August 14, 1976 – Malfoy Manor, continued
She stilled in her steps, her blood running cold. She should have expected it, she thought somewhat hysterically – should have expected he'd want to punish her. And what better way than with the spectre that haunted her dreams?
Bellatrix appeared on the stairs, her mouth twisting into a parody of a smile – a delirious, gleeful smirk of triumph as she took in the expression on her face.
"My protegé," she crooned, riotous curls splaying out from her porcelain skin as she flew down the stairs. "I've so missed you!"
"Lady Black," she answered flatly, finding the place inside her mind that let her go numb – let emotion vanish from her voice. Severus, beside her, scowled his fury, but she could not allow herself to feel.
Bellatrix, now standing in front of her, examined her curiously with her gaze. Cassiopeia stood still, forcing her muscles not to tense, but her fingers curled around the handle of her wand, ready to protect at a moment's notice.
She did not trust Bellatrix not to curse her – whether out of anger, or delight.
"Lestrange, now," the witch corrected after a moment, a hint of a scowl on her face.
"My apologies, then, Lady Lestrange, I had not heard the good news," she smiled tightly, enjoying the anger that clouded the older woman's face. "You must be overjoyed."
"Insolent little girl – "
"Enough, Bella," Narcissa interrupted. "Have you forgotten your manners?"
"Of course not, Cissy," she responded, silver eyes wide and innocent. "I just wanted to welcome the guests into our home."
Narcissa's lips pressed into a line. "Then you have already done it. You may let the Dark Lord know that they've arrived, if you'd like to be useful."
Bellatrix grinned, baring her teeth as she looked back at Cassiopeia. She leaned down to her, and the faint stench of blood was clear on her garments. "He's so looking forward to seeing you – he'll be delighted."
The tension fled Narcissa once she left, her shoulders almost slumping – if the Malfoys were capable of such. Her voice, as she spoke, was tired and rough, exhaustion bleeding through each syllable. "Come, let's go to your rooms. Dobby will get your things."
Their journey was spent in silence. Arriving on the second floor, the reason why she'd wanted to accompany them was made clear, as an older, brown-haired man stepped into their path, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he took them in.
"I wasn't informed that there'd be more guests," he mused, his gaze surveilling Cassiopeia's body in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable. "Rodolphus Lestrange."
They introduced themselves as well, but the wizard did not seem greatly interested in conversing.
"The Dark Lord has been most generous in his assessment of you, Miss Nazyalensky," he remarked. "I look forward to seeing you prove him wrong."
"Perhaps you never will," she countered mildly, and he nodded at Severus, before sweeping away.
"Rodolphus and his brother are staying in this Wing as well, as is Antonin Dolohov," Cissa spoke once he had left, and the displeasure in her tone was clear. "My father is visiting also."
"On the Dark Lord's orders?" Severus asked, and Narcissa nodded.
"He has been more open lately, with his desire to integrate you into his ranks," she disclosed, coming to a halt at the entrance to Severus' usual rooms.
"I'd heard that he's been recruiting students," he replied. "It's not unexpected."
"Yes, but – " she gripped Severus' shoulder with a sudden desperation, though she met Cassiopeia's eyes as well. "Do not let him. You cannot."
"It's not my desire to join him, you know that," he replied softly, and Cassiopeia made a sound of agreement.
"Nor is it mine."
"I'm afraid that may not be enough. He is… determined."
"I'd hope we might gather for dinner today, so we may get to know each other better."
"Of course, my Lord."
The Dark Lord was the first to take his seat, settling upon his chair with a kind of elegant, unbothered grace. He waved his hand imperiously, gesturing first for Cygnus to sit at his right hand, Dolohov at his left, and Bellatrix to join Rodolphus at the far end of the table.
"My Lord – " the witch protested, eyeing her seat with disdain.
"What is it, Bella?" he drawled, his smirk amused. "Are you so very eager to leave your husband's side?"
"No, of course not, my Lord – " she prostrated herself.
"Then sit down, Bella," Cygnus commanded sharply. "I apologise for her lack of manners."
"No need, Cygnus," he replied mildly. "Rodolphus, I hope you'll be able to keep your wife in check?"
Bellatrix looked – unnerving as it was – betrayed at his words, but her husband did not hesitate to agree, an apology in his voice. "Of course, my Lord."
Food appeared on the table, courtesy of the Malfoy elves, and they began to serve themselves, conversing on unimportant matters as they ate.
"Lucius, have you begun making plans for the upcoming raid?" the Dark Lord asked after some time, and with that the discussion turned to plans for the future – strategising over the targeting of attacks, campaigns in the media, and even Valens Gaunt's appearances in the public.
