Tea and Chocolate

Azkaban could not hold Lucius Malfoy. Like Sirius Black, he was not given the opportunity to testify in his own defense, but unlike Black, he had no need to do so; mere weeks after his imprisonment, he walked out a free man. In the absence of the dementors it was likely that he would have been able to escape on his own, yet a breakout never became necessary. He had powerful friends at the Ministry, allies in every country in Europe, an outraged mob of supporters whose businesses and charities had benefited from his family's contributions. Moreover, he had explanations, excuses, and the most damning evidence against him came from a recently disgraced headmaster along with group of children including a boy widely believed to be unstable.

From the moment he had seen Goyle at Hogwarts, Snape had known that an invitation would come, and while he might have been able to postpone seeing Malfoy, he could not refuse it outright. Snape understood that his connection to the Death-Eater was invaluable to the Order, and there was no one else who understood Lucius so well -- not even his own wife -- even though Dumbledore might not have asked Snape to continue, had he realized precisely what Malfoy would expect of him.

So Snape waited, attempting to disguise his apprehension from Lupin, not wishing to guess at what might happen when inevitably he received a summons from the wizard who had been his mentor and lover for nearly half his life. Lupin did not pry, but a man with half his sensitivity could not have avoided noticing Snape's agitation. Nor could Lupin have helped observing Snape's dislike of certain activities. It must have been apparent that Snape loathed being restrained or being made to beg, for Lupin no longer tried, though he could not have guessed the associations in Snape's mind because Snape had never told him. Most of the time, being with Lupin was so exceptional compared to every previous lover that it was rare for Snape to find his pleasure disrupted by memories.

He knew that Lupin was only trying to entice him, the evening he wrapped his arms around Snape from behind, pinning him momentarily against the back of a chair and murmuring, "I'd like to use Immobilus on you like this and suck you until you scream." Lupin misunderstood Snape's involuntary shiver as his neck was licked, laughing and repeating the gesture, and when Snape shuddered again, recoiling, it wounded Lupin, who assumed that his lover was reacting out of an instinctive fear of being bitten by a werewolf. "Severus, I'm sorry," he said in a voice so thick that Snape was ashamed. "I didn't *think*..."

Turning to face Lupin, Snape rose out of his chair. "Have you ever had anyone use Immobilus on you in that manner?" He meant to explain, but when Lupin gave him an embarrassed nod, he grew annoyed instead. "Then you know that it is impossible to scream unless the reaction is wholly involuntary, and a scream may not indicate pleasure. With Immobilus it is possible to coax sounds from the most unwilling of participants." Brow furrowed unhappily, Lupin nodded again, and Snape was quite unable to keep disgust from his voice as he snapped, "I suppose you must enjoy that. Perhaps you should have been the Death-Eater."

Lupin didn't say a word, yet he took a step back and might have walked out of the room had Snape not reached out to catch his wrist. "*He* used Immobilus, just before giving a wizard the Dark Mark. It would have been impossible to remain still, otherwise. It's excruciatingly painful, you know. Many wizards pass out."

"I didn't know," replied Lupin. "I'm truly sorry. I had no idea it would remind you of that." The apology only deepened Snape's guilt, however, because the memory with which he was struggling came from long before he became a Death-Eater. It involved Lucius Malfoy and one of Snape's earliest sexual experiences, and it made him blush, even as he shuddered again, which Lupin misread once more. "I do understand, Severus. I've never been able to play any sort of games involving collars."

"Pity. I would think the humor in that would have appealed to Black."

The words were spat with excess venom, but Lupin responded with a mollifying smile. "Oh, it did. He joked about it. But he wouldn't have done anything to hurt me, and of course he knew about the history of werewolves and silver collars and chains."

"He wouldn't have done anything to hurt you, yet he used Immobilus on you? It's said to be nearly as dangerous as erotic asphyxiation."

"Not everything Sirius did made sense. But I was usually willing to go along with whatever he wanted."

"You never said no?" Lupin shook his head. "Because you never wanted to refuse, or you simply didn't want to say it?" A slight wince answered Snape's question. "Are you sorry, now, that you didn't?"

"I suppose I learned to tell myself I wanted what he wanted until it became true. I didn't want to lose him -- I was desperately afraid that I would. It was hard for me to believe that anyone could want me for myself. Keeping silent on occasion seemed a very small price to pay."

