I liiiiiiiiivvvveeeeee!

First off, belated Happy New Year to everybody out there. I wish you all the best this 2021.

Secondly, I gots me a beta! Super thank you to Realmwalkerdragon (formerly Kora), for putting up with proofreading my work. She's also been helping me with building the plot. I am really excited for us to bring you the rest of the story.

This chapter was inspired by a fic I once read. Please enjoy!

Chapter 12: Severus

I watched as the potion in the cauldron bubbled idly. With a flick of my wrist, the fire turned down, calming the brewing potion's surface once more, a shimmering, stardust smoke beginning to rise off of it in a swirling pattern. Finding the result to be exactly as I calculated, I sheathed my wand back into its place in my sleeve. Upon seeing the potion bellow into a foot and a half tall stack of smoke and spark blue and red, I stood up and stirred the concoction twice in the counterclockwise motion, before doing the same in the clockwise motion. When the smoke started to tint orange near the surface, I slowly added the venom of the Swooping Evil into the eye of the vortex in the middle of the swirling potion, careful not to splash even a single drop, turning it into a bright purple.

It was just about finished when I felt a searing pain in the inside of my left forearm. I winced so hard that I almost added too much venom into the mixture. Luckily, the involuntary spasm made my hand twitch away from the cauldron and drop the vial. The glass shattered upon impact with the tabletop, spilling the faintly glowing, blue liquid. I hastily stumbled back to avoid the droplets.

It was a waste of a perfectly good and rare ingredient, but it would be far more disastrous if this cauldron exploded. The venom of the Swooping Evil, after all, is found to have obliaviative properties at best and fearfully deadly at worst. High doses of that, added to the already volatile base concoction could only mean a one way ticket to the morgue, if you were so lucky to have died instantly, that is.

Irritably, I cast a preservation charm (one of my own inventions) on the cauldron to stop the brewing process. The burning sensation still persists on my forearm, though a little less painful than when it suddenly appeared earlier. With a shaky hand, I rolled up my left sleeve and twisted my arm, so that the prone, soft inner flesh faced up.

On it, the unmistakable Dark Mark, one of a skull with a shiny serpent slithering out of its mouth, was clearer than ever. The serpent slithered around the flesh and twisted on itself, leaving the skin red and inflamed wherever it went. It was a sign for any Death Eater that the Dark Lord was summoning them.

I closed my eyes, blew out a shaky breath I hadn't known I'd been holding through clenched teeth and hovered my right hand over the mark. Instantly, I felt a mental link form and activate, connecting me directly to the Dark Lord. Through it, I heard a raspy voice in my head, barely above a whisper, say to me, "Come to me, Severus, and bring your personal pensieve. To the Malfoy Manor, QUICKLY!"

The last word rang painfully in my ear. My knees buckled with the piercing pain. I grabbed the edge of the table, my dull nails almost digging into the wooden surface. I greedily gasped for air that my lungs seemed deprived of.

But, knowing that the Dark Lord does not take lightly to tardiness, I quickly composed myself, subconsciously moving to roll the sleeve back down to cover the mark, which was now quickly fading back to the dull grayish green hue, resembling a faded tattoo. I stalked off to one of the cupboards standing on the far side of the wall. I retrieved my wand from its holster hidden in my sleeve. With it, I drew a complex pattern in thin air, mumbling a customized spell made specifically for concealment. Once done, the cupboard moved to open itself, revealing many small vials labeled and stored neatly on the racks lining the inner walls. The scene was illuminated in a ghostly blue light coming from the wide, saucer-like object placed on a pedestal standing in the middle of the space.

Another swish of my wand brought the pensieve floating towards me. It shrank as it approached to fit a box I held open for it. The box itself was no larger than a gift box for a necklace, perhaps. It settled itself snuggly inside, and I closed the lid after it. I tucked the box back into the folds of my robe and disapparated off to the manor.

In a heartbeat, I found myself standing in front of a majestic set of iron gates, where a trembling house elf was dutifully waiting for me. I cocked an eyebrow at it as it refused to acknowledge my arrival verbally, but only chose to bow low before leading me off into the house. Odd? Malfoy's elves are hardly ever that 'rude.' The sadistic family makes sure to train their slaves enough to act right in front of house guests, especially Death Eaters.

I shrugged and followed it into the house. It hardly matters, anyway. I am no stuck-up pure blood who's so in love with hearing his own name every time, all the time.

Once inside, I took note of the unusually large number of elves running around, busying themselves with… whatever it was they were doing. Various objects were being floated up and down the halls. Some were enchanting cleaning rags and mops to work themselves. Others were righting paintings and portraits that hung on the wall (not without annoyingly loud protests from the inhabitants of them, anyway).

