A/N: In which the term starts…eventually. If you've ever read Snack, you'll likely appreciate a certain title.

On with it, then.

Chapter 3: Consequences

The bewildering afternoon somehow eased into a calm night. Once Bella had stopped crying, she'd become ravenous for Severus' touch, and he'd given her all that he could. The boy, as usual, had startled them both at the beginning, breaking a bottle of good cider in the process, and though Bella had wanted to go after him, Severus had stopped her.

He still remembered it – how could he forget? "You need rest," he'd said, willing his voice not to shake with the nervous emotion that told him that Bella wouldn't listen. "Go to bed," he'd insisted, and somehow she had. And much later, at his own insistence, Severus had ended up being the one to walk carefully to Antares' door and try it.

The door had been locked with a Fastening Curse, well enough that it had given him pause. Well enough that it had also made him angry – Bella had been so upset to find that same spell on the boy's door on the night that her and Severus' relationship was discovered, and to have been faced with the same spell at such an ill time would have upset her even more. Severus, opening the door with a curt word and sharp wave, had gritted his teeth against his temper, and been very glad that she hadn't been the one to do it.

Then again, thinking of the ease of habit that Antares had employed to Fasten his door even while in the throes of another childish temper, Severus had become afraid, and it was the memory of that that had drawn Severus out of his bed and into the hallway this morning. Uneasy, he paced quietly in the small hallway, repeatedly exchanging the muted, rustling silence of Bella's sleep for Antares' now-unlocked door and the small sounds of a young boy's restless morning movements. Those sounds soon dwindled and became the sound of the shower being run in Antares' room, and somehow that slowed Severus' pacing to a crawl, and then a halting, shifting stop.

It wasn't so much that Antares had been able to do the curse so well that bothered him now, he realised, staring over at Antares' door. It was the fact that Quirrell – that the Dark Lord himself had deemed it wise to teach Antares that spell that made Severus' hands itch with foreboding. Not to mention the fact that Antares would continue to use it, in spite of Bella's opinion of it.

Then again, as Severus had discovered, Antares believed that he had reason. "Leave me alone," was all the boy had said to Severus at first. But when Severus had refused to, the low, sullen tone had become angry and loud, with a note of betrayal –

"What do you want? You've won! You've got her, just leave me alone!" Antares' eyes were angry and hard, and yet somehow betrayed, as if he felt Bella should have chosen differently, should have rejected Severus – "LEAVE ME –"

It was with difficulty that Severus turned away from that memory, but soon his mind was clear again, if still filled with the question that was bothering him. His worry was nameless, unformed, but it was still there, as was the growing conviction that he had to find out exactly what spells Antares had been taught, if only that he could tell himself that there was no underlying reason for their order, no secret pattern to them.

Severus' tense shoulders sagged then, as if some decision had been made, though he knew that there had been none. It still felt solidly good to think hard for what Bella had done with the parchment she'd said that Quirrell had given Antares, and felt even better to plan to do a little snooping in Antares' room, just in case there was something the boy was holding back, whether by his own will, or by – or by another's.

It was then that the door before Severus opened, and Antares slipped through it and into the hall. Severus went still, feeling somehow caught in his scheming, but the boy did not even spare him a glance as he clattered noisily down the stairs. Severus entered the room warily, trying to stop thinking about the way the door was still the right size – not a little too shrunken or too large, as often happened with a sloppy Unfastening Curse. That was just an indication of the old theory that magic was easiest to channel while one was young and did not understand impossibilities. It was not an indication that the Dark Lord had somehow –

Severus barely stifled a yelp as he tripped over something and fell. He somehow managed to avoid braining himself on the foot of Antares' bed – his bed, once – and was soon glaring at the cause of it all. A cauldron. A bloody cauldron.

Serves you right for daydreaming when you should be searching, Severus thought irritably, picking himself up and scanning the messy room as he had not before. He returned his attention to the cauldron, which was now rolling gently in a circle on its side, its few contents scattered in close radius. Severus picked them up manually, one by one – only books and odds and ends, thank heavens. The unspoiled ingredients from yesterday's trip had probably been put away somewhere into Antares' bulging, battered trunk, which Severus eyed with disfavour. It looked like Antares had been living out of the trunk, and very messily too – robes sticking out everywhere, an inkpot perched haphazardly on the windowsill nearby…

Severus stopped, now truly still for the first time that morning. What on earth was he doing here? As he looked around him, all he could see were the normal trappings of any eleven – or, rather, twelve-year-old. Wandless magic and dubious curses or no, Antares was still normal. Angry, yes – but normal. Severus levitated the cauldron into place by Antares' overflowing trunk and sent the books and other things into it as soon as it had settled down, and when he left the room, he didn't look back.

Paranoia was beyond him. It had to be, for him to go on; if he feared a twelve-year-old, what would he not fear? Severus sighed, closing the door quietly. All the fear in the world would not stop the Dark Lord if he wished to return – if anything, it would draw him like a bloodhound to a hare, and by then Severus would be too worn out with fear to do anything when his loyalty was called into question again. Severus' lips thinned at that thought – at the thought that everything he'd gained so far could be lost for empty fear and emptier care. He squared his shoulders, heading downstairs with single-minded intensity, determined not to let it happen.