"Didn't you want to be certain there was some part of you that you had not compromised?"

"Oh, I never felt compromised. I loved him too much, and he would have compromised a great deal more for me." At some point during the conversation, Snape had released Lupin's wrist and let their fingers link together. Now Lupin squeezed his hand, rubbing back and forth between his knuckles. "Severus...do you want to know about my experiences, or are you trying to tell me yours?"

Taking a breath, Snape retrieved his hand and wiped the damp palm over his forehead, shoving his hair back. "Malfoy called me his whore," he said. "And I suppose that he was right -- I became a Death-Eater for him. But I always assumed that I would eventually lose him, and I wanted to be certain that when it happened, I would have some small amount of myself."

There was no censure in Lupin's eyes, only sympathy. "You must have been very strong," he said quietly. "Obviously you came away with more than just a small amount of yourself."

"As it happened, that was nearly all I came away with. But I did leave." Reaching out, Lupin took his hand again; Snape traced the veins in his lover's wrist with his thumb, studying the thin, translucent skin marked with a scar that made him wonder if the wolf had at one time tried to end its own torment. "I could not afford to tell myself things in order to make them true to myself -- I allowed myself no conscious self-deception. It was difficult enough to avoid it unconsciously. It still is. And...I must be able to lie to him."

"I understand." A quick lean forward brought Lupin close enough to kiss him as he spoke, touching Snape's face. "I want you to feel you can be honest with me, though. To talk about anything you don't want to have to bear alone, even if it might be unpleasant."

"It might be more than unpleasant. I do not wish for you to feel...betrayed."

"Oh, Severus, I won't. You don't have to tell me the details, but it's been quite apparent both what you expect when you see Malfoy and what you fear. If you do want to tell me, I'm not afraid to know." As his arms came around him, Lupin sighed, "Just remember that I love you."

The impact of those words had not faded with repeated hearing. Snape drew in a ragged breath, holding Lupin, wondering whether he could possibly realize the nature of Snape's lies to Lucius. Despite the things he had been forced to say in the past -- oaths he had sworn, falsehoods he had spoken directly to his former associates -- it was shockingly difficult to say what he knew he must. "Remus...I must be able to deny you. The truth could cost us both our lives. You must understand that there are situations in which we might find ourselves where I would have no choice but to declare that you mean nothing to me." Lupin looked distressed, but he was nodding. "And promise me that you will not profess loyalty to me if it would threaten your safety. Say whatever you must: I will know the truth."

"So will I." With a hand on his chin, Lupin tilted Snape's head so he was looking directly into his eyes. "Whatever it is you have to do, Severus...I forgive you. It changes nothing. I'll be with you."

Privately, Snape knew that the last could not be true; for the safety of Lupin as well as the entire Order, he planned to leave his most dangerous memories locked in his office inside a pensieve. He supposed that doing so might leave him more vulnerable to Malfoy and possibly to Voldemort as well. But at least it meant that Lupin would be safe.

The elegant letter sealed with the Malfoy crest was delivered to Snape at Hogwarts by a large, magnificent owl that flew through an open window as he walked, alone, through an otherwise deserted corridor -- a well-trained owl that waited patiently for his response, though Snape did not answer the note until after he had locked himself away in his office to concentrate, choosing his words carefully. Despite the formality of the invitation, he suspected that the meeting would be private rather than a gathering of Death-Eaters or Malfoy's friends.

It took him many careful hours to prepare, carefully selecting recollections too dangerous to risk Malfoy discovering in an unguarded moment and placing the delicate gossamer strands in the pensieve. He removed his recent memories of Lupin last, leaving only a faint acceptance of friendship between them. Some confusion lingered in his mind when he had finished, but the sense of loss, the inner emptiness, was not unfamiliar; those had been with him since he had left Lucius years before, and they settled like an accustomed weight in his chest.

Something seemed to be missing when he had finished, however. A compulsion sent him searching for the amulet which held his happiest memory of Lucius, from an afternoon long before the Death-Eaters had entered his life. He remembered hiding it for safekeeping, and quite recently, though he could not recall why he had believed it to be at risk, and after quite a long and fruitless search he guessed at its location in a secret drawer inexplicably filled with chocolate. He did not dare risk weakening himself by allowing himself to experience the memory it held, but he buried the amulet deep in a hidden pocket, carrying it with him as a talisman as he had done for so long.

