AN: For those of you following this story, thank you for staying with me! Thank you also to those of you who have taken time to review it, I really appreciate your support! The story continues to be AU and is unlikely to change - it has taken on a life of its own now! Hope you enjoy - please read and review if you have time :)

"You shouldn't have brought him here Lucius," Narcissa hissed as her husband gently laid the unconscious man on the plush coverlet adorning the great bed in the Malfoy's guest room, "Look at him, for Merlin's sake! He needs to be at St Mungo's!" One look at her old friend's ashen face, combined with the knowledge passed to her from Draco painted a bleak picture. His chest was barely rising, each breath laboured and accompanied by the rattling sound of impending death.

"The Dark Lord ordered it, Cissy! Would you have me disobey him and bring his wrath upon us again? I had to seize this chance to return us to his favour –" he hissed in reply, careful not to raise his voice in fear of alerting one of his fellow Death Eaters, "Do you think I want to put him in such danger? I love him as a brother, you know this!" He ran his hands through his long blonde hair and took a shaky breath. "I have summoned him, he will be hear soon – you just need to keep him stable until then."

"Did it not cross your brilliant mind that if I cannot keep him alive until the Dark Lord arrives that we are as good as dead anyway? He needs expert medical care!" she continued to fret about, unsure of how to proceed. In the end she contented herself by tucking the blankets in around him tightly and placing a delicate hand across his forehead, a stricken look on her face. His face was more relaxed than she had ever seen it, his long eyelashes a dark smudge against the absolute pallor of his face.

Narcissa remembered the day when Lucius had first introduced her to Severus. Back at Hogwarts, when they were in their seventh year, Severus in his fourth. Tall for his age, rather too slim for her liking, dark and brooding – he had made an instant impact on her. It was evident even from that early age that he possessed incredible power, and it simmered just below the surface, tightly controlled. He had been reserved, quiet - but he was unmistakeably a confident and intelligent young wizard. He had settled into their circle as easily as if he had always been there, and he quickly became a loyal and reliable friend. In later years, he had matured into a formidable wizard, grown into his looks and frame and she had to admit her heart did hold a flame for him. His mastery of potions dazzled her and when she had thrown herself before him in tears following the latest in a long line of miscarriages, he had responded with compassion and care, concocting a bespoke fertility potion which had resulted in the birth of her only son, Draco. He was the natural choice for Draco's Godfather, another role he had fulfilled with a fierce loyalty. As her eyes travelled down his still form, she could just see the edge of the dark ink that formed part of the Dark Lord's mark. She deeply regretted her husband taking the mark, but she utterly detested him for pulling Severus down with him, although she would never voice it. Where Severus had grown into an honourable, graceful man, her husband had become dark and twisted by ambition with an insatiable thirst for power. He was cruel at times, choosing to vent his frustration on her and their only son and at times she hated him with a ferocity that frightened her. Sometimes, late at night when her husband had finally let her alone and she was free to let her mind wander, she permitted herself to fantasise about what a life with Severus might have been like. Lord knows it would have been infinitely better than the hell that she existed in with Lucius. When she woke in the mornings she would invariably be crushed by disappointment, to wake and find the man beside her different to that of her dreams. She would rather be living the fantasy.

She was startled from her reverie by the resounding crash of the ornate wooden door as it slammed into the wall with considerable force. She jerked back from Severus, snatching her hand away and firmly clasping it behind her back to conceal the trembling as the malevolent figure of the Dark Lord swept into the room.

He swept the room with his reptilian eyes, flicking from Lucius who had dropped to his knees in supplication before him and Narcissa who absolutely refused to kneel before him, insolent witch, and finally to the motionless form of his spy in the middle of the great bed. The tight smile he wore faded as he approached. He pulled the carefully tucked covers back, revealing the great rents across the man's bare chest. He laid a cold, grey hand on one and drew a finger down it, tracing the deadly track its full length. Narcissa swallowed a wave of nausea and fought to control her emotions. She couldn't bear to watch his cadaverous fingers touching Severus's defenceless body like that and in the end, she had to avert her eyes.

Voldemort's face was intense as he turned back to the door.

"Bring me Greyback," he whispered in Lucius's direction. Without raising his eyes, the blonde man scrambled to his feet and lurched out of the room, leaving his master alone with his wife.

Voldemort focussed his gaze back to Narcissa.

"Look at me witch," he advanced slowly, his hot, fetid breath tracing up her bare arms and across her cheeks as he invaded her personal space to hover inches from her face. The inhuman red slits of his eyes narrowed as he stared at her, and he raised a hand to caress her cheek. Narcissa forced herself to take deep breaths as she steeled herself to meet his gaze. It was all she could do not to recoil in horror. How her sister could bring herself to touch this man was beyond her. It certainly said more about Bellatrix's mental state than it did about Voldemort.

"My Lord?" she whispered.

"What ails him?" he breathed over her. He smelt of damp and decay.