And then Severus saw the headline of the newspaper in Antares' shaking hands, and stopped short. "BLACK IS BACK", it said, in bold, ugly-seeming letters, and Severus barely heard the boy's indignant protest as he snatched it from his hands, he was so busy reading.

And what a read, indeed.

BLACK IS BACK

And no, we don't mean Sirius Black, infamous betrayer of the Potters.
Perhaps you will wish we did, for the Black in question is no other than his equally notorious cousin,
Bellatrix Black, formerly Bellatrix Lestrange. Ms. Black, thought missing for almost ten years,
made a startling reappearance in Flourish and Blott's yesterday afternoon during the
much-publicised release of Gilderoy Lockhart's Magical Me, the proceedings of which
being thoroughly overshadowed by the drama that took place upon the reappearance
of the haughty, terrifyingly gaunt Ms. Black.

And drama it was, indeed – upon entering the shop and rudely shoving her way through passers-by,
Bellatrix Black gave a maniacal laugh, setting a bizarre threat-laden conversation
with the confused and desperately bewildered Mr. Lucius Malfoy in motion.

Severus knew he was muttering to himself as he read, but he couldn't help it. The way the – it was just –

"She seemed unhinged," said young Lawrence Hackerly, a clerk in the employ of the esteemed
bookshop. "Really unhinged, I tell you; and for no reason at all." Other onlookers corroborated
this, many of them stating that Ms. Black did not hesitate to threaten Mr. Malfoy's son with wand
and word, despite his carefully amiable responses to her mad fervour. The situation was somehow
resolved by Mr. Malfoy's clever use of Bellatrix's scowling young son as a distraction,
which persuaded the obviously imbalanced woman to let go of Draco, Mr. Malfoy's son,
nearly sending him tumbling into a pile of dangerously sharp-edged books in the process.

Furthermore, when said young son had an old possession of his – dropped during the scuffle and
confusion instigated by his overbearing mother, no doubt – graciously returned to him by
Mr. Malfoy, he disdained to use even the barest forms of appreciation, leaving his mama to
answer with yet more threats. Several patrons remarked that her influence on him
was as obvious as their shared resemblance, from the foul language and surly behaviour
he displayed throughout the whole distressing event. All those at the scene commended
Mr. Malfoy and his son, Draco, for their courteous and careful handling of the situation and
were left wondering, in the words of Mrs. Honeywhistle, "what on earth that
disgrace of a woman thought she was doing, disturbing the peace in that manner."
We at the Daily Prophet heartily agree.

Inside: The Bloodthirsty Blacks: A Family History not for the Faint of Heart
Speculation on the father of Bellatrix Black's Surly Son
A Call to Action: Angry Patrons of Flourish and Blott's Demand for Ban on the Blacks

"– done massaging that, I'd like it back." Antares' sharp, mocking tone brought Severus back to himself. He looked down at the Daily Prophet again, and saw that his hands had curled into fists, and were crumpling the paper. "Look, Snape, I just want to –"

But Severus had also spotted a name, somewhere among the other useless stories on the front page. "Skeeter," he breathed, tightening his grip further on the paper, "that – that brainless – insufferable –"

Bella's yawn chose to sound behind him at that point, making him freeze despite the feeling of Antares' mocking gaze. He couldn't let her read this, not after – no.

"…to have the paper back now, please," Antares was saying clearly, slowly, as if to a dunce. Severus glared at him, snapping the pages of the paper in half almost without thinking.

"This is the old edition, you fool," Severus snapped, relishing the surprise he glimpsed on the boy's face as he turned away from him and toward Bella's tired form. "How did you sleep, Bella?"

But she gave him a direct look, and started to skirt around him instead. "It's only a paper, Severus. Just give it…" Bella's voice trailed off into silence as she squinted at the back of the paper, on which Severus now saw the usual picture that went with the Sports section, and cursed himself for – "That was yesterday's game, Severus."

"Bella," Severus said anyway, knowing he might as well try, "there's an –"

"Let me see that," Bella said abruptly, ignoring his protest. She tried to snatch it from him, and gave him a dark look when he withheld it. "Severus –"

"It's best you don't," Severus said quietly, hoping she would listen. Yesterday had been taxing enough – why should she have to worry about the gossip of a third-rate bitch of an editor? "There is an article –" The newspaper wrenched itself from his hands and flew into Bella's, and she read the front page in silence, an occasional sneer stopping Severus' tongue from making the protests he knew he should be making. She was soon finished, and though she tossed the thing onto the table at which Antares was seated with a contemptuous shrug, Severus could see that her hands were shaking.

Her tone was steady, however, and tinged with a little of that contempt. "You've got a low opinion of my nerves, Severus." When he tried to speak, Bella cut him off with a shake of her head and a cool smile. "It takes more than a bit of foolish gossip to upset me."

