Chapter 3
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Chapter 3
"Life isn't just about darkness or light, rather it's about finding light within the darkness."
First Light of Summer — L. Parham.
Locking down his mind further, hiding any reticence for the task ahead, Severus placed the untouched glass in his hand beside his chair and followed his master from the room, and Bellatrix brought up the rear. Through the door the trio walked, one after the other, along the corridor and down the stairs, back into the chintzy living room that he had passed through earlier. Instead of returning through the kitchen to leave the building however, they stopped and the Dark Lord nodded at Bellatrix, who swept through a door on the other side of the room leaving Master and servant alone. Severus had noted the door on his way to the meeting, he would have been a poor spy not to notice a possible point of escape, but he had no reason to test the door given the voices he had heard from above. Now, it was clear that his future lay behind that door, and, if his mind had not been so carefully managed and controlled, he would have balked and turned away from it. Instead, he turned to his Master and waited, as a good servant should.
"I am entrusting you with a great responsibility Severus, a great prize. The others will be jealous."
Snape pulled on everything he had learned through a lifetime of spying, a life time of concealing emotions and clearing his mind, to ensure the appropriate response. Gifts and honours bestowed by the Dark Lord were rarely something that Severus could think of as a prize. Not to mention the supposed gifts that had been well disguised routes to the destruction of a death eater with whom he was displeased. Snape would have to analyse these events with his other master, to try and piece together the fragments that would tell them where this path led, whether it was a path of destruction. For now he would simply have to follow the part of the path that was illuminated before him, and deal with any consequences as they arose.
"I am honoured, my Lord. I will not fail you."
These false platitudes were simple on his lips. A lifetime of servitude would do that to you; with or without the blessed relief of a mind so carefully controlled by occlumency. Gifts could not be refused without the Dark Lords wrath, even if they were not gifts at all. He could not tell whether this was the kind of gift used to keep him and his fellow death eaters motivated and inline, or whether it was a punishment masquerading as a gift, or the worst possibility of all, that this was a punishment or a test of loyalty. In all likelihood this, supposed, prize was going to cause ripples within the inner circle (had the Dark Lord not suggested they would be jealous?); his position was already precarious and further acknowledgment of him by their Master was likely to put their noses' further out of joint. There was nothing to be done though, he must accept things as they were, it was the only way forward.
"You will court her. Publicly. Believably. You will wed her, and bed her, and get an heir on her. I do not think you will find it an unpleasant task."
Severus was not so sure that was true, but he simply inclined his head in response. Any feelings he may have on the issue were suppressed, pushed aside for later analysis in a safer time and place. To ask for further instructions from this megalomaniac would be foolhardy; best to simply maintain an aura of servitude.
"I will leave you to woo her then," he laughed; Severus did not. "Bellatrix will chaperone." A parting comment.
He knew he must not allow his control to waver; even in the absence of his master. He did not knock on the door but simply banged it open, revealing another chintzy sort of room dominated by a dining table. As expected, there were two occupants in the room, and a tea set lay on the table between them. The two witches were talking in hushed tones, but stopped abruptly as the door banged violently back the frame behind him.
"Ladies." He acknowledged silkily, as though he hadn't just burst through the door. He used the few seconds of surprise at his manner of entrance to asses the woman to whom he was supposed to bind himself. Dark chocolate curls pinned back from her face, porcelain skin over smooth feminine features, a smattering of freckles, soft grey eyes with dark lashes, rose coloured lips with the slightest expression of surprise. In comparison to Bellatrix, with her dark features and manic aura, she was the very picture of innocence in a modest lilac dress.
He had been so young when he started teaching that it was inevitable, he supposed, that the other player in this farce would have been his student at one time or another; he had taught almost every magical child in Britain in the last decade and a half after all. She was almost exactly as she had been the last time she had walked the halls of Hogwarts; the intervening years had not, as for some, erased her graceful beauty. However, the last time she had sat in his classroom she had been a shy teenager, beautiful yes, but still a child in his eyes, one of his students. Now she was most definitely a woman, a beautiful woman. The spy in him shoved all this aside, cognisant of the fact that what he thought was of no importance; but he was only a man, and he already felt desire welling to the surface.
"Miss Selwyn. A pleasure." He gently grasped the delicate hand that she slowly proffered, bowing slightly and dropping the briefest of kisses against her knuckles.
