Chapter 8: Winged Death

Severus retreated to Malfoy Manor to lick his wounds. He had no screams left in him. He was empty, calm, spent. He arrived by apparition, letting the gates feel his magic to allow him entry, and walking up the long driveway in the dark. Ahead of him, only a few lights in the manor burned.

The door opened before him, and he swept into the marble hallway. The house elf who had let him in bowed deeply. "Master is in the small dining room," he said. "He asked that you join him there."

Severus didn't respond; he just swept past the elf.

He didn't find only Lucius in the dining room. The Malfoy patriarch sat at the head of the table, his hands clasped before him and his face pale. Around the table ranged other high-ranking Death Eaters- the Lestrange brothers, Rosier, Avery, Dolohov, Yaxley. Lucius beckoned him forward with a weary hand. "What news do you bring, Severus?" he asked.

Severus' dark eyes swept over the gathering. He shrouded his mind from habit, though he felt no little nudges of legilimency, and none here were practiced in its use.

"I tried to find the Lord when the Mark burned," he said dully, his throat still dry and aching from his outburst. "I could not go to him. I remember his single-minded feelings towards the Potter blood traitor and mudblood. I went to their cottage. It is in ruins. Albus Dumbledore is there; I could not reveal myself. I saw no evidence of ongoing conflict. If the Lord was there, he is no longer."

Lucius nodded. "Sit, Severus."

Severus took a seat across the table from Rabastan. Lucius slid a glass of firewhiskey down the table. "We all felt the burn," he said. "The Marks are fading now."

Severus pushed up his sleeve again. Lucius was right: what had once been black as ink and had turned cherry red was now fading to pink, like a week-old scar. Carefully, he touched it with a long finger. It was smooth and shiny, not hot, just as he would expect healing scar tissue to be. "Something must have happened to our Lord," he said with no emotion whatsoever.

"We have come to the same conclusion."

"Surely, the blood traitors could not have overcome him," Avery said flatly. "His power was too great."

"If he was injured," Rabastan argued, "then he may need aid. We must find him."

"Indeed," Lucius said smoothly. "I think searches are in order indeed, but some must remain here to gather the loyal. This is an obvious gathering point, as we have all found." He looked around the table. "I will stay."

"I am more use gathering information from Dumbledore's camp," Severus added. "I should return to Hogwarts soon, and see what news there is."

Rodolphus agreed. "That leaves six," he said. "We should split into pairs, visit the faithful who have not come here, try to find information, try to find the Lord."

"We should meet back here at sundown tomorrow night," Dolohov suggested, and within twenty minutes, only Lucius and Severus remained.

Lucius eyed his last guest. "Let us retreat to the study," he suggested. It was there, before the fire, that the two men made their plans. "There will be recriminations," Lucius began. "If we are caught, then we will be imprisoned."

"You believe that the Dark Lord has fallen?" Severus asked, less guarded now that he was alone with Lucius- perhaps the closest thing to a friend he had left, now that Lily was… he stopped that thought, pushed it to the back of his carefully schooled mind. There was no benefit to thinking of Lily now.

"I'm almost sure of it. You are not yourself, Severus. You know something. What did you see at the Potter cottage?"

Severus swirled his firewhiskey in the tumbler, staring at the patterns the fire made dancing through the flickers of the drink. Much as he would like to, he could not completely wipe Lily from the situation. "James and Lily Potter are dead," he said flatly. "Their child is alive. Dumbledore is taking it to safety."

Lucius took in a deep breath. "Then it is... that prophecy…" he said. "A child has truly bested the Dark Lord?"

Severus lifted a shoulder, unable to summon any emotion. "Perhaps," he said.

The two men, the closest to friends one could come in this cut-throat world, sat in silence for a few minutes. "We will wait," Lucius decided. "We must wait until we know more before firm plans are made. But I will not go to Azkaban. If the Dark Lord is truly gone, I will claim to have been under the influence of Imperius, I think. Will Dumbledore protect you?"

