Dear Readers;

Thank you for your feedback and reviews, they mean a great deal to me.

There remains little more to this tale, but I hope that you will see it through.

As always, please let me know what you think.

Sincerely,

Chaos

Algolagnia

Chapter 7

~

One forgives to the degree that one loves.

- Francois de La Rochefoucauld

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

- Mahatma Ghandi

The stupid neither forgive nor forget;
the naive forgive and forget;
the wise forgive but do not forget.

- Thomas Szasz

~

Time died.

Eventually he exhausted his will to do violence to himself, and then to commit violence upon Severus.

He knew? He knew and had the nerve to let Lucius… live?

Lucius wondered.

The last night of his 'life,' which was surely over even though he still breathed, he had been restless. The heat, the insomnia, the sense of something lost – had Lucius been the pilgrim gone to seek a cure at some sacred source? Instead of thinking to cure Severus, had Severus instead drained him of some stealthy poison?

Certainty was gone. Will was gone. The past he thought he knew was not the past that actually was. He huddled under the blankets, on some level fearful that the floor would dissolve under his feet and plummet him into some amorphous void.

The Mark burned.

Shiver. Sweat. Nausea tying his viscera into knots.

"Surely you can see that he's ill?"

"Shite, Severus, what's happened to him?"

"I don't know, but I have reason to believe it was a slow-acting poison – possibly fed to him over months. It dissipates before it's sweated out. He's too weak right now for me to bleed for a sample, nor has it had enough time to be present in his hair or fingernails."

A long pause.

"Deliberate then?"

"Obviously, yes."

"Not Narcissa?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"Veritaserum."

"One of… us?"

Severus hesitated. It was enough.

"I will relay this to our Lord. Severus, if anyone can get him through this, it will be you. There will be some… questions for the others to answer. Care well for him."

"I always have."

Potions came and Lucius drank them down. He fed and bathed at Severus' direction, too numb to object, or even speak at all. Sometimes he stared into space, other times he wept until he had a cranium-shattering headache. Then there were the times when he would clutch Severus to him or lie quiescent in his arms – listening to the heart beat drumming out 'stillherestillherestillhere.' It was often the only way that he could sleep.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why did you let me live, if you knew?"

"I have my reasons."

"Tell me."

"I don't spoon-feed my students and I won't spoon-feed you. Think of some other questions to ask me."

Questions.

Why would the Lord say that Evan and Charles had died by Avada rather than give them the truth? They had operatives – without the Mark, of course – in every part of the Ministry; the information should have been there. Why the…

Lie?

Yes. Lie. There was nothing else to call it.

Why did a person lie?

All of Lucius' study gave him the answer: Unless they had a psychological condition that induced chronic lying, a person would lie for only two reasons.

The first reason was to protect. Whether one's life, one's social standing, one's interests – it was all the same. Severus had just protected him with two lies and one not-quite lie to Pettigrew. Though, metaphorically speaking, Severus might have been very accurate, indeed.

The second reason was to gain and hold something wanted - advantage, leverage, money, power or prestige.

But what would Voldemort have to protect? What could he gain by misleading his followers?

"Something he did not think that he had firmly in grasp." Lucius murmured to himself. "Something that…"

Lucius had concentrated his efforts of learning the ways of mind and body, using one to influence the other. Severus, Evan and Charles had concentrated on Alchemy, Spellworking and Enchantments – often using them in synthesis with stunning results. But of all of them, Severus' specialty was among the most rare. There were few who could manage the intricacies of formulation, few who had the patience for research and elaborate processes. Indeed, Severus' research and theories were of great interest to the Dark Lord.

From the age of eleven and even before, Severus' ambition had never been for anything but knowledge, for to Severus knowledge was power – and Severus wore it well. As Lucius well knew, true power had no need to swagger and strut, it generated its own heady atmosphere - and with all the banned teachings available to them, the three young academics often seemed like the most beautiful of the Christians fallen angels.

Voldemort inspired awe and fear, but Severus, Evan and Charles gained respect – even when they were still young enough to revel in the forbidden like puppies.

No, something had changed in that year. Lucius turned his mind back on that time, studying his memories with the sharp skill of a dissecting blade.

They wore it well, the respect of others, the mastery of their young selves was beginning to show. It was not a strutting confidence, but one that fit them like skin-tight leather gloves. Ability needed no ornament, and that confidence came from ability.

It still gave way to enthusiasm, though, such as over that Cauldron.

"Played like a bloody harp." Lucius sat up suddenly enough that Severus' hand slapped to his wand in reflex.

"Here's a question for you. What did he feel he did not have, and what was he protecting?"

Severus was quiet, then… "Who was the man who now is called Lord Voldemort?"

Lucius blinked. What very odd phrasing. "Tom Riddle. He took a use name in the old tradition of a wizard never revealing his true name."

