Severus Snape and the Last Year

Level 3.7: Narcissa

The days that followed held all the pains of withdrawal as Persephone forsook his company to spend time with her nephew. The first day Severus locked himself away from everyone in his room and brooded over what had been said in Dumbledore's office. He would have liked to say he was thinking or giving it careful consideration, but brooding was a more accurate term.

His insomnia returned, which meant longer waking hours trapped with his thoughts. He forgot to eat, which was his habit when depression took him. He tried to reassure himself that the absence was temporary. Naturally she needed time with her nephew before the other students returned. Naturally the headmaster's words had worried her. It was likely she thought her avoidance would protect him. He tried to take comfort in this, but he still felt like precious days had once again been stolen from them.

He forced himself to attend breakfast the second morning. It was important to keep up appearances, and his stomach growled angrily at him.

Persephone was alone at the Slytherin table with the Dey children. The seventh years must have slept in again. He tried to look at her the way a stranger might. She did have a young face, though her hair might counter balance that. Most people associated silver with age. She was short, but her figure was as well developed as any of her classmates, more a woman's than a child's. Though it was often obscured under robes and other pieces of loose fitting clothing, this morning she was wearing a striped sweater someone else must have given her and her Muggle blue jeans. He could see the curve of her hip and wanted to touch her so badly it ached.

He forced himself to concentrate on his eggs. Severus knew she was capable of cloaking herself in an aura of maturity. There was something motherly in the way she smiled at Thomas and patted Victoria's hand. But she did have a tendency to slip into very childlike mannerisms when she was nervous or excited.

A small box dropped beside his golden plate, and Severus looked up to see Draco's eagle owl, Oberon, steal a piece of bacon before flapping off. The box was wrapped in polka dot paper with a magenta ribbon. There was no note. It contained a single crystalline ornament. Severus placed the delicate butterfly on his palm, and he knew the gift was from Persephone.

"That's very pretty," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Severus closed his fingers protectively around the ornament. "Late Christmas present," he said and slipped it back in the box. Persephone was looking up at him with timid eyes, trying to see if he understood the message. He did but allowed only the tightest, brief smile with the headmaster watching.

****************

His fifth year had been hard for him. The outside world had become darker. Tensions between the houses were high, and the bullying inside Hogwarts had gotten worse. Lucius was often too busy to defend him. Avery and Regulus spent too much time around him. Beyond this he seemed to be at constant war with his own insides. He felt angry more often than he should. His body never seemed to do what he told it, and other boys had started flirting with Persephone.

He did not think she deliberately encouraged this behavior, but she was too friendly. Boys saw it as an invitation. She followed him outside one day early in May, when he went to hunt caterpillars for Potions class. It was easy work. They were everywhere. She laid down in the tall grass while he dropped to his knees beside the low bushes that grew near the lake. Nearby saplings allowed them some dapple shade.

The weather was beautiful. Everything was in bloom, which threatened to excite his allergies. Persephone was lying on her side, head cradled on her elbow. Her silver hair fell around her like a halo, while her school robes modestly covered her form. "Do you think anyone will ask me to the leaving dance?"

"Probably," he said as he pried one of the fuzzy creatures off a leaf and dropped it into his jar.

"Has anyone asked you?"

Severus let out a bitter laugh at this idea. "Everyone in my year hates me."

"Really?" Her voice was skeptical, but the warm sun and cool breeze had made her lazy. "I suppose that's a form of popularity. Why do you think they hate you?"

"Other than your brother cursing me every chance he gets? The girls look at me like I'm some sort of fungus or cockroach. They won't sit by me if they can avoid it. Even the ones in Slytherin."

"Why would they do that?" she asked, sounding like she genuinely could not fathom it.

"Probably because I'm smarter than they are." This phrase reminded him that he might be exaggerating a bit but brought to mind a different frustration. Besides he was trying to goad a kind word out of her.

"That's very modest of you. You think they're jealous?" He glanced back to see there was a lazy grin tugging at her lips.

"I'm not bragging," he scowled. "It's like we speak a different language. They don't understand me, and I don't understand them. Most of the time they ignore me. Avoid me like I have a disease. They probably wouldn't care if I died."

Her silver eyes narrowed, assessing him. "You're like a caterpillar," she declared without lifting her head.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're crawling now, but there's a butterfly inside you."

Severus stared down at his peculiar friend while trying to decide if that was a compliment. "A butterfly?"

"Mm-hm, you're going to be beautiful when you grow up. Absolutely spectacular. Shock them all. Un papillon."