"I believe so," Severus said. He knew he should care. He knew he should be worried, but all he could think about was Lily, cold in his arms. He still didn't truly know what had happened, but he knew that Lily was gone. He could still feel the weight of her as he held her body to him, but he could not recall her laugh.

Lucius broke into his thoughts. "I know you held a flame for the muggleborn," he said. "Forget her, Severus. It was a foolish thing. You must see that now. Find yourself a pureblooded woman. Do not dilute your blood further. The Prince bloodline was a reasonably respected one until your mother made off with a muggle."

Severus nodded woodenly. "I should return to the school," he said, draining the last of his drink. "Please inform me of any developments."

"Likewise, my friend." Lucius rose to clasp arms with Severus. "You may know the situation before I."

Severus took the floo back to the castle, swirling into his office. He looked around, amazed that somehow everything was the same when the world was forever changed, forever less. With slow, measured steps, he paced through to his classroom, then through the storeroom door to his private quarters. Calmly, he hung his robes on the stand, as was his custom. Then he folded to the floor in a heap of broken man.

He lay in the room lit only by the flicker of the fire laid by the house elves.

When he woke, he was covered with the throw blanket from the sofa, a cushion was below his head, and Dumbledore was sitting in Severus' favourite chair. The headmaster peered over the edge of the journal he held- Severus recognised it as the Ars Potiomedica that had been on his mantel. "Ah. Severus. You're awake."

Severus sat up, his bones complaining about their time on the floor. He raked his hair out of his face with one shaking hand. "I shouldn't be," he muttered. Clumsily, he stumbled to his feet. "I should be dead. Not her."

"Those are not our choices to make," Dumbledore said sadly.

Severus stared at Dumbledore from under the heavy, stringy curtain of his hair. How dare Dumbledore sit there so calmly, Severus wondered. How could he possibly just sit reading about the advances in anticoagulants when Lily- sweet, pure, innocent Lily- was dead! "You were going to keep her safe," he hissed. "You said that you would keep her safe… you were hiding her!"

"She put her faith in the wrong person, Severus. Rather like you- after all, did you not ask Voldemort to protect her?"

Severus choked on his breath, a sob desperately caught and not able to escape. "How dare you!" he snapped out. "How dare you turn that on me… I have given you everything, everything! I have worked for you and I have spied for you!"

"And I have upheld my end of that bargain," Albus replied mildly. "I have helped you lay strong protections on your muggle lover's house-"

"She is not my lover!" Severus interrupted angrily. "I don't love her! I can't love her!"

"You must be calm, my boy," Albus said. "The time for anger will come, the time for sorrow will come, but now is not that time. We have to act, Severus. Voldemort is gone. The aurors are already planning their trials for Death Eaters."

"So it's true?" Severus asked, amazed. "The Dark Lord… he's really gone? He was really killed by a baby?" He sat hard on his sofa, not able to really believe it.

"Not killed," Dumbledore explained calmly, as if Severus had never shouted. "I do not think he is dead. There was no body, you see. If he were dead, Tom's body would have been there. I fear, instead, that he is defeated, at least for the time being, and severely weakened. But we must take this time to regroup, rebuild, regrow."

"Where's Lily's child?" Severus demanded hoarsely.

"Safe," was all Dumbledore would say. "Little Harry is safe, away from the eyes of the wizarding world."

"She'd have been safe with me!" Severus cried out.

Dumbledore shook his silvery head with a sad smile. "My boy, the child was not Lily. In your grief, I fear that you are confusing Harry and dear Lily."

"I'm not," Severus grunted.

"Severus, my boy… there is work to which you are better suited than childrearing," Dumbledore sighed. "Come, sit. We have much to discuss."

Severus stared at him for long seconds, his dark, hooded gaze inscrutable. He felt the subtle press of Albus' mind on his, and he wondered not for the first time if it was deliberate, or if the headmaster simply broadcast his legilimency in the same way as Severus himself naturally defended his own mind. And safe in his well-defended mind, Severus replayed Dumbledore's words from the night before, his assertion that Severus was a father in nothing but blood, incapable. But then, maybe Dumbledore was right… maybe Robin would be better off without him… and maybe Harriet would be better in a safe, loving home, where no one worried about where to find the money for her clothes, or how to make the next staggering house payment. Maybe he was selfish and cruel for keeping Robin in such a precarious situation. "The child will be cared for?" he asked softly.