Severus tried not to grind his teeth. "Gossip, Bella? That woman called you unhinged –"

"What's for breakfast?" Bella said, as if she hadn't heard him, the look in her eyes all but screaming that the topic of the ignominious article was closed. "I'm simply famished…" Severus turned away, before he forgot himself and said something. It was hard not to, while making toast to the accompaniment of Bella's sneering laughter at the article about the Black family history as she pointed out what she said were glaring mistakes. Severus managed it, however, and soon was even able to sit and pick at his omelette as if he was more interested in eating it than in challenging Bella to let out the nervous anger he could see in the jerky movements of her knife and fork.

Antares beat him to it, dropping his cutlery with a clatter and shoving his chair back from the table. Bella's eyes shot to him and seemed to freeze him momentarily, but not for long.

"I'm going to the garden," he said defensively, rising out of his chair. "I'll eat later –"

Bella's lips thinned. "Sit down," she said, her tone unmistakably commanding, and it came as no surprise to Severus that Antares obeyed, his eyes wide. Bella looked down at her half-eaten breakfast, as if unconcerned, but her voice was anything but. "You'll eat now; I won't have you whining about your hunger while we're out."

Antares flinched, and his chin went up. "Where are we going?"

Bella took a sip from her tea and set it down, hard. "Diagon Alley." Severus closed his eyes involuntarily, willing himself to stay silent, but – "We forgot to do Quality Quidditch yesterday, in all the hubbub. I won't have time tomorrow, so we'll leave at ten –"

"Disguised, of course," Severus said, through gritted teeth. He opened his eyes only to see Bella's fill with something near to rage, but could not stop himself from speaking. "As you should have been yesterday, instead of –"

"Do you think I haven't considered that?" Bella asked quietly, her fingers tightening dangerously about the mug in her hand. "Do you think I didn't, then? I've been ear to the ground for news of that bastard's movements for two weeks, Severus. Out of those days, yesterday was the best time to go." She glared at him. "It was the only time to go. And I went."

"Then why go again today?"

Bella slapped her fork to the table, her face contorted in anger. "Are you deaf? We need to –"

"Listen to yourself, Bella," Severus hissed, uncaring of the way Antares was now staring at both of them. "You are about to risk your freedom – your peace of mind, for a trip to Quality Quidditch. For a broom even a dunce can order –"

Bella rose to her feet, alarming in her fury, but Severus forced himself to rise too, to face her down. He could lose her to this – he could feel it. "I will not sit still and listen to you insult me –"

"No, oh no! You'll go out and give Lucius a target. Two targets in two days – how smart, Bella. How cunning. And you expect me to sit here and watch you sacrifice you and your son to your pride?" Severus could barely see, he was so angry. But not angry enough to miss the way Bella had shrank a little before him – maybe it would work, maybe this would work. Maybe he could get through to her – "Don't be a fool, for Merlin's sake – let me go. Antares can tell me what he wants, and I'll get it –"

"And what will Lucius think?" Bella demanded, her tone loud, almost desperate. "You weren't there, Severus! You didn't see him looking at me – like I was some wretched thing crawling out of the darkness to stain his eyes, you didn't see anything! I won't do it – I will not crawl, I will not hide – I've been hiding for ten years –"

"And you've been safe for ten years," Severus hissed, "and Antares has been safe. Listen to yourself, for Merlin's sake! How can you tell me survival is worth more to you, then do this?" He forced himself to take a breath, forced himself to lower his voice. He knew he was shouting. He had to be reasonable, to make her pay attention – "Bella. Let me do this." She didn't move. "Please."

She seemed to wilt at that. It was terrible to watch, but filled Severus with a deep sense of relief. He stepped forward and hesitantly drew her into his arms, and tried not to think too hard about how much he wanted to protect her and her son.

That thought made him look up. Where is – ah. The kitchen was empty, now, and if Severus listened hard around the silence he could hear a door swinging shut. That must be Antares –

"I'm sorry," Bella whispered into Severus' neck, and when she kissed him, he forgot Antares, but not for long. "Where are you going?"

"I need to speak to your son," Severus said simply. Bella started, looking around in surprise, as if she'd expected him to be there, still watching them. "That broom – he'd better tell me which one he wants. He'll be the one flying it, after all." Bella hardly seemed to be listening, though; she was still obviously caught up in the fact that she'd not noticed the departure of her son. "Bella, please don't worry about him. I'll – I'll do what I can." She nodded at that, but her expression did not express much hope.

Severus sighed, hugged her one last time, and left anyway. It seemed to take only a minute to get up to that familiar door, which was – surprisingly – unlocked. Severus wasted no time in going through it, and did not pause in his stride until he stood in front of Antares, who was curled up over by the window, poking at something in his trunk. The lid slammed shut as Severus entered the room, though, and by the time he'd reached the boy he had uncurled and was sitting up straight, his expression hostile.

Severus took a quick look around the room – yes, there it is, over on the bed – and soon it was flapping noisily into his hands.

"Go away," Antares said, flatly.

