Author's Note: Inspiration from Firefly, Jarhead, and Neil Gaiman. There are several allusions and jabs to my Dark Prince series that some of my readers will hopefully giggle at. Read and review. I'll post an edited version sometime later.

Chapter Two: The Man Imprisoned

Lucius Malfoy wondered how long he could stare into the corner of his jail cell without losing his mind. Not that he was in any danger of losing his mind, (though if he continued to read G. K Chesterton, that may become a possibility) but Lucius was bored and if there was anything to be feared; it is a bored aristocrat. The place Lucius found himself in was not the best place for listlessness either.

His cell in Azkaban was common but not unkempt. In fact, it was the best money could buy. He had a small bed with downy sheets and plush pillows adorned around the crown. He had a small writing desk with a lamp, and a small growing collection of books to occupy his mind. He received several guests, from business contacts brave enough to weather his new surroundings, to old friends in the Ministry or in the Aurors who would come to help him plan his eventual release. He received the newspaper every morning with tea and brandy, and had a female prison guard deliver his letters every night.

Yes, Lucius Malfoy it seemed, had found a wonderful way to spend the rest of the war.

One would have thought he planned it that way.

"Malfoy!" Called one his Auror guards (Silas or Gideon, Lucius could never recall their names) from the end of the hall. "Have a guest. Your brother's here."

Lucius arched a brow. "Brother?" He drawled. "I don't have a brother." He rose to greet his guest because it's always polite to rise and greet a family member even if they are imaginary and smiled as he saw the man push several coins into the Auror's palm.

The brother wore his hair in greasy locks about his face. He wore mostly black, but had taken great precautions to lope without appearing menacing. He was failing. The figure stalked the narrow hallway as if it was a dungeon, and swooped into view like an overgrown bat. Lucius smirked for a second.

"Your majesty…" He said, affecting a bow.

"Stop that." Hissed the voice.

"What?" Lucius returned. "You are a Prince are you not? That's what they're calling you in the papers. The Half-Blood Prince. It's all very dramatic. What next? Are you going to start wearing scars across your face and pretending to be a demon?" Lucius continued, a smile creeping unto the corners of his face. "He who made the nations tremble and such."

"Like anyone would believe that rubbish. Now sit down."

Lucius was still smiling when he sat. "You can't blame me for teasing you."

"I can and will." The visitor snorted. "Dark Prince indeed."

"Half-Blood Prince."
"Whatever."

Lucius slid into his chair easily, and continued to smile. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I almost didn't." The guest said, as he took to a seat. He looked back at the Aurors with a kind of familiar paranoia that Lucius could not place on the person. It was strange; true, to know that this pale-featured man before him was widely accepted in England as the most dangerous and treacherous man in the Kingdom. Somehow, it was no less disturbing to stare into his guise and know it is a mask.

Then again, Lucius thought idly, even without the Polyjuice Potion to guise his face; he had only ever seen Severus Snape in character. And without feigning or disguising anything, Lucius Malfoy found he could not sit in the Prince's presence without feeling the slightest nuance of fear.

This man had killed the untouchable. He had fell a god. Something had changed, he had changed, and in short, Lucius was afraid.

Severus seemed to realize this because he leaned back in his own chair and stared at Lucius through eyes that were not his own. "Should I leave?" He asked.

"Of course not." Lucius muttered, and chewed on the inside of his lip. "I'm glad you came. Especially now."

"Now?"

"You must be hurting." The figure shifted and looked behind him again. Lucius pressed. "I know you cared about him. Regardless of your loyalties to us, I know it must have hurt you to follow your heart. I'm glad you made the choice to come back to us, brother." He put his hand up, and withdrew it just before he touched him. "Thank you for coming back to me."

The guest looked down at his hands. "Who said I was back, Lucius? I've been playing a part for Albus so long, that sometimes I think I believed it myself. I wanted that life. Now, I don't know." He inhaled, "There's so much I wish I could tell you, Lucius. So much I wish to share with you…"

"It doesn't matter anymore, brother. You made your choice. You made the right choice." Lucius felt himself sit up, and leaned forward. "You protected your family. Your blood and I above all others profited from it. Thank you."

"Enough." Snape hissed in return. "I can take the Order's hate, contempt from Bella and the others…but not your gratitude. I did nothing noble. I kept my word, to Cissy…to Draco."

"Have you seen them? Heard from them at all? I would have thought they would come…but…" Lucius stopped himself and looked away. "Not now."

"McNair saw them day after yesterday. The Old Man has them safe, out of England. The Auror can't touch them."

"Why didn't you go with them? You could have."

"No, I couldn't. Appearances must be maintained. I am as much the old man's trophy as Dumbledore's gravestone." Severus sat up, looking behind again at the Aurors. Lucius looked pass him to the guards as well. They were perched by the doorframe, reading about the Qudditch match last night and discussing the featly of one of their girlfriends.