Though their relationship had been strained for many years and had grown even more awkward since the Dark Lord's return, Malfoy greeted him with great enthusiasm, sitting him down to an extravagant meal, then walking him through the mansion and gardens to show off his latest acquisitions. Draco, of course, was at school, while Narcissa was evidently traveling, and all the human servants had been dismissed for the evening, though Snape was aware of elves working quietly, then disappearing behind curtains and around corners whenever he and Lucius approached.

He had expected to feel more awkward at the Malfoy home than he did, given the recent unpleasantness at the Ministry of Magic and Malfoy's role in the death of Sirius Black, but it was easy enough, in Lucius' presence, to put some of the more absurd accusations aside...to remember that this man had never been incautious, nor even so publicly cruel to Snape as Black himself. Moreover, in Lucius' presence it was impossible to forget the man's charisma, his sharp features and graceful carriage, but most of all the unexpected allure of his smile. Every room in the house held some memory for Snape, and while some were mingled with pain and shame, many brought echoes of overwhelming physical pleasure that made his body respond, though with a sluggishness that had not afflicted him when he was young and Lucius had first taught him these pleasures.

Snape experienced a single, uncanny moment when Lucius offered him chocolate, which made him think with odd intensity of Remus Lupin, who had always had a passion for sweets. He dismissed the thought as guilt over Black's death and Lupin's recent civility, and turned his attention back to his former lover, whose confidence made it difficult to believe in his subservience to any Dark Lord. The tour ended in the library, where the Malfoys had a recently acquired a very rare first edition of a book of potions written by a witch attached to the Medici family. While Severus carefully turned the ancient pages, he felt Lucius' hand move around his waist, pulling him into an embrace.

"I've missed you," the older wizard sighed. "This arrangement is dreadful. Very soon, when the Dark Lord is restored, it will no longer be necessary." As he put the book down, Snape tried to twist out of his arms, but Lucius only caught him between his hands, backing him against a bookcase. Turning his head to the side, Snape pretended to be examining the titles on the shelf across from him. "You can't hide from me, Severus. I know you doubt me. I know you've tried to convince Dumbledore" -- the name was said as if it referred to an offensive smell -- "that you've entirely renounced your allegiance to our Lord, but you can't pretend to have forgotten what you are to me."

This was a rather strong statement for an opening ploy from Malfoy, and as such easier for Snape to resist than the more usual, more subtle modes of attack. He asked softly, "What, then, are your plans for me after the Dark Lord is restored?"

"You'll be at my side, of course." Malfoy smiled at the question. "Neither of us has been able to choose what he wanted for a long time, have we, Severus?" Fingers slid into his hair as Lucius murmured, "It feels so good to be alone with you, even if it's only for a single evening."

Snape felt his eyes grow heavy and sink closed at the seductive touch. Never before had Malfoy approached him like this, making promises, speaking of the future; certainly it suggested a sort of desperation, and of course no personal feeling beyond a likely promise to Voldemort to keep the potions master in the fold, but any such weakness could be exploited so long as Snape remained in control of himself. "Goyle told me that he had a message from you," he said in as neutral a tone as possible.

"That was a message conveyed from another." So Voldemort was planning to summon Snape back into the circle of Death-Eaters once more. "They don't know you as I do, Severus -- most of them believe that you've betrayed our master. I've always defended you, but it may not be enough; soon, you must appear at my side rather than absenting yourself whenever there is a confrontation." Snape stole a glance at him, pulling back slightly, and Malfoy met his gaze with a wistful smile before lunging forward to kiss him.

A small whimper escaped Snape's nose, not really a moan, something bordering on surprise. But he did not push Lucius away, not even when the other man tried to part his lips and his robes at the same time. Snape's hand gripped the shelf behind him, for he was afraid it might shake if he let himself touch Malfoy who eagerly plundered his mouth, tugging open his clothing, then stroking over his trousers. For a moment Snape wondered whether Dumbledore had ever understood exactly what he was asking him to do for the enemies of Voldemort when he asked him to remain in contact with Malfoy. Pushing the thought aside with great vehemence -- and why couldn't he remember the name of the group that had opposed the Dark Lord? -- he grasped Lucius' arms and finally kissed him back, hearing Lucius groan deep in his throat, feeling him press even closer.

