Part 2

Neither of them recognized the voices that followed, though that wasn't unusual. Lucius had many acquaintances in the Ministry and the influential families. But he would have told them if he expected guests, and any of their fellow Knights would have announced themselves by floo.

"Gentlemen, how unexpected," Lucius said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The response was inaudible. They could only hear Lucius' reply.

"I see. How unfortunate that you have no warrant--"

Lucius darted back at the same time he drew his wand. It was their only warning as he deflected a spell and countered with his own.

Narcissa turned and threw open the window, casting a jet of flame towards whoever stood on the doorstep. She heard their scream and saw a flurry of motion as two people leaped backwards, two rushed forwards.

Severus recognized the men only as aurors. Cold chills ran through him as he cast an expelliarmus, ripping their wands from their hands.

Lucius followed with a killing curse, startling Severus. Another curse flew from Narcissa, killing at least one more auror.

Severus took a step back. What consequences would there be for killing aurors, even in self-defense? The Ministry hated dark wizards--would they have to run? Leave the country? He knew that it was war between the Ministry and the dark--Lucius had told him several times--but to have it thrust suddenly in his face--

A crash the hall of portraits made him turn. Another auror was climbing through a broken window, but when she looked up, she saw him and she gasped in shock. She aimed her wand, but she was too slow in casting her spell.

As her mouth formed the words, he was already casting his first killing curse. Drawn from his fear, the sickly green light shot out and struck her full. Her surprised eyes still stared at him as she lay slumped over the jagged glass.

"Severus, are you--?"

Narcissa stopped short when she spotted the body in the window. Ducking behind a curtain, she scanned the grounds as far as she could see, but there was no one else. With a sigh, she shook her head.

"Trying to surprise us from the rear. They probably thought it was just Lucius and I, not...Severus?"

She looked at him in concern. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn't help staring at the dead auror. He'd watched as her eyes turned glassy, staring at him and then at nothing.

"First kill?" Narcissa asked without needing to.

She touched his shoulder and gently turned him aside, breaking his fixed look from the body. He shook his head, trying to clear the daze.

"I'm fine," he said. "It just caught me off guard."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but Lucius called them to help repair the damage of Narcissa's flames and the scorchmarks of the killing curse on the marble floor. Severus scolded himself that there was no time for indulging in shock and cleaned his own kill, removing the blood from the window and repairing the glass as best he could. Then they had to levitate the bodies from the foyer to the sitting room, layering them in the fireplace.

The first time Severus had seen the fireplace, with its brass wyvern statues with pokers in their claws, he'd thought it overly ostentatious, even for Malfoy manor. Now he understood why it was so large.

"What were they here for?" Narcissa asked, throwing the last body onto the stack. "I heard something about a warrant."

"Hardly," Lucius said. "Scrimgeour's lackeys. I outmaneuvered him on the heirloom act--"

He saw their blank looks and sighed in exasperation.

"The Heirloom and Artifact legislation? Where they can't throw us in prison because of inherited property? The one I've been talking about for the past month?" He frowned and didn't give them a chance to say anything.

"Nevermind. I managed to get it passed, but the loophole doesn't go into effect until next week. I'm sure Scrimgeour wanted to try to find something on us before then so we could all be imprisoned."

Taking a few steps back from the pile of corpses, Lucius cast a fyria rabaena, wrapping the ribbon of light around the bodies and allowing the spell to slip from his control. Instead of bursting, the sparks became a column of fire and smoke that disappeared up the chimney.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you these for parts," Lucius apologized. "But they have to be ashes by the time Scrimgeour comes sniffing around."

"Does that even matter?" Severus asked, watching the bodies melt and burn. "He'll know they were here. He'll know we must have killed them."

"He'll know," Lucius nodded. "But they had no warrant. There's no way this was an official visit, so I doubt anyone else knows they were here. Legally, he can do nothing."

"Illegally?"

"Nothing they haven't done to us for years," Narcissa said.