"Who was Tom Riddle?"

"He was a Slytherin, the Heir of Salazar – matrilineal."

"Yes, a Marvolo. But who was his father? Tom Riddle – the name on the gravestone – was a Muggle."

That subject – that name - did not come up within Voldemort's hearing. Not even Lucius' father had spoken of it, and he had been at school with the man.

Still, it was odd for a Mu- for a half-breed to work so insistently for the purity of the race. One thing he seemed to want more than anything else was for wizarding kind to be refined to its purest state. The Mudbloods and Squibs would have their place firmly under the heel of their betters, but the ever-breeding Muggles would be culled like the brute beasts they were.

Power. Wealth. Fear. These things Voldemort had already and in fair abundance.

Severus whispered in Lucius' ear, his lips brushing against the lobe, "The one thing he could surround himself with, but never possess. Those who had it would do his bidding, but never could he have what was theirs. It was not enough that he had us as his creatures, that we joined in everything he decreed – he desired with all his being the one thing that his power could not deliver to him."

The answer came immediately and Lucius rejected it. "No. Not possible."

"My research, the research Evan, Charles and I did – did you ever wonder why none of it ever reached the inner circle?"

"What?"

"None of it. The glorious past was going to stay the province of a chosen few, by everything we could tell. Our research into blood rites, immortality, dark magics, all seemed to be to the benefit, yes – but the benefit of one." Severus' arms tightened, the whisper intense as a shout, "More than power, more than the world under his boot heel, and more than immortality, he wanted to purge forever the taint of his Muggle father from his veins. He wanted what we possessed from birth – pure wizarding blood."

Lucius took this in silently. Sev was wrong; he had to be.

The mattress shifted as Severus rolled out of the bed, crossing to the mantle of the bedroom fireplace. Laying his hand on one of the stones, he muttered something that Lucius did not catch. One of the stones turned, drawing in and up to reveal a small space stuffed with notebooks and artifacts. Severus drew one out muttered the closing spell and brought the book to Lucius.

"Read. This is the last of the research that Evan, Charles and I did together. We were getting very close to a solution."

Lucius took the book from Severus' hand and sat up. Opening the first page, he began to read.

It was fascinating. The three little Slytherins he knew had easily become the greatest minds of their generation. Lucius knew masterwork when he saw it, and though he preferred the study of the mind, he knew dark magic the way his tongue knew the roof of his mouth. This was nothing short of amazing.

Severus watched him from his pillow, dozing occasionally. The book was an inch thick, every page covered with Severus' neat script, Evan's illustrations and Charles' intricate spells that kept the ink from fading, the paper from decay – and stopped any attempt to tamper with the work.

Twenty pages in, Lucius almost threw the book across the room.

Another fifteen pages in and he did, only to accio it back to his hand.

On page seventy-three, he set the book down and covered his face with his hands, trying to stop his mind from reaching the conclusion that was now inescapable.

"He was losing his grip, Lucius. Those who have nothing to lose are the deadliest enemies, but those who have everything to lose will fight in the teeth of overwhelming odds to keep it. The backlash was building. Do you remember that pretty little squib in Avebury? The one with the Muggle boyfriend?"

Lucius had to think for a moment. "Yes, I remember. A squib of the Prinn family – pretty, as you said."

Sixteen, brunette, and lustily screwing her Muggle stud in the backseat of a car. She'd been sport for the lot of them while her boyfriend was made to watch.

"What did she have to do with us? Anything?"

Lucius did not see where this was leading. "No. How could she? She was a squib."

"Her boyfriend? The one we hunted down on brooms after Mulciber cruciated the girl to death? Had he anything to do with us?"

"No."

"With dark magic?"

"No."

"With the cause we all supported, that we worked for and strove to bring into being?"

"The squib would have made a nice concubine, but the Muggle was of no import and the girl's death turned the Prinn boy away from us." The boy had been Slytherin, but terribly fond of his older squib sister. He was now an Auror, and one of the most ruthless in the ranks.

"What did John and Charity Lightfoot's infant girl have to do with us? They were Muggles, but did you know that the girl's name was written in Hogwart's book? Her name was Paige Catherine, and she was born on April tenth, nineteen-seventy-nine."

Lucius shook his head.

"Cicero Dunwell? Aged ten, pureblood family. Throat cut and left to bleed to death?" Severus asked. "What about Reverend William Hopgood, he and his family put under Imperius and required to stand in the inferno as their house was torched?"

"I don't…"

"Listen to me, Lucius. We all trusted that there was some great plan, some guiding principle that would free our kind from the prison of secrecy and invisibility. We all remember the names of those killed in the persecutions, the history the Ministry and Muggle-coddlers refuse to teach." Severus' voice was intense, his gaze almost feverish. "Think, man! What ground did we gain? What goal was in sight when we did those things? There was none! We were brought aboard a grand ship with no rudder other than some sadistic bastards delusions of revenge and his desire to not only command purebloods, but to be a pureblood – and everything we – his pet pureblood academics – studied was a means to that end!"

