April 19, 1976 - Malfoy Manor

Lucius rested in his bed, half-propped up on a pile of pillows, and with his legs outstretched. He concealed his lower body with his covers as she entered the room, and she noticed his attempt to wipe away the pained look on his face, and replace it with a soft smile.

"Could I sit?" she asked, and he welcomed her to settle on the foot of the bed. Her eyes trailed towards the outline of his calf, and she couldn't help but inquire: "Is your leg feeling worse?"

"Cassiopeia - "

"Don't lie to me," she interrupted forcefully. She couldn't stand this prevarication anymore. She'd already seen -

No, lock that away. Conceal it from yourself.

She didn't need to be treated like a child.

The man sighed, running his hand through the messy strands of his hair. "If you want the truth… I might say I'm not exactly feeling up to walking today."

"I thought Severus' potion was helping you?"

"You know of it?" he asked. "Yes, it was helping me. To a great extent, even - other potions could dull the pain, but it was the only one that could ease the awful numbness."

"Has it ceased to have an effect then?"

Lucius shrugged. "I couldn't say; Severus has been worried about giving me another dose, after - " he cut himself off.

She looked to the ceiling. Severus - I swear… "Would you like me to try talking some sense into him?

"Could you?" he smiled slightly. "Even if there's a risk, I'd rather take it than sit here in bed, basically useless."

She frowned. "Lucius - " no, she didn't have the energy to refute his words. "Are we alone?" she asked instead. "There was one other thing I wanted to ask you about."

The smile disappeared from Lucius' face. "Narcissa's taking a bath, so we should have a half-hour to ourselves. What is it?"

She took a deep breath. "The child that it was your mission to take care of. Where is he?"

For a moment he did not speak, his expression conflicted. "Cassiopeia… I'm not sure if it would be best for you to know - would you not rather put the matter to rest?"

Her eyes hardened. "I know what's right for me, Lucius."

"Perhaps so."

"Then?" she asked harshly, before softening her tone. "Lucius… knowing where he is, that he's alright will help me move past it. But I can't - I can't - if I'm not certain that he's healed, and that he's safe."

Lucius exhaled, the covers rustling with his movement. "Alright, Cassiopeia. But it's not a topic I wish to discuss at length, so ask your questions, and that will be all."

She cursed herself for not considering how he might've been impacted by the events. Selfish. "Thank you," she said quietly, hoping he would recognise the apology in her tone. "I did want to know, above all, if he is healed."

The wizard closed his eyes. "To an extent, yes. However, he is mute, and has developed a seizure disorder, both of which are, at least at the moment, unhealable. There is a great extent of mental trauma as well, as you might imagine, but what he remembered of the ordeal, I obliviated from his mind. It seemed as though he might be better able to heal without that knowledge."

She nodded, finding it hard to speak. "Where is he now?" she whispered.

"A magical family in France. It will take some time to integrate, but he will be much more welcomed there than anywhere else," Lucius explained, then added, after a pause, "Especially here."

"I understand," she said. "Thank you, Lucius. That's all I need to know."

Is intent a significant factor to consider in various human interactions, or does it merely obfuscate morality, detract from truth at the heart of the matter?

Severus could not answer, though as he carefully examined the shelves hidden in the dark recesses of the Malfoy library, he sincerely hoped it would be the former.

He was not a violent person - or at least he did not consider himself to be one. Yet, if intent bore no importance, his actions tomorrow would be indistinguishable from those of violent brutes, who saw others' flesh as outlets for their burning, deep-seated anger.

He closed his eyes for a moment, dispelling the images of his father that came to mind.

No, intent had to matter. It had to. Bellatrix could not be allowed to go unpunished for her actions, for the conscious decisions she had made. Not because he hated her - though he felt the emotion deeply in his bones - but because he needed to ensure, totally and completely, that she would never do anything like that again.

Never.

A small rustle sounded behind him, and he turned back with a frown. When he heard nothing more, he returned his attention to the books, dismissing it.

Cassiopeia knew that the careful weaving of the conversational web, the finesse of unpacking the meaning of each word, had never been her strong suit. Nonetheless, she was not a complete fucking moron, and the Dark Lord's words days prior, 'I don't want two of you trying to kill her,' had immediately set off alarm bells.

