Chapter Eighteen

The flickering overhead light had almost a strobe effect, but lit the hallway enough for Severus to easily make his way to the room he had rented for the night.

He hated staying in muggle hotels, mostly because he had to be careful using magic and he felt stifled when he had to do so. Very like cutting off his arm. However, the pay off was worth it. No one would think to look for him in this place, especially agents of the Dark Lord.

Digging into the black leather satchel he held, he removed his key and entered his room. He flipped on the light switch, and did a quick scan of his immediate surroundings. Seeing nothing amiss, he locked the door firmly behind him before heading to the bathroom to check for anything – or anyone – harmful.

When he was confident that there were no unsavory elements to be found, he crossed the room, and quickly drew the curtains across the large window that looked down onto the busy Moscow streets.

He took a moment to look around the room, his lip curled in slight disgust. The carpet was dirty, and the wallpaper peeling, and he would wager that the scent of cigarettes would forever be imbedded in the heavy curtains that hung on the large window. He didn't even want begin to guess as to what microscopic organisms lived upon the dingy looking comforter that graced the bed.

The walls were paper thin. He could hear a hacking cough coming from the room to his left, and to his right he could tell that the prostitute next door was running a brisk trade, as evidenced by the rhythmic sound of the headboard hitting against the wall.

Pulling out his wand, he cast a blanket Scourgify to the room. Next he placed a strong ward on the door. It would keep muggles away, but anyone with enough magic and determination could eventually bypass its strength. It was merely a warning of sorts. It would give him just enough time to apparate from the premises and that was all he really needed.

Lastly, and for good measure, he laid Praeligo charms against each wall. The spells would muffle any sounds that might have made its way to eavesdropper ears.

Once he was sure that the room was reasonably protected and cleansed, he kicked off his heavy boots and sat down at the small table in front of the window.

Opening his satchel, he pulled out a small, rune covered stone bowl, setting it carefully on the scarred table.

It was a miniature pensieve, but it hadn't the specifications of the larger types. It was scaled down for portability and only played the audio of the memories contained within.

It had taken days of study, both in the Hogwarts library and in the Ministries dusty collection of tomes before he had gotten a lead on Draco's "father".

There were only a few beings with enough power to bypass the ancients wards he knew to be placed upon Malfoy manor.

It had been a tiny story in one of the bestiaries a previous Slytherin Head of House had added to the personal collection that had led him to Russia.

The Chuvashian Dragon.

Not a typical dragon to be sure. This particular dragon hadn't been seen for an age, and was said to be a myth. He differed from the other ten types of dragons, because he wasn't a dragon at all.

The large, silver scaled dragon was said to be only one of his forms, but that he was a true shapeshifter, able to take human form in any guise of his choosing. His origins were a mystery.

It was also said that he used this power to seduce married human women. Women who were discontent in their marriages. Sometimes children were born of the union, but they didn't live long beyond their sixteenth year. It was thought that the power within them was not meant for human bodies, and that they often burned out from the sheer power that their fragile bodies couldn't contain.

The progeny of the Chuvashian Dragon and human women were powerful, attractive, and charismatic. It was as if their power and beauty was seen as an affront to the gods, and in retribution they were cursed to die young. Of course, all of this was based on legend and tales, and not firm irrefutable logic. At least not to Muggles. A wizard knew what to discount and what to take as a seed of truth.

Because of this, many a wizard – and witch – had tried to find the Chuvashian Dragon themselves. The search for this being, in certain circles, was unending. It was akin to the Muggle's continuous search for their legendary Arc of the Covenant. There would always be someone interested in the search.

That was what had brought Severus to the area. He knew that he had to be certain. If Draco was indeed the son of this being, Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to use him until he burned out.

Severus had to find the truth. If he didn't Draco would die. Either by Voldemort's use, or by the fact of his alleged heritage.

The weight of one more responsibility on his shoulders was heavy enough to crack his spine, and though he cursed himself at his weakness, he reached back into his satchel. His hand trembled in hesitation for a moment before he removed a small bag of dried brilliantly blue leaves.

Doli 'Ele.

He hadn't smoked the addicting blue leaves since Lily died. When he realized what he would have to do to make amends for his part in her death, the need for the drifting numbness the drug afforded him had left abruptly. He hadn't quit exactly, more the drive to smoke had faded, the root that aided its hold was gone, and he had felt that it would dishonor her memory to continue.