"Not until you've looked through," Severus said, careful to keep his tone level. He tried to press the catalogue into Antares' hands, but soon gave up when it was clear that the boy would only continue to shove it back into his own. "Look – oh, Merlin are you stubborn! It's only a catalogue, for fuck's sake –"

Antares seemed to finally, truly come to life at that. "And it's only my mother you're fucking," he spat, cutting Severus off. "You're always going on at me! How would you feel, if – if this –" The boy's words were halting, hesitant with anger, as if he could not even put his experience into words.

Severus tried not to sigh – this was how it had been last night. Sometimes he hoped Antares would eventually just say something, just sit down and list the myriad reasons he'd been tabling against Severus all this holiday. "If what?"

That seemed to do it, if not properly. "Sneering at me won't shut me up," Antares hissed, but his tone was still stumbling, still uncertain, and he still grasped for words to describe his opinion – "You're – you're ugly. Mum doesn't do ugly –"

Severus couldn't stop sneering, then, even if it was partly at himself. "Oh, but she'll do rich?"

Antares' hands clenched into fists at that. "We wouldn't take your gold if you begged!" he said shrilly. "If only I'd known – I wouldn't have said a word when she said she wouldn't trust you!"

"Really?" Severus said coldly. He didn't like to remember that moment, but his memory was as disobliging as always, pulling it smoothly to the forefront. "And then what? You'd have struggled at Hogwarts on your own – faced Quirrell on your own." Antares blanched at that – good. The boy was always so eager to forget that little episode in favour of Severus' many, as yet unspoken faults that it was sickening. "I suppose you would have done splendidly without my help –"

"Oh, fuck off," Antares muttered, now trying to edge away. "Wouldn't have had to –"

"Oh, really?" Severus gave him a hard smile. "For all we know, he had an eye on you from the start."

"That's what you'd say," Antares muttered, turning fully to his messy trunk again, tugging crossly at a robe that had a corner trapped in the shut lid. But he'd gone a bit pale at that, and Severus couldn't help pursuing it, just to make a point.

"Unpleasant to think of, isn't it?" he said, almost conversationally. "I do wonder if the Dark Lord was in his mind then…"

Antares stiffened, fear flushing his face. Then he spun round, and the catalogue was in his hand in the next instant, its pages beginning to crumple under his grip. "Just go, all right? I'll look at your bloody catalogue when you do."

Severus' lips twitched in amusement. "Did anyone never tell you how unwise it is to set a condition and fulfil your end of the bargain before the other person?" Antares glared at him then, but Severus turned away, and did so with a grim half-smile. It was almost uncanny sometimes, how alike the boy was to a younger, angrier version of himself.

The similarity ended with Antares' embarrassed, angry answer, irreverent as always. "Just fuck off, will you?"

Severus smiled mockingly. "In due course," he said sarcastically, but headed anyway for the door, trying not to chuckle at the way Antares tried to look angry at him and absorb himself in the Quality Quidditch catalogue at the same time. It became difficult to continue restraining his impulse to laugh when Antares turned the page and half-glared at some mystery broom upon it, but dog-eared the page anyway. Eventually, Severus shut the door, determined not to linger in the boy's room. He did need a shower before he went to Diagon Alley, after all.


Despite the shower, Severus felt dirty. It wasn't hard to see why – for some reason, the Leaky Cauldron was horribly dusty today, with a dust that coated Severus as he passed quickly through it, and almost made him sneeze.

He suppressed it, fighting the urge to carry himself off to somewhere Severus could sneeze and wipe hard at his nose in private, with no one to see his indignity. He only had one thing he needed to do, anyway, and could go home after if he pleased. Potions supplies could always be gotten, and though a visit to Madame Malkin's for new robes was in order, those never varied, or took very long. And tomorrow was a Monday, on which parents would be too busy working to bring their snivelling kids into the shop to gape or snigger at him, so it would probably be ideal.

It rankled, though – Severus never liked putting things off, even when it was for an important cause. Which it was, Lucius and the papers and Bella's safety apart; Antares would be joining the Quidditch team this year, and getting him a robust broom could only add to his success, to Slytherin's success.

His thoughts now firmly engaged with thoughts of taunting Minerva over the next Leaving Feast and facing down the disappointed, humiliated looks on her prized students' faces, Severus reached idly into his robe pocket, thinking he might as well take a look at what model he would be haggling over today. No matter what Bella said, he knew that the shopkeepers of Quality Quidditch were never averse to being persuaded into lower prices, and since one of them was a former Slytherin himself –

Severus nearly stopped short, staring at the page whose number corresponded to the one Antares had sullenly given to him along with the catalogue. That couldn't be –

Well. It could. Severus only had to eye the price to see that this was probably what Antares was aiming for, regardless of sense and – of something. The broom wasn't ancient, and was in quite good repair, but wouldn't stand a chance against even the used Nimbus 2000s that he'd heard Professor Sprout crowing about the last time he'd been to Hogwarts for tea. It was unconscionable – what could Antares have been thinking?

By now, Severus had somehow roused himself from his stupor and goaded himself into walking down the street, the baffling catalogue page thankfully out of sight. At that thought, however, he slowed to a stop again, right in front of the stationery shop. He knew what Antares had been thinking – had been saying, in fact. The boy had watched silently, sharply, as Bella had given Severus the remaining coins from their last, disastrous trip here, and neither of them had hinted a thing about Severus chipping in, which he'd been expecting, at least from Bella.