" – a regiment of three at least, disguised," the oldest among them contemplated, some time later. "If an attack were to take place, I would not desire to lose my good standing with the public."
"Of course, my Lord," Bellatrix spoke up, contributing to the conversation for the first time since she'd been rebuffed. "Might I take on that assignment?"
"I'm afraid not, Bella," he replied, unapologetic despite his words. "I had hoped you would be otherwise occupied, before that event."
"My Lord – " she protested, before shutting her mouth, remembering his earlier scolding. Nonetheless, it was not enough, for the Dark Lord's face clouded with anger, his words to her scathing and uncaring.
"No, Bellatrix. Have I not made clear to you the importance of growing my ranks? Would you deny your Lord his wishes?"
"No, my Lord," she murmured. "It is just difficult for me – "
"You are useless then," Cygnus cut in, angered. "Three – two daughters, and not one of them can produce an heir."
Cassiopeia looked to Narcissa, who closed her eyes against the words, pained. Bellatrix, sitting across from her sister, seemed more aggrieved.
"Now, now, Cygnus," the Dark Lord spoke, calmer. "No need to be angry. It is my special assignment for you, Bella, and you will be rewarded shall you manage to accomplish it."
When Bellatrix nodded, reluctantly, he explained further. "I would not be so focused on you, pet, if I had more conduits. Alas – " here his eyes turned to Cassiopeia, regarding her much in the same way Rodolphus had hours before. She met his gaze, almost defiantly, and he slipped into her mind.
Fear. He latched onto it almost immediately. He swept past the memories from moments before, following the emotion further into her mind. She fought to keep calm, to keep him from realising she was aware of his presence, but it was difficult, especially once he arrived at the memory of the summer's attack, gazing at the dead body in the rubble, his presence uncaring.
The scene shifted without her control, and now she was standing in McGonagall's home, conversing with Severus. Realising the very dangerous nature of the conversation he was about to hear, she led him away to the scene she knew would engage him the most – using her dread of it to entice him.
Blood. So much blood. The maniacal laughter as she cut into the boy's skin again and again, his mouth open in a soundless scream of pain.
A new memory took its place.
Sirius, holding her in his arms. His grip too tight, his body too close. The hand on her breast, causing her to gasp in pain, humiliation and panic flooding through her.
The Dark Lord broke his gaze from her, and she fought to keep her breath even as his presence left her mind, her heart pounding in her chest.
When she finally looked up at him, he seemed unaffected, continuing his meal as though nothing had taken place.
"You'll not be alone, though, Bella," he spoke after a moment. "Have you heard the news that Catherine is with child?"
"No, my Lord," she replied a little sullenly. "But would a child of the Goyles really be so helpful to your goals?"
"Yes," he replied brusquely. "It is essential that we gain in size, Bella. Do you not see by how many magnitudes the Muggles overpopulate us? Soon, we will not even be a majority in our world, as Dumbledore allows the filth in and it breeds. The birth of more into my ranks is at the moment one of my greatest priorities – and I would rather our world be made of pureblooded idiots than mudblood dirt, do you not agree?" he asked, the threat in his voice clear.
"Yes, my Lord," she said meekly.
"My Lord?" Narcissa spoke for the first time, her voice quiet and wavering. When Cassiopeia turned to her, she looked even paler than before. "Might I be excused?"
He waved her off, and the woman almost fled from them – Lucius looking on in concern.
"She disappoints you too, my Lord," Cygnus spoke, unconcerned for his daughter's distress.
"I have conviction that soon enough she will cease to. Do you, Lucius?"
"It is my greatest hope," he said smoothly. "Might I go after her, my Lord?"
He gave his permission with a magnanimous incline of his head, and as Lucius left, Cygnus remarked: "If you ever tire of the trouble, know that I'd be open to devising an arrangement. There are many other girls in the Black family who have already proven themselves sufficient - I'm sure some of them would be unopposed."
Lucius faltered in his step for a half-second, before turning back to him. "I'll keep that in mind, Lord Black. Thank you."
That night, Cassiopeia lay awake in her bed, her mind swirling with thoughts. She was terrified, for Severus and herself, yes, but mainly for Narcissa, whose distress had been evident – such a stark difference to the tired acceptance that she'd displayed before. And for Lucius to take another woman, so they may finally fulfil the Dark Lord's wishes? The idea was unthinkable, but more so than the possibility of Narcissa being hurt, or killed, for her failure.
She could not allow such events to come to pass.
Already, ideas sprang to her mind – each less likely to succeed than the last. She wanted a solution, a foolproof one, that would be guaranteed to bring her friend no more pain.