As we delved deeper into the heart of the mansion, I noticed the damaged vases, furnishings, walls and doors the elves were repairing in this part of the house. Was there an attack? Is that why the Dark Lord called for me? I shook my head, quickly deciding against it. The fight seemed to be over anyways. Besides, it would seem he needed my pensieve more than he needed me here.

We finally arrive at one of the larger receiving halls of the manor, the one usually used for the Death Eaters' meetings. The elf leading me meekly knocked three times on the heavy, oaken doors, announcing my arrival in a small, squeaky voice. An airy voice lifted from the other side of the doors, granting us entrance. The house elf held the double doors open for me as I walked through them.

I walked into a sight more bizarre than the last. Three house elves wrestled a giant, wooden hand up off the ground. Some two or three frustratedly tried to vanish the broken marble dome that seemed to be connected to the ground. Another five were rummaging through the debris on the floor, which, judging by the larger, more intact pieces, used to be the conference table. One particularly timid house elf attended the Dark Lord personally, albeit quaking rather nervously at his side.

The Dark Lord himself is seated on the chair at the head of the table, the only piece of furniture that is still, oddly, intact. He swatted away the elf attending him, sending the latter sprawling on the floor. "Ah, Severus! Right on time."

"You called for me, my lord?" I held back the grimace that threatened to surface at the honorifics with practiced ease. Even after all these years, calling him that still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, yet I have to continue playing the loyal servant if I want my own goals met, as always.

I decided to step around the whole mess between us. That was when I first noticed it. There was a large white tarp laid out on the floor. The figure underneath looks suspiciously like… a body. A human body! A delicate hand poked out from under the edge, indicating that it was a woman under there. I barely notice the silver ensemble ring she wore on her middle finger before a house elf tugged on the cloth to cover her up entirely.

The ring, I knew from the countless times I've seen it before, has two silver serpent accents with shiny yellow diamond eyes and ruby tongues, facing each other, holding up a large emerald center stone in their teeth and their tails entwining at the bottom of the ring. It is a customized ring ensemble made especially for the members of the Malfoy clan. Each one, when they enter the family, be it by birth or by marriage, commissions the best jewelry artisan money could hire to forge them their unique yet similar ring bearing the family crest. It is enchanted to always fit the wearer and the wearer alone. They wear it proudly all the time and anywhere they go. It is, after all, a symbol of their loyalty to the great House of Malfoy. They wear it until the day they…

… die.

I am no stranger to death, being a Death Eater myself - having been one since I was barely even out of Hogwarts. Some of the deaths I've seen in my life, regrettably, were carried out by my own hands. No, death is nothing new to me. However,the implications of Narcissa Malfoy's death, that is what bothers me the most. I fear, particularly, for what it means for the heir, Draco Malfoy. With Lucius being in Azkaban and out of the Dark Lord's graces, besides, and Narcissa dead, where does all this leave the young Draco?

I must have been staring at the canvass too much because soon a hand laid itself gently on my shoulder. I flinched as I was brought out of my stupor. Turning, I find the Dark Lord standing beside me. "Yes, it was quite tragic..." he motioned slightly towards the corpse, feigning sympathy. But anyone who even remotely knew the Dark Lord knows that he is incapable of such.

"I-If I may be so bold..." I awkwardly started.

"It is irrelevant," the Dark Lord cut me off with a dismissive wave. I snapped my mouth shut, knowing better than to push the topic. "Have you brought it?"

I retrieved the box from my hidden best pocket and presented it to him. As soon as I opened it, the content floated out and enlarged back to its original size, stopping just above the table in front of us.

By this point, the room had mostly been fixed. The long table, in particular, was now whole and standing again. The Dark Lord directed the pensieve to the head of the table. I turned to follow him there. From the corner of my eye, I saw the house elves lifting the body up off the ground and placing it gingerly on the table, but the white tarp remained on top of her.

Choosing to ignore that particular scene, I turned to see the Dark Lord take a vial from some trembling house elf. It contained a memory, I recognized the distinctive bluish gray glow and the fluid, almost otherworldly swishing motion of the content. Nearer the edge of the table sat an ebony box. On it lay an unseeming leather bound book.

"Is that it?" I asked before thinking to ask for permission to speak at all.

The Dark Lord didn't seem to mind. He seemed far too happy to even care about it. "I wonder… what secrets could this small vial contain that it should be kept under such complex 'lock and key'?" he mumbled thoughtlessly to himself, mostly.

He uncorked the vial and poured out its contents into the pensieve before he leaned over it, his face barely touching the rippling surface. A blank look settled on him, and I knew he was now transported into the world of the memory.

I shifted my weight slightly, unsure of how to hold myself, when an angry hiss sounded behind me. My head darted back to see his viper, Nagini, arrogantly slither to the Dark Lord, coiling slightly at my feet, its scaly body brushing dangerously against my shin. It paused, just for a second, and turned to look back at me. I suppressed a shiver as its deep purple eyes stared down into my being, as if daring me to even think about moving a muscle. I could almost swear a ghost of a smirk played on its lips before it slithered off.