"Come to my bedroom. Please." There had been a time when Snape had not believed Lucius capable of saying that word in such a context, but there had never been a time when he could have refused such a request without consequences. Nodding, he followed his longtime lover and could not stop himself from reaching to stroke the blond hair. With a deep sigh Lucius tilted his head into Snape's hands, letting him bury his fingers in the thick soft locks, and murmured, "I am entirely at your disposal. Just tell me what you want."

Snape took hold of his shoulder and spun him around, then leaned in to kiss him again. "You're so very eager," he observed. "It isn't like you to ask rather than to command."

With a soft moan Lucius nodded, reaching for his hand. "I am too impatient to wish to play games this evening. It has been far too long. Come with me. Please." Again a request rather than an order, though Lucius tugged on him rather insistently. "I told you I'd missed you. Sometimes I was afraid that you really had left me."

Was it a request for a declaration of loyalty, or merely a ploy to make Snape prove his affections in a manner that would gratify Malfoy's desires? His eyes, though shuttered with apparent lust, revealed nothing. Snape shook his head, lifting his hands to the unlined face -- seemingly impervious to the ravages of aging and even to Azkaban -- as Lucius said, "You could have accepted my invitations, especially this past year. Draco is your student. Dumbledore knows that we are old friends. Surely he wouldn't begrudge you an evening visiting one of the governors of Hogwarts? It might look to some as though you've been avoiding me."

"I thought it safer for both of us if I stayed away, especially this year. The events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament made things very difficult for me."

"Yet you came tonight." Lucius stroked his face, leading him into the familiar rooms in which they were first lovers, although Lucius had in principle moved into the enormous master suite where he and Snape had once defiled his mother's bed -- now the province of Narcissa Black Malfoy, rooms where Snape suspected Lucius rarely wished to linger. "Tell me what you want. I'll deny you nothing, but I can't read you as I used to."

The statement was not as subtle as Lucius might once have been, but perhaps Snape was meant to see through it. "I want you. Can't you feel it?" he asked, reaching to unfasten Lucius' robes, sliding his hands into the luxuriant fabrics, stroking across skin as it was bared to him.

Something felt strange -- wrong -- about the smooth flesh beneath his fingers, as if Snape's hands were trying to remember a sensation quite lost to his mind, but a moment later he was distracted as Lucius groaned, "I've always loved the way you touch me." Snape urged him onto the bed, pulling off his boots and socks, then his trousers, leaning down to lick along his thigh beside the cock twitching in the air and making Lucius groan again. "Take anything you want from me. Have me however you like."

Rising, Snape removed his own clothing, then stretched out alongside Lucius with a hand on his chest. Lightly he pinched a nipple. "That is a very generous offer."

Lucius grunted and jerked against him. "Perhaps I've changed. So have you. Let me show you how it could be." When he bent his head to lick Lucius' shoulder, Snape found himself rubbing against his thigh, which slid wantonly apart from the other, trying to push beneath Snape's body and urge him on top of Lucius. This certainly was a change: after so much time apart, Snape had expected to be dominated utterly, a reminder from Lucius of who had always held the power in this relationship. Instead the older wizard was sprawled open, legs spreading as widely as the hair that fanned across the mattress. "What do you want?" Lucius asked again.

Moving between his legs, Snape touched his face, wondering what Lucius was playing at. In all likelihood this was a ploy like the one Malfoy had unleashed years earlier, taking him to New Orleans, treating him like a lover and a colleague, only to manipulate him into joining the Death-Eaters. Lucius' eagerness seemed to be sincere, but then he had always enjoyed being taken on the rare occasions when he allowed himself to surrender to it. Was it possible that Azkaban had changed him, or submitting himself to Voldemort? "I want to see your pleasure," Snape told Lucius, leaning to kiss him.

"Can't you feel how much it pleases me just lying here with you?" The erection prodding against him was real enough, though Snape knew half a dozen potions that could create such a state in a man regardless of his interest. Still, he remembered the flush across Lucius' chest and the way his nipples tightened from long ago, and he was smiling as he reached down to take Lucius in his hand. A loud, shameless groan welcomed his touch. "There has never been anyone else who knew just how to...oh Severus don't stop!"

Snape tried to remind himself of who this man was and what he had done, but his body no longer cared. It had been so very long since he had touched him, and no one else had ever known just what he needed, either. Capturing Lucius' mouth in a passionate kiss, he groped for his wand. "I want to..."

