I search the crowd, in vain. Even though we're all wearing masks and ample robes, it's not hard to recognize your lean figure and graceful stride.

Or, should I say, it wouldn't have been hard, because you're not there.

My blood freezes as I enter the circle around our Lord. You were right, he came back. He counts us, mentions punishment to come for those who failed to answer his call. He stops before me, refers me as his slippery friend. I try to keep my cool. The Potter boy's there. What shall I do? Protect him? I know it's the task you've been assigned, but you're not there...

They've started torturing him, and his cries echo in my mind... Not because I pity the boy, but because I know that's what awaits you, were you to try to escape the Dark Lord... Only to get caught. For he always end up getting what he wants, you do know that.

The duel has started, the boy doesn't stand a chance. I suppress the urge to run between him and our Master. I would only be rewarded by death, therefore unable to protect you. I try to convince myself that the loss of the Chosen One won't weigh too much on your shoulders...

He's finally calmed down.

The fury of hexes and curses sent haphazardly to both living and non-living things has stopped, after thirty minutes of pandemonium. My heart is still beating widely against my ribcage. I think Goyle has been touched pretty badly, his arm is bleeding profusely.

A crack startles me, and I swirl towards it, wand at the ready. My jaw falls.

It's you.

You walk diligently towards the Dark Lord, avoiding me, and I try to hold you back, but at my first step you glare at me in warning. I want to restrain you before it's too late, Severus, you've got no idea what awaits you!

The Dark Lord seethes at you and, before you had the chance to utter a single word, casts Crucio.

Not a sound apart from your body tossing and twisting madly upon wet grass.

How do you do it?

The spell's brought to an end. I hear you gasp, before taking in deep, husky breaths. You croak something to our Lord as he raises his wand. To my great surprise, he stills in mid-action. Turns away and asks you to follow him. You gather what little strength you've got left and pace after him with as much dignity as you can, but you can't fool me, Severus. I know your fondness for billowing robes comes from their hiding your weakness. My trained eyes notice your slight limp and skeletal body. You haven't gained an ounce.

And still you follow your doom, like a man should, leaving me awed.

Half an hour later, you return, and I run for you, but you disapparate straight away, without a word, leaving me feeling empty.

Nobody's there to see my horrified expression. What will become of you, have you succeeded in fooling the Dark Lord?

I return to Malfoy Manor and go straight to bed. Narcissa didn't even ask how the reunion went. She knows better by now what we're worth to our Master.

Close to nothing.

Summer is just a quick succession of Death Eater's meetings, of preposterous propositions and foolish attempts to demonstrate our unwavering faith to our Lord. I assume he delights in watching us struggle to please him, and that he already has a plan. We both know how he likes to maintain a certain level of panic and doubt:

Are we forgiven yet?

Will we ever be?

Does he plan revenge on us all?

I've heard of attacking Azkaban, of using Potter to obtain something precious, of gaining control over the Ministry. I don't know what to believe. None of us do, yet we still obey orders blindly, at great personal risks. We all have to muster the little courage we have left... Not all followers can keep their cool like you, Severus. You're the bravest man I know.

We return together, you and I, to your quarters at Hogwarts in the middle of the night, after responding to a call. I sent a Patronus to inform Narcissa that all is well, and that I'll be home by tomorrow morning.

You put on Chopin's "Raindrops", a discreet background music. You've always loved muggle composers, and I have to admit, they can outshine magical artists. A flash of your wand and a fire roars into the hearth. I cup your face. As expected, you're freezing cold even though the ambient temperature isn't quite low yet. We sit in front of your coffee table, upon your leather sofa. Whiskey or Vodka? Why do you ask, you've always known how weary I am of eastern alcohol, which I happen to find cheap. Whiskey it is, then.

We down together a glass. You always keep a flask of liquor on yourself, a habit inherited from your father. Unlike him, you're no drunkard, just a cold man who's freezing in his gloomy dungeons.

I feel a little giddy, what with your presence and my beverage. My hand clumsily strokes your hip, and slides towards your inner thigh. You growl as the tip of my fingers tease the skin just behind your trousers, and dive under.