The rest of the conversation dwindled into warnings about keeping silent and playing dumb if anyone ever asked them any questions. Severus nodded, accepting a kiss from his lover and forgetting for a moment that Narcissa was in the room as well. The comfort was needed, even if Lucius hadn't noticed that he was shaken.

Severus didn't begrudge him not noticing. Lucius was swamped with politics. No doubt he was already scheming to turn this assault to his advantage.

Excusing himself, he returned to his workshop, pausing only to reassure the portrait of Jeannette that all was well. As he revealed his workshop door, however, he felt a light touch on his arm, and he paused.

"Sometimes we forget that converts don't have the nightmares," Narcissa said softly. "We aren't shocked by killing, but we still feel sick when we make our first kill. I promise it gets easier with time."

"I don't want it to get easier," Severus said. "I hate fighting. I hate how I feel afterward."

"Ah, c'est la guerre," she said and gave him a nudge. "Be happy we won."

"And earned the enmity of a deputy auror," he grumbled. "Who knows how powerful he may be someday? He may come back with a warrant, or maybe just with a dozen more aurors."

"Are you always so morose?" she said with a sigh. "My poor, poor child--I hope he won't take after you too much."

"What?" He stared incomprehendingly. "I don't--"

"No confidence in yourself," she scolded. "When I came into this house, I didn't think I'd be given a night alone with Lucius, and here I find that you not only cede him to me, you give up everything but your workshop, where you even create my own child for me. Someone hurt you very much in the past, didn't they?"

That came far too close to the truth, and he averted his eyes out of instinctual caution before he remembered he didn't have to. She was no legilimens, but he would have wondered otherwise if he didn't keep himself so guarded all the time.

"Narcissa--"

"'Cissa," she corrected. "Only my mother calls me Narcissa. And as I was about to say, you do plan on adding your own blood to that cauldron, yes? I'd feel more secure knowing that my child is related to one of the men caring for him."

"I'm sorry," Severus said. He put his hand on the door, unwilling to look at her. "But you wouldn't...you wouldn't want my blood in your child."

She didn't answer for a moment. He wanted to slam his hand against the door. How hard it was to admit it! He could renounce Tobias Snape, but to be rid of the bastard's blood? Impossible. In every way his father continued to hobble his steps. How could he admit it? He had to, but he didn't want to see her face twist in disgust.

"I'm..." he tried to say it, but it stuck in his throat. "I'm not..."

"I'm not so sheltered," she interrupted, "that I don't know what's said about purebloods. Inbred, weak-minded, sickly. As if they're any better. As if muggles are anything but animals. I've seen the half-bloods in Hogwarts--arrogant upstarts who've never seen a wand before and then demand we change our traditions to suit their whims. You know one of them actually told me that my fairy wing earrings were cruel?"

"You could say that about most of our ingredients," Severus said, hoping he could change the subject, still facing the door. "Ours and theirs."

"Yes, ours," she said. "And you are one of ours. You wouldn't understand, being a convert, but when you killed that auror--"

Her voice hitched. A few seconds passed before she got hold of herself again, blinking too fast.

"It isn't done. Muggles hunted us, and Ministry wizards never defend us. Never. The only people we can count on are other dark wizards. So it doesn't matter to me who Tobias Snape was. I am blessed with two pureblood husbands."

She put her hand on his cheek, making sure he faced her in his surprise.

"Be sure that my son is blessed with two fathers as well."

As she turned, walking away before her emotions overwhelmed her, it came to his mind that he'd never told her who his father was, and that there was no way to know what gender the child would be. He watched her disappear around the corner. He often wondered if witches had their own secrets and spells that they had never shown the men, and likely never would.

The days passed without incident after that. Although Severus still did not venture upstairs, it was not because he couldn't face Narcissa and Lucius together. Indeed, it was impossible not to run into them anymore. The brush with death or imprisonment had Lucius bringing home gifts of jewelry and ingredients and robes and more, until the workshop spilled over into the greenhouse, which Narcissa quickly took over.

All the recipes and formulas and techniques that Severus taught her had to be practiced in the greenhouse simply because none of them would risk accidental contamination with the cauldron. The occasional explosion bore out those worries, but the explosions grew less and less until, as the weeks of brewing came to the final days, she prepared a vial of felix felicis that Severus' could find no fault with.