It hurt, somehow, and didn't at the same time, leaving Severus with a vague sense of outrage and a good bit of grudging admiration for Antares – he knew he'd certainly have hinted, if he'd been in the boy's place.

Still, there was a task to be done, and it wouldn't be done by staring at the somewhat too pretty display of the stationery shop before him. Severus turned briskly to the right and headed for the door to Quality Quidditch then, wracking his brains for what to do. Since neither Antares nor Bella had hinted, it must mean that neither of them was expecting anything. But then their silence could have been a ploy, and meant to start this itching in him to add where addition was not asked for, to give where donations were scorned. And yet he couldn't think of Antares spawning such an idea in his head, or even of Bella, who had looked proud and impatient when he left, as if ready to leave for the Alley in a moment if Severus showed signs of hesitating.

Sneering only occasionally, Severus made his way to the counter, and waited patiently to be served. But his nerves seemed on fire, and though knew it was stupid, he couldn't help thinking that there would be only one way to find out if his suppositions about Bella and her son were true –

"Severus? Is that you?"

Severus fought not to close his eyes, at that voice. If there was ever a person for breaking such a spell, it was Lucius Malfoy. It took a lot for Severus to turn, raise his eyebrows in affected surprise; it took even more to smile blandly, a little coldly (he couldn't help that, not when he could still see that lurid, awful headline in his mind's eye), at his sometime friend. In that moment, Severus thought he could believe Dumbledore an old fraud, and himself the true master. For if this chancy meeting was possible, what was the impossibility of his own mastery to that?

"Severus? You seem a little dazed," Lucius said solicitously. Severus shrugged gracefully, turning his attention to the timid clerk that had chosen this moment to appear. But he couldn't pretend to not hear Lucius, or ignore the uneasy swirl of feelings emanating from him when he spoke again. "Do you still take in the Prophet?"

Severus let himself freeze a little, then. It would be expected. "Yes. What of it?"

Lucius gave him a sharp, impatient look – one of those that Severus had never forgotten, would perhaps never forget. "Well, you must have gotten it this morning. Surely you read the front page…?"

"Ah, you mean the article on –"

"Yes," Lucius said, plainly, his eyes now filled with malice. "On Bellatrix Lestrange."

Severus gave him a carefully diffident look. "Or wasn't it Bellatrix Black?" Lucius shot a hard look at him and made to answer, but was cut off by the excited voice of the clerk, who had been eavesdropping shamelessly.

"Oh, aye, sir, it's Black now," he said, barely paying attention to the things he was shunting and shifting about on the counter. "Saw 'er last week, I did – horrible thin, like, and had this air…" The clerk shivered dramatically, and Severus was unduly pleased to see that it was not totally faked. "Asking after our used collection, and that. Told 'er we didn' 'ave one, of course – there's them as say you can control the owner if you 'ave his broom, and I thought –"

"Used brooms?" Lucius said, cutting in with a short laugh. "Likely all she can afford, I suppose."

"She tried to say that, oh yes," said the clerk, nodding smartly, "though there's talk of 'er brother's fortune, mouldering away under Gringotts because the traitorous scum's still walking live in Azkaban –"

"Who did she want the broom for?" Lucius said, interrupting again, and Severus was forced to keep silent, forced to hold back the impulse to somehow prevent the impending discovery of Antares' age – the only thing that Lucius could have held in any doubt, after yesterday. It would be unwise, he knew – he wasn't even supposed to have knowledge of it, knew he needed to act surprised, instead of merely chagrined –

"Said it was for 'er son, like," the clerk said, sounding disbelieving. "If I 'adn't seen the papers this morning, I'd've sworn she was bulling me. But the manager said to give it to 'er anyway. Didn't want trouble, he said."

Lucius seemed to have stopped listening. "Her son, eh?" The look on his face was contemplative in the way that led to danger. "What sort of catalogue, though? I saw the little brat – far too small to be riding a broom, I would have thought –"

"Oh no," the clerk assured him, self-importantly, "she said he was eleven, goin' on twelve. Glared at me and everything, when I doubted it, see –"

Lucius looked almost frozen in thought. "Draco told me there was a Black in his house, you know," he said softly to Severus, whose mind was racing, now, and almost bursting with the thought that he'd forgotten something. "And I didn't listen –"

"The boy claimed no relation to the Blacks, Lucius," Severus said smoothly, careful to let some surprise strain his tone as well. He could see it now, in his mind's eye – could almost see it in the careful, measuring look Lucius was giving him now. Even if Draco hadn't told his father about Severus working closely with Antares, Lucius would eventually find out from someone – "It wasn't Draco's fault, and neither was it yours." Severus wanted to bite his lip, but couldn't – he had to reveal his part in Antares' admittance to Hogwarts, or risk rousing Lucius' suspicion. He shifted slightly, smoothing over the facts one more time in his mind, before speaking again. "Or mine."

Lucius' eyes snapped up to his, alert and questioning. "What do you mean?"

