A/N: Hi! I've been bullied into posting some chapters that I wasn't 100% certain about (you can blame my sister for that) but yeah, I hope they're okay. Happy birthday Lily Potter for yesterday! This chapter has the sub-plot thingy I was on about - I don't know, maybe it doesn't work - tell me what you think.

Enjoy and have a lovely day!

MALFOY MANOR

LILY'S P.O.V

JULY 1981

"Just clam down L-Andrea," Dorcas, disguised as a young woman named Elise hisses at me.

"I'm trying!"

"Just remember what I told you – keep the attention away from yourself, be sickeningly polite and never voice a strong opinion. Don't worry," she says, smiling, "you've got this."

"Try telling my hands that," I sigh, looking down at my shaking hands.

"You've got nothing to worry about," she says, "we'll go in together, just copy what I do and everything will be fine."

Right. Everything will be fine, I'm just about to go into a room full of Death Eaters who are physically disgusted by my blood and would ordinarily sooner kill me than look at me. Yep, I'm sure everything will be perfectly fine.

We enter. The wards and protection charms are strong and the not-so-discrete security charms scan us. I tense nervously with bated breath. Phew, we haven't been discovered yet. Just smile and act natural. You're a Pureblood lady, you're one of them, they don't hate you, they don't want to torture you to death – all they want is to engage in forced conversation, dance and part you from your money.

We go through the gates. The Malfoy Manor is – in a word- stunning. Every detail from the skirting boards to the incandescent chandeliers is meticulously coordinated, brilliantly designed and ostentatiously expensive. Dorcas – sorry I mean Elise- glares at me and I try to relax and keep my evidently apparent awe under control. She leads us to a bunch of smartly dressed gentlemen and to where Alice (disguised as a lady named Gwyneth) is standing.

I walk with her and smile courteously at them whilst she does the talking. It's so strange… they're all so gracious and civil and pleasant. They don't glare at me, they don't spit at me – instead they smile. I'm sort of stunned into silence.

"My lady, may I introduce you to my friend?" a charming young man that I think I recognise asks Elise.

"Severus Snape," he says, I freeze at that. Why? Why is here? I thought he hated parties.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Snape," Elise replies. Perhaps I forgot to mention, Elise is supposed to be French. Luckily Dorcas can speak French.

"This is Elise Rosier," Snape's friend says.

"Enchanté de faire votre connaissance" Snape says, kissing her hand. My word, his French accent is painful.

"De meme," Elise smiles back at him.

He turns towards me, a strained smile plastered on his face. His clear discomfort is a little reassuring.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting," Snape says, "I'm Severus Snape."

"Andrea Selwyn," I reply, holding out my hand, finally managing to form coherent words.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Selwyn."

"As am I to make yours."

"May I get you a drink?"

"Yes please."

I follow him over to the end of the gigantic hall. He hands me an elegant champagne glass worth surely three times as much as my home on Edwards Street. He raises his and I mimic him, my heart thumping in my chest, anger flowing through my veins.

"To your health, Lady Selwyn."

I discretely sniff the drink – restoration potion and revealing charms in one. I should warn the others. I pretend to sip the drink.

"Are you from around here?" he asks.

I know that look, he's suspicious. Despite my innate urge to curse him right then and there, I smile and conduct myself with the air of a Pureblood lady.

"No," I say, "I'm visiting a few relations of mine. You?"

"Not in any way that matters."

"How cryptic," I force a smile. He smiles back.

"You remind me of someone, Lady Selwyn."

"Oh?" my heart rate quickens.

"A good friend of mine."

"Really? Tell me, what is this friend like?"

"She's… talented, more talented than anyone I've ever met. She's kind, warm-hearted, intelligent and very brave."

"Then I'm honoured to be held in such a complimentary comparison."

He smiles yet looks lost at the same time. Damn it, Lily, don't you dare feel sorry for him he's a Death Eater; he tried to kill you… Whilst restraining my more violent tendencies, we talk for a while, but hardly about the Death Eater movement. It's small talk, all hinting at something deeper, if only I could get him to open up. He's being deliberately careful with his words - as am I.

"What do you think of the party?" he asks.

"Pleasant."

"If you have the taste for such things."

"Are you well acquainted with the hosts?"

"Yes, the Lady Malfoy is a friend of mine."

A friend of his? That's new.

"What of the Lord?"

"He's… a charming man."

That's a lie.

"I could introduce you, if you'd like."

"I'd like that very much."

We walk over to where Narcissa is standing beside an over-dressed man.

"Narcissa, you look simply divine," the man talking to her says, kissing her hand.

"Indeed, you look resplendent Narcissa," Snape says, he glowers at the other man and the man makes his excuses before he absquatulates.

"Narcissa, may I introduce to you the Lady Andrea Selwyn. Lady Selwyn, this is Narcissa Malfoy."

"Honoured to make your acquaintance," I say.

"And I yours."

She smiles at me, then at Snape, a knowing look in her eyes. Surely she doesn't think that he and I…?