No matter how much he tried.

So when she came to him with an idea of a vanishing cream to remove scars, he didn't scoff at her outright.

"I've toyed with the idea," he admitted, not looking at her as he carefully stirred the last drop of blood into the cauldron. "But nothing I've made is strong enough to remove old scars. Or deep ones. Not completely."

"And I know why," she said, coming around so he had to see her. "You couldn't get the right parts."

He straightened as he set the empty jar aside. There would be no more need for blood. In less than a week's time, all the work of bringing the child to term would end. Then he processed what she had said.

"What do you mean, 'the right parts'?" he repeated.

"You had to use snake and wyvern parts," she said, leaning forward now that she had his attention.

"They're traditional," he said. "The shedding of their skin--"

"I know, I know," she said. "I read the same books you do, remember? But if you want to create something with more of a kick, wouldn't you use dragon parts instead?"

Sighing, he went and sat down at his desk, sinking into the comfortable chair, another of Lucius' gifts.

"Yes, but dragons are so difficult to harvest and so damn expensive that even Lucius can't buy the amount it would take to experiment and create something viable."

She smiled and sat on his desk, normally something he scowled over but she found herself getting away with it more and more. She was hiding something behind her back, but he trusted her enough not to immediately hex her.

"What if I could get us dragon parts for only a quarter of the price?"

He frowned and glanced sideways at her. "How?"

"Remember my little gang in Hogwarts? Morrigan married a duke in Romania and Genevieve got a spot in the Ministry's department of illegal animal trade."

"And they're fencing poached dragons up here?" he asked. "We shouldn't do anything that could jeopardize Lucius' standing in the Ministry."

"That's the beauty of it," she said. "Morrigan's husband is the one who signs off and stamps any dragons coming out of the country. As far as the Ministry and Romania know, they're completely legal."

Now she brought her hand from behind her back. A jar sat in her hand, not a little perfume bottle but a container so large that he would have used it for common cobwebs. It would have been ridiculous if not sealed with wax and the Duke Dermail's sigil mark.

There was no mistaking it for a fake. Romanian Longhorn blood shimmered like rubies and sparkled like diamonds, worth far more than either. The amount of blood in the jar passed from abundant to obscene.

"Would this be enough?" she asked, sounding far too smug for her own good.

"We'll need a cauldron," he started. "And my notebook, there was something I thought up but didn't have the materials--"

He was up and out of his chair, gathering bottles haphazardly into a cauldron he used as a basket. Narcissa watched with a grin, carefully holding her dragon's blood on her lap. When he went to clear space on floor for the fire, however, she cleared her throat.

"Um, Severus," she said, "shouldn't we do this up in the greenhouse?"

"What?" He followed her look to large cauldron and remembered where he was. "Oh, right. Yes. But we can't leave it unattended. I'll take everything to the greenhouse. Get Lucius down here and bring the dragon's blood with you as soon as you can."

Which was how Lucius ended up in the workshop, sitting at the desk with his stack of paperwork looking bewildered as to how he got there and deathly afraid to touch anything.

"If somethin happens," Narcissa said, sliding the handmirror across the desk to her husband, "just use this. It'll show you Severus and I, and you can summon us."

"A looking glass?" he said as he took it. "Since when do we have one? Was this yours? It looks a little familiar..."

She kissed his cheek and left.

In the greenhouse, she found that Severus had already set up the cauldron and its fire beneath an ominous black circle charred into the ceiling. It was from her first explosion, and she hadn't the heart to remove it. She'd never brewed anything dangerous enough to explode until she married into the Malfoys.

"I have a vague idea for something that might remove scars," he said, too occupied with pouring alcohol into a mortar to look up at her. "But I was never sure how the ingredients would react with dragon's blood."

His notebook lay open beside him, and she looked over the recipe with growing concern.

"You're going to add another circle to the ceiling," she warned, although she didn't step out of blast range. "Dragon blood makes alcohol burst into flames."