"Yes. Inside me. Please." Lucius had never spoken to him before in that throaty, desperate voice, and Snape could not recall having seen him so shameless, tossing his head on the bed, releasing sweet scent from his thick mussed hair. "Let me feel *your* pleasure." As he closed his fingers on the wand, Snape discovered that his heart was pounding, and he fought for control over the rising voice. "I've never forgotten how...you look, like this..."

To silence Lucius, Snape kissed him again before pulling back long enough to cast a lubrication spell. Lucius' fingers stroked up his arm and across his face as he took himself in hand, rubbing against Lucius without preamble. "I've never forgotten how you look either." Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to Lucius' palm, then began to push slowly inside him -- breathless, unable to wait, unable to hold back a groan.

"Oh *yes*!" The wail of pleasure rang in Snape's ears as Lucius tilted his head back, arching up to meet him and taking him deep with such ease that Snape realized with astonishment that Lucius must have prepared himself for him. Crying out, he shoved his hips forward, burying himself in Lucius' body which rose eagerly up to meet him. "Don't stop! Please!" Trembling a little, Snape tangled his fingers in Lucius' hair, kissing him as he began to thrust harder than was necessary, faster than he intended, but unable to restrain himself. Though the haze of desire he thought he saw Lucius biting his lip, holding back what might have been a tiny smile of triumph, before he let out another ecstatic shout. "Yes, just like that!"

Snape cried out again as well, more loudly, pressing his face against Lucius' neck. They were quick and somewhat brutal from that point, with Lucius thrashing and shuddering under Snape as he clutched at him, while Snape thrust without the distraction of kissing or sucking, focused only on not allowing his thoughts to run away with him and not exploding inside Lucius before he felt him vibrate with a cry and erupt over his belly and chest. The whimper that escaped Snape then was wholly undignified, and he cried out and slammed into him mercilessly for only a few moments before he too reached his climax.

Lucius was still clinging to him, breathing through his mouth, with his head pressed against Snape's. They trembled against one another, gasping for breath, and the older wizard let out a loud, satisfied, but somewhat wistful groan. "You were trying to hold back from me, love." The word made Snape close his eyes and swallow, though he knew that Lucius was using it colloquially rather than with meaning. Though he shook his head in denial, Lucius kissed the side of his face and murmured, "You were. I could feel it. Don't you remember how you used to tell me that you were mine?"

Softly, nuzzling his cheek to avoid his eyes, Snape whispered, "I *am* yours."

"How can you lie to me, like this, while you're still inside me?" Lucius' purr was insistent, and when Snape kissed him, tightening his fingers in Lucius' hair, he felt the unmistakable lightheaded tingling that indicated an attempt to probe his mind. Pulling back, he attempted to collect his thoughts without any obvious occlumency. It would be far better for Lucius to believe that he had penetrated Snape's mind and found no blocks than to guess that his Severus was hiding secrets. But Snape could not pretend to be ignorant of the attempt; Malfoy would not believe such weakness.

"Stop that," he chided.

"Stop...kissing you?" asked the Death-Eater gently, meeting his mouth again and exploring it thoroughly. As Snape groaned against his lips, he felt Lucius tighten around him, keeping him inside, and prodding at his mind again. "Let me in."

"Lucius, please." He fought for an explanation his lover might accept. "I have had these blocks up for so long...it isn't easy for me to let anyone in."

"I know, love. I understand. Let them down, with me." The voice remained low, seductive and sympathetic. "You've just said that you're mine. And I am yours. I want no secrets between us. What have we to keep from one another?"

"I want you. I--I missed you." Snape closed his eyes, holding tightly to those thoughts and feelings, which were, in fact, true.

"But you don't trust me." Those words had been a recurring theme in their relationship and they affected Snape more than he wished to reveal, certainly more than Lucius deserved. Or was that true? Since the first, nearly unforgivable manipulation of his memory, Lucius had never violated him; Snape had followed where he led, but he had never been forced, and when he left, Lucius had protected him; it was perhaps the only reason he was still alive.

"I wouldn't hide anything from you. I never did," he said, resting his head against Lucius' shoulder. "I didn't tell you that I planned to leave because I thought it might endanger you if you knew beforehand and said nothing. I'm sorry. Very sorry."

