Be All My Secrets Remembered

Chapter Sixteen: Fortuna Favours the Bold

April, 1977

If anyone had informed Sirius Black a few weeks earlier that he would be looking forward to the departure of his friends for Easter hols, he would have laughed. As it stood, however, as he watched the carriages trundle down the road away from Hogwarts, it somehow seemed far easier to breathe in the empty dormitory.

Part of him wanted to say that they would come to their senses after a week. But it really wasn't a question of coming to their senses or not. Prongs, in a rare display of perceptiveness, had made a point of saying very little. Wormtail, as usual, was too scared, especially after his unprecedented...Sirius really didn't know what to call it. Nor could he decide whether he was more annoyed or curiously proud that Wormtail had actually found the nerve to hex him.

And then there was Moony. Moony, who looked through him as if he were a pane of glass with something terribly important on the other side. Moony, whose scratches were deeper and redder than they had been before, who moved with such stiffness that it made Sirius wince to watch. He expected little else, but there was a vast gulf between expecting and actually experiencing.

He just wanted it to be over. Snivellus had all but spat in his face when he offered up his--admittedly stilted--apology. But he had also retreated into the heart of the Slytherin circle, and Sirius was quite happy to let him rot there. He'd apparently given his word to Dumbledore that he'd keep Moony's secret, and while Sirius was disinclined to trust Snivellus any further than he could throw him, if Dumbledore trusted him, so be it.

Lily, much to his annoyance, felt the need to treat him like a glass figurine, liable to break at the slightest provocation. He was a Black. His family hadn't survived for nearly a thousand years by falling apart when faced with a particularly unpleasant skeleton in the closet. In retrospect, he really ought to have told Prongs instead of Lily. Prongs wouldn't have constantly asked him if he was truly alright, if he needed to 'talk'.

No, I don't need to talk. It's over, it's finished, I'd much prefer to move on with my life, thank you very much, Evans.

What was it with girls, anyway? Even bloody Wormtail could take the hint, and Evans was one of the brightest girls in school.

Moony would have understood. He would probably have made some remark about Freud, repression, and dysfunctional families, but he would have understood. Of course, Moony wasn't speaking to him, so it was essentially irrelevant.

And whose fault is that?

Well, he really couldn't argue that point.

No wonder Gryffindor Tower seemed far less oppressive now that his friends were gone.

Sirius strolled down to the Great Hall, deliberately averting his eyes from the House points counter on the wall. A concerted effort on all four of their parts had almost regained the three hundred points Dumbledore had seen fit to take from Gryffindor. Sirius didn't recall ever having paid more attention in any of his lectures than he had over the past two weeks. Even Wormtail had spoken up. It had been Prongs, however, who had led the Quidditch team to a victory over Hufflepuff a few days before the mass pre-Easter exodus, earning two hundred points, enough to put them back in the running for the House Cup. The cheers weren't quite as impassioned as they otherwise might have been, but it was better than nothing.

The Hall was essentially empty. Even most of the professors had left for the week. It was the first holiday that Sirius had ever spent at school, and was more than mildly disturbing to see the place so quiet.

"Bit eerie, isn't it?" The voice came from behind him and he spun to find himself facing Dorcas Meadowes. "It looks so big when it's empty."

Sirius glanced back at the Hall and nodded. "Yeah, it does. Do you normally stay here for Easter?"

She shook her head. "Vector and Agrippa both decided holidays mean nothing to them. I've spent the past two days in the library, looking up equations and Veritaserum."

"So you're the reason all the books on Veritaserum were sitting in a nice pile by the window?" Sirius managed to keep a straight face.

Dorcas crossed her arms in front of her chest. "And I can only suspect you're the reason all my bookmarks got moved?"

"Guilty as charged," he replied cheerfully. "I suppose I should have assumed you'd know where the best passages were, but as I didn't know whose books they were...I did try to remember where the bookmarks went."

"You managed about half of them."

"At least I tried."

"You're a saint in the making," she retorted, though without nearly as much acidity as the words seemed to imply. "Oh, don't look so horrified. I can't imagine they'll ever canonise you properly."

"I hope not!" Sirius did find the idea genuinely horrifying. "I'd have to behave."

"And that would never do."

"Not in the slightest."

In retrospect, it probably wasn't terribly surprising that they spent most of the holiday together. There were very few sixth-years who had stayed behind, after all. And Dorcas was blessedly free of other associations, namely anything involving pranks, Snivellus, or the Whomping Willow. The fact that she had rather striking eyes didn't hurt either. A deep mahogany brown, the same colour as Moony's, but wider.

