" Regulus shouted at both of them.

"Mum, look, look at this-" he said, rolling up his sleeve. "They're exactly the same. We were Marked together. It's real. Both of them are. Please, both of you, stop."

A horrible, forced smile spread across Walburga's face...

The very same smile she wore now, at the wedding. Narcissa's pure white dress was woven of shimmering unicorn hair, she was wearing a goblin-made tiara, and a black diamond now sparkled on her slender finger. Lucius wore a set of dragon-skin robes, with buttons made of marble. White peacocks graced the yard, and the most intricate weather charms kept everyone supremely comfortable. Severus never dreamed that he would sit there with the Blacks and the LeStranges, looking like one of them, being one of them, in the very front row, as the Dark Lord himself bonded Lucius and Narcissa to one another. The Minister of Magic himself was not invited - but Severus was. It could not be clearer that this was deliberate - the future belonged to the Death Eaters.

"It is my honour, my pleasure and privilege to bring the Malfoys and the Blacks together. Two noble, magical families, made one, on this happy day, full of love. Your families have reached a happy accord, but two wizards like you, Narcissa, Lucius, I am sure, will be wise enough to raise one of the finest families Wizarding Britain has seen with no need for contracts. On a personal note, I did not know my family -" the Dark Lord's voice broke - "and I feel so fortunate to watch two wizards become a family, and to have played a part in this process. To Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy!" He concluded, raising a glass of elf-made wine.

Everyone raised their own glass, and Severus took a small sip and looked around him. He was surrounded by happy faces, dizzying wealth, perfect elegance; he was drinking the finest wine, he was treated with nothing but politeness and respect (Walburga's obvious insincerity might have been the best part, he felt). Some Ministry Department Heads were there even if the Minister was not - the Minister's days were numbered, and they knew it. Rookwood from the Department of Mysteries even made a point of speaking with Severus about a possible job there, again - Severus knew Rookwood'd been Marked as well, and would never have spoken to him otherwise. The most distinguished wizards in the Kingdom were there - Dumbledore being a noteworthy exception, praise Merlin - and they all saw him in his incredible set of robes, surrounded by his equals, spoken to like one of them, and Spinner's End faded into oblivion, and who he used to be was finally gone, gone, gone, replaced with this happy and hopeful new man. Snivellus who? How could you have ever doubted the Dark Lord?

Regulus's warm, loving hand slid over his. "Shall we dance?" He asked, and Severus was happy to oblige, and they danced in front of everyone, and they kissed in front of everyone, and Severus finally had no secrets, no fears, no shame. He closed his eyes, music filled his ears, and the perfectly warm wind caressed his face. The air smelled of jasmine. He had never been happier. He doubted that anybody ever was.