Severus could feel himself blushing so he turned his face away. "Most caterpillars become moths, you know," he said just to be difficult.

Persephone must have rolled up, because her arms slipped around his middle to squeeze him. He felt her chin rest on his shoulder and heard her soft voice in his ear. "I know. But you're going to be a butterfly."

He felt his face grow hot and looked down at the wriggling collection in his jar. He was frightened of feeling this happy, so he retreated to his sarcasm. "So what you're really saying is that I'm a useless, ugly, little worm right now." His voice seemed to want to change in the middle of the sentence.

Persephone laughed. "What's useless about being a caterpillar? I could always chop you up and put you in a potion."

"You won't get a butterfly that way," he said. He considered dumping the caterpillars back onto the bush where he had collected them, to make more butterflies for her, but he was a pragmatic. He did need them for Potions class. Persephone's arms slipped away, but she sat close and smiled at him.

****************

He placed the butterfly ornament on his bedside table that evening and laid down on his bed to stare at it. He understood the message, but he did not feel like a butterfly. At best he was an old moth. More often he felt like the ghost of a caterpillar that had been chopped up and stirred into something unpleasant.

Still, if there was anyone on earth who could bring out beauty in him, it was her. Dumbledore was being ridiculous. He could control himself. He had been doing so for four months now. They would have to wait. He knew that. Perhaps it was better to wait until she was eighteen rather than seventeen, but he had considered that before too. Ms. Granger had rattled him into sounding impatient.

He would be forty when she turned eighteen.

Unable to sleep, he decided to share his insomnia with the headmaster but discovered there was no need to wake the old wizard. Albus Dumbledore was on his way downstairs for a hot chocolate. Severus met him on his way up the grand stair case and fell into step beside him as they descended to the kitchens. They took their mugs and a plate of biscuits the house-elves had forced on them into the staff room and lit the fire.

"The Potters seem to be getting on well enough now they've been introduced," Dumbledore said conversationally.

"Yes," Severus said dryly. They had both watched Persephone greet her nephew with a very eager, very public hug in the Great Hall that morning. There was a part of him that was happy for her, but he also worried this new behavior would make her more of a target. Hopefully, the differences in their coloring and gender would keep people from noticing the similarities about the nose and chin. Not that it mattered much. If people mistook her for Potter's girlfriend, it could be worse than their discovering her as his aunt.

"How are you doing?" the headmaster asked, not unkindly.

"Fine," Severus said automatically. "Have you had further thoughts about that letter I showed you?"

Dumbledore considered him. "Many thoughts but none worth repeating. You've still felt no summons?"

"No." Severus perched his finger tips around the rim of his mug, before sliding his hand down to hold it in a more traditional grip. "I wonder if I should make another visit in the morning. This quiet is unusual."

"If you think that letter is a warning, it may be best to heed it," Dumbledore said before sipping his own mug.

"Persephone thought it was a warning," Severus clarified.

He was reward by watching Dumbledore's lips press into a thin line. "How much have you told her?"

"Very little," Severus admitted. "Mostly only confirming things she had sorted out on her own. She found the letter on my desk."

"Careless of you." Dumbledore's reprimand was undermined by his yawn. "I'd rather you didn't involve her, Severus. She needs time to heal. I'd keep Harry out of things if not for that prophecy."

"Just like you've kept Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley out of it?" Severus asked not so innocently.

Dumbledore gave him a sideways glance but chuckled as annoyance melted into chagrin. "If they're going to charge in with Harry regardless, they may as well go armed. Besides they're all of age now."

"Do you think we've put a little too much weight on this prophecy about Potter?" Severus asked, not for the first time. "Consider the source. Trelawney is not the most gifted Seer."

Dumbledore drank quite a bit of cocoa before he answered. "Give me an alternative, Severus, and I'll be happy to take it. The prophecy is real only because Lord Voldemort made it real. If he shared my disdain for divination, things would be different now."

"I should go back then?"

"We will learn nothing new if you don't," Dumbledore said pragmatically. "It would be nice to know whether our enemies are still in the same hiding place, and whether Narcissa Malfoy was lying."

****************

Persephone's fourteenth birthday was overshadowed by the death of Narcissa's father. Narcissa took the news with grim silence. Andromeda cried openly at the Hufflepuff table. Bellatrix appeared at lunch time to embrace her tearless sister and ignore the crying one. "Don't worry, Cissy. I'll always look out for you." Severus was seated further down the table, but Bella's voice carried. By the end of her visit, she had gotten Narcissa's promise to be strong and assured her that her own wedding to Rodolphus would still take place in June. "Father would have wanted us to carry on like Blacks."

