"Why did you do this?" Severus says, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He's holding up the latest Daily Prophet, the one with the headline about the events of the Quidditch World Cup.
The corners of Lucius's mouth turn up as he pours himself a drink. They are at Spinner's End, and he is obviously proud of himself.
"It's not very funny, Lucius. People were hurt."
"Oh Severus, they aren't people. They're Muggles. Besides, there's no proof I was there."
Severus crumples the paper.
"But you were."
"I was."
Severus is looking out the window now. Muggle children are playing soccer in the street. What would Lucius do to them, if he could?
"I didn't come over here to talk, Severus." Now Lucius is behind him, breathing on his neck. Severus can smell the alcohol.
"No, you never do. No time to talk to me."
"Why are you being this way?" Lucius is burying his head in Severus's neck, and Severus is doing his best to be stoic.
"I'm confused," he says, gathering the strength to push Lucius away. "That's all."
"Yes, being in Dumbledore's pocket will do that." Lucius has slammed his glass down, and is swinging his outer robes back on. "Good day, Severus."
Through the window, Severus watches Lucius brush past the Muggle children as if they aren't there at all. He hates that he has to heave a sigh of relief.
Severus is sweating, despite the cold. He is watching the Potter boy fight a dragon, and he desperately, desperately, wants to help him.
If he dies…
He closes his eyes as the dragon roars, and he can see Lily crying over her lost son. He opens his eyes, and reaches for his wand, unsure of what he will do but knowing that she would be pleased. But then the crowd roars, louder than the dragon, and the boy is on his broom, and everything is fine…
Severus lifts his eyes. Across the arena, Lucius is sitting. Just like him to be here, even though he has no business. Just like him to keep his fingers in every pie.
"Annoyingly heroic boy, isn't he?"
Lucius is leaning on the door of the potion's lab. The task is finished, and most people are celebrating, not lurking in the dungeons.
"Yes," Severus muses, busying himself with straightening the storage closet. He has not seen Lucius since they fought at Spinner's End. "But you should go, Lucius. Someone will think we're up to something."
"Two old friends can't have a chat? My, the world is changing."
Severus hears him sit down at one of the student desks, and they are silent for a long while. Finally, Lucius speaks to the empty classroom.
"Do you miss me at all, Severus?"
In the closet, Severus hopes Lucius cannot see him pause, clutching a massive jar of beetle eyes to his chest. He doesn't respond.
"Would you like to hear a confession?" Lucius calls out again.
Still no response.
"I suppose I'll tell you anyway, although you are being very rude. I miss you. In fact, I came to this insipid little show today in the hopes that I could put myself in exactly this situation. I'm rather pleased with myself, having accomplished my goal."
Severus sets down the jar, and makes his way to the closet door, looking at Lucius. There was a sort of sympathy in his eyes that was very uncommon for him.
"Would you like to talk?" Lucius askeds, gesturing to the desk next to his. "I have quite a bit of time to spare this afternoon."
Lying in bed, they compare. Both Marks are darker than ever, darker than the first time Severus saw Lucius's, darker than the night Lily Potter and her husband died.
"Undoubtedly," Lucius says, "it will be soon." He is stroking Severus's hair; it is tender.
"Are you afraid?"
Lucius stiffens, because he is afraid. He's terrified. He and Narcissa have been talking about what she will do if Voldemort kills Lucius, about where Draco will go if he kills them both. They have agreed that there is no choice but to go back, and hope for mercy.
"I suppose I have things to be afraid of," he says, hoping his heart is not beating too quickly and betraying him, "but I've done so much since he left. I'll be able to help." His voice is pleading, almost asking Severus to affirm that yes, he has done more good than ill for the cause.
"I'm afraid," Severus says. "Afraid he won't accept me as a double agent, that he will question my loyalties."
"He must," Lucius replies. "I will ask him, I will make sure."
In the hospital wing, after the third task, Harry shouts Lucius's name. For that split second, before Fudge absolves him, Severus can see Lucius in chains, begging, being taken away. His jaw tenses. No one sees this.
Dumbledore dismisses him, sending him back to face his worst fear, the man who killed the woman he loved.
So he is there, kneeling at Voldemort's feet, explaining his plan and begging to live, when he hears Lucius clear his throat. That sound is a treasure to him, a reminder of times when things were going to be ok.
"My Lord," he says, and Severus thinks of how brave he is to speak. "I have remained close with Severus all these many years, and I want to assure you that no one can be more trusted than he. He will be your ears on the inside of Dumbledore's walls."
"Silence, Lucius," Voldemort says, but Snape chances a glance upwards, and can see that he is considering what Lucius has said.