Hang on, that's not right… have her eyes always been purple?

I never got to ponder too much on it, as the Dark Lord straightened up. It would seem his viewing of the memory has just concluded, though his expression now remains unreadable. One might think that after learning the secrets held by that prized relic should yield a stronger reaction?

But no, his face remained placid. Only the red hot, burning coals of his eyes gave any indication to his state of deep thought.

So I stood there, unsure of what I was to do exactly. Luckily, not much dead air hung between us, as Pettigrew came crashing into the doors, sweat beading over his oily brow, eye wide and dilated in fear and breaths coming in short gasps. Another elf cowered behind him, knowing that his sudden intrusion would mean certain punishment

"My lord, my Lord!" He wheezed (perhaps squeaked, more like it). He scrambled clumsily into the room, knocking a few house elves off their feet. "My LORD!" he half wheezed, half coughed when he finally reached our side of the room.

"Wormtail, if you know what is good for you, you would shut up right now." It was said so quietly, but the very much explicit power and threat exuded by the Dark Lord's aura instantly turned the air thick. The impending doom of the next person to even dare to breathe is so palpable, that it might've been more solid than a rock thrown at your head.

Pettigrew clicked his teeth shut.

Nagini slithered up the Dark Lord's chair, her massive body coiling around the chair's armrest. She rose further until her eyes were level with him. For a long moment, the two had a tense staring contest.

Nagini's tongue would flick out through her lips once in a while, as if speaking to the Dark Lord. He, in turn, would reply in a series of distinct hisses - parselmouth, I realized. The exchange continued for another minute or so.

Finally, a menacing grin fell on the Dark Lord's lips. "Yes, that would work just fine..." he told no one in particular. Or at least, I don't think he did. "Wormtail!" he suddenly scowled.

"M-M-My lord…?"

"You are to go with Severus and await further instructions."

Pettigrew moved to retort his protests to his living arrangements, but the Dark Lord continued, "This is an order, Wormtail, not a request."

For the second time tonight, Pettigrew snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. He threw me a vicious glare. But all I did in response was smirk, not even gracing him enough to look at him directly. He choked on a scoff before he stalked off to the wrong end of the room, grumbling quietly to himself.

I rolled my eyes at him and went to fetch him. As I moved, the Dark Lord called out, his voice dripping in amusement, "Oh and, Wormtail?" The fat man spun back around. "Do try to behave yourself. Severus does tend to get rather violent with people who do not respect his property."

This time, I glared at him directly before flashing him a menacing sneer. He instantly paled and bowed to the Dark Lord.

I moved to grab him by the arm as the door swung open once more, revealing a frazzled Bellatrix. By now, repairs to the room were done - as if the earlier damage was all but a dream. The only thing to prove its occurrence was the very real and very still corpse of Narcissa Malfoy lying, arranged to look simply resting almost too peacefully on the table, now in full view, without the tarp.

I dragged Pettigrew towards the door, giving a quick bow (which was not acknowledged) and took my leave.

I apparated back to my home in Skinner's End with a snivelling Pettigrew in tow. Unlocking the door, I pushed him into the house and followed him in, closing and locking the door again behind us.

I dragged him roughly to a room - the smallest room of the house, nothing more than a broom closet, really. "This is your room. Do yourself a favor and stay here so quietly that you're pretending you don't exist." Once again, I pushed him into the room and slammed the door in his face before he even got the chance to argue.

I made my way back to my lab, massaging my right temple as a migraine started. My eyes fell back to the potion I was brewing, held in suspended animation. Not even a wisp of smoke blew as I closed the door behind me. Staring into the potion, frozen in time, my mind drifted back to the issue of Draco Malfoy.

Stoic as I may seem to everyone else, but there are only two people left in this miserable existence I am forced to call a life that I truly care about - Draco Malfoy being one of them.

There is something about the boy that oddly resonates with me. He puts on this bravado of being the stuck up, arrogant prick who loves bullying his peers and relying on his family's influence to get away with it. For the longest time I actually believed it, too.

Until I saw him once. He thought no one was looking then, and I really didn't mean to, either. We were in the library. I was there to return a rare collection of books to the library's Restricted Section. They were all about potions, of course. It was early morning and it was a rare chance that the know-it-all Granger had been sick and wasn't in (it was probably around the time she was petrified, apparently).

Draco was sitting quietly in a corner, skimming through a book on a topic I really rather not care about. But the colorful, glossy cover of the thin, magazine-like book caught my attention. I realized it was a muggle comic book, probably taken from a first-year muggle-born student he recently bullied. I almost sneered at the thought of the stuck-up git having picked on yet another helpless victim. While I couldn't care less about the wellbeing of the majority of the student body myself, I wasn't particularly fascinated with the idea of senseless bullying either (hypocritical as it may sound, but my brand of bullying helps keep up my false persona, in my defense).

