AN: Sorry! Life happened. It was always in my head, just never written. Thanks for your patience.

Chapter Fifteen

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Nine Years Later

Severus Snape had long since grown into his shoes, and his hair was not quite so stringy. He had been spending more time outside, and even though it was mostly in the moonlight, he no longer had skin the color of a dying Japanese turnip. His eyes, however, grew deader day by day. His white mask did not shut out the screams, the lives lost. Severus Snape was not a good soldier.

He swallowed, and drummed the table nervously, swinging to the side in his chair.

"What?" Lucius Malfoy cocked his head to the side. He was no longer small and gracefully mousey, but chiseled and tall, even and full. Killing did not phase him, but that was to be expected and accepted. Lucius had been a loud-mouthed child, an I'm-not-sorry little brat whose past explained him to those who knew—and he never used it as an excuse, but as a reason.

"I didn't say anything," Severus answered steadily. His velvety voice had graduated into a bass murmur, a loud whisper.

"You did not need to," smirked the blond man delicately. "Tea?" he asked.

"Anything stronger?"

"Tut, you want to get smashed tonight, of all nights?" Lucius' white teeth glistened. "You weak bastard."

"I asked you a question. I needed no retort," growled Snape, his hair shielding his waxy gaze.

"Brandy?" offered Lucius, in a teasing manner, but filled two teacups half and half promptly.

"I thought so," Snape grumbled. He emptied his teacup right away.

From upstairs, a baby shrieked.

"Fuck me," Lucius snarled with a spasm.

"Don't say that or you'll get another," Severus whispered darkly, and watched sadly as the other man knocked back his drink with such hatred, it nearly stirred him.

"Oh, don't even joke," Malfoy barked sullenly. "She's been an absolute wreck—I thought it would be better when she got skinny again but now she's just miserable. She doesn't want to go out, she doesn't want to do anything except complain about how she feels. I don't even want to look at it."

Snape paled, and said nothing.

"My brother's got three children, oh, and of course he loves them—"

"You've said so before."

"Narcissa won't even get out of bed. She won't hold it. She could at least drown the thing and put it out of its misery." He rolled his eyes.

"You wouldn't really--?"

"Oh, wouldn't we?" snapped Lucius.

Snape stared.

Rubbing his temples, Malfoy sighed. "You have to pardon me. I've been without sleep. I've been fighting two wars, really. I hate to say it, but you are the smart one."

"I know."

"We've got all of these gutless goose eggs on our side now, too, as though they're going help Him any. They go around, pledging their allegiance to the Dark Lord, but they've never met him, never loved him." Lucius' face grew stony. "They should be killed like the rest."

Snape felt a bit sick, but he told himself it was the brandy. Because Lucius really didn't think he was pledging false allegiances, too, did he? Lucius was sharp, but he never cared enough to delve.

Again, the baby screamed.

"Blast it," whispered Lucius, and then hollered upward: "Shut it up, would you?" He shrugged at Snape. "These elves, they're much too caring for my taste."

"I really should be off—it's late," Snape declared quickly. Watching the scene was making him ill.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "So soon? Have you got an errand?"

"Yes."

"Cannot say much?"

"No." Snape wasn't about to say why.

Malfoy seemed satisfied. "Good luck, then. Kill something for me, would you?"