"Little Harry has gone to good, respectable people who will love him," Dumbledore confirmed. "Come, Severus. Sit. You will need some breakfast, and we must discuss our next move."

Severus couldn't see any better option at the moment. He folded himself onto the sofa, never taking his eyes from the headmaster. "Indeed," he said, trying for a facsimile of his usual tone. "And what plans do you have?"

There might have been sarcasm there, but Dumbledore did not rise to the bait. "We must first ascertain the fate of Tom Riddle," he said. "I presume that his followers will be searching for him: you must keep your contacts, and pass on the news to to Order."

"And be arrested as a Death Eater?" Severus asked mildly, as if it were of no true interest to him.

At least Albus had the grace to raise an eyebrow there. "Oh, my dear boy, no. I would not repay your service so. I will testify for you, privately, so that you never come to trial, and your spying is never known by your previous… associates. It is the least I can do."

Severus nodded stiffly. "If you'll excuse me…" he muttered. "I have things I should be getting on with."

Dumbledore sighed, standing. "Indeed. Lessons have been cancelled for the rest of the week, so do not fret on that part. I think that the revelry is perhaps premature, but, alas, too many other voices have overruled me." He made off towards the door, but turned before he got there. "I hope you do not hold me taking the child against me, Severus. You must see, though, that I was right. Surely Lily's little son deserves better than the little you can give?"

Severus gritted his teeth, and it wasn't until Albus had shut the door behind him that the mug that sat on the coffee table was hurled at the wall.

The hours passed in strange fits and starts: sometimes they flew past and he found himself waking from a stupor with no memory of the passing time. Sometimes, every second lived in the world was a stabbing pain, each moment that passed whilst Lily was cold and dead was a slap in the face. He wondered where little Harriet was; who would raise her. Perhaps Lily's parents… but no. he remembered that they were in a nursing home, no place for a child. Probably a wizarding family, then- a family that could give her a lovely life. A spoilt, pampered existence. Then he felt like throwing things again. She'd get everything his son couldn't have. Dumbledore would have placed his little saviour of the wizarding world with some doting couple.

For that's what she was. Over the last few hours, the pieces had begun to fall into place in Severus' rampaging mind. The prophecy that Trelawny had made, that the Dark Lord had pulled from his head, for even Severus could not hold up completely under an assault from the Dark Lord. He'd given it up to protect the walls he'd built around Robin and Annie in his mind, never knowing that the Lord would take it seriously. The Trelawny woman was crazy, surely anyone could see that! But for some reason, both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord took the ridiculous prophecy at face value. Could it possibly be true? Could a little baby have been the one to defeat the might of the Dark Lord? It was a ridiculous notion, but Severus could see no other option. Why would he have left the child alive, and yet killed Lily and Potter? It made no sense.

In minutes and in eons, it came time for him to return back to Malfoy Manor. He arrived the conventional way this time, though the floo that took him directly to the family receiving chambers by virtue of his blood adoption into the family when Lucius and Narcissa's son was born. Almost two years later, Lucius still credited him with the safe delivery of their son, as it had been Severus who'd noticed the pregnant Narcissa's failing health and recommended that she visit her healer, where they found her to be in the early stages of pre-eclampsia.

A house elf popped into the room, already bowing. "Master asks that you join him in his study before proceeding to the small dining room," it intoned.

"Thank you," Severus muttered, the whole situation seeming a cruel parody of the night before. But at least Lucius was alone in his study.

He sat before the fire to ward off the November chill. His face was drawn, paler even than his usual Malfoy pallor, and his grey eyes stared unflinchingly into the middle distance, the flames no barrier to his mind's eye. He did not even glance at Severus, but he knew when his companion entered the room. "It is all lost," he muttered. "There is no sign, Severus, none at all. We have backed the wrong horse, my friend."

"The others have returned?"