"I," Severus said, in a disgusted tone of voice, "was the boy's sponsor. For a scholarship." Lucius seemed only able to stare at him now, so he went on. "She wore a glamour, of course – I see that now. And you wouldn't have been able to spot an ounce of her true nature in it, either, it was that good. She," Severus said, making his voice pained, "…insisted. On having me sponsor her son, that is. Said she'd take only a Slytherin – I remember how much that amused the headmaster." He clenched his hands into fists, then forced them open, slowly. "How she must have laughed."

Lucius' eyes were cold with fury, but his voice was calm. "I must be keeping you from your order – what were you here for, anyway?" Now a familiar mask was in place, and Lucius looked only civil as he inclined his head toward the rapt, listening clerk.

Severus only hesitated a moment. It was a risk, but he had to take it. "Brooms. For the Slytherin Quidditch team, of course."

Lucius almost looked surprised. "Really? I thought the old ones were adequate."

"Not for this year," Severus said, letting some bitterness infuse his tone, shoving away the dread of having to talk Albus into paying for the cursed things, the dread of having to discuss this conversation with Albus at all, like old times – "It was really my fault, I suppose. Bellatrix – I thought her son might have been born in the air, with the way he flies."

"Perhaps he was," Lucius said, something strange now in his tone. To no surprise, he swiftly changed the subject. "Well, Severus, be honest – does Draco have any chance on the team, as things stand?"

Severus gave him a shrewd look. "In a year or two, perhaps. As much as I hate her and her brat son, talent is not to be wasted –"

"Oh, I'm not suggesting you let it go to waste," Lucius said, smiling brilliantly. Severus turned from it – horrible things had come of that smile – "I'm not suggesting that at all."

An hour later, Severus was cursing himself inwardly as he hurried into the Leaky Cauldron. He was forced to stop, then, to sit down with a drink he'd pretended he'd been going to drink, and forced after that to raise his beer tankard diffidently in Lucius' direction as he wandered into the pub, 'by chance'. Though he greeted Lucius cordially as the man sank gracefully into the seat opposite him, he could hardly keep his mind on the conversation, so much so that Lucius began to tease him about his preoccupation with revenge.

Severus felt torn as he answered the teasing shortly, knowing that he was actually doing himself good by being in this mood, but at what price? Oh, he felt a fool, now, for mentioning Antares on the Quidditch team – but could he have said anything else? Draco would have known, would have babbled about it eventually, and then Lucius cool, calm suspicion would inevitably have begun to sniff in Severus' direction. No, better this, though it was dire.

And dire it was indeed – direly amusing, direly threatening. For Lucius, after giving away that brilliant smile, had offered to fund the brooms of the Slytherin Quidditch team himself.

Severus' teeth gritted involuntarily at the thought, the memory of the moment. He'd been trapped, whether Lucius had known it or not; trapped as surely as he could have been. There had been no refusing the offer – what verifiable reason would he have given for doing so, when the whole thing was based on a lie? He'd forced himself, while talking of brooms for Slytherin, to not think about the consequences of such an action, to focus on the matter at hand, and now, look where that had got him.

Someone somewhere, Severus was sure, was laughing, hard, at him. The irony was that sweet – look, here, a man fool enough to wish to give out of the goodness or selfishness of his heart, and see how he is rewarded! With Nimbus 2001s and the dagger of a brilliant smile in his arm, and the knowledge that he'd handed Lucius Malfoy the tools to seek revenge on Bella.

"–od Merlin, Severus!" Lucius said, shaking his arm. "You are distracted as anything – come, leave off thinking of that mad whore. I'll deal with her, you'll see."

Severus turned a disgruntled look on him with ease. "What plan?" Please, please let his pride loosen his lips –

But it was not to be. Lucius shook his head, smiling, and asked instead, "What is he like, Severus? The boy, I mean."

Severus sighed, and hoped to goodness that this wouldn't be another trap.

Even if it is, I've no choice, have I?

"Go on," Lucius was saying, now, his eyes sparkling with malice, "tell me everything."

Severus took a good long sip at his tankard, set it down, and began. He carefully wove a description of Antares as best as he could, wracking his brain as best as he could for the numerous complaints Draco and other students had made about him. 'Proud' had come up frequently, and so, unfortunately, had 'too bloody smart for his own good'. That was an unavoidable point, and though Severus hated making Antares seem anything but stupid and weak, there was the fact that he'd qualified for a scholarship, and had caught the eye of Flitwick and become his favourite despite the fact of his house. So all Severus could be content with was twisting the boy's character slightly out of shape, and painting him as one who would listen to no advice, proud beyond measure, his head swelled with his own self-importance.

Lucius drank it up willingly, and though Severus tried to peer into his thoughts, he could get nothing but a deep satisfaction and vague thoughts about some old book, which melded into the thought of Bella's hard expression then scattered as Lucius broke eye contact. "No cheating, Severus," Lucius said amiably, giving him a sly grin. "If you want revenge so badly, make your own plan."

"With Dumbledore breathing down my neck?" Severus gave a short, bitter laugh. "If only I had the luxury." Lucius sighed, a little mockingly.