"If you'll excuse me," I say to them both, walking over to where Elise is standing.

I'm not entirely sure if I'm allowed to leave without the unnecessarily enigmatic permission of my class superior but never mind.

"Elise," I greet her.

"Andrea," she replies in her French accent.

"Don't drink anything," I whisper to her, "revealing potion – it'll undo all the aesthetic charms."

"How do you know?"

"I have a NEWT in Potions and a lot of spare time, trust me."

"Have you warned the others?"

"Not yet, could you?"

"Oui," she replies, before walking off – winking at me.

"Who's that?" Severus voice comes from behind me, I jump, "sorry," he frowns, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's fine. That was Elise, a friend of mine."

"Elise? The French one?"

"Yes," I confirm.

"Something's off about her."

"How do you mean?" I gulp.

"How close of a friend is she?"

"Quite close, why?"

"Has she been acting odd recently? Walking around in a daydream?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, it's none of my business. You can't be too careful these days though."

"Indeed," I force a slight laugh.

"How long are you here for?"

"I don't know, no more than a few weeks I think."

"Are you enjoying your stay?"

"As much as I can – I miss my home."

"Do you live too far away?"

"Far enough."

"What's your home like?"

"Empty," I say honestly, thinking of Edwards Street.

"I know what you mean," he says and I know that he does.

"What about your home?"

"Full of ghosts," he jokes, but he's half serious.

We talk again, until I (as Lily Potter, of course) come up in conversation again. Snape's had a few drinks by this time, getting more and more relaxed by the minute.

"She was… lovely, really perfect…"

"What happened to her?"

"Oh… she went away," he looks down, "she went a long way away."

"I'm sorry," I say, repressing my anger.

"Me too," he looks up, "but what about you? What are your friends like?"

"Mostly non-existent," I say and he laughs. Of course it's not true but I want him to feel as though we have some sort of understanding of one another.

"Elise?"

"She's lovely," I shrug, "but she doesn't understand me."

"Does she have to?"

"I like to think that I'm understood, that someone understands the way that I am – that I'm not just what I appear to be, that I'm not defined by one aspect of my being. I like to be treated like the multi-faceted, multi-dimensional person I am."

"I like you, Lady Selwyn."

"Please, call me Andrea."

"Andrea," he muses, "a lovely name."

"And you're Severus?"

"Indeed."

"So, Severus, what is it you do when you're not socialising with the bourgeoisie?"

"I teach," he says, "at Hogwarts, actually."

Well, there's another surprise.

"Hogwarts," I say at last, "I've heard of it."

"You didn't go?"

"No, I went to Beauxbatons."

"Ah yes," he acknowledges, "l'académie de magie Beauxbâtons."

His French accent really is awful.

"Yes, I met Elise there."

"I didn't think you went to Hogwarts. If you had, I'd remember you."

"You're quite the charmer, Serverus."

"I don't mean to be."

He sips more of his drink.

"Would you care to dance?" he asks, outstretching his hand.

I'd rather not dance with him but I know better than to decline. I don't remember him ever being able to dance anyway.

"Certainly," I say, taking his hand.

We dance with an awkward flair not unlike that of two adolescents dancing for the first time with no sense of rhythm. His dancing is as abysmal as his French.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he admits.

You don't say.

"Yet you ask for a dance anyway? How… noble of you."

He looks taken aback – maybe I overdid it with the flattery?

"Well, erm, I suppose… thank you."

His graciousness (or lack thereof) is enough to make me want to laugh but I stifle the urge. He suddenly winces.

"Are you alright?" I rush to him, struggling to keep a convincing look of concern on my face.

"Yes, yes," he dismisses, rubbing his Dark Mark. It's all I can do not to recoil in disgust - as if I need a reminder of why my parents died.

"Does it hurt you?"

"A little," he says by which he means a lot.

"What does it mean?" I ask, indicating his arm.

"He's close," Severus yelps.

"How close?"

"Very, very close," Severus mutters.

"What's he here for?"

"I imagine…" he trails off, looking up, frozen.

"What is it?"

Severus straightens up and looks directly ahead of him. I turn to see what he's looking at and then I freeze too. My heart practically stops – James is here, tied up, bloodied and bruised. A few Death Eaters loom over him. It takes all my willpower to not rush to him and stun every Death Eater in a mile's radius. How on earth did this happen? I try not to let emotion show in my face – I can't give away my cover and compromise our position.

"Who's that?" I ask, in the coldest voice I can manage.

"An old enemy of mine," he murmurs. He isn't looking at me anymore.

"Enemy?"

"We didn't get along as children. He was vile, cruel and impertinent," Snape says bitterly.

"What is he doing here then? He surely can't have been invited."

"I don't know – but I intend to find out."

He walks over. I stay behind- I don't want to seem too obvious. I can hear well enough from where I am, as can he rest of the room though they pretend as though they can't.

"Potter," he sneers, walking up to him, wine glass in hand.

"Snivellus," James says without bothering to look up.

"That's getting old," Snape says, sighing, before kicking James in the ribs – hard.