If Persephone had any premonition of the event, she kept it to herself, but she played nervously with the salt shaker until Bella left. Severus was only bothered because he could not get a clear answer on how Narcissa's father had died. The obituary was vague. There seemed to be no investigation. He was not tactless enough to ask Narcissa. Lucius dodged the question by asking if it mattered. The few times Severus tried to discuss this with Persephone she pressed her lips together and looked away.

The other fifth year girls clung so tightly to Narcissa for the rest of the week it was difficult to get close enough to offer condolences. Persephone was able to squeeze in just long enough to give her a quick hug. Severus gave her space.

Otherwise it had been a good year for her. She had returned to school as a prefect, and with no Bella around to cast a shadow over her, Narcissa took her place in the sun. She had her revenge on Lucius by flirting with her own Ravenclaw, but never fully abandoned her place at his side. Slytherin's social queen wore her crown with dignity. Even people in other houses liked her and expressed their sympathies. She grieved with dignity. So much so, Severus sometimes wondered if she was really sad.

He was not sure he would feel sad if his own father died. Relieved perhaps. Maybe.

Unlike Lucius, Narcissa sought the company of her fellow fifth years to study for her O.W.L.s, joining groups of Slytherins and Ravenclaws in the library. Without her to glue them together, Lucius abandoned their old study group for extra Quidditch practices. This left Severus and Persephone to spend a fair bit of time together. Severus did not mind this.

For no reason that he could discern, Lily Evans used this as an excuse to talk to him again. "I was really sorry to hear about Black's father," she told him in an earnest voice that confused him.

Severus could think of nothing to say so he nodded.

"Why not show Sirius some sympathy, Evans?" James Potter asked in that overly formal way he had adopted. It was in stark contrast to his body language. They had lingered after History of Magic. Binns had already floated out of the room. James' feet were propped up on the desk in front of him, his arm flung carelessly over the back of his chair. Severus thought he looked like he was posing for a shot in Quidditch Quarterly. "Cygnus was his uncle after all."

Sirius snorted. He was sitting on the desk beside James; his own feet on a chair, posing. Lupin and Pettigrew were slumped nearby. "Evans can keep her sympathy. I'm glad he's dead. Bet you anything Bella bumped him off."

"You're really horrid. You know that?" Lily said indignantly. "Come on, Snape."

Severus, who was not used to being ordered out of a room by a pretty girl, followed her, while James feet fell off the desk.

"You don't think Sirius could be right, do you?" she asked him nervously once they were out in the hall.

Severus shrugged. There were few things he would put past Bella, but it was far too weighty an accusation to make without proof of some kind.

"Sorry," she said, hugging her history text. "Either way it's got to be hard on Narcissa. I couldn't imagine... Anyway, I didn't want to make trouble by trying to talk to her, but I thought maybe you'd be able to pass it on. If you think it would help. I don't want to make her feel worse."

Severus knew what she meant by trouble. Deep down Narcissa did not care one bit, but because of Lucius and family pressure, she was very cold to Muggle-borns and found excuses to keep them out of her social circle. With Slytherin girls excuses could become rather vicious, and Severus did not doubt this had rippled out to pretty, intelligent, popular Lily (who by blood purist logic should be none of these things). He was not sure if Narcissa would appreciate it, but the kindness of it touched him.

Persephone was kind too, but Severus often thought naively so. There was nothing naive about Evans. She knew full and well that Narcissa would throw her to the wolves if need be, but that did not seem to matter. Narcissa was hurt, so Lily was being kind.

They came to a stop by the library. Severus had not really intended to walk this far with her, but she had made no comment on his silence. Given all the people she could have chosen to deliver her message, Severus thought it was both kind and insightful for her to come to him too. He remembered something Persephone had said long ago, about saving her, and frowned at Evans with concern. "You know you're too good for Potter, right?"

She laughed. Green eyes lighting with surprise and merry suspicion. "I don't really think anyone's better than anyone else, not even Potter," she said, cocking her head to the side. "Do you?"

Severus smiled and shook his head. He knew she was making a political statement and admired her wit. While not entirely sure he agreed with her, he liked Lily logic.

****************

Persephone left the Great Hall the next morning swinging her nephew's hand. Severus enjoyed the bewildered look on Daphne Greengrass's face but noticed that Victoria took it in stride. Draco was trying a little too hard not to react. He approached the high table before Severus had finished eating.

"Excuse me, Professor. Do you mind letting me into the Potions lab today?"

"Not all," Professor Snape replied. "You can follow after I'm finished."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, polite as always, and returned to the Slytherin table.