Their relationship hadn't been what people assumed. He had loved Lily, yes, but he hadn't been in love with her. She had been his cherished friend, the closest thing he had to a sister. It still pained him that he had let his pride separate them. He had let his arrogance deprive him of the best friend he had ever had.

In his youth he had blamed James, and to be honest, a part of him still did. But at the end of the day, in the darkness of the night, he couldn't hide the truth from himself. The truth that kept him awake, starring at the canopy of his uncomfortable Hogwarts bed.

It had been his fault. He had spurned her overtures of friendship, the invitation to her wedding, the christening of her son. To be sure, that he had been following Voldemort was part of the reason, but that was mostly his excuse. He wasn't wanted by anyone else in her circle, so he made for himself a place in another, and in that place he had excelled, and still continued to do so.

He hadn't cared what Voldemort was after. He could give a shit about the man's ideals or goals. He had merely liked the fact that he belonged. He winced now at the thought of how easily he'd sold his soul and how he would still be doing so if not for the threat against Lily and her family.

He had thought for a time that he had buried his bitterness at the estrangement, but he knew that it was the Doli 'Ele, the cloudy tendrils that had swirled within his brain, numbing the pain when it grew to large for him to ignore. Indeed the only thing that still kept him away from the drug was his determination to see his task through.

It amazed him at how easily he could break his resolve, throwing away the years he had been clean.

Sweet Doli 'Ele. He sprinkled the blue leaves on the small square of paper, licking the edge and wrapping it around its precious contents.

Just this once, he said to himself, as he drew the smoke into his mouth, the sweet taste of burned sugar against his tongue.

He allowed the smoke to fill his lungs, sending a warm shiver through his body as tense muscles began to relax, before he blew out a cloud of the sparkling smoke.

Finally he turned his attention to the pensieve, resting his wand against his temple to remove a silvery strand of memory. He watched as the tendril curled down into the bowl, rippling a moment, before smoothing over.

Shura's soft Russian accent rose quietly in the room.

"...the child?"

"Yes, the story indicated that there was a child," Snape heard his own voice say.

"Are you sure that you are interested in this story? You do realize that I am not a descendent of that child? I think most of it a fable, a cautionary tale based on my ancestress, yet written by men to keep a woman in her place. She was only one of such documented cases. How did you find me anyway?"

"I am a scholar. It wasn't very hard to trace the family tree. Your grandmother was a notorious figure of sorts, her descendents are well documented, though I do admit that I had to go through many false leads before I happened upon your branch of the family."

"I can't say that I am ungrateful. I could use the money for sure. Textbooks cost me dearly, and any money that goes toward the purchase of them is helpful, but I feel that I am taking advantage of you."

"Please, let me be the judge of that. All I ask of you is that you be honest."

"It may be quicker if you tell me the version that you have heard. I can then tell you whether or not our stories match and provide what was omitted."

"I know that your ancestress came to Chuvashia from a foreign land with her husband. That he was a missionary that was chosen to bring the word to the people in the villages of the area. I know that she was said to have given birth to a supernatural child. A child of one of the "Old Gods". I just would like you to provide the human element, rather than the cold hard facts."

"As you wish. Her name was Catriona and her husband was called Thomas. She was, I believe, fifteen years of age at the beginning of their marriage, and he was nearly forty. She was said to be a beauty with waving raven hair, kind dark eyes, and milky skin. Perhaps that was what got her into the marriage. She had been born to a poor family and it was a rise in her status to be married to a man of the cloth even if she didn't love him. She was eighteen when they arrived."

There was a pause before Shura continued. "Thomas often left Cat to her own devices as he traveled throughout the area. She was expected to keep hearth and home, and as the tale goes became discontent in her lot, though she tried to remain the dutiful wife. She spent her days tending to the sick, giving food to the poor, and listening to the woes of others. Thomas, unlike his wife, was not well liked in the area. The people resented his presence. They wanted to keep the worship of the Old Gods."

Snape sped through this next bit, which included the waiter coming to ask them if the would like another beverage, or perhaps something to eat. He listened to the tinny, sped up voices before stopping at the proper place.

"It happened the during their second winter," Shura spoke, "Thomas came back to his wife and made love to her as never before. The next morning she woke with a bright new hope for her marriage setting warmly in her chest."

"You have the skill of a true storyteller," Snape had interrupted. He remembered the pink blush that graced her face at his compliment.

"Yes, well, it helps that I know the story by heart I suppose," she had said modestly.

"Please, go on," Snape had urged.

"Well, you know, since you read the tale where this is going."

"I'd like to hear you tell it just the same. There are parts that I'm sure are missing from the story that only you, or your family know."