Lucius twitched his head in an exhausted semblance of a nod. "Over the last few hours, many followers have found their way here. And not one has a sighting of the Lord. And every mark has faded. The word is that the Potter child killed him… the babe's no older than Draco!"

"I agree, the notion is… laughable."

"No matter the details, the Lord is gone. I was waiting for you before I acted… you must return to Dumbledore and play the lackey if you would like to escape capture. I am taking Narcissa and Draco and turning myself in to the aurors. I hope that my house full of Death Eaters will be collateral enough to convince them of my time under the imperius curse."

"You mean to give them to the aurors? All of them?" Severus asked, shocked by this level of callousness, even from Malfoy.

"I must protect my family, Severus. You must understand." Lucius finally tore his gaze from the fire, stood, faced Severus. There were creases in his perfect complexion, bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes. "You are family, too. You are, after all, my Draco's godfather. It is in payment for your help that I give you this chance. Go now, and consider my debt settled."

"Lucius…"

"Go."

Severus saw no other choice. "I never held you in my debt, Lucius," he said quietly, before turning to leave. He heard voices from the small dining room, but hurried past. He could not doubt Malfoy now. Of anyone, Lucius was vicious and calculating enough to do as he had said. Severus would just have to take his word for it. Less than a quarter of an hour after he had arrived, he left again, knowing that he might never again see some of his former associates, and that, within hours, perhaps he'd be behind bars. For did he really trust Dumbledore? Did he really trust Lucius? Perhaps he'd be a soulless husk, kissed for his crimes. He shivered.

That cold finger of dread accompanied him right through the halls of Hogwarts. Many pupils were at home with their families, revelling in delight at the turn of events, but he knew that, in the Slytherin common room, would be a collection of children who by tomorrow might well be orphans to Azkaban. Lyson Yaxley was twelve years old, just months into his Hogwarts career. By tomorrow, perhaps he would find his father, and his mother too, no longer able to recognise him after the dementor's kiss. And his own little Robin…

He couldn't help hearing Dumbledore over again, hearing that damning echo of the criticism of his parenting ringing through every corner of his mind. If he survived, he decided he would be a better father.

Dumbledore stood at his window as Severus arrived in his office, staring out into the darkness as if he could see the world from that gloomy perch. "What news, my boy?" Albus asked, never turning away.

"No one has been able to locate him," Severus replied. "The Death Eaters are gathered at Malfoy Manor."

Albus sighed. "Such poor, misguided souls," he muttered to himself. "Where have we gone wrong? They passed through these halls, almost every one of them. What should we have done better?"

"Headmaster, I would like to give my notice of resignation."

That made Albus whirl, surprisingly spry for an owner of such magnificently white hair. "Resignation? My dear boy, no! You must not, you cannot! Whatever has given you such a notion? Do you not have a good life with us here?"

Severus nodded stiffly. "I cannot complain overmuch of my treatment here. But now that the Dark Lord is no more, I would like to return to my training as a mediwizard, and I would like to attempt to make a better home for my son. You are right. I am no father to him, absent so much of the time. It is not a good way for him to live."

Albus was suddenly looking much older. He leaned heavily on the back of his chair. "No, Severus, you cannot."

"My duty here is done," Severus informed him. "You said yourself that I should see more to Robin's care: that is what I intend to do." Money would be very, very tight, he knew, but he'd managed on his training bursary when Robin was a baby, and he could manage again. He knew he'd be welcomed back- there were not enough mediwizards to turn one away. He'd probably have to move in with Annie and Robin for a year or two, but he was older, wiser now, and as long as he did not share a bed with Annie, he could manage. It would be better for Robin to have him around more.

Dumbledore sat himself in his grand seat. "No, Severus. I told you that I do not believe that Tom is dead: he is merely weakened, in hiding. You must maintain your position here."

"You can't stop me, headmaster."

There was silence, marred only by the crackle of the fire. After some moments, Albus spoke. "I can withdraw my support," he said. "I think that Azkaban would not suit your new fatherly ambitions."

Severus hung onto his control by a thread. "As you say, Headmaster," he forced out.