He waited for Dumbledore to make some comment about favoritism, but the headmaster said nothing. After breakfast, he found all four Slytherins left their seats to follow him into the dungeons.

The others split off before they reached the Potions lab. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Victoria do a pirouette but dismissed it as unlikely. Daphne caught him looking and did a few dance steps of her own, but he ignored her.

He unlocked the Potions lab with a quick wave of his hand. "Thank you, sir," Draco said politely and went straight to work. Severus brought his own work into the lab. He had finished grading all the essays, but there were still lots of little vials to test and grade.

They did not speak, but Severus suspected Draco felt much like he did. It was not jealousy, more like abandonment. Persephone had gone back to her family, where she was supposed to be, and left them both behind. It was not entirely a sad thing. He liked seeing her happy. He was genuinely pleased that once Potter was able to put her in context he was treating her well. It was right. He felt empty, but it was right.

He worked his way very slowly through the vials. Persephone needed time to heal, and he needed time to process. He had pushed aside his confusion for her comfort, but he had spent so many years so sure that Black had been the culprit. It had been a steel certainty. Black had motive and opportunity. Black had smiled while others grieved. Severus never had any proof, but Black's betrayal of the Potters...Black's murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles...it had been as good as a confession. Black was guilty, and Black was in Azkaban.

He had not allowed himself to believe she was dead. The suspicion would creep in at times, but he would not allow it to become belief. Black had hidden her somewhere, cursed her, Obliviated her memory, tricked her into picking up a portkey to some remote corner of the earth. He would accept anything but death. Still as the years had passed, he had taken some consolation, allowed the world to balance, retained some sense of justice, because Black was guilty and Black was in Azkaban.

Even when Black had been cleared of the Potter's murder, even after he had come face to face with a living Pettigrew, he had not been able to fully deconstruct that myth. He had the presence of mind to search Pettigrew's thoughts with Legilimency, to question him about Persephone, but the rat had known nothing. Pettigrew had no talent for Occlumency. To Wormtail, Persephone was nothing more than proof that the world had no special love for the good. She had been kind and honest and see what that had gotten her. Gone. Dead.

She's not dead, Severus had snapped at him. Do you think Black could have been involved?

Certainly, certainly, the ugly little man had agreed. Black didn't like her. He joked about getting her room once, then asked me not to tell James. Legilimency had confirmed the memory. Severus had ignored the regret in Black's eyes, explained it to himself as regret over letting a clue slip, not regret over the sentiment.

But Black had not done it. Black was not guilty. Persephone had all but laughed that idea off. Severus felt the room swim as the full weight of his miscalculation hit him. He had almost killed the man. Almost handed an innocent man to the dementors to have his soul sucked out....well perhaps not entirely innocent, Black had tried to feed him to a werewolf after all. But still, that night he had been very close to killing Lupin too, and that--

Persephone might have forgiven him for killing Black. She never would have forgiven him for killing Lupin. She loved the werewolf. Besides Lupin had been entirely innocent. Chosen his friends poorly, put his students in danger certainly, but not a murderer, not an accomplice, almost a patsy.

Severus rubbed his temples. His head hurt. Thoughts, self accusations, and recriminations were screeching inside his brain.

The worst part was that he had stopped looking. Sixteen years ago. He had been broken, desperate, hopeless, weary, and suddenly the Dark Lord was gone, the Potters were dead, and Sirius Black was in Azkaban. He had not stopped looking for Persephone, not entirely, but he had stopped looking for suspects, stopped reexamining the clues, stopped letting her dominate his every waking thought. He had let his black fire die. It had diminished from a wildfire to something he could lock safely behind a grate and finally to a candle's flicker.

He had stopped looking because Sirius Black was in Azkaban. She had spent the last sixteen years locked in a painting, alone, because he had the wrong man.

Severus stood and walked out of the Potions lab. Draco glanced up at him but most likely assumed he was taking a bathroom break.

Severus did walk to the nearest bathroom. There was a small one down in the dungeons, not far from the Potions lab. He closed the door and let his back fall against it to block any entry. Privacy achieved, he let his face contort with all the pain he was feeling. Sixteen years. He had blamed the wrong man for sixteen years. He had stopped looking at the evidence. She had spent sixteen years alone, her life, his life, wasting away, because he had blamed the wrong man.

Severus slid down to the floor, a dry sob, a silent scream. He couldn't even cry properly.

He tried to reason with himself. There was no guarantee he would have found her even if he had known the truth about Black. Three and a half years of investigation had turned up no solid leads. But it was a pale comfort. He had failed her. Draco had rescued her, but he had failed.