And not looking through me.

***

Sirius Black, Dorcas Meadowes had decided, was quite possibly the most annoyingly contradictory human being she had ever met. Every time she thought she might have some inkling of what was going on in his head, he would say something or do something to unravel most, if not all, of her previous conceptions.

Of course, she was hardly going to give up now. Even after that little setback on Valentine's Day, when she was quite certain that she had seen 'subtext' between Black and Lupin. Lily, of course, was oblivious. Too caught up in her own impassioned denunciations of James Potter to even notice that Lupin blushed at the very mention of mistletoe, or that Black deflected--albeit masterfully--every time the subject threatened to come up.

And then, of course, there was the Incident, as she referred to it, for lack of a better term. That Snape was involved was of very little surprise to anyone, given the Gryffindor foursome's history. It was also fairly common knowledge amongst the Prefects that Lupin was deliberately avoiding Black. All Dorcas had been able to draw out of Lily was a confused account involving love potions and the Whomping Willow. While her first instinct had been to make some remark about doomed love affairs between humans and plants, an unexpected and wildly uncharacteristic flood of tears on Lily's part forestalled her.

Black, on the other hand, seemed bent on forgetting the whole thing had ever happened, and if that was what he wanted, she had very few qualms about delivering. After all, she wasn't lying. And if her ignorance worked in her favour, so be it. As they said, all's fair in love and war.

Dorcas had always seen herself as a simple person, despite her hopeless weakness for complicating other people. However, trying to understand Black seemed vaguely akin to reading Joyce backwards (an analogy her father had taken to using to describe everything from the current state of Muggle politics to the inexplicable mood swings of sixteen-year-old females): admirable in certain mad circles, perhaps, but ultimately resulting in a blistering headache. And, as Dorcas preferred a life free of migraines, she made a resolution: The moment pursuing Sirius Black ceased to be entertaining, she would stop.

She wasn't entirely sure if she was relieved or irritated that that moment had not come.

Because he was entertaining. And charming. And too bloody attractive for his own good. Or hers, for that matter. And there really was very little else to do, considering how few other people were around for Easter hols. Even schoolwork turned into a collaborative effort, producing two sets of Arithmancy equations and two entirely satisfactory essays on Veritaserum. Of course, this being Sirius Black, it had also involved five narrow escapes from Mrs Norris and one diversion involving Peeves and that month's issue of Playwizard.

It was testament to self-discipline (which she would never have admitted to possessing) that she had not given in to the urge to kiss him. Especially now, settled on the couch in the strange-but-convenient room they'd used several times to practise duelling. She never could quite figure out where the room was to tell other people, and yet she and Sirius always found it. Odd, that.

"It's funny, really," Sirius finally said, smiling a little. "I don't even remember you from before fifth year, in Binns' lecture."

"For good reason," replied Dorcas with a deliberately nonchalant shrug. "I lived in the library, almost literally, until the middle of fourth year. And from all accounts, you spent very little time there that didn't involve dragging Remus out."

"Madam Pince didn't quite approve of us," he pointed out, not sounding repentant in the least. "I think unleashing the biting books upon Snape right before first-year exams irritated her somewhat."

"I can't possibly imagine why."

"Could that possibly have been more sarcastic?" Despite the acidity of the words, he was smiling.

"I have reason. I was there, after all."

"Where?" Sirius frowned. "The library?"

"Yes, one of the books nearly took off my leg," she remarked, with far less asperity than the sentence implied. "I felt rather terrible for Severus Snape until he told me to get my filthy Mudblood hands off him."

"How very Snape." Sirius' lip twisted slightly, showing his disdain. "Charming as ever. But that's neither here nor there."

"Indeed," she agreed. "Though I quite lost track of the conversation."

"Well, I had meant to ask why you spent all your time in the library, but of course, you are a Ravenclaw, so I suppose it's not entirely irregular."

"No, I can't say it is," admitted Dorcas with a smile. "We do have quite the reputation for being library mice."

"Moony almost got sorted into Ravenclaw," he said thoughtfully. "I remember he mentioned it sometime during first year."

"That doesn't surprise me. And I suspect you almost got sorted into Slytherin?"

Sirius laughed. "Almost indeed! I was the most surprised of the lot when the hat put me in Gryffindor. Though it did help finding out that my cousin Andromeda had been in Hufflepuff. Just one among my family's many dark secrets at the time." He studied her in silence for a second or two before asking, "What about you, then?"

"What about me?" she echoed.

"Your family. Were they all Ravenclaws too?"