James doubles over, coughing up blood. I can't watch this but if I go over now, I'll blow the whole operation and put all of our lives at risk. I look away, anger bubbling inside me.

"I never thought I'd see the day," Severus announces, engaging the entire ballroom, "James Potter- Gryffindor's hero- brought to his knees."

James meets his stare, somewhat indifferently.

"Look at you," Severus says, laughing, "you're pathetic. Nothing but a weak, ignorant, injudicious –"

"Look at yourself, Snivellus," James says quietly, "look at what you've achieved."

"I've achieved far greater than you have," Snape says, looking amused.

"Really?" James casts a sagacious look around the ballroom – his eyes scan right over me. "To me, it seems you've achieved very little."

"And what do you have that's worth having?"

"Friends, money, a life."

Snape stiffens before kicking James again. I don't think I can stand this for much longer.

"There's no one to save you this time, Potter; none of your stupid little sycophantic lapdogs to back you up."

"You're –one – to – talk about – sycophants," he wheezes.

"At least I'm not a blood traitor."

"You've changed your tune," James says, "finally gotten over my wife?"

"She's scum," Snape spits, "dirty Mudblood scum."

"Typical," James snorts, pulling himself off of the floor and onto his knees, "you're all the same. Ignorant rich people reciting archaic bullshit."

Snape shoots Crucio at James. My anger almost bubbles over, threatening to take control whilst panic and pain flows through my own veins. Get it together, Lily. Narcissa rushes over – oh thank God. I never thought I'd be happy to see Narcissa but I am. Maybe she can stop him.

"Severus, please," she says, whispering some other things I can't quite catch. Snape sighs and lowers his wand.

"Lock him up," he orders to one of the Death Eaters.

He comes back over to me after brushing Narcissa off.

"Are you alright?"

"I think so."

"Don't worry; he's locked up in the cellar. He can't hurt you."

He just tortured someone and he thinks I'm threatened by James? Merlin, I thought he was intelligent. He seems to take my white face and panic as fear. How obtuse is he?

"Good," I force out.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes… I've never seen anyone be tortured before," I lie.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I'm sorry he had the nerve to show up here."

"Well…" Snape sighs, "I hope you didn't believe what he said about me."

"Of course not," I say quickly.

"He thought he was amazing – in school, he stalked about like he owned the place."

"He married a Mudblood, didn't he?" a lady I hadn't noticed previously says standing next to us.

"Yes," Snape affirms.

"Tainting his blood like that," the lady says, sighing, "he's just as bad as the piece of filth he married."

"I quite agree."

"What's his Mudblood whore like?" the lady asks.

"Just as you described," Severus says half-heartedly.

"Word has it that you once found her beautiful."

Severus snorts, "Her? I'd sooner die."

The lady chortles and I try to join in. So this is truly what he thinks of me. Was he lying earlier on? I can't help feeling slightly sick. Instead, I distract myself thinking how I could rescue James.

SEVERUS' P.O.V

This evening is dragging out considerably. Potter showed up for some reason or other and without his little friends. I lost my temper with him and tortured him in front of everyone which wasn't the plan. I'd promised Narcissa that if I was going to spill any blood, it wouldn't be on her newly waxed floors… so much for that. I feel a little guilty about it – there's this lady, Andrea Selwyn, who is here at the party and I think she was rather shaken up by the ordeal. She's lovely and she reminds me of Lily – as, seemingly, does every girl these days. Narcissa keeps giving me meaningful looks when she's in close proximity to where Andrea and I are talking. It's irritating to say the least but I don't really mind. Andrea is charming.

I'm expecting the Dark Lord to make an appearance soon. He promised Narcissa faithfully that he'd come to her party – whether or not she invited him remains unclear. He may have questionable morals but one cannot deny that he is pragmatic and efficient. His every move is perfectly made, every hint carefully given and he has enough control over his followers to make them obey him but not so much that they are (always) stunned into body-bound, tongue-tied states whenever he is near. I won't be surprised if we win the war – we have the better side. One does wonder, sometimes, if it is the Dark Lord's intention to win the war at all. He seems rather… absent-minded when it comes to battle strategy – preferring, instead, to traipse off on his own to do individual missions for some greater goal he has neglected to inform us about.

All we know is that he is waiting for something – or someone. I imagine it has something to do with the prophecy. Very few of us are sure what exactly he is trying to accomplish. Some think it is world domination, others think it's the eradication of Muggles, others think that his aim is immortality. I say it is a combination. There is no doubt about it that the Dark Lord strives to conquer death but he also yearns for power and control. How he gets it and when doesn't seem overly important.

I've often entertained the idea of being immortal but my conclusion is that it is not something I want. The Dark Lord wants it though – he wants it so much he's willing to split his soul, damage himself and purge the world in order to get it. He certainly has motivation and anyone would be a fool to stop him.

Dumbledore thinks he can stop him and I'm willing to humour him. For now, I think I'll sort out my Potter problem and converse with Andrea before preparing for his visit. What a long night this will be.