And Harry...hadn't he promised her he would protect Harry? What if he hadn't gotten side tracked? What if he had put the clues together? Draco had somehow. What if he could have rescued her while he was still young enough to be what she needed? He had ignored it, dismissed it, but he had heard the others at Grimmauld Place talk about how the Dursleys had treated Harry. He had heard Lupin and Sirius bemoan not having been able to take him away from there, but Lupin was too poor and Sirius in jail. Persephone though, she would have taken care of her nephew. Blood magic be hanged, she would have taken him home to be loved. Home to him? Weird thought. Very weird. He would have made a terrible father figure, but he did have the good sense to know that boys did not belong in cupboards...but surely, that was an exaggeration...part of the myth...no one would really stick a child in a cupboard would they? He squirmed. Half-starved, just meant they hadn't been spoiling him, didn't it?

Severus had allowed the infant Harry to be tucked away in his mind with Dumbledore's reassurance. He's safe. It's best to leave him there. With family. He had dreaded the child coming to Hogwarts, dreaded being handed back the responsibility of protecting him. He had done such a poor job the first time around. Severus shuddered. Persephone would have wanted him to check on the baby. He had not. He had left it to others. Left it to a squib and a bunch of Muggles.

He should have gone to Azkaban. He should have questioned Black. But he had failed. He had failed both of them, all of them.

****************

He had not been the best man at Lucius's wedding. He would not have wanted to be. For a Malfoy's wedding, it was a role with far too much political significance and pressure, but Lucius had kept him close while he got ready. Severus would have been happy to run little errands for him. But Lucius sent house-elves and other groomsmen to double check flower arrangements, approve cuff links, see to guests, and whatever else Lucius developed an anxiety about. But when Mrs. Malfoy poked in to tell her son that Narcissa was crying, Severus was the one he trusted to investigate.

Lucius had wanted to go himself, but there were superstitions about the bridegroom seeing the bride before the wedding. His mother held very firmly to this superstition, and Lucius did not want to risk her being right.

Narcissa's mother, Druella, stalked out of the room where Narcissa was getting ready as Severus raised his hand to knock. She took no notice of him as he stepped quickly out of her way. She was a handsome woman for her age, dark haired like Bella, but there was something of Narcissa about her features. There was also something hard and cold about her. Severus did his best to ignore the lingering trace of darkness left in her wake as he coughed politely in the door way.

Narcissa looked inhumanly beautiful, sitting on an armless piece of furniture in the center of the room, even with the tears streaking down her cheeks. She was shivering with her sobs as Bella tried to comfort her. "There, there, Cissy. You don't have to marry him if you don't want to. If you don't want to live with mother anymore, you could always come stay with Roddy and me."

Narcissa blue eyes widened as she looked at her sister. "Of course, I want to--"

"What do you want, Snape?" Bella demanded, her arm still wrapped possessively around Narcissa's shoulder.

Severus ignored Bellatrix and spoke to the bride. "Lucius sent me. He was worried." Narcissa gave him a grateful, tear-stained smile.

"She'll be fine," Bella snapped. Her dark eyes daring him to argue. "Now, go away."

"No!" Narcissa gasped and reached out a hand to him. "Stay, please!" He stepped forward to take it in the most gentlemanly fashion he could manage. "Let Severus stay," she repeated to Bella this time.

Bella had no time to argue as Druella reappeared in the doorway. "Bellatrix, your husband is looking for you."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Tell him I'm busy."

"A wife does not deny her husband--" Druella began hotly.

"Fine," Bella cut her off, though the heat in her voice implied more distaste than agreement with the sentiment. Rodolphus might pay for summoning her. "Don't let Snape molest you while I'm gone, Cissy." Severus gritted his teeth, knowing that was her idea of a joke. He did hate that woman.

Druella cast a disapproving glare on her eldest, as she strode past, and a suspicious but dismissive one at Snape. She carefully positioned the door to half opened, and quickly decided to follow the daughter most likely to make a disgraceful scene.

Narcissa indulged in another gasping sob after they were gone.

Severus patted her hand awkwardly, not sure how to comfort her. He had some vague idea that it was normal for women to be overwhelmed on their wedding day. Cold feet. "Lucius would never force you. If you're not ready..."

"Oh, no!" Narcissa's finger squeezed his tightly. "I'm so ready! I love Lucius! I love him more than--" She seemed unable to find for an appropriate comparison, and she laughed at herself. "You must think I'm so foolish, Severus, but I'm frightened. I got so horribly frightened that something would go wrong. I am horribly frightened."