"Not quite. My father's as Muggle as they come, though I imagine he'd have been in Ravenclaw if he were a wizard. The typical absent-minded professor, so to speak. Can't remember his own daughter's name sometimes, but ask him what advice Polonius gave to Laertes in Hamlet and he'll give you the entire speech verbatim." There was no bitterness whatsoever in the anecdote; in fact, she found herself smiling fondly. "I love him to bits, but Mum's right when she says he'd forget his own head if it weren't attached."

"And your mother?" Sirius leant his cheek on his hand, balancing his elbow on the back of the couch. "Is she a Muggle as well then?"

"Mum..." Dorcas had to think on that one. It had been rather a long time since she'd had to describe her mother to anyone. "She's a witch in that she's got a wand and casts spells every now and then. But she also teaches A-Level French at the school down the street from our house, so it's hard to say, really. She certainly didn't go to Hogwarts or Beauxbatons or any of the schools most people have heard of, and Dad was never entirely comfortable with her using magic..." She shrugged. "Mum didn't mind, I don't think. Though they did have quite the row after I got my Hogwarts letter."

"Really?" Sirius frowned. "About you?"

"Dad didn't want me to go. He fancied turning me into a professor like him, but Mum wanted me to have the option. She brought out her old textbooks and gave them to me to look over, so I'd have an idea of what they'd be teaching me. They left the choice up to me in the end." She laughed shortly, the sound only somewhat removed from bitterness. "Oh, I regretted it so much for the first few months. I was absolutely hopeless. Spent all my time in the library, memorising, practising...and mooning over Lucius Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Sirius exploded, eyes wide. "Tell me you're joking, please!"

"Funny how Remus said the same thing," she observed dryly. "Sadly, no. But alas, it was not to be, so I moved on."

He, apparently, had not. "What on earth did you see in that arrogant prat?"

"I was young and stupid and had found my mother's hidden cache of Mills and Boon novels that summer. He reminded me rather of Thornton Royce, the Lord of the Vale: 'a tall blond god of a man with hair like spun silver and blue eyes to cut a girl to pieces'..." she trailed off, suddenly realising precisely how much she had said. "And I cannot believe I just told you that."

Sirius just stared for several seconds. In a queer, choked sort of voice, he managed, "If I were still speaking to her, I'd have to tell 'Cissa that. She deserves to know that her husband has a secret identity as the hero of Muggle romance novels." And then, he met her eyes and they both collapsed into gales of laughter.

"Can you blame me?" Dorcas finally gasped. "I was raised by an English professor. Everything I knew, I learnt from books. And you're not allowed to tell anyone about that, you hear?"

"I solemnly swear," he replied, looking not at all solemn.

"A knight in shining armour, you are," she teased.

"Though you're not exactly a damsel in distress."

"No, I don't suppose." She laughed again, a little wistful this time. "I leave that to Lily Evans or Kate Campbell or one of those girls."

"You say it as if it's a bad thing," he observed.

Dorcas shook her head. "Not a bad thing, necessarily. Just not me. I'd make a ridiculous damsel." When he did not respond, she frowned. "Oh come now, admit it."

"If you insist. I'm not particularly well versed in the inner lives of damsels, after all. That's more Moony's line than mine."

Moony again. But better not to press the point. "But what about you, Mr Black?"

"What about me? You know about me," he replied with a disarming smile. "Formerly of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Disowned at sixteen. A ne'er-do-well in the classic sense."

"A ne'er-do-well with literary inclinations, apparently. I heard about the letter you wrote to McGonagall. Tamburlaine, wasn't it?"

"How---oh, you would know, wouldn't you?"

"Dad would fall into an early grave if I didn't recognise it," she pointed out. "Besides, it's a favourite of mine. The speech, that is."

Sirius was smiling in full now. "I have a challenge for you, then, o literary one."

Dorcas stayed where she was, even as he stood up. "What's this?" she asked, caught somewhere between caution and curiosity.

"A game Moony and I played a few times, when he was in the Hospital Wing and Prongs was in detention. I didn't think anyone could be better than him at it, but if your father's a professor..." He trailed off deliberately, turning to face her. "I start, you finish."

She opened her mouth, despite having no idea what on earth she was going to say. Something about how he was quite obviously deflecting her question about his family. Or possibly just pointing out that he hadn't made any sense...

"Tell me, where is fancy bred?"

He was looking at her expectantly. Dorcas, still rather confused, replied very slowly with the next line, "In the heart or in the head?"

"It is engender'd in the eyes," he prompted.