I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to frighten his arrogant arse a bit by threatening to tell his father about this muggle filth he's associating himself with. So I sneaked in to catch him off guard. But as I crept closer, I realized there was something off about the boy.

It was his eyes. There was an unusual spark in them that I have never seen before. The pale, silver orbs shown like they were actually alive for the first time. He seemed genuinely interested in the publication. There was a carefree aura about him while he was immersed in his reading. I was half thankful that he had been so absorbed in his reading that he didn't notice me openly gaping at him.

I hastily slipped back around a bookcase, silently cursing as the motion caused a faint squeak and groan of the ancient wood when I hit the shelves. His head whipped up, his eyebrows furrowed in fear of being discovered. He quickly vanished the book and composed himself again, donning the cold, indifferent, sneering mask he normally wore and made his way out the library in the arrogant gait he typically carried himself in.

It wasn't much to go by, but I found out something important that day. Draco Malfoy, as his peers came to know him, was not who he really was, but what he thought the rest of the world expected him to be. Then again, it might have just been a fluke, since the opportunity to observe him in a similar light never actually came. Either the boy became more guarded of his actions, even in private, or it was all just in my imagination.

But I'd like to think that it was the truth. I find it regretful, yet comforting to know that there issomeone else out there in a somewhat similar position to my own - forced to wear a mask of what the world expects us to be, because the world doesn't need and certainly doesn't give a fuck about who we truly are.

Since then, I found myself favoring the boy, not because of fear or awe of his family's wealth or influence, but rather to protect the light that I see in him, the innocence that I chose to believe he has, even if he doesn't show it.

I was brought out of my internal ramblings as the faint glow of a patronus suddenly came in through an open window and stopped a few feet from me. I blinked rapidly, forcing my eyes to adjust to the light. Now what?! I thought grumpily to myself.

As if the brightness still wasn't enough, the faintly glowing orb exploded into the graceful form of a phoenix. From it, emerged the unmistakable voice of one Albus Dumbledore.

"Severus, I need you to come to the Burrow…"

Oh, great! Just what I needed. I listened to the rest of the message as attentively as I could, although a hand still found itself nursing my building migraine.

Grumpily, I abandoned all thoughts of continuing my potion-making anytime soon, I swished my wand and the cauldron hid itself in a lower cupboard. I then moved to retrieve the antivenom Dumbledore requested. Deciding that I have enough for two doses (after all, how many people were actually stupid enough to have been bitten by that anoying serpent?), I apparated off the to edge of Hogwarts grounds to retrieve the other items the headmaster asked for.

I really liked the dynamic of Draco and Snape having a personal relationship outside of the student-teacher and fellow Death Eater relationship in the cannon. As mentioned earlier, the idea for this chapter came from another fic I read before (I can't remember the title, tho), but in that fic, Snape was Draco's godfather.

Although that particular relationship allows them to be closer to each other, cannonically (is that even the right word?) speaking, I think it's impossible because the Malfoys would probably never choose Snape since he is poor and a halfblood, besides. Plus, according to Google, Lucius is 6-7 years older than Snape, so... I don't see how the cannon supports that idea.

So I opted for this bit. Thus, making Snape continue is gravely misunderstood, heroe on the sidelines character (would it still be considered spoiling if I dropped these hints? I mean, it's been almost a decade since HP films was finished in the film franchise, and another decade earlier since the book series was done publishing. The general presumption would be that you should have already finished them, right?).

Anywho, special mentions:

Kora/Realmwalkerdragon: I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to beta my works. (Seriously, I think my raw writing really gives her a hard time A LOT since my mind wanders easily when I write, that my hands sometimes end up typing gibberish. Still, she does an excellent job with fixing them for me). More power to us, I hope!

Ren: Hi! I won!'t even make up excuses, Dumbledore's chapter was really lazy of me. But I'm glad you liked the thought process featured, at the very least. PS- Is that Ren as in 人?

Gesta27: And thank YOU, too! I'm glad your loving the story so far.

Sorry for the late updates, and I think they will only be less frequent from now on. Kora (sorry, this name is shorter than the other one) and I have been revisiting a few other chapters (particularly Draco's, for me, personally. We both agree that he sound way too vulgar in Ch4 for his speech pattern to be realistic, even if it were just in his thoughts).

But know that we are working on giving you a better story, so please excuse the few-and-far-between updates.

I hope you liked this fairly short chapter as much As we enjoyed writing it. This is, truth be told, the latest chapter I've written. Next chapter is Draco's.

Also, lemme know what you guys think? Yay? Nay? Suggestions? Critiques? Feel free, don't be shy! I be waiting for them!

Until next time, madoodz. Bye!~~~