Severus kept his hand on hers. "What could go wrong?"

Narcissa's tearful smile grew taut. "A thousand things. I keep imagining... Have you ever been frightened of things being too perfect? Lucius doesn't understand. He expects things to be perfect. They should be perfect for him. And I've wanted my life to be perfect too. I want to be a Malfoy. I want to be his wife so badly. I know life isn't like a fairy tale, where you fall in love and everything's fine. But this is so close. It's so close it terrifies me. I keep expecting something to happen, for reality to barge in and ruin it, but...I think that would kill me. I think if I didn't marry him, I would die." She shivered again, and her bright blue eyes looked beseechingly into his black one. "Have you ever been so happy it terrified you?"

"Yes." His lips had barely parted as the word slipped out, but it seemed to slap Narcissa out of her hysteria.

"Oh, Severus," she stood and clasped both his hands in her. There was a mix of horror and genuine apology in her eyes. "Oh, Severus, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Dear--can you ever forgive me?"

"It's all right," he had reassured her. Her words had hurt, stabbed straight through the widening maw in his chest, but he knew she had not spoken to hurt him. "Lucius loves you. There's no reason you shouldn't have a perfect life."

Narcissa raised his hands close to her chin. He had no memory of her ever standing so close to him or looking at him so intently. "I'm sure she's okay. Wherever she is, I know she's safe. And I know you're going to find her." He had no response for the intensity of her emotion. He had never done well with emotion. She bowed her head, kissed his hand, and laid her cheek against it.

He was saved from finding words by the reappearance of Narcissa's mother. Narcissa's hand tensed in his when she spotted her.

"I think it's time you go," Druella said coldly.

"Oh, mother, Severus is a dear friend," she said, a carefully constructed fond disinterest laced into her voice. "He was just telling me how silly I am to cry because Lucius loves me very much." Narcissa released one hand so she could wipe her eyes, demonstrating how Severus had calmed her with his reasoning.

"I should think so," her mother said stiffly. She seemed to remember he would be reporting to Lucius, so she gave him a false smile. "Weddings are a stressful time for every bride. Don't let a few tears worry him. Narcissa is sad to leave her family, very natural, but her tears will dry before the ceremony." Severus felt Narcissa's hand tense around his again.

"Yes, please tell don't Lucius how silly I've been," Narcissa said with her own beautifully false smile. "Tell him I'll be ready on time." Her eyes said escape, escape, don't let anything go wrong with my escape.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "Enjoy your last hour as a Black. You'll be a Malfoy soon."

Narcissa gave him a genuine smile at his understanding. He reassured Lucius that she was fine and kept her confession private. The wedding was perfect as only a Malfoy wedding could be. Lucius and Narcissa both smiled beautifully.

****************

Severus had not needed to escape his own family. They had disowned him. The moment they discovered he had been a Death Eater the house had been barred to him. The fact he had repented and spied meant nothing to them. He had willingly joined Lord Voldemort, which made him a murderer, and his father and mother could no longer stand the sight of him.

Severus had not argued with them. Somehow it seemed fair. He had probably been the only Death Eater at the trials who wanted to go to Azkaban. So the Ministry had punished him by sending him to Hogwarts. Not their idea of course, Dumbledore had argued for him while he limply awaited his fate, and they let him go teach their children because Dumbledore could keep an eye on him. Idiots.

Severus pushed himself off the bathroom floor. There was only so much wallowing in self pity that a respectable man could allow. He had been far more useful to everyone at Hogwarts than in Azkaban, and he had probably been much happier here than he would have been in prison.

Unless he stole a time turner, there was no undoing the mistakes of his past twenty years, and even then, he would still be forty when she turned eighteen. At best he could let the younger version of himself have a few happy years with her before the universe imploded from some temporal paradox, he had managed to create. Besides, he still did not know where she had been, not definitely, or who had taken her.

He returned to the Potions lab and settled behind his desk. He had vials to test. He looked over at Draco who was intently focused on brewing some Draught of Living Death, so he could try to dehydrate it. And suddenly he understood. He knew deeply, surely, profoundly, who had taken his silver girl and left her in a painting for twenty years.

And the instant he understood who, he also understood why.

"Narcissa."

****************

Married life had suited Lucius. The Dark Lord had allowed him to take his new bride on a long honeymoon. The newlyweds returned to an empty manor. Malfoy senior had transplanted his wife to their summer home in France and kept himself occupied with business out of the country for the duration of the war. Lucius and Narcissa frequently played host to those they considered high society. The first time Severus was invited over Lucius had smiled with such an attitude of perfect contentment that he had felt a stab of jealousy. Not over the manor or Narcissa, he wanted neither, but for that taste of bliss.