"Normally," he agreed. "But alcohol is also rendered inert when mixed with rowan and a unicorn's hair."

Now she did back up.

"Rowan?" she breathed. "You have rowan in your workshop? Aren't you dark enough to feel its effects yet?"

"Of course," he said. "But only one berry is needed and the addition of smoke of burned mistletoe will neutralize the effect it has on us."

"The unicorn's hair won't purify the mistletoe's poison?" she asked.

"It will already be weakened by the dragon's blood," he said. "Now you see why I'm not sure this will work? There are so many forces acting against each other that I don't know if it will mix properly."

"Or rip itself apart," she added. "I don't suppose you have any virgin's blood to calm it all down?"

"I have it here," he said, "but it's new and I don't want to find out if the virgin was lying right now."

Narcissa watched the ingredients come together, bubbling furiously. It glowed bright red with sparks playing along its surface. As seconds flew by, the cauldron began to rock back and forth with the violence of the swirling.

"It isn't slowing," she said, backing away.

"Give it time," he said. "There's a chance--"

Downstairs in the workshop, Lucius looked up from his paperwork as the manor rumbled wih the sound of a muffled whump. He tightened his hand on his quill and ignored it as best he could, hoping his spouses were not destroying the greenhouse.

"It's all right," he muttered to himself. "They're fine. The house is fine. They're getting along, that's the main thing."

A burst of bubbles from the cauldron startled him. Lucius gazed at it, wondering if that was normal. More bubbles rose to the surface, popping as they hit the air. Dark red, the bubbles looked like wine swirling in a glass.

Lucius stood and moved closer, afraid to touch it for fear of doing something wrong.

Back in the greenhouse, Severus and Narcissa glanced at each other, both drenched red with little orange sparks still fizzing on them. Narcissa glanced down at her dress, a peacock blue that now looked a common work frock, but she didn't complain.

"I think we'll need the virgin's blood after all," she said.

"Yes, I think so," he agreed.

It took two more tries before they had a potion that didn't explode and another after that for the ingredients to mix. Narcissa watched him work, subtly altering the proportions, and she grabbed a quill and parchment to jot down the amounts he used, the temperature of the fire and the times he added it all together.

"I think..." he said at last, giving the potion one last stir. "I think this may be it. Could you unbutton my cuff?"

"What?" She glanced down as he offered his wrist to her, then back at him with wide eyes. "You want to test it on yourself? Rowan and poison and dragon's blood? You know dragon's blood can burn."

"I won't test it on you," he said, "or Lucius. Besides, it should be fine. If the worst happens, it should rinse off easily."

She frowned. "The worst" could range from a little sting to an acid burn, but she undid his cuff and rolled the sleeve for him.

His skin showed her why he didn't worry about a burn. He already bore a scar that she imagined came from scalding water, weak and twisted. She didn't flinch, knowing that would just embarass them both, but she knew how badly it must have hurt.

"Potion accident?" she asked, tucking the sleeve back.

"My muggle father," he said without emotion.

That, she couldn't hide her reaction to. She closed her eyes and held his hand a little tighter.

"It's so strange to me," she whispered. "Even monsters take care of their children."

"Not all of them."

He put his hand over the cauldron, hesitating for just a moment. She took advantage of it and dipped two fingers into the mix before he could, then streaked the potion across his burned skin.

"How long do you think it will--oh!"

She gasped. The scar didn't disappear, but the color lightened a shade and the edges smoothed slightly. It was like watching the first part of a healing charm moving the skin before her eyes. His hiss of pain before he could stop himself told her it had to be as painful.

"It worked," she whispered.

"Marginally," he said, forcing himself to breathe steadily. "Multiple treatments will probably be required. But it actually improved."

"Not like that snakeoil they sell in Ishtar's Beauty Parlor," she said softly. "Is there any way to ease the pain?"

"Not without destabilizing the entire potion," he said, rolling the sleeve down again. He took a deep breath and looked at her. "But it works."

She smiled. "Then let's bottle it quickly, in case it decides to explode."

"I don't think it will," he said, but he didn't sound sure of that. He watched as she poured the potion into a bottle and corked it.