Lucius and Severus could have been discussing battle plans and they wouldn't have noticed. Still, he understood. Severus felt no safety and probably would never again.

"Albus trusted me." His voice was barely above a whisper. "He loved me, and trusted me with his life. His last words were my name. Do you know what's that like, Lucius? Can you possibly understand what that is like?"

Lucius reclined, and feigned frivolity. "They've begged me for mercy before."

"He was asking me…" Severus shook his head. "Enough. It doesn't matter. It never did."

They talked for a time. Lucius kept the conversation light and unimportant, and Severus sipped from a small flask he kept in his coat pocket. He was grateful for the stupidity, for the conservations of cabbages and kings and Qudditch and the new red-hair Auror guard who Lucius, "if he were unwed would take in a manly fashion." She liked Lucius apparently because she blushed when she passed his rooms, and sometimes offered him blown kisses from behind his superiors' backs. Lucius talked of Narcissa in dark, wet detail that made Severus squirm and laugh.

Severus talked of court gossip. He used no names, so Lucius could pretend to be free. Perhaps it was the other way around. Lucius asked questions and Severus answered sometimes with a grin, sometimes with a groan. He laughed, and smiled and Lucius pretended not to remember that he had killed Dumbledore.

When it was time to go, he rose and embraced Lucius. He stepped back, and smiled at the jail cell idly. "You know, for some reason, I thought these places would be…darker. Smaller. You know the kind of place, you can pace eight or so steps."

"Nonsense. This place can fit a pool.." Lucius smirked, hugging him once more. He stopped shy of release. Then, softly, almost to himself. "I know this doesn't mean much coming from me, Severus. But…you did the right thing."

Severus paused, and rose. He straightened up, and stared at Lucius with a kind of composed darkness. A stately manner, one befitting of a prince. "You're right, Luci." He said softly. "Coming from you, that means nothing at all."

Remus Lupin walked down the dungeons hallways to the Severus Snape's office as if he were walking on death row. He had his shag of hair pulled behind his ears, and his hands planted firmly in his pockets. Every so often, he would grunt or sigh and then cast a hopeful glance towards to his escort for guidance or assurance. Kingsley Shacklebolt glanced at him, straightened his uniform and pretended not to notice.

"Okay, I give up." Remus hissed. "What can you tell me about this woman?"

"Hm?" Kingsley asked, inclining his chin.

"Du Lac. What do you know about her?"

Kingsley's face darkened, searching for the proper words. Remus took this as a note to be afraid. "She was threatened with court-martial twice during the Dark Times."

"For what?"

"War Crimes. She was accused of being excessively cruel and intolerant with suspected Death Eaters. Four suspects in her custody died before official interrogations, or charges could be brought up against them."
"She killed them?"

"They committed suicide." Kingsley was flexing his wand hand, nervously. "We use to call her the Kindly One. She had a way of peeling back defenses, and offensives and destroying someone." He paused, before adding. "Without ever puling her wand. She's never taken a life with her own hands."

Remus was watching Kingsley with a sort of rapt attention. "She…drove them to suicide? How did she remain on guard for so long…how…"

"She got results, Remus. At a time when no one could- not even the Order of the Phoenix. Those were terrible times. Terrible times birth terrible crimes, and terrible…"

"Terrible people."

Kingsley's eyes flashed as he turned, staring at Remus darkly. "Are you so pure to judge us, Wolf?"

Remus took the rebuke in stride. "I am a dark creature, remember? It's expected of me. You were suppose to be better then that."

"We are." Kingsley began then paused. "Its just…things aren't black and white. No one's prefect."

"You should be."

"Merlin, Remus, does everything have to be black and white with you? You above all else, can't you understand…"

"No. I can't." Remus said sharply. "I tried, Kingsley. I really did. I tried to figure out how to understand gray, for Severus' sake. I tried to believe that…there was more, but after…now that Albus' gone, I don't. I can't. There's no way to explain what Severus did. There's no gray. There shouldn't be." Remus turned away, and licked his lips before pushing open the doors to the old spy's office, "There isn't way to explain it away…"

Du Lac rose when Remus entered the room and smiled. She looked at Kingsley who stood at the doorstep and inclined her head, nodding slightly. "Thank you for bringing him, Kingsley. You may go."

"I'd like to sit in, if that's okay."

Du Lac walked towards the door, and kept her voice honeyed. "I'm afraid that would be impossible." She said simply, before shutting the door. She turned and fixed Remus in her gaze.

Remus had seen that sort of coarse, impassive look once before. In the eyes of his sire, Fenrir Grayback. He found himself instantly wishing Kingsley was beside him.

"Now," Du Lac cooed, walking from the door to Severus' old desk, folding her hands in front of her. "Let's begin."