The world turns upside down. The melody intensifies, rising in volume.

You're on top of me! On top! By your predatory smirk, I know you'd planned it all, before I'd even met you tonight! Oh, the glint in your eyes! You capture my lips and push your tongue into my mouth, in a demanding kiss. Shoving you knee against my groin, you grab a fistful of my shirt to pull me closer.

I don't understand. I got used to this feral behaviour back when we were dating, but for you to have this strength, while still supposedly weakened by anorexia... Once again, how do you do it?

We messily undress, trying to rip our clothes off without breaking contact... Your bare chest engulfs my vision as press me against the floor. I still wonder about the cause of this new found vigour. We kiss again, more delicately this time. You want me relaxed before preparing me. And as our tongues twist and roll vehemently, I taste in your mouth something spicy I can't replace.

I latch on. It was so simple, so evident.

You've taken a stamina potion.

While very potent, these concoctions badly shake up one's system, and in the state you're in, you'd better not take a chance. My mind screams for me to stop this, stop it all before it's too late, you need to rest, and...

And my body has overcome my mind, not for the first time.

You lift me slightly for us to get back onto the couch, start scissoring me with your long fingers. Our sweaty bodies glisten in the firelight, and I become conscious that it is our only light source. The torches adorning your walls are unlit, and the heavy contrast makes our pale skins glow in the semi darkness.

My train of thought is cut a delicious shiver spreading from my core, as you hit that bundle of nerves I'm so fond of. I moan in pleasure as you strike it again, and again... But you pull out your digits, earning a frustrated groan, and replace it by something much more manly.

Heavens, yes...

I've never minded bottoming with you, Severus... Just like yourself, the most interesting part of your anatomy is long and slender, and as you thrust inside me, my back arches in delight. The pain is minim, thanks to careful ministrations , and so years of abstinence don't stop me from enjoying this "unnatural" interaction.

My panting is quite rhythmical, but I can't say the same for you. As you thrust in and out of me, steadily at first, I then hear you gasp oddly after a few minutes. Holding my legs apart, you propel yourself inside me with vigour and lust, making me breathe out your name, gently, then louder and louder until I'm positively screaming for you, encouraging you to the point where you start fucking me like an animal...

Such bestiality for a quiet man.

Oh!

You've reached this point, this part of me that blurs my vision each time your cock brushed it. More, do it more! Oh Severus, oh oui Severus, encore, plus fort! Seve-

My limbs fall limply, and both our stomachs are covered in cum.

You find your release soon afterwards, and collapse upon me, chest heaving in a spectacular way.

It takes me a few minutes to make out that I'd better bring you to bed. After a cleansing charm on us both, I carry you bride like to your room, your head lolling over my arm.

Your four-poster bed is slightly smaller than the ones at the Manor, but decent enough. Your duvet is warm and cosy, and after all the night's action it won't take me long drift off. I spoon you protectively, my arms wrapped around your slender waist. You lazily turn around to face me, a small, satisfied smile widening upon your features until it makes you shine. I embrace you, and kiss you again, yearning for this act of pure passion like a starved man yearns for food.

This last image freezes me.

I hold you closer, and can still fell how bony you are against me. I should've gotten used to it by now. You've apparently felt my sorrow, because your big black eyes fix me uncomfortably, before turning away. You were right about them; in the dim I can hardly see your nose, but those long-lashed wonders hypnotize me.

"Severus..."

"Mmm..."

"I want you."

"Beast."

"It's your fault, really."

"A lot of things seem to be my fault... It probably is."

I hold myself onto my elbows. The tone of your voice worries me.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"Severus... none of this is your fault. Look at me."

But you determinedly gaze away. I don't insist.

"I love you..."

You close your eyes and hide your head under the pillow. I gently pull you away from it. A peck on the crown of your hair and you're back in my arms.

You fall asleep before I do. Your peaceful expressions fills me with bliss.

Narcissia crucioed by the Dark Lord, whimpering for release, holding her protruding stomach as protectively as a tortured person can... Her face is twisted in pain, nearly magenta from crying, and a mixture of snot and tears drips freely down her chin.

My mother's funerals, and how empty the world feels without her.