"Perfect," she said, and setting it between them. She picked up a label and a quill. "Now we just need to name it."

"Why a name?" Severus asked. "Vanishing cream is fine."

She smiled at him like an angel.

"Because men are vain creatures."

Confused, he glanced at his reflection in the greenhouse glass--limp hair, pale skin, and unfashionable robes--then raised an eyebrow at her. She laughed her understanding.

"You're vain about your work," she clarified, pushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "Your bedragglement is just part of that. You've mastered potions so completely that it's how you show your worth. Your appearance doesn't matter, since you measure yourself by your skill."

"But Lucius isn't as practical as we are. His head is full of politics, of surfaces and how things are perceived. There is no way in hell he'll come anywhere near something called vanishing cream. It sounds like something a woman would use."

"Ah." Severus leaned back in his chair. "But with a name like Serpent's Blood?"

"Exactly," she said. "Something that appeals to his ego and that he won't make a face about. I like the serpent idea, but blood usually refers to liquor. I can tell you don't drink. Serpent's Rejuvenation--there, it even has an oblique reference to shedding skin. He'll like that. What do you think?"

"I think I'll have you sell our potions to Knockturn alley," he said. "I can't come up with good names."

"Remember that when it comes time to name our child," she said.

"Well, we still have a few days before that happens," he said. "Did you have something in mind--?"

There was a knock on the open glass door. They both stopped and looked, and then froze. Narcissa stopped breathing for a moment and Severus stared in open-mouthed awe.

In the doorway, Lucius held a baby in his hands, awkwardly trying to find a better position. He looked up at Narcissa and Severus at a loss.

"He just rose up," Lucius said, still in a daze. "He came up and held his arms out, and I couldn't help it. I picked him up and--and--what do I do now?"

Narcissa gathered her wits first, running to his side and gently taking her son, cradling him against herself. She looked over his body, counting limbs and fingers and making sure he didn't have a tail or fur.

"Is he--?" Severus said, unable to move.

"He's perfect," she whispered. "You did it. He's perfect."

"I have no idea what to name him," Lucius said. He touched his son's hand, allowing him to grab his finger. "I thought it would take longer."

"So did I," Severus murmured. He finally went to them, staring at the wide gray eyes that looked at all of them in wonder. "But the schedule isn't always exact."

"Draco," Narcissa said, ignoring them for a moment. "My son. Draco Malfoy."

"Draco..." Lucius mused.

It was entirely in his power to overrule her. As head of the family, naming the child fell to him and tradition demanded certain concessions. But the look on her face, enraptured by a child that should have been impossible for her, made him want to continue showering gifts upon her.

"He's going to need diapers," Severus said, breaking into both their thoughts. He warily eyed the child, as if afraid it might explode. "And a crib."

Narcissa frowned. "Severus, our child's just been born. Aren't you happy? You look absolutely dour."

"There are practical considerations we have to address," he insisted. "Clothes, food, a high chair, toys...the sooner, the better."

Lucius leaned down to whisper in Narcissa's ear.

"He'll spoil Draco in his own way, don't worry," he assured her. "Why don't I go round up everything we need at Hogsmeade, and you can order him about getting the nursery ready?"

"Oh," she smiled, "that sounds perfect. Everything in green and white, yes?"

"Of course," Lucius said. "And Sev', you might want to climb up to the attic and see if we have a crib or other furniture. I noticed you found my great aunt Savka's mirror. Anything we have for infants will likely be in the same corner."

"Of course," Severus said softly, inwardly quailing. In his excitement over dragon's blood, he'd forgotten that he'd left the handmirror on his desk. Lucius knew, then, that he'd spied on them occasionally. Severus reminded himself that he'd have to assure Lucius that he only spied at certain times, never during more intimate moments with Narcissa.

"You'd best get going before he starts crying," Narcissa said to Lucius, accepting a quick kiss on her cheek before he went. Then she rounded on Severus, her look wild and excited and eager to begin work.

Severus couldn't help a small smile. Her eagerness was infectious.

TBC...