Lucius was so cold that there might have been chunks of ice floating in his veins. "I'm not going to listen to this, Severus. No, you can't be saying…"

"I am saying that we did not sign up to cater to the sadistic jollies of some sick-minded bastard half-breed!" The bellow echoed around the bedroom. "Volde – no – Riddle was impatient, thought that we were delaying giving him what he wanted. At the same time, Rookwood, Dolohov and Travers were getting uppity. Riddle had access to all our research; he thought he understood it. Read the last page, Lucius."

"No." Lucius folded his hands into his armpits, squeezed his eyes shut. He now knew what he did not want to know; he wanted to un-know it.

"No? Then I will tell you. Voldemort came to you because you were the leader of our little faction. He appealed to you instead of to the others because he knew that you would give him what he wanted - and that it would not look like he had taken to murdering his faithful."

The mattress shifted as Severus moved closer.

"Stop."

"Who were the best and brightest? Who was the one you tried so hard not to regard with jealousy? Who was the one that you always wanted to protect and keep for your own?"

Closer. That voice so low and desperate.

"Please stop."

"No. He needed two beautiful martyrs. You gave him Evan and Charles, but more than that, you gave him yourself."

"Please…"

The heat of Severus' skin next to his, the brush of his breath against his neck.

"He used to watch us, and it took me a long time to place what I felt from him when you touched me – jealousy. The same look you tried to hide when you looked at Evan – after all, how could you wish us harm, you were our mentor, our guide."

"Please…"

"You don't want to hear any more, but you will hear it, my love – all of it." Another shift and Severus' full weight came down on Lucius, sitting astride him. "We talked about our doubts amongst ourselves, but it was Charles who actually did something. He went to Dumbledore – something Evan and I rejected out of hand – and told him everything. All of it."

All…? Lucius tried to buck Severus off of him.

"No, you are going to get the whole bloody thing, Lucius, and all the proof I have. There was no Cauldron of Cerridwen. There were Aurors in wait, one who while he never took the mark, was one of us. The other was a creature of Crouch and more like his partner than a champion of the light. They tortured Charles to death first – but could not extract the truth from him."

"Pritchard and Alden?"

"My questioning at their hands was unplanned. It was supposed to be a fight where I killed the true Auror and died fighting the other. When that did not happen, you were dispatched with very specific orders, were you not?"

Severus' hands closed hard on Lucius' wrists.

"No more… Severus…"

"It's all so twisted, Lucius. So… sordid. Riddle wanted the last bit of research that would make him a pureblood. He wanted you. He was jealous of those who loved anything other than him. You loved me, but were jealous of Evan even as much as you loved him."

Lucius shook his head, opened his eyes, pleading in silence for Severus to stop.

"I'll read you the last page. I don't need the book; I see the words in my dreams. 'And he is to be sacrificed must be drained by that which gives him life. He must be emptied of that for which we breathe. Only when the vessel is hollow may it be filled with anew.' In his obsession with pure blood," Severus' head was bowed, but hot droplets of tears began to fall on Lucius' chest, "Riddle got it wrong. He tortured and bled Evan to death in an attempt to take over his body. He could not comprehend that it was the soul that had to be gone for the living body to be empty. There was no Avada Kedrava."

Lucius screamed. His doing. His! He threw his charges, the ones given to him to be responsible for…!

Severus, held on, held him down until Lucius lay exhausted and weeping.

"Dumbledore came looking for me once he learned what happened to Evan and Charles, he wanted to try and convince me to trust him. Instead he pulled me out of a tub of bloody water, brought me here and nursed me back to health – and something approaching sanity. He gave me proof, never tried to use the fact that I owed him a lifedebt to insure my loyalty, and sent me back in as a spy."

Oh, Sev, no… The last bit of Lucius that stood as a breakwater against this dread tide, crumbled.

"I found the Auror, used methods that Albus did not like to get the evidence that I needed, and worked backwards from there. It took me years to forgive you. I came within a hair of killing you, Lucius."

"Why didn't you?" It would have saved him so many long nights.

"Do you remember that you once told me that we lie most ably and well when we lie to ourselves?"

"Yes. Yes I do." What have you done? What have I done? Oh, Severus, mon seulement…

Lucius went limp, empty even of tears, of thought.

"Manipulation was Riddle's only true art, his only real brilliance. He used your own mind against you, Lucius, as he did against us all." Severus bent down, brushing Lucius' lips with his. "I forgive you."

The shattering ended, and all was blessed, sacred silence.

~

Coda and Epilogue to follow.

~