Chapter Thirty-Five
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England, 24 December, 1991
He snorted, pacing back and forth in front of the door in the small room.
It was ridiculous! He'd been here nearly a month and found nothing!
They seemed to be perfectly normal, no secret meetings, no midnight excursions, no trips to foreign countries, nothing.
He snarled in frustration and kicked the door, wincing as his foot began to throb.
He couldn't believe it; just when the boy had been about to arrive, he'd had to go elsewhere.
It was just his luck, really. These kinds of things happening shouldn't surprise him anymore.
He jumped onto the bed to sleep, resigned to the fact that he was doomed to be damned in every attempt in his life.
Distantly, he heard someone hurry up the stairs.
The door opened, and a tall blond woman stood there, smiling down at him.
He yelped as she put a collar around his neck and beckoned him down the stairs. He followed grudgingly, trotting down the stairs at her side.
"Severus, do you know where Harry is?" Lily asked.
"I said I might. Why isn't he with you?"
"We gave him up for adoption, after Voldemort attacked," she whispered. At Severus' disgusted look, she added, "We didn't want him growing up in his brother's shadow."
"You would have loved them both, Lily," Severus said, "I know- knew- you. They'd have been fine together."
"I know that now, but we were afraid and young. We only wanted what was best for him!"
"Giving him away wasn't the answer," he said, advancing slowly toward her. "You aren't his mother anymore, Lily. You don't need to know, and I won't tell you."
He watched as something broke behind her tear filled eyes, impassive face never showing how this ripped him into pieces. He'd made a vow ten years ago to a little boy, to do what was best for him and keep him from harm, a vow he'd made the same day he'd finally accepted that he could never have her and should try to move on. That same little boy still needed him, and he would honor his vow.
Lost true love or no.
"Is something wrong here?" James asked, standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest and magic crackled around him like bursts of light.
"No, Potter. Nothing's wrong," Severus sneered, and pushed past him into the ballroom.
Lily started to follow after him, but James held her in place. "I think we should go, Lily," he said gently.
She nodded numbly, and they said their goodbyes to Augusta Longbottom.
They apologized to Lucius, saying that they really must get back home.
"The children may stay until the end of the party, if you wish," he offered stiffly, avoiding looking at them lest the disdain show on his face. "It would be difficult to find them right now."
They thanked him, promising to return in a few hours. An elf brought them their coats, and they were gone.
"May I have everyone's attention?" Lucius called.
The thirty or so children were ushered into the ballroom by an elf, and floating champagne glasses appeared at everyone's elbows. They took them for the traditional toasts.
"I propose a toast to all of you here. Friends, family, and colleagues, my family and I are truly honored that you all attended," he said, smiling.
Everyone raised their glasses and drank.
"I would like to make a toast to the children; may they grow to be strong, healthy, and old," Narcissa said, raising her glass.
The children looked confused, but the adults understood: it was a prayer from victims of a catastrophic war that their children would grow old and happy without being haunted by their pasts.
"I propose a toast to the economy! May it continue to make me rich!" someone called from the back. There were several laughs at this statement, though Ron and Ginny Weasley looked uncomfortable.
There were several other toasts before someone sneered, "Here's to Henry Potter, the bloody boy-who-lived; may he continue to avoid death and all his minions."
The large room fell silent, and Goyle, Sr. strode up to the young boy. "Let us hope that Mr. Potter will always be around to save the day."
"Don't worry," Henry said through gritted teeth, face red with anger and humiliation, "I will be."
"Not if I have any say," the man snarled.
And at that moment, a most curious thing happened: the smirking Mr. Goyle vanished into thin air, leaving his wand, clothing, and toenails behind.
The room erupted, screams, shouts, and various other signs of distress tearing through the partygoers.
No one seemed to notice the two boys simultaneously collapse, clutching their chests, screams lost in the chaos. One's chest burned bright, illuminating the white shirt he wore so it glowed, the other was swarmed by shadow, a dark shape on the crowded floor.
Draco saw his brother fall from across the room, but before he could fight his way through the crowd, a huge black dog bounded toward Adrian, snapping at the heels of anyone who got in its way. It halted at his brother's side and began sniffing him anxiously.
Adrian's eyes flickered open, taking in something black and hairy sniffing at him. It was a dog. A shaggy black dog whose gray-blue eyes somehow conveyed concern.
This dog seemed… familiar.
"P-Padfoot?" he said dazedly.
He then passed beyond the veil of consciousness.