Lucius was giddily fond of his new wife. He wrapped his giddiness up in an air of dignity and refinement, but the affection was clear. He doted on her when she was present and wanted to speak about her when she was absent.

Narcissa for her part seemed eager to avoid the Curse Master. At first Severus thought she was embarrassed that he had seen her fall apart before the wedding, but later he realized that anything connected to the war made her anxious. She had her fairy tale life and was worried the Death Eaters would take it from her. She kissed Lucius's cheek and left them alone in the study to talk.

Lucius smiled fondly after her. "Narcissa's taken it into her head that she wants an occupation," he told his friend. It was clear in his voice he found this silly and unnecessary but would not deny her anything that pleased her. "She's applied to study as an Obliviator. I imagine she'll want to abandon it when she has a baby to distract her, but I figure what harm can it do."

Severus had smiled indulgently at his friend, who no doubt thought he was being quite progressive, and agreed with him. What harm could it do?

Apparently quite a bit. Narcissa was a competent witch, but not particularly gifted. She had no talent at all for memory charms. She studied them harder than any subject she had ever tried at Hogwarts, but she was hopeless. The program would not let her advance to live subjects. In a desperate attempt to practice, she had talked Lucius into letting her tag along on some Death Eater sport, to see if she could remove the Muggles memory of the event. She had managed that more or less. She had also destroyed half their mind. Her failure had horrified her beyond what seemed appropriate for a proper blood purist. Lucius had tried to reassure her that they were only a couple of Muggles, that she would improve with further practice, but there was no comforting her. She cried for hours, was jumpy for weeks, and abandoned all attempts to pursue any sort of career.

She only found peace when she learned she was pregnant and put all her energy into being the perfect wife and mother.

****************

"What, Professor?"

There he was, Draco, Narcissa's greatest achievement, and now her penance. Draco with his father's eyes and mother's skin. Severus tried to feel angry at her. He wanted a new focus for the rage he had spent on Sirius Black, but he was unable to muster it.

"Nothing," he said. Draco frowned thoughtfully but returned to his work. It was like trying to be angry at a veela for drowning the man she had lured. There was no point.

****************

He had to think of Narcissa as a creature. If he thought of her as a woman, he might strangle her, and that would not make anyone any happier. Perhaps he could resurrect the Blacks and flog them for making their daughter so terrified of her own family that she would betray a loyal friend to secure a marriage. He could hunt down Lucius and growl at him for being such a pig-headed, blood purist teenage boy that he had...done what any normal teenage boy would do.

He understood why beautiful Narcissa thought relatively plain little Persephone might be a rival. Lucius was the sort of man who could have gotten away with having a wife and a mistress if he wanted. He had worried about it silently. Sometimes he thought Lucius was subtly trying to guide him and Persephone together. Other times he worried that Lucius saw him as a eunuch guard for the girl he was grooming. Narcissa was beautiful and sophisticated. The sort of games she and Lucius had played with each other during their dating years were things he could not fathom or follow, but Lucius was always so comfortable with Persephone. Narcissa looked good on his arm. Persephone made him laugh.

He had been wrong to worry. He remembered trying to explain with desperation, because no one else had understood why he needed to look for Persephone, and Lucius had merely nodded and said, "Of course, you have to look for her. She's your girl," as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. But Narcissa had not been there for that conversation.

Nor had she been there, when Lucius demanded to know why Severus had not asked Persephone to the dance his fifth year. "I can't dance," Severus had told him in the same that-much-should-be-obvious tone Lucius would use years later.

"You are hopeless," Lucius had said in that exasperated tone which let Severus know he had entirely missed the point. But Lucius had taken pity on him and despite Severus's protests had taught him to dance. After an hour of Severus doing his best not to step on Lucius's feet and thanking the stars there was no one around to witness him waltzing with his hand on the tall, blonde Malfoy's waist, Lucius had taken a break and insisted Severus walk for him.

Severus had jerked grumpily from one end of the drawing room to the other, while Lucius scowled at him. "Merlin, man. You're an embarrassment to Slytherin." After this kind assessment, he had insisted on teaching Severus how to walk. Severus groused, cursed him mentally, but was secretly very eager and grateful for the lessons. Lucius spent several hours that summer reforming him, teaching him to stand properly, walk properly, speak properly, refining his manners. He no longer needed a secret swot, but the sort of friends who could hold the right positions. They played Quidditch with Lucius's friends, and he no longer put up with Severus flying in circles. With someone else to compete against, Severus had become a half-decent Seeker. More importantly, he had learned to make his body obey him, to walk with some semblance of grace, with confidence.