"I know not, My Lord, only that he is near death. His wounds, whilst severe, appear to be healing well. I would hazard a guess that there is more at play here than what is visible." Her voice trembled with emotion and Voldemort tilted his head in interest.

"Lady Malfoy, your emotions betray you. I do so hope your husband is not aware of the love you hold for his dearest friend, I would hate for there to be tension between them, especially at such a delicate time in Severus's recovery," he offered her a grotesque attempt at a smile, and she had the peculiar sense that he was rifling through her mind. He licked his lips, "Well, well, well – don't you have a colourful imagination! I can see now where your sister gets it from! Poor Lucius, a disappointing son and an unfaithful wife!" he barked a short laugh, resulting in a series of short grunts from the slits that served as his nose. She couldn't help but jerk backwards and suddenly found a cold hand clamped firmly around her delicate neck. It tightened as he drew her closer to him and flicked his eyes over her appraisingly.

"Severus is an astonishingly powerful wizard, exemplary in all fields of magic. A most suitable lieutenant who commands respect. You would not have been worthy of him. Weak-willed Lucius is a much better fit for you – a simpering, fickle man with mediocre skill in all things, magical and physical, deserving of a witch like you," he let out another chuckle, "You, unfortunately, are a Black, and your stock, whilst of pure blood, is riddled with madness. Your insane sister is testament to that, but whilst she serves me as she is wont, I will not cast aside that which I can so easily use. You, on the other hand, parade around like one of those ridiculous peacocks Lucius is so fond of. It is in no doubt that you have considerable beauty," he paused and licked his lips again, "and your memories show me you clearly possess your sister's skill in giving pleasure, but you are weak and lack substance. A feeble excuse of a witch," he hissed, his eyes narrowing further as he revealed his razor-sharp teeth, "incapable of producing an adequate heir – an idiot boy who lacks grace and intelligence. You, Lady Malfoy, are only useful on your back. My spy deserves better."

Narcissa swallowed nervously as the tight hold on her neck slowly released. She forced herself to look directly into what passed as Voldemort's eyes. They stood there for a long moment, before he finally moved away to stand beside his stricken Death Eater. He placed a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes, prodding against Severus's mental shields. Narcissa saw Severus flinch, his mouth opening slightly and emitting a pained groan. Voldemort took no heed and proceeded to try and access his mind, pressing ever harder until Narcissa could take no more and found her hand clenching around her wand…

Abruptly he stopped, sensing movement behind him and he whirled around to face Lucius and the huge, hulking form of Fenrir Greyback. Lucius had thrown himself once more at his feet. He ignored him.

"Greyback," he inclined his head, then indicated the still form in the bed, "I believe you may be able to help with Severus's condition."

Greyback snarled, revealing a set of very sharp, very dirty teeth. There was no love lost between Severus and Greyback, born from the former's absolute fear and hatred of werewolves and the latter's absolute fear and hatred of powerful wizards like Severus. He snorted and turned to leave. The cold voice of Voldemort gave him reason to pause.

"You will do as I command you, beast." The threat was clear in his tone and Greyback reluctantly strode towards the bed, his feral features twisted in intense dislike.

"As you wish, My Lord." He growled. As he neared the still figure, his nose wrinkled as though smelling something distasteful. He began to sniff his way closer, following the track of the scent until his nose was pressed against the gouged claw marks traversing Severus's torso. He recoiled and spat onto the floor, his teeth drawn back in a snarl,

"He is corrupted, My Lord – I smell it on him!"

"Who?" Voldemort demanded.

"Lupin," another growl, "He who would shun his kind to live a lie amongst wizarding folk. The traitor has laid claim to this man."

Voldemort regarded the werewolf with interest. Many years ago he had attempted to bestow the Dark Mark upon a werewolf. Whilst he detested the werewolf race, they were strong and fierce and utterly ruthless, making them good foot soldiers with the added bonus that they wanted very little in return, usually a muggle or two to feast upon or toy with was enough to satisfy them. The arrangement had suited him in the beginning, but as time went on the werewolves became unpredictable, acting on bloodlust and not adhering to his command. In need of tighter control, he had attempted to brand their chief. It had been a spectacular failure. The dark magic embedded in the mark had reacted badly with the parasitic werewolf blood, marking it as a foreign invader and systematically destroying the blood cells and causing rapid organ failure. It had been a protracted and agonised death but had served to beat the werewolves into submission. They feared the mark so much, that their new chief, a young Fenrir Greyback, pledged their allegiance with a personal guarantee to kill any of his pack who would defy Voldemort's orders.

Voldemort silently regarded the still figure in the bed. Loathe though he was to do it, the only way to save him was to remove the mark – or cure lycanthropy, which he dismissed without a second thought. Only someone with a mastery of potions and the desire to cure such a -

His head snapped up and he moved quickly to stand beside Severus's head. He pressed the tip of his wand into his temple and murmured, "Legilmens!"