Severus' ghostly pale face, his body chained to tubes of various nutrient and potions. I can barely look at him, but at the same time I dare not tare my gaze from his immobile body, should it be the last time I see him alive.

I don't care wearing a torn dull gray uniform. Really, I don't. I don't care whether the food is bland and pasty, or how the few human wardens spit out the worst insult at each confrontation. One of them even spit on me, but that's beyond my concern.

I used to think that the miserable condition we have to put up with in here only added insult to injury. But I'm comfortable with them, in an insane way. It matches with the gloom I've encountered upon passing the gates of Azkaban.

You've stumbled into my train of thought many times, Severus. Because of how inaccessible the happy moments we'd spent together are, my disheartened soul muses on the fact that it probably would've been better if I'd never met you to start with.

I muzzle this belief, try to rid my mind of it. You've always been my lifeline to sanity. That's a fact.

I gather facts around me, like a shield against dementors. And I stick to them. Repeat them in my head, till they become an ultimate mantra.

Fact number one: I love my wife, my son, and I love you.

Fact number two: I'm safe from the Dark Lord's vengeance.

Fact number three: I've been taken in battle, Narcissia and Draco haven't got anything to do with it, so it's reasonable to assume they're safe too.

...

Fact number one: I love my wife, my son, and I love you.

Fact number two: I'm safe from the Dark Lord's vengeance.

Fact number three: I've been taken in battle, Narcissia and Draco haven't got anything to do with it, so it's reasonable to assume they're safe too.

...

Fact number one: I love my wife, my son, and I love you.

What if it were because you love Severus that you allowed yourself to fail, without realizing it?

Fact number two: I'm safe from the Dark Lord's vengeance.

But for how much time? You know it's a matter of days before he takes over Azkaban... And then you'll get it, if you don't lose your mind before.

Fact number three: I've been taken in battle, Narcissia and Draco haven't got anything to do with it, so it's reasonable to assume they're safe too.

You impossible fool! It matters not whether they're responsible or not, the Dark Lord is capable of harming innocents without reason... He'll make you pay-

SHUT UP!

Laying in the dirt of my cell, snivelling in foetal position... I don't know how long I'll last...

Xxx

They shove me out of my cell, painfully gripping my shoulders for I can hardly stand anymore. They speak, but I have no idea if it's to me or not. Their voices come through in waves. They throw me into a small room with a table and two chairs, my head narrowly missing them as I collapse. I hear someone coming in. I flinch in the most cowardly way. Is this another guard? I've heard of a few of them picking prisoners they'd like to give a spoon of their own medicine to... I tentatively look up.

It's you.

You lift me up in a chair, staggering under my weight. I grunt in the most indignant fashion, but what can I say, I feel exhausted, both physically and mentally. You sit down on the other side of the table. Your piercing gaze awakens me.

"Lucius..." you say in that deep, low voice that makes me shudder. "I never wanted this..."

You stand up and approach me. Your lips are hardly an inch away when you whisper:

"This will be the only chance for me to visit you, without arousing suspicion..."

"Severus..." I croak, before closing the gap between us. I kiss you clumsily at first, thanks to the state Azkaban has left me in.

You cast a few locking and intimacy spells on the door.

We kiss hungrily, devouring ourselves. You're delicious... I regain my sense of taste, and remember suddenly that I haven't brushed my teeth in weeks. I pull away, ashamed of how filthy I am. You stare at me bizarrely. I feel myself go red. Perhaps you've understood, because you approach and caress my back soothingly.

"I don't care..."

You repeat these words on and on, until you think I believe them. I'm not sure it's the case...

"I have to go now... They just allowed me a couple of minutes alone with you..."

No...

"Please Severus..." I beg, in a voice I don't recognize.

You give me a last kiss. A bitter one, filled with regret.

"I'm sorry..." you say in a tight voice, before squeezing me in you lean arms. They can't warm me now I'm cold in horror from your leaving. Seconds later, I hear the echo of metallic doors slammed shut.

When I'm flung back in my cell, I hardly know how I got there in the first place.

A.N.: It's the beginning of the end, muchachos!