Chapter Three

The useful thing about habitually wearing black was that you were ready for almost any occasion. For example, calling upon a newly bereaved widow required nothing more than a check that you were clean.

Severus Snape tapped lightly on the door of the Malfoy residence, and folded his hands into the heavy sleeves of his robes. His plan had worked to perfection... Lucius had died in his sleep, almost certainly without ever suspecting that he'd been poisoned. Narcissa had apparently not been suspected, and according to Moody - who'd been willing enough to talk, when he returned to the Order's headquarters - there was no sign of a second person having been in the study. And Dumbledore had never noticed that Potter's invisibility cloak had been borrowed for a few hours.

A young witch in a prim maid's uniform opened the door, bobbing a little curtsey. "Good morning, sir," she said, ducking her head. "I'm sorry, but-"

"There's been a death in the house. I know," Snape inclined his head. "I am... an old friend. From school. I would like to see Mrs Malfoy and express my sympathies, if she is up to having visitors. My name is Severus Snape."

"Of course, sir. Please, come in." She waved him into the hall, closing the door firmly. "I will go and see if the Mistress is well enough to see you, if you will wait here."

Severus nodded, and the maid whisked off upstairs. He'd only been waiting a few moments when she appeared again at the top of the stairs. "Mrs Malfoy would be happy to see you, Mr Snape," she said, inclining her head politely. "If you will come with me?"

She escorted him to a large, airy room; Narcissa's sitting room, he guessed, a place that Lucius had probably rarely, if ever, bothered to enter. It was a rather charming room, rather feminine, with a litter of toys at one end. Narcissa was seated on a small brocade couch, her face turned towards the door. She looked small and frail in her black robes, and he felt a very small pang of guilt... although it had been necessary to get Lucius out of the way, and he doubted she would grieve much, being alone must be very frightening for her. "Narcissa," he said softly, as the maid slipped away, closing the door behind her. "Are you all right?"

She smiled a rather twisted, unhappy smile. "Well, my husband is dead. I've had better weeks." She shook her head, and held out a hand to him. "But I know what you mean. I'm well enough, and the Aurors were... very polite. I'm not a suspect in his death, and they don't intend to blame me for his.. alliegance."

He bowed politely over her hand, and was waved to a seat that was close to her couch. "I'm glad they didn't offer you any insult," he said quietly. "And that you aren't in any other... difficulties."

"No." She smiled again, her lips trembling a little. "Although I find myself suddenly rather friendless. You're the first person who's dared come near the house, since it came out that Lucius was suspected of... well. It's going to be kept quiet, if possible, that he was actually a Death Eater, for Draco's sake. Since Lucius is dead and can't do any more harm, they don't want Draco and I to have to suffer."

"Good." Moody was a bastard in general, but he could be kind when it came to children and the helpless. "And I am sorry that I'm the only one who's had the courage to come." Words of comfort didn't come easily to him - they felt awkward, and he hurried on to the real reason for his visit. "I hoped that I might be able to help. As... shall we say, an old friend."

She stilled, her eyes suddenly watchful. "Help... how?" she asked quietly.

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I know that Lucius was given several devices and artefacts to keep safe," he said very softly. "That he hid them here, in this house, believing it to be inviolate. It isn't. The Aurors will return to search, and will almost certainly find at least part of what was entrusted to him. You may be implicated, then... and even if you are not, your husband's former allies will not be pleased with you if you allow them to be taken." She trembled, and he nodded. Even Bellatrix would not be merciful to her sister, if that sister had allowed the Ministry to walk away with Voldemort's treasures. "I came in hopes that you'd allow me to remove the... items... before the Aurors return. I can conceal them, now that I'm no longer under suspicion myself."

"Would you?" Narcissa's eyes filled. "Thank you, Severus, thank you so much! I've been so frightened... I know where they are, I can show you, Lucius showed me in case he was taken away..." She caught his hand between hers, her face alight with hope. "You can put them somewhere safe? And let the others know, so they won't be angry with me?"

"I'll do what I can," he promised, a little startled. Her hands were small and cool and very soft, something he really shouldn't be noticing. "I should leave a few things - they'll be suspicious if they find nothing - but all the most important things I'll remove." She was still giving him that hopeful, almost pleading look; which was rather ironic, given that he was the one who'd put her in this situation in the first place. "I don't want you to have to face any more trouble because of Lucius," he said gently, clasping her hand for just a moment before drawing his own away. "You and your baby will be quite safe, Narcissa, if I can arrange it."

She nodded, wiping her eyes with a lacy little handkerchief. "Thank you, Severus," she whispered. "It meants a great deal to me."

An hour later, he had eight items secreted in his robes that would get him executed without trial if he was caught with them. He was moving in an almost visible aura of Dark Magic, and he was heartily uncomfortable. The sooner he could get back to Hogwarts and be rid of the wretched things, the better. Especially the diary. What it was, he wasn't sure, but it had a greasy miasma of Dark Magic that had made his skin crawl when he touched it. "Thank you, Narcissa," he said softly, twitching his shoulders a little as his robes seemed to prickle with magical energy. "I'll make sure they aren't found, or associated with you."

Narcissa nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again. It was a good thing that she was still pretty when she cried, given how often she was doing it. "I'm the one who should thank you," she whispered. The diary and the little golden cup had been hidden in her bedroom, and she'd been afraid to move them in case they left some kind of residue or something on her and she was caught. "You're taking such a risk, carrying those things..."

"I'll be all right. Thanks to Dumbedore, I'm no longer suspected of anything." He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "It will all be all right, Narcissa, you'll see."

She started to cry in earnest, and she swayed and somehow she ended up sort of leaning against him, tucked in between his arms so he wound up half-embracing her without any idea how it had happened. "I won't ever forget this, I won't," she sobbed, clinging to his robes and crying into them. "Nobody else would even talk to me, let alone help me, and I was so frightened..."

Severus had no idea what to do. He'd never in his life had a woman cry on him before, and while there was probably some sort of established protocol, he didn't have a clue what it might be. Feeling suddenly very helpless, he patted her awkwardly on the back, letting her lean on him. "There there," he said, and winced at how banal it sounded. But what did one SAY at a time like this? "I'm glad I could help." That wasn't much better, damn it.

Narcissa sniffled, holding on a moment longer before thankfully releasing him, straightening up and giving him an embarrassed little smile. "I'm sorry, Severus," she said, blushing a bit. "For giving way like that. I just... I've been feeling so alone, and so helpless, ever since Lucius died. Knowing that at least one person is still willing to help me means more than I can possibly tell you."

Severus nodded. He'd felt much the same way when he'd confessed to Dumbledore, and instead of turning him over to the authorities, the old man had offered to help him. "I know how you feel," he said, touching her shoulder lightly - that seemed relatively safe. "I understand completely. And should you ever need help again, you may call on me... I'll help if I can." He owed her that much, although she didn't know it.

"Thank you," she whispered again, giving him an unsettlingly sweet smile. "And... if there's ever anything I can do for you, I will. I promise."