In his unconscious state, Severus was powerless to prepare for Voldemort's arrival in his mind and he tore through his mental shields with all the sensitivity of a wrecking ball. At that moment Severus's eyes jerked open in shock and an agonised groan issued from his lips as he began to shake uncontrollably. Voldemort continued his onslaught, rifling through Severus's mind, ignoring the increasing distress in his lieutenant. Images flashed past his mental eye, a bushy haired witch smiling, potions classes – the shrieking shack, no – he continued to tear through the memories scattering them about him like confetti.

As soon as Severus's snapped open Narcissa was there beside him, lowering her face to his and trying to comfort him as the tremors increased. She could see muscles rippling in spasm under his skin and felt tears prick at her eyes, silently willing it to stop. She sensed Lucius hovering anxiously behind her, as ineffectual as ever. She smoothed the dark hair back from his eyes and made gentle sounds of comfort, and finally, the shaking ceased. With a soft sigh of relief, his head lolled to the side and she found herself staring into those deep obsidian pools. Her heart jolted with affection and she let the tears come, splashing down onto his face. He blinked slowly and offered a weak smile before trying to speak with a voice rough from lack of use,

"Cissy," he whispered hoarsely. She seized one of his hands with a vice like grip and squeezed it tight.

"Fight this Severus, please," she whimpered as another tear splashed onto his face. They shared a tender moment as he searched her eyes. He offered her a mute nod.

"Severus, good of you to join us, finally," Voldemort interjected, pushing Narcissa away firmly, causing her to stumble into her husband who gripped her hard to prevent them both from falling.

"You have been unresponsive for some time. Draco informed me you had been mortally wounded and I attempted to summon you, yet you failed to appear, so I sent Lucius to retrieve you. Surprisingly, he succeeded, and here you are, albeit in a severely weakened state. You are of no use to me like this, Severus, as I'm sure you are aware." He gestured toward the hulking form of Greyback who offered Severus a savage open-mouthed smile, giving him a fine view of his very sharp incisors, "Our friend Greyback has identified a slight problem with your condition. It would appear that you have allowed yourself to become contaminated with werewolf blood. Werewolf blood and the dark magic embedded in your mark do not mix well. I know this from experience. In essence, your body is killing you from the inside out."

"…can…it…be stopped?" he forced out, his eyes clamping shut against the pain as beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

Voldemort regarded him for a moment.

"Yes."

Narcissa released the breath she didn't realise she had been holding and sagged back against her husband, feeling his arms tighten around her protectively – his, not hers. She heard Lucius mumble his relief as he pressed his head to hers. Their joy was short-lived, however, as the Dark Lord continued.

"We have three choices, My Shadow. The first being that I do nothing and allow the mark to destroy the invading lycanthropy virus. I have attempted this before and it was universally fatal. However, you are a wizard and not a werewolf, so the results in your case are an unknown quantity. The second option is to remove the mark itself and allow the virus to invade your body. However, as useful as I find werewolves, I also find them rather feral and troublesome to control. I do not relish reducing you to a raging predator once a month. This leads me to the third option –" he stopped and placed a hand upon Severus's cheek, "which is that I tap your considerable intellect, siphon off your power and put you out of your misery before the pain becomes too much, a mercy, if you will, for one of my most loyal followers. It would be most…regrettable…to allow your gifts to die with you."

The silence was deafening as the words settled around them.

"My Lord, you cannot –" Lucius began, before trailing off when the red slits turned on him in rage. He cowered, raising his hands in defence. Narcissa regarded her husband with disgust and pushed him aside.

"My Lord, you do not care for me, that much is plain. But you do care for Severus, if not for him personally, for his skills – as you say, he is a most gifted wizard, and it is most unfortunate that we find ourselves in such a position," she stepped closer to Severus, and felt his eyes shift from Voldemort to her.

"Allow me to investigate a cure – I have contacts within the Ministry and St Mungo's who are very discreet – "

"You forget yourself Lady Malfoy," Voldemort hissed. He hurled a curse towards Lucius who immediately collapsed to the floor and commenced screaming, a high-pitched squeal reminiscent of a pig being slaughtered. Voldemort flinched and threw a silencing charm after it.

"You would do well to control your witch, Lucius. Your total lack of control over any aspect of your life grows tiresome."

He regarded Narcissa thoughtfully.

"Do not presume to ask things of me, Lady Malfoy, I am your Lord and it is I who make demands of you. However, I do need Severus, and whilst I am sure of my own power and skill, the magic required to siphon another's magic is old and I am unsure of the precise wording. I will permit you as long as it takes for me to learn the spell, after which, I will have no choice but to proceed." He turned back to Severus, "It would pain me greatly to lose you Severus, but I cannot bear to see you suffer. After all, I am nothing if not merciful."

"Thank you, My Lord," he managed with a gasp.

Voldemort inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"You have two days Lady Malfoy."

Then he was gone, disappearing in a swirl of black robes, leaving Narcissa alone with a shrieking husband, a grievously injured friend and a deranged werewolf.