"Then why are you still there, closeted up in Scotland?" he challenged. "Although I hear you've been moving around more often, of late…all those conventions. Are they amusing?"

Severus shrugged, trying not to think too hard of the real reason behind them, and when he spoke, his tone was noncommittal. "It's better than teaching."

Lucius gave him an almost amused look. "So stop. I could help you set up something," he said, his tone mockingly grand, his eyes alert. "What do you say, Severus?"

"What I always say," Severus murmured. He began to drink in earnest, now anxious to leave – Merlin only knew what Bella was thinking now, with him gone so long –

"Ah, of course," Lucius said, his eyes still sharp. "Doing your duty, still."

"As he would wish." It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and once said, knocked the mocking expression off Lucius' face most satisfactorily.

Severus drained his tankard, allowing the relish of that accomplishment to sweep through him. That didn't make what he'd just said any different from what it was, of course.

A huge mistake. "As he would have wished, you mean," Lucius said, easily. His disdainful expression only spurred Severus on, only made him wonder if he dared, and what purpose it would –

Ah. Distraction – it was perfect, if highly unwise. Almost too good to be true, and so potentially rewarding to Severus if the Dark Lord ever…but he wasn't hoping for that.

Blinking away his real hope, Severus shook his head, very slightly. "As he would wish." Lucius froze for a moment, allowing Severus valuable time to rail at himself and wonder desperately what good could come of saying this, of hinting at this, and –

"You can't prove it," Lucius said, suddenly. His tone was controlled, but under it Severus could smell the fear, the caution, the disbelief. No smile lurked behind that expression now, and Severus more than knew that all thoughts of revenge must have flown out of the other man's mind –

Perfect. He forced himself to speak again. "I won't, not here," he said calmly, his heart beating like a wild thing at what he was saying, the words he was spreading, for Bella, for Antares – "but I can."

Lucius nodded, slowly, his eyes faraway in thought. I have him, now. "When, then?"

Severus tried not to wince – he didn't want that, didn't want to be anywhere near his old friend while prodding at the Mark, but…but. He'd started this, and there was no choice. "In two weeks time," Severus said, shifting the empty tankard before him, inwardly calculating that the brooms would have shipped and reached the school by then, and with Lucius so distracted from the anticipation of the news (and perhaps even the telling of it, if the brooms came late), Severus would be able to strip them down for jinxes and charms, and other unsavoury additions Lucius might stoop to for spite. "Before then, I will be busy – term start, and all that."

"I see," Lucius said faintly, not looking like he saw at all, or was even listening. "Who have you told? Who informed –"

Severus stood slowly, checking his watch. "I did not need to be informed, Lucius. When I explain, you will understand."

"But who have you told?" Lucius said, forcefully, standing up as well. "Surely –" he stopped himself, seeming to sense how impassioned his tone was becoming. A moment later, it was calm again. "Do you know where he is?"

"No," Severus said simply, digging in his pockets for some change. A Sickle turned up, and he tossed it on the table. "Don't worry yourself overmuch, Lucius. No one else knows…or, at least, that is what I believe." He gave Lucius a quick, curt nod, fiercely pleased to see the chagrin in his eyes, if not on his face. "Good day."

Lucius nodded back, saying nothing. As Severus strode for the Muggle exit, he caught a glimpse of his former friend's face, hard and forcibly calm, and was alarmed to feel that fierce pleasure again. He banished it somehow, replacing it with self-recrimination and an urgent list of things he would now need to explain to the Headmaster; things he would rather not have thought about in the first place, but would now need to be argued and discussed in detail.

Turning the corner and into a shabby shoe shop, Severus sought out the back entrance and Apparated home, looking over his shoulder at every turn. It was all he could do, really – standing there and trying not to shout at himself for cobbling all those lies together on the fly would not make a difference, or somehow mercifully relieve Lucius of all his memories of the conversation.

Bella was there to greet him, and that made it worse. She looked almost fragile, and the way she clasped at him did not help his perception of her, or ease the self-loathing that was building in the pit of his stomach.

"Where's the broom?" she asked, almost cheerily. By now, Severus could hear Antares thundering down the stairs.

He ignored it. He had to. "Bella, we have a problem."

Fifteen minutes later, Bella was half-yelling at him, her face white with fury. "You gave him a description? He asked you and you gave it to him?"

"What would you rather that I'd done?" Severus said back, as calmly as he could. He'd been holding desperately onto his calm for a while now, but could feel it failing now. "Anything else would have been suspicious, Bella –"

"And the brooms," she said, with something that was half sigh and half snarl. "You just –"

"What would you have done?" Severus thundered, his calm well out of his grasp now. "Oh, I see – I should have told him I was shopping for your son's broom in secret, so that you didn't have to!"

"And what are you going to tell him, in two weeks time?" Bella said, eyes flashing angrily. "What will you tell him next time, Severus?" Her voice level had lowered, and was a whisper on the last word. "You didn't even find out what he was –"

"If he does anything, it's most likely to be to the brooms," Severus said, trying not to shout again. "Which I'll be able to take care of on my own. Which I can screen for evil spells while he's worrying about the news I have for him." Bella gave him a wide-eyed look, as if she knew what would come next. "That our Lord is alive."