"Do you know what...*he* wanted to do to you? Do you have any idea what I went through?" Lucius held him more tightly, shuddering a bit, perhaps for effect; Snape tried to apologize again, but was cut off. "It's all right. It's just as well things happened as they did -- you might have been killed had you been with us during those final attacks. And I always knew that you had not betrayed *me*." The head tilted back, a shrug urged Snape's head from Lucius' shoulder. "You haven't betrayed me, have you, Severus? Do you still love me?"

Swallowing, Snape forced his eyes to meet the other man's, taking in his beauty, his wide clear eyes and wounded, swollen lips. "I never stopped loving you."

"Then why can't I feel it?" Lucius mouth twisted, his eyes turning fierce as a hawk's. "Why won't you let me in?" Concentrating, he made one more obvious, aggressive attempt to penetrate Snape's mind, staring straight at him; Snape stared back, allowing him to do so, holding in his mind the memory of Lucius he so treasured that he had locked it away in an amulet. He could see that Lucius knew that he would not succeed in penetrating more deeply buried thoughts, and leaned up to kiss him with genuine regret, but Lucius flinched from his mouth. "No. You've won. Let it be enough."

"I don't understand."

"I think you do. Why are you in bed with me, Severus? It's obvious that I no longer have the hold over you I once did. Is it just for the pleasure of the act? Or are you playing the whore for Dumbledore, trying to see if you can get into my mind before I get into yours?"

"I'm here because I've never stopped wanting you," Snape insisted, begrudgingly, with all the conviction of one who speaks the truth.

"Yet you didn't even want to touch me in the library. Don't lie to me, I could feel it. Do you have *any* idea what I've risked for you?"

This was, regrettably, a Malfoy whom Snape recognized only too well -- the lover who for years had manipulated him by any means at his disposal, and he responded with all the frustration of his youth. "No, I've no idea," he snapped, jerking away and reaching for a blanket. "Why should I have suspected, when you never gave me any reason to believe that you would risk anything at all for me? You recruited me, and treated me like a pet, or a toy...like your whore, as you were so fond of telling me."

If he had been expecting to see triumph on Malfoy's features, he was mistaken. Lucius spoke in his most injured tone, very rarely heard -- a voice that revealed he could be wounded. "You weren't much more than a child when we began. I thought you wanted a mentor. Someone to guide you. Someone to be responsible. Do you think I would have let a whore sleep in my bed? And not only my bed; we made love in nearly every room of this house. I put off my marriage because of you. I took you traveling with me. And I brought you to my master -- I spoke for you to him! I treated you..." His voice dropped, and he made a fist, letting his hair fall over his face as he lowered his head. "As if you were mine."

Whether this was sincere or a tactic, Snape could not allow it to affect his words as it affected his feelings. "I was yours -- yours to treat as you wished. Yours to discard." All his old wounds were surfacing, threatening to crack careful defenses, and his only consolation was that he thought the same might be true for Lucius as well. "Where you were concerned, the only thing of which I was certain was that I could destroy everything by doing the wrong thing. You would send me home without warning, sometimes immediately after you'd fucked me. You wouldn't contact me for days, then expect me to be where you wanted me on a moment's notice. You became angry with me if I gave in to your demands too quickly, or if I resisted for too long."

"And you became just as irritable if I failed to understand your needs. Did you ever give in to anything without an argument? Did you respect me when you thought me submissive to our Lord or to anyone else? Didn't you think I feared that you would simply leave? I had no means to make you stay, only bribes -- things that my family's money could buy. You were the only one I ever let in...I let you take me. I let you mark me. Do you think anyone else ever got that close? My wife? My associates?"

Though Snape didn't dare try to penetrate Lucius' thoughts, after all these years he could read Lucius fairly well, and Lucius looked as if he believed his own words. "I don't know how you could think that I would ever willingly have let you go," he was continuing. "When you did leave, when it became apparent to all of us that you weren't coming back...I allowed it. I insisted to our master that of course you were still loyal and it was all part of a plan, though I doubted you, and I forced myself not to interfere. I can't keep it up forever -- you may be able to block me, but do you think you can block him, now that his strength is returning? Look at your arm, Severus!"

Snape did not need to look at his arm to feel the outlines of the Dark Mark, which seemed sharper than when he had arrived at the mansion. He no longer knew whether he could block Lucius from another attempt to invade his mind, and realized as well that he had never had occasion to learn whether he might be stronger than Lucius. Though he turned his face away, he could not disguise a shiver when Lucius murmured, "Tell me that when I summon you, you will be at my side."