"I'm sure. History doesn't paint my ancestress in the best light," Shura had said, before taking a sip of her tea. "Where was I? Oh yes. Cat woke the next morning to find the house cold, her husband nowhere in the vicinity. She assumed that he had gone to the nearby village, and so when it came time for supper she grew worried when he didn't show. It was not until the following morning that Thomas returned to their small home. He began to tell her stories of his journey, and from this she surmised that it had not been her husband that she had lain with. Shortly thereafter she found that she was with child. She grew frightened, and made excuses to see the wise woman in the village, lying because she knew that her husband would not approve of her visiting a woman that he considered a witch. Nonetheless, she went to the woman, and shared her predicament. She begged the woman to help her rid herself of the child. She considered it a mortal sin, but she also knew that Thomas would know that the child was not his. They had tried for many years to conceive, but to no avail, and Thomas was a sharp man. She couldn't confess what had happened. He would think her mad at best, or a witch conspiring with the devil at worse."

"But the child was born correct?" Snape had asked.

"Yes. The wise woman managed to get Cat to confess the whole story. She was a gentle woman, and though people looked down on her for her trade, she always helped those who came to her in need. I believe that she would have agreed to help Cat, but when the entire story was revealed she grew frightened and told her that she could not help her abort the child. That it was a child of the Old Gods. She was thrown from her home, and branded an adulteress when it became known that she was with child. The people of the village gathered around her, when her husband left her to her own devices. He eventually left the area, and Cat, returning to his homeland. She gave birth shortly after he left."

"Was it a son or daughter?" Snape had asked quietly.

"It was a daughter. She was said to be beautiful, with the waving dark hair of her mother and dove grey eyes that glowed silver. Her name was Diana, and she was revered within the village. She had her mother's gentle nature and the village seemed to flourish after her birth."

"But you don't come from her line, correct?" Snape had asked.

"No, she died shortly before her seventeenth birthday. As the tale goes, she grew ill, and wasted away. I am descended from the little brother that my grandmother had after she married a man in the village."

"No one knows what killed her?"

"If they did, that knowledge wasn't passed down to me. All I know is that it only affected her, and no one else. I told you that I didn't have much to impart that you probably already don't know," she had said apologetically.

The memory ended there. Snape had thanked her for her time and paid her that agreed upon fee.

Now all he had to do was wait. If Draco began to sicken then he would have his proof, though he didn't yet have a plan to implement if that happened. This could be disastrous, or it could be the turn in the war that was desperately needed.

0o0

"What made you take the mark Draco?" Taryn asked.

They were reclining in his bed, an old episode of Friends on the telly providing background noise to the otherwise quiet room. The apartment was equally silent. Rico and Leah, after sharing breakfast with them, had left, and she felt it was the time to finish their discussion.

She was sitting in between his legs, her back cuddled against his chest, snuggling into his warmth.

Draco's hand, which had been gently running through her hair, paused. "I don't want to tell you," he said quietly. When she stiffened he added, "Not because I don't trust you with the knowledge, but because I'm afraid of what it could mean for us."

She turned in his arms so she could see his face. "Draco, I love you. I fell in love you when I knew that there were things in your life that I might not like. I still love you, even after finding out that you're marked. I won't lie to you and say that I'm okay with it, but I know you. There had to be an important reason behind the decision."

He took in a shuddering breath before he began to speak quietly. "I purposely kept most of the details about my life secret from you, but the most important things – the parts that make me who I am – those you know. The person I am with you right now is who I am. The person that you see when we are at school is a necessity, and only that."

"If this is going to make sense to you then you have to understand what my life has been like up to this point. I wont say that I had an unloved childhood, it really wasn't like that. My mother loves me, sometimes a little too much. I'm pretty much her entire world. I know that it doesn't mesh with what you know of her, but she is a loving mother but she isn't a strong woman. My father, well, he loves me too, but he loves power more. I've always know it. I've never understood him, and I doubt that I ever will. He and my mother made decisions that I don't agree with, and," He stopped for a moment, his arms tightening around her a bit, "shit, it just fuckin' pisses me off. I'm so angry all of the time. The choices they made for their lives have defined mine, and even though I want to get away, something always draws me back in. I can't just cut them off. At the end of the day they are my family."

Taryn had pulled one his hands into her own and was softly tracing the skin, silently offering her support.