The moment his lips brushed her skin he felt a sudden spark of magic shoot between them. He felt the unintentional hitch of his own breath. He saw the slight widening of her eyes, her lips parting marginally in shock. He dropped her hand as though burnt and fought to right himself; fleetingly disoriented. She inhaled then, as though she had forgotten to breath for a moment. He concentrated on locking his mental shields in place, erasing any signs of emotion from his person. He noted that she swiftly schooled her face; a perfect impression of a china doll.
"Would you like some tea Professor?" Her voice was soft and lilting, the soft inflection as though nothing untoward had passed between them. Certainly Bellatrix, whose presence he had momentarily forgotten, did not seem to have noticed that anything was amiss.
"I haven't been your teacher in many years, Miss Selwyn."
Seven years.
"I am afraid that I must decline." He had no intention of conducting any sort of courtship, feigned or not, in the presence of Bellatrix Lestrange, proprieties sake be damned.
He was unsure how entwined with the dark side this woman was. Her father and brothers had certainly all been marked, and certainly her family had funnelled significant funds to the Dark Lord before his demise. The family had managed to escape from any prosecution, likely by virtue of their bottomless coffers. Her mother had died not long after the end of the war, he remembered passing her off to Minerva when the letter had come; despite his position as head of Slytherin, he was not the person to comfort tearful young witches. He had expected he would have to do the same when her eldest brother had come to the school to confirm the death of her father, but there were no tears to be had in that case. In his relief he had not thought to pry into why that would be the case. Whilst neither brother was in the Dark Lords inner circle, he knew them still to be loyal Death Eaters. It seemed likely that they were trying to improve their status by allowing their master to arrange a suitable marriage for her.
That in itself brought a number of questions. Why would a pureblood family, one of the sacred twenty eight, willingly pass off the only daughter in generations to a halfblood? Even if he held the Prince inheritance and estate he was not the kind of match that her father would have chosen. Why had a match not been made for her long before she came of age? If it had, but it had fallen through, why had another match not be found in the intervening years? There were certainly plenty of eligible pureblood heirs would be happy to marry a Selwyn, even if she hadn't been beautiful. She had certainly had suitors when she was at school. She must be in her mid-twenties, old for a first marriage in pureblood circles. That led to more questions. What had she be doing since she had left school? He certainly couldn't remember seeing her at any social events recent or otherwise, nor could he remember conversation alighting on her at such an event. The more he thought about it, the more questions occurred to him
Severus needed more information if he intended, although he had little choice, on pursuing this endeavour. Whilst he was assured that either the Dark Lord or her eldest brother (as her guardian as an unwed woman of his house) had informed her that he would court her, and the marriage that was implied to follow, he could not know how much she understood of his situation as a spy. Either way, of course, he would have to keep up a facade of loyalty, but it made things difficult. Whilst the wide wizarding world knew that arranged marriages were not unusual within pureblood society, it would bring up questions if this was not done carefully. Members of the Order were already suspicious of him, many of them outright believed him to be disloyal, and a sudden marriage to a much younger woman from a family with strong beliefs on blood purity would not help his cause, even with Dumbledore smoothing the way. This was not going to be, as the muggles would say, a walk in the park.
"When the Dark Lord called I was in the middle of brewing." That had the boon of at the very least being true, although with the cauldrons under stasis there was not really any rush to return. It was an out, however, to allow him time to confer with Albus and do as much digging as time would allow. It didn't do, as a spy, to go into anything unprepared.
"You did not inform him when you arrived." Bellatrix was, as usual, suspicious of him.
"I doubt he wishes me to waste his time with something as banal as brewing blood replenisher and pain reliever Bella." A sneer was levelled in her direction.
"As I said, Miss Selwyn," he returned his attention to the younger woman, "I'm afraid I cannot stay. I believe we will meet again soon; perhaps at the Malfoy's ball this weekend." Lucius had been twisting his arm to attend anyway, and at least this gave him a little time to dig for information in the mean time. He was quite sure Narcissa would have some answers to some of his questions too, the woman might be a gossip but she certainly knew the goings on around town (so to say).
For her part, the brunette did not appear offended. She gave him a soft smile, which was most surely only polite, for she could not be particularly pleased with a greasy dungeon bat (he knew what the students called him when they thought he couldn't hear) for a suitor.
"Until then Ladies." Bowing slightly to the two women, he immediately took his leave from the room. Exiting the house, he disapparated directly from the doorstep, appearing almost instantaneously at the gates of Hogwarts school. A report to Albus couldn't wait.