"If you desire my presence, I will come."

"I don't mean dinner invitations. I mean...*when* I summon you, you *will be* at my side." The meaning was perfectly clear. "Listen to me, Severus. *He* will return, with all his strength, very soon. There will be nothing you can do to protect yourself from him -- nor from me, if he chooses to use me as the instrument of his vengeance. Dumbledore will not be able to save you." Snape could feel himself nodding; the only surprise in these words was that Malfoy would warn him in such a manner. "And if you fail us again, you may be certain he will kill you. Worse than kill you. I would not dare to interfere. So I cannot allow you to fail us."

For a moment Snape closed his eyes, blocking out the man and the grand room with all its memories. "I'm not certain why it is that you want me at your side. It would seem to be dangerous for you."

"It would be far more dangerous otherwise. I would prefer that you came willingly, but if it is the only way, I will do whatever is necessary to see that you *are* with me. If we were truly opposed... Could you kill me, Severus?"

For years now Snape had asked himself that question. There had been a time when he was certain the answer was yes, when he first left Voldemort's service and expected that he might die for it; Malfoy, he had been certain, would be punished for his recruit's betrayal, and would therefore have been the obvious choice to send to attack Snape. But the attack had never come, and after the Dark Lord was vanquished by a child, they had established a cool if distant respect on the occasions when they found themselves in proximity. Snape realized later that Lucius must have believed Voldemort had let him go for his own purposes, and moreover, that he could summon Snape back whenever he wished.

Snape was certain that he could kill any other Death-Eater: he could have killed Bellatrix Lestrange, for instance, without any misgivings, had he been at the Ministry on the night of Black's death, even though it would have earned him the enmity of all of Voldemort's supporters. But when he recalled the scene described by Potter, the boy crawling through rows of prophecies with Malfoy pursuing -- and how could Dumbledore have placed such importance on the cryptic words of a seer? -- it was almost inconceivable that his companion could be the same man.

Could he kill him, could he destroy Lucius Malfoy, only to save the despised son of James Potter? "I don't know," he answered Lucius in perfect honesty. "I would prefer not to learn. Could you kill *me*?"

Lucius' fingers closed around Snape's wrist. His only reply was, "We must be certain that we never meet on opposite sides of the struggle." Though Snape gave him a brief nod, he was already trying to pull his hand back; Lucius had grasped the arm that bore the Dark Mark, and the proximity of his fingers caused it to burn. "You must come back to me before the end," his lover added, voice growing louder, more assured. "We'll be together as you always wanted. Wouldn't you like that, Severus? Look at me. Touch my thoughts, if you wish -- I've nothing to hide from you. You could have all of me, if only you would return."

Urgently Snape tugged his hand free, stroking Lucius' hair to disguise the gesture. "I think that it is you who wants all of me."

"Have you not noticed that I am the one who keeps coming back? Though you are only superficially polite when we see one another at Hogwarts and Ministry functions." Snape recalled a fine autumn afternoon at Malfoy's side watching Quidditch, when he had caught himself smiling at the simple pleasure...he pushed the memory aside. "I have the heir I was expected to sire; my obligations to my wife are through. And I think you suffer, isolated at that school with its mudbloods and halfwits. I would be here for you whenever you wished, if you would let me."

Snape's fingers still combed through Lucius' hair, an activity that had always given both of them pleasure. Now Lucius' hand rose to cover Snape's, and the older wizard smiled wistfully. "You touch me as if you have not forgotten," he pointed out. "I always meant to cut a lock off and send it to you, to remind you. Didn't I give you a locket, once?"

"Not that would hold hair. You gave me an amulet -- a memory charm."

"That's right. And do you still have it?" At Snape's nod, the smile grew broader. "I didn't assume that you'd kept any reminders. I saved absurd things: A broken saucer. The old tie you left in my closet when I gave you a new one to wear out to dinner one evening."

Rising, Snape went over to his robes and reached into the hidden pocket. He could think of no better way to prove his loyalty to Malfoy than to show him the memory he had kept hidden away for all this time. "I kept a scarf you gave me, Slytherin colors," he admitted as he retrieved the amulet. "And a few photographs. There is one that I like in particular of you, in profile, looking out at the Mississippi River. It was on the same trip that you bought this for me."