"I don't want you to think less of me, but I have to be honest. I did take the mark willingly, but only because in that moment I felt like I didn't have a choice. I don't want to follow Voldemort. He's insane. He's a fuckin' megalomaniac and a sadist to boot. He wanted to punish us for my father's failure to get that prophesy. Dad is in Azkaban, and since he wasn't an option then he threatened my mother. He said he'd turn her into his pet," Draco's eyes closed at this. "The night I took the mark, he had one of his "pets" in the room. She was naked, beaten, collared and tethered by a heavy chain, but it was her eyes that continue to haunt me. They were empty. She was broken, and I'd kill before I let that happen to my mother, so I took the mark and agreed to do just that."

"You agreed to kill? Who did you agree to kill?" Taryn asked carefully. Merlin, she hoped that he wouldn't say Harry. Or Ron, or countless others. In fact, she wished that he hadn't agreed to anything, but she knew that he had felt trapped.

"Dumbledore," Draco said quietly, "I have until the end of the year to complete my task."

Taryn stiffened with a gasp. When she calmed, she asked in an even tone, "Have you tried?"

Draco buried his face in her hair. "I have. Once, but it was unsuccessful. I'm not a complete idiot. I know that I haven't a chance in Hell of taking Dumbledore on face to face. He'd end me shortly, and I know it. I had to try something else, so I bought a cursed necklace..."

Taryn interrupted at this. "The one that Katie Bell almost died handling?"

"Yes, but she wasn't supposed to have it at all. I arranged for it to be delivered to Dumbledore. I took precautions, but obviously they weren't enough."

Taryn wriggled free from his arms, turning around to sit cross legged in front of him on the bed. She needed to look in his eyes for the question she wanted to ask him. "Draco, I said I love you, and I really meant that, but I need you to be honest with me. You don't want to kill Dumbledore do you?"

"No, I don't," he said quietly, "I'm not a good guy Taryn, I never have been. You asked for honesty, so I'll give it to you. No, I don't want to kill Dumbledore, but I will if I have to. If it ensures the safety of you and my mother, then I'll do it in a minute."

"We could go to him. We could explain what is happening. Maybe he could do something," she said, her tone heart wrenching.

"You really think that he would help the person who agreed to kill him? One that has already attempted to do so?" Draco said bitterly.

"I do," she said quietly, "If you are sincere, then I think he'll help us. I can have a talk with him, but I'll need you there."

"No, I don't want you to become any more involved in this," Draco said firmly.

"Its too late for that. A billboard in Diagon Alley would have been more subtle then our exit from the ball. I'm sure Rita Skeeter has already written about us in that stupid gossip column that she tries to pass off as journalism," Taryn added.

She frowned. Her blackmail against Rita wouldn't even work now. The girl that had had leverage over the reporter was dead, and the noose around the woman's neck had been removed. Taryn cringed at the thought of the articles that the woman would begin to write again.

"I haven't forgotten that. It's another reason why you shouldn't want to be with me. I've pinned a target against your back. Only other Deatheaters know for sure that I am among their ranks, but I have no doubt that others have guessed."

"I realize that," Taryn said quietly. "I know that Pansy isn't the only one that will call me your whore."

"Baby," Draco began, "I didn't mean it when I said that. I was angry. It's just...I get so fuckin' jealous. I can't stand the thought of you with any other guys. That Sasha bloke...Felix...Krum...even fuckin' Ron Weasley...I just want to..." He stopped there, pulling back the anger that wanted to break free. He drew in a breath before continuing. "I just consider you...mine."

"Draco, I am yours. You don't have anything to worry about. I don't want anyone else. Krum, well he liked me far more than I liked him. I was flattered at his attention. Ron, he wasn't ever anything more than a friend. Felix was a means to an end. I was just trying to get your attention. And Sasha, well he was Tracey's lover. You are the only lover that I have ever had, and the only one that I will ever want," she said earnestly. She looked down at the bed, her fingers idly picking at the fibers in the comforter.

Draco smiled when he realized what she was telling him. "Shit, baby. If I'd known that you were a virgin, I would have, I dunno..been more gentle. Took more time with you."

Taryn blushed hotly. "No, it was perfect. I wouldn't change anything."

He leaned forward, tipping her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "I'm glad," he said quietly, pressing a kiss against her lips. Maybe it was caveman, but as soon as she had revealed her former virgin state to him, all of his anger and jealousy drained away. He felt unworthy of her. She didn't know how precious she was.

"You know what has to happen next, right?" he asked, still starring into her eyes.

Taryn's brow crinkled in question. "What?"

"I'm going to buy you a diamond."

Taryn's mouth dropped open in shock.