PROLOGUE
"Oh, Severus, this is the greatest day in wizarding history!" shrieked Bellatrix, throwing herself at the man's feet and grovelling up at him. "The nasty little smut is gone. He's gone, forever," she whispered feverishly. She seized the end of his robes and clasped them tightly, staring up at him like a faithful dog with glorified tears in her eyes.
Severus couldn't help but grin down at her nastily. To see Bellatrix Lestrange grovelling at his feet like this was not a sight he thought he would ever see. But of course, what more could come out of the man who killed Albus Dumbledore? He was like a god to the Dark side, now.
Narcissa Malfoy stood quietly at the door, grasping her son's shoulders with white, shaking hands. Draco's face was as equally as pale. His eyes were fixed on the opposite wall in a transfixed gaze. He looked like he would sick up at given any moment.
"I owe my life to you, Severus," Narcissa whispered. Severus's eyes trailed from Bellatrix's adoring face to Narcissa's relieved with no expression.
"You owe me nothing, Narcissa," he replied back calmly. He fought with effort to keep his eyes off of Draco, who was purposely stealing his eyes away from Severus. If not for Draco and his fear, Severus would not be here. If not for Draco, Severus would not be standing in this foul house. If not for Draco… Everything was because of the teenager standing in front of his mother. He didn't think he could ever be more murderous towards another individual in his entire life.
"I owe you everything," Narcissa whispered again, her hands growing tighter on her son's shoulders. "You saved my son's life." Tears spilled down her eyes. "Thank you, thank you," she repeated softly.
Severus did not say a word. His mind was too busy thinking of what to do now, after all the past years plans had been destroyed. Every last one of them. What in the bloody hell was he going to do? What in the hell was anyone suppose to do now? Keeping the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord convinced that he was still faithful to them was no longer hard anymore, but still the most difficult part of the aftermath of what had happened. How was he to accept praise that he didn't want, for a deed he was forced to commit, because of this scum who had ruined everything? He clenched his fists at his sides to keep his hands from Draco's elegant, guilty throat.