The rest of that day had melted together curiously, with all the conversations and feverish planning that Severus did by Bella's side melting into a morass of words. Antares had hovered in the background, silent, bringing them – well, bringing Bella drinks and eventually making dinner when it was clear that neither of the adults would remember to. Every so often, Severus had wondered what kind of strange tableau he made with Bella, hunched over the centre table and scribbling down details and suppositions at will, but then she would nudge him sharply and ask him another question, and all that went straight out of his head, driven out by plans and more plans.

The tense harmony Antares must have seen, of course, was not really anything close to that. Bella was not easy to plan with, for several reasons. The one most pressing was that she seemed to think Antares and Severus were all that she had, and consequently argued very hard against Severus meeting any of the other former Death Eaters to tell them the 'good news'. She'd been flatly against his tentative idea of hinting to Dumbledore about their relationship – enough that she'd talked him out of it entirely.

"You don't know Albus," Severus had said darkly, for what seemed like the third time. "For all we know, he's probably guessed already –"

"Then let him continue to guess," Bella had snapped, waving the quill she was holding in a jerky, angry pattern. "What would he do with the knowledge, anyway?"

"Trust us more," Severus had said, but even then he'd not quite believed it. He certainly didn't believe it now, curled up in the warmth of the bed he was sharing with Bella, listening to the sound of her breathing. Severus sighed – oh, Albus would twinkle at first, and then he'd turn right round and order someone to keep an eye on Severus, and question Severus too closely about his 'interference' in Antares and Bella's lives, and would eventually begin to really pry into the workings of their relationship. Which certainly wasn't what they needed now, what with the stress of Antares' obvious dislike of the whole thing.

But then, Severus had still felt a little like informing Dumbledore might be of some use – something Bella had cured him of with a hard look and harder words. "If you think he trusts you at all, you are a fool," she'd said, her words cutting a little too close to what Severus had always supposed. But then, she had gone on, her voice rising with every word: "If you tell him anything, I will deny it and cry slander –"

"Fine," Severus had muttered, more from the hurt of that last statement than anything else. He'd merely wanted her opinion on the matter, really, not a further indication of how ill-matched they must look to everyone when the truth eventually came out. He'd looked around, restless with pique, and caught sight of a nasty little smile on Antares' face, and that had just made it worse. "Look, we've been arguing about me for the last half hour – what about you?"

Severus still remembered the way Bella had started, looking almost guilty, and then announced that she would move out of Spinner's End. The argument that had caused lasted through dinner, and ended in Severus somehow agreeing to her doing so, albeit in Antares' third year, and under some very strict circumstances. Even now, lying next to her, he had to force away the numerous doubts that they would last till then, and hold fast to the excuse he'd given her for his offer.

"What matters is that you're safe," he'd said, at some point, his voice beginning to hurt with the thought of her being forced out onto the street simply because of their differences. "Even if this – our relationship, doesn't work out. By third year you'll have enough saved that you won't have to live anywhere near Knockturn – you could easily get a muggle loan, get a house…"

And then Bella had agreed, but with words that shocked him. "We would be moving to Grimmauld Place, if we moved," she'd said quietly. "Kreacher would be glad." She hadn't even given him time to demand who on earth she was talking about, then. Bella had simply moved on to the issue of what they would do if their plans went wrong, and then the issue of what might happen if their plans, or some of them, worked too well.

Severus turned over, restless. Nothing had been definitely agreed on, of course, but they'd gotten somewhere. And anyway, after they'd finally run out of things to discuss, Bella had kissed him and apologised for her comment about slander. He sighed now, picking aimlessly at the hem of the pillowcase on the pillow beneath his head – that she could have seen how that had hurt and moved so directly to reassure him still felt wonderful. Severus basked in the feeling shamelessly, now – the meeting with Lucius had sharply accentuated the feeling of not being able to be with Bella as often as he liked, and that made him more conscious of how he felt around her, and more ready to savour it, to memorise each moment.

Severus sighed again. It was weakness, of course. But what weakness, and how sweet to have it here, beside him. Turning over, Severus shifted closer to Bella's warmth, and cautiously slipped an arm around her, determined to make this work. There was clearly starting to be more at stake than what he'd supposed, and though it was hard to face it, he did, burying his face in her familiar-smelling hair.

It was hard to face it, but somehow harder to even think of turning away. Somehow, Severus was perilously close to falling in love, and though experience warned him sharply against it, he could not help but tighten his grip around Bella and look his destruction in the face. Just now, it felt better than turning away, so he looked, and secretly knew he would go on looking. Bellatrix, after all, was not the sort of person from which you could look away.

A/N: Somehow, I never thought I'd see the end of this bloody chapter – it was a hard write, if enjoyable, but a hard write nonetheless. Feel free to take the poll I have down at my LJ about the new and improved summary, of course, and even freer to email or review and ask lots of yummy questions. Till the next chapter, guys…