She needed to speak with Severus.
"Is it not true, Lucius, that young Severus here brewed for you a most potent healing salve?"
The Dark Lord observed him, setting down his quill. In the gloom of his office, his violet eyes shone even more eerily, unblinking.
Lucius, standing next the door, flickered his gaze to him, as though in apology. "Yes, my Lord. It was most effective."
"I had hoped the pain would be a reminder of your failings, Lucius," he said, standing from his chair. His dark robes flowed down his body like water, juxtaposed by a delicate but strong golden chain that hung from his neck, disappearing into the clothes. "Nonetheless – I am most interested in your abilities, Severus."
He kept his gaze lowered, seeing – out of the corner of his eye – Lucius' hand clench into a fist. "That is an honour, my Lord."
The wizard nodded, stepping closer to him. "There is a matter of… utmost importance… that requires such expertise. If you prove yourself to me, I will entrust it to you."
Standing just before him, the Dark Lord murmured, his deep, sibilant voice just barely audible over the beating of his heart: "Caedes Deorum. Think of it as a test, Severus. I will be most pleased if you succeed."
August 15, 1976 – Malfoy Manor
"Severus?"
She knocked upon the thick, wooden door, wondering if he would hear her. Lucius had informed her that he'd be in the laboratory, brewing, though she wondered why he'd choose to spend his time doing so, unless – like she suspected – he hadn't had the choice.
The door was wrenched open by magic and she stepped inside. In the centre of the room. Severus stood bent over a cauldron, his fingers turning white with his fierce grip on the pure gold stirring stick in his hand. He shook his head at her, lips tight in concentration, and so she took a seat, watching him as he worked before finally, several minutes later, he set the instrument down.
"That'll simmer for twenty minutes now," he explained, exhausted, finally looking up at her. "Sorry I look like shit – what did you want?"
In her opinion, he'd looked rather striking – so focused on his creation – but the potions fumes really were not the best on his hair.
An image came to her mind, suddenly, of the two of them sharing a bath – her fingers massaging sweetly scented shampoo into his strands – and she had to look away from him for a moment.
Instead, she reached into the pocket of her robes, pulling from within them a roll of parchment. She spread it out on one of the tables, and he walked over to examine it, his fingers tracing the words she had written almost unconsciously.
"It seems like something I may be able to do," he said after some time, his eyes contemplative. "It'd take some time, though – I'd only be able to start after the first stage of Caedes is done."
"What exactly is it?" she asked, and mourned the loss of the tranquil expression on his face. "It's too advanced for me to recognise."
"I wouldn't expect you to," he sighed. "It's not extremely difficult, just very uncommon. A strong poison. For the Dark Lord."
"Ah."
She was struck with a sudden worry of an assignment being given to her – especially one she could not fulfil. For a second she felt sick, remembering the discussion at yesterday's dinner table. Please, god no.
"How long do you think it would take you to brew this?" she asked instead, and welcomed the return of the studious light in his eyes. This was the Severus she enjoyed the most – the one who could discuss potions for hours, engaging her with knowledge way beyond her own.
"A few days at least. I might have to make modifications, which would make it more difficult, but I expect it could be done. I expect – this is for Narcissa, no?"
She inclined her head. "Yes. And I'll need it at least a few days before we return to school, to set up the ritual portion of it."
"The unicorn blood? You're really invested in this," he spoke seriously, and before she could answer: 'Yes, of course, she's my friend,' he added, smirking: "Hufflepuff."
She smiled, amused, before she regained her seriousness. "My motivations are not entirely unselfish. If Narcissa bears a child – "
"Then it seems unlikely he would force you. At least now." He turned away, the expression on his face disturbed. "I dislike even the thought."
"Do you think he would?"
Severus paused for a moment. "If he saw it as beneficial? Yes. I think so. But for the moment, I'd consider the possibility unlikely."
"I hope it stays that way, then."
Would he give me to Rabastan? Dolohov? Rodolphus, even?
The entire situation felt like a gruesome car crash – horrific, but she couldn't look away, couldn't stop dissecting it.
"... I was going to tell you – " Severus said suddenly, " – be careful with Rodolphus. I've seen him standing next to your door when he had no need to be. Ward your room."
"I have, but – " she shrugged. " – it's not like it'd help much, if he truly wanted to."
Severus' lips twisted in distaste. "Just tell me if he starts acting worse, won't you?"
After a moment he added, remembering her words from days past: "I'm... worried."
"I will."
"Good," he sighed. "Give me some time, and I'll see what I can do with this."