There had been no doubt at all in her mind as to who he'd been referring to, exponentially more so once she'd stumbled upon Severus in the back of the Malfoy library, where Lucius had once mentioned his father's more… distasteful titles were kept.

A part of her, a sizeable, huge, prodigious part of her wanted to pretend that she had no idea what was going on - wanted to see what would undoubtedly be a cathartic display, if Severus was able to execute it.

And yet, goddamnit, she couldn't fall to her level. Couldn't let Severus fall to her level - even if he planned to go nowhere near fatal injury. She didn't know how, or why, or when, it had happened, but the feeling that she had somehow been corrupted to this point - to the point where she found it unsurprising Severus would try to wound Bellatrix - that she deeply wanted to do the same - was deeply disturbing.

"Tully?" she called. The house-elf was an integral part of her plan, but mostly -

"Mistress!"

She knelt down just as Tully launched herself at her, skinny arms encircling her neck. "Hello," she greeted the creature with a smile. "I've missed you."

"Tully has missed Mistress too. Is Mistress going back home forever now?"

Home? For a moment her mind flashed to the decrepit townhouse in Manchester, now empty of any occupants. It would legally be hers, she knew, once she turned eighteen, but it seemed difficult to imagine that she could ever, truly, call... that place… home.

"The cottage, you mean? I'm afraid not, Tully. I've still got two years of school left, and after that - maybe a little more, if Professor McGonagall wants me."

Tully pulled away from her, the corner of her lip tugging down pitifully. "I is going to be missing you, Mistress. But, maybe Dobby will be keeping me company."

She smiled, hoping to lighten the elf's mood. "I hope so! You two have been getting along, have you not?"

Tully smiled brightly. "We has been, Mistress, but Tully is wanting to know why Mistress called her."

"Outside of seeing you?" she said. "I was wondering if you could do me a small favour."

"Of course! What is Mistress wanting?"

Cassiopeia bit her lip in thought. The easy part was over with, but now to convince Tully to do something which house-elves might find… morally dubious. "Well… Tully, do you know who Bellatrix is?"

The creature froze, her eyes going wide. "... Yes, Mistress."

"Is everything alright?" she asked, frowning. "She hasn't hurt you, has she?"

"No - no, Miss Black has never hurt Tully," the elf was quick to reassure, and Cassiopeia let out a breath of relief. "Tully just knows that she is… not kind to the other elves. But Tully is Mistress', so Mistress doesn't need to worry."

"Alright, Tully. That's good to know - thank you. And well… if Miss Black is so unkind to the other elves, wouldn't you like to help me make sure she can't hurt me?"

April 19, 1976 - Malfoy Manor

Severus stood on the landing, directly overlooking the front entrance to the Manor. Every few minutes, as he waited for his… prey… to arrive, he made sure to check that he was entirely cast in shadow; that Bellatrix would have no warning for his strike. His entire plan depended on it; he was neither stronger, nor more powerful than the witch, but in this instance, and this instance alone, he knew he had the upper hand.

Finally, a knock sounded on the door, and he felt a tremor in his fingers as his heart began to hammer against his chest. He was so close - so close.

The door swung open slowly, revealing the visitors to the Malfoys' home. A house-elf - Tully, he recognised suddenly - led the group inside, and their identities became known to him one-by-one as they stepped into the light.

Rabastan Lestrange, his brother Rodolphus, and -

Bellatrix.

His hand gripped his wand tightly, and he prepared to cast the spell, to watch her fall to the floor in pain.

"Igneous Dolor," he breathed.

Nothing. Bellatrix stood unaffected; there was no familiar rush of magic in his hands as it left his body, and flowed into his -

Wand.

He closed his outstretched hand, hoping desperately that it was still there, just somehow turned invisible - a trick of the light, perhaps. He met no resistance, only air.

Panic and desperation welled up within him. Without his wand he was vulnerable; he could not move, could only wait until the group left, until the perfect opportunity to exact his revenge had been squandered. He clenched his fist, enraged.

"Lady Black. How wonderful to see you," she greeted, a smile on her face. In her left hand was her wand, hidden in the swathes of her robes.

"Cassiopeia," Bellatrix said haughtily. "I thought you'd be hiding in your room, unable to see me."

"You... underestimate my strength, Lady Black."