He doubted Lucius would approve, but one of the first things he did with his refined manners and new confidence was apologize to Lily Evans. Being the saint she was, after securing his promise never to use the term "Mudblood" ever again, she gave him a second chance. Partly to drive Potter to distraction and mostly because he wanted her advice, he finally asked her for that drink at the Three Broomsticks. Persephone had been mercilessly gleeful over him having a "date", which was ironic since he spent most of his time with Evans trying to get advice over how to ask out Persephone.

Evans had given him quite a bit of good advice, much of which boiled down to telling him to relax and stop over thinking things. The worst she could say was no.

Even with his improved confidence, the prospect of that no had been so terrifying he had put off asking Persephone about the dance as long as possible. In April, Lucius had pulled himself away from adulthood long enough to have lunch with his four year set at Hogsmeade. Persephone had twittered nervously that she was worried no one would ask her to the dance.

"I wouldn't worry," Lucius soothed her. "I think someone will ask you, but if they don't, I'll take you to the dance."

Persephone had beamed with relief, but Severus felt like Lucius had slapped him. Narcissa looked like she was feeling the same way. "But what about me?" she demanded.

"You'll have no trouble at all finding a date," Lucius had said with a confident and irritating lack of concern. However true that may have been, Narcissa did not want a date. She wanted Lucius. Severus understood that much while they were still sitting at the that table, maybe Lucius had understood it too.

In retrospect, Severus knew Lucius had been trying to goad him into action, but such subtleties had been lost on him at the time. "Why did you do that?!" he had demanded when the girls were out of earshot. "She'll never agree to go with me now!"

Lucius had aimed his cold, grey eyes at him, pity and irritation warring in them. "You don't know that until you ask her."

Lucius had been right of course. He understood these social things far better than Severus did, and apparently thought more highly of Severus than Severus did of himself, but he had underestimated Narcissa's desperation. He had played one game too many with her, and Persephone had paid the price.

****************

Blaming Lucius was fairly useless too. He was his own sort of creature. You might have better luck reasoning with a manticore than trying to make him understand that his games were too rough for most mortals. They were well matched. The manticore and the veela.

Severus wanted to feel angry, but he just felt exhausted.

He collapsed onto his bed that evening without undressing and stared at the crystal butterfly on his bedside table. It looked so fragile.

All he wanted to do was sleep or attempt to sleep, but his arm began to burn. He had managed to ignore the Dark Lord's summons a time or two and survive, but he had always had better excuses than wanting a lie-in. He rolled back up to his feet and straightened his robes. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and raised his arms. He could not see a butterfly. A bat maybe. People had made that comparison.

Biting back a sigh, he flung open the door to his apartment. Persephone was blocking his way. She looked like a specter in the long, white, old fashioned night gown he had bought her. Her hair was wilder than usual from the tousle of sleep. He was not entirely sure she was awake now. Her eyes seemed unfocused, intent but unfocused.

"You can't go," she whispered desperately.

Arguing with her in this state was useless too. "What?"

She clasped his arm, looked up at him with unfocused, watery eyes. "You can't go! They'll kill you! They know, Severus! You can't go." Her lip trembled. It was nice that someone wanted him alive, even if she was half-asleep.

His arm was burning angrily. He did his best to ignore it. "All right," he said, touching her cheek gently. "I won't go." She was not entirely awake. She swayed slightly on the spot, eyelids drooping. Severus put his arm around her shoulder and guided her back to the Slytherin common room.

As Head of House, he could enter the girls dormitory if needed, but it was not something he liked to do unless absolutely necessary. Instead he settled her on one of the couches and conjured a blanket. He tucked her in and stroked her hair until she drifted back into a normal sleep.

She was a different sort of creature...a fairy, a nymph...a unicorn...Silver Child....delicate as a butterfly. He was afraid of breaking her, spoiling something so pure.

He had nothing else to do, so he returned to his own room and laid back down. He did not doubt her warning. She was never wrong about these things. They know. It was just as well. He was not sure his resolve not to kill Narcissa would have held if he had come face to face with her that night. There was no telling what he would have said to Lucius.

He should have felt relief. He hated lying. Hated pretended to be something he was not. Spouting the pureblood tripe. Keeping up the constant masks. Playing the dangerous game of double agent. He should feel relieved he could not be expected to do it anymore. But all he felt as he lay in bed with his arm burning was useless.