"We should go back to America," smiled Lucius. "Would you travel with me? I will take you anywhere you wish to go."

"To New Orleans?" Snape handed him the amulet. "Those were the happiest days of my life, Lucius. I have never forgotten."

Lucius was smiling as he opened the amulet, and Snape watched his face as the memory inside swept over him. Though the expression was unquestionably blissful as Lucius experienced the moment captured in the charm, it was replaced after a moment with very deep shock and something akin to pain. Snape would have reached for him, but Lucius' stare unnerved him. The older wizard's eyes were bright and piercing, filled with an understanding they had lacked moments before, and he rubbed at the Dark Mark on his arm with unexpected vehemence.

Perhaps, Snape thought, some of the complications of his own youthful passion for Lucius were embedded in the charm more deeply than he had realized; he had always associated that love with the possibility of its loss. "Are you all right?" he asked Lucius, who continued to stare at him as if he was a stranger before nodding slowly. Snape held out his hand for the amulet, but Lucius turned from him, rising to walk across the room. He opened the charm again, and from a distance Snape watched the same astonishment take hold: first the delight of the memory itself, then dawning surprise and the unmistakable flinch.

Carefully Lucius shut the amulet, crossed back to the bed and closed Snape's fingers around it, his expression hardening. "Listen to me," he said, calm but fierce. "The next time you open this charm, you are going to remember every word spoken this night. When your memory is intact, you will recall what I have told you and know that I did not lie. You must come back to me before our master returns, because if you are not at my side, everything you have ever loved will be destroyed. I will destroy it myself. There isn't much time left. Remember *that*, Severus."

The words, spoken almost like an incantation, left Snape puzzled and unnerved, but before he could ask what they meant, Lucius turned away and reached for his robes. They dressed silently, collecting their wands and cleaning themselves; Snape slipped the amulet back into the hidden pocket, but Lucius still would not meet his gaze.

By the time he was ready to leave, they had returned very nearly to the formal distance with which they greeted one another at Hogwarts functions. When he glanced at Lucius' tightly pressed lips, Snape thought the other man must have been in pain, but there was triumph in his stance as well, back straight beneath the elegant clothing and head held high in a bitter display of power.

"Remember," Lucius reminded Snape again just before he left. He had expected another effort to infiltrate his mind, to seek information about Dumbledore and the Order or at the very least for reassurance of his loyalty, and it troubled him when the attempt did not come. Had his occlumency failed him without his even noticing? Lucius' behavior had become more cold and aloof than ever, but that victorious tilt to his chin was tempered by a seething, suffocating darkness clouding his eyes. The look reminded Snape of the Dark Mark -- an inescapable burning ache that reminded him of past mistakes. He made his farewells as quickly as he dared.

Back at Hogwarts, Snape went at once to his office, troubled by a sense of foreboding. The pensieve sat on his desk, holding memories he knew for certain that he had kept safe. For all the intensity of Malfoy's final threats, Snape did not believe that anything vital had been given away, and he smiled as he opened his pockets to withdraw his wand, then the hidden charm. Strange how much power his own recollection had held over Lucius, he thought and opened the amulet, choosing to allow himself the indulgence in his happiest memory of the only man he had ever loved, now that he knew he could face him.

The face that he saw before him was not Lucius Malfoy's, but Remus Lupin's. Before Snape could even acknowledge his surprise, he was overwhelmed by a feeling so strong that for a moment he forgot Malfoy and the Death-Eaters and Voldemort. The weight he had carried in his chest all evening vanished, the pain in his arm dissipated. The emotions he felt for Lucius, which he had called "love" for want of a better term, seemed wan and weak by comparison.

The memory had faded long before Snape's heart had stopped pounding. He wondered how Malfoy had managed to keep his composure, experiencing these feelings and the astonishing freedom from the Dark Mark that accompanied them, then having to face Snape, finding the words to try to summon him back in the face of such obvious betrayal.

Snape knew that he was going to be ill, but before he could allow himself that luxury, he had to restore his memories from the pensieve. One by one he replaced them, filling his thoughts with Lupin, yet Malfoy had spoken truly: not a word, not a moment of his more recent experiences could be displaced, neither the words of love nor the threats that accompanied them. For all of his defenses, Snape had given himself over to his enemy, and in doing so he had compromised the only thing that might have saved him.