"Do I?" Bellatrix asked lightly, her hand trailing towards the pocket of her robes.

No hesitation, now. She could only trust that Tully had done what had been asked. "Of course you do."

Bellatrix reached into her robes, and in that moment of imbalance, Cassiopeia struck. The sound of flesh hitting flesh rang through the foyer, and Bellatrix froze where she was; a red handprint slowly beginning to bloom against her cheek.

Quicker than lightning, Rabastan reached for his wand, almost certainly to curse her, when Bellatrix stopped him in his tracks.

"No, Rabastan, it's alright," she said slowly. She touched her fingertips to her skin. "You even fight like a Muggle," she spoke, her voice oddly tranquil. "You should teach me how to do that, sometime."

If Bellatrix wanted to play polite, she could do so just as well. "...Perhaps I may. Now, would you like to follow me? Narcissa's asked me to bring you to the sitting room."

As all four of them left the hall, his wand reappeared in his hand, as though it had been never gone.

April 20, 1976 - Malfoy Manor

The screams had started at midnight.

She'd been unable to sleep - sitting in her bed alert for the merest sound, the smallest indication that someone was at her door. Bellatrix was unpredictable - she would not put it past her to get her revenge when others would have assumed it to be safe.

The first sound pierced through the manor, shocking her upright. She scrambled for her wand, relieved when she grasped the dark wood on her bedside table, and felt her magic alight - a warmth that filled her arms, and eased her racing heart.

The second sound was indistinctive, merging with the third, and the fourth, and the fifth, and with perhaps the hundred more that followed - a chorus of pained cries, and of wails. She covered her ears, but the noises remained - as clear as they had been before; as though their creators were in the room before her.

The Silencing Charm which she cast seemed to have no effect; the screams seemed as though they were taunting her, just waiting for her to break.

I give up. She couldn't stay here.

Stealing from her bed, she dressed herself in a nightgown, fumbling with it as she refused to let go of her wand for even the merest moment. She didn't have a coherent plan in her mind at the moment, beyond getting away from the sounds. She needed to get away.

Half-certain she was being paranoid, she surveyed the hallway outside her room for Bellatrix, before finally stepping outside once she detected no human presence, closing the door.

The sounds stopped.

Or at least they became muffled, barely distinguishable from the noise of the wind outside. She exhaled, resting her head against the door.

They were gone, but - she couldn't spend the night in the hallway, in the open. She thought she'd outgrown such childish impulses, but suddenly Severus' bed called to her, the warmth of it, and the security of his presence. Before she even knew it, she was walking down the hall, almost running as she searched out Severus' door in the weak light.

There.

But - she couldn't, could she? Perhaps she'd just look inside - see him, and then find a spare bedroom she could rest in. If he was asleep, she could, but if she awoke him -

Severus lay, unmoving, in his bed, half-draped by a grey blanket, his face slack with sleep. There was no change in him as she stepped inside, no indication that he had been disturbed, either by the noises, or by her. She made to turn away, but she couldn't - she couldn't. Severus would never know - she'd leave before he awoke.

Severus roused, feeling the bed dip at his back. Heart racing, he made certain to keep still, to show no change in his breathing. Fear filled him.

And then a breeze of air blew through the room, bringing the familiar scent of peach-and-vanilla body wash to his nose, and he relaxed. It was her. In his bed, for whatever reason, but it was her.

He wanted to turn around, to greet her, to ask why she had come, but he didn't want to startle her. It felt nice, actually, to have her there; a reminder of their early days, when she would do so often. He relaxed into the bed, waiting until her breaths had evened out, before he allowed himself to drift back off to sleep.

When he awoke in the morning, she was gone.

"Did you sleep well?" Bellatrix asked her, leaning across the table. She seemed to have felt no ill-effects from a night spent awake - she moved with energy, and her eyes gleamed.

"I did," she replied, chancing not even a glance in Severus' direction. "Wonderfully, actually."

"Ah, how… fortunate."

•••

I have to be honest, everyone, school is killing me. I know this chapter isn't my best work, but I've had so little time to write this week, that I really had to rush it. Unfortunately, next week it seems like I'll only be able to put out a very short update too - though I do hope you will like it. After that, however, things should go back to normal. Thank you of, of course, to SilentMayhem and Stephanie MRV. Have a lovely week, everyone.