"With gazing fed, and fancy dies," she added, finishing, "In the cradle where it lies." She still didn't quite understand what he was on about. But two could play at this game. She stood, wincing as feeling returned to her left leg and doing her best to mask it by pronouncing, "What is love, 'tis not hereafter."

It was his turn to hesitate as he tried to recall the second half of the couplet. "Present mirth..." he waited for her nod of approval, "...hath present laughter?"

She swung round behind him, pitching the words into his ear: "What's to come is still unsure."

"Youth's a stuff will not endure," he replied confidently as he threw her a sideways glance. Lord, but he had pretty eyes. "Touché, Meadowes. Almost had me there."

Dorcas smiled, but didn't respond. Time to up the stakes a bit. Songs were all well and good, but they were simple. She took a step or two away from him before glancing back over her shoulder. "The reason no man knows, let it suffice..." she began, trailing off purposely as he recognised the poem.

"What we behold is censur'd by our eyes," replied Sirius, unable to quite hide his smile.

"Where both deliberate, the love is slight," Dorcas murmured, lowering her eyes to hide anything that might have appeared in them, "Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?" After a second, she did grin, as if to belie any seriousness that might have been read into her previous words. "Is there a romantic hidden underneath all that indifference, then, that you know those lines in particular?"

He didn't answer the question. "Was this the face that launched a thousand ships," he began, lips twitching with hidden laughter, "and burnt the topless towers of Ilium?"

"Very funny, Black. I, unlike you, actually look in the mirror every now and then, and I am no Helen of Ilium," she retorted, "nor do my kisses render immortality." Much though I wish I were she, for your sake. Keeping her voice deliberately light, she added, "But I will kiss you all the same if you'll have me."

"What is this 'if' you talk of?"

They had been served apple tarts with lunch that day and she could taste them on his tongue. It occurred to her that she probably shouldn't have had that cup of coffee, but she hadn't quite expected this to happen...

"Is something the matter?" Sirius was frowning at her now, looking rather adorably puzzled. "Am I not up to standard?"

Dorcas flushed slightly. "Just a stupid tangent. My mind takes them sometimes." She hesitated for a second, before observing, "I don't suppose this was part of the game when Remus was involved, was it?"

"I'm not sure how I ought to take that," he remarked, sidestepping her question with unsurprising ease. "If your mind could run off on tangents like that, I must be sadly out of practice."

"Only one way to remedy that, isn't there?" she asked, pitching the words as nonchalantly as she could. Without waiting for his answer, she kissed him again. To hell with coffee-breath. How often does a girl get to kiss Sirius Black? Carpe bloody diem.

And he really was quite good at it.

***

Professor Agrippa could not recall the last holiday he had spent alone at Hogwarts. He found it both oddly soothing and understandably lonely. Severus was hardly the most talkative of companions, but he was most assuredly a presence. Ever since that accursed potion...he should never have allowed Severus to meddle with that sort of magic.

He had argued with Albus. And Albus, looking decades older and so very weary, explained everything. The werewolf, the Willow, the potion. No recrimination for his part in the affair, however central. If he had acted as a professor should...if he had controlled Severus as he ought to have done...

Shaking away his thoughts, Agrippa took another drink.

"Heinrich, is everything alright?" Professor McGonagall leant towards him, looking somewhat puzzled. "It's only pumpkin juice, I'm afraid. And even so, anything stronger, and you'll regret it in the morning."

"Of that I have no doubt," he replied, with an unexpected smile. "Minerva?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think of all this?" When she did not answer at first, he clarified, "Of what happened? I assume Albus told you."

"Of course he did. Three of the students involved were in my House, after all." She sighed, allowing her eyes to drift to the Hufflepuff table, where all the students present during Easter hols were eating. "Did you know what Mr Snape was brewing?"

Agrippa nodded slowly. "I didn't approve, Minerva, and I made that clear, but I hadn't the heart to stop him. How could I? He's been brewing N.E.W.T.-level potions since his third year. The boy is a genius, and there is no doubt in my mind that his gamble would have paid off. It was sheer bad luck that the one person who saw it..."

"That does not make it right, Heinrich," she replied, her voice low. "He was brewing a highly illegal potion in the very cellars of Hogwarts, and you did not think to stop him? Were Albus stricter, I suspect both Snape and Black would have been expelled."

"And then we would have had two of the brightest sixth-years at Hogwarts on the loose, bearing grudges against Albus Dumbledore," he pointed out. "Both of whom are pureblooded, and one from a very prominent family. With all due respect to authority and rules, Minerva, that strikes me as a particularly bad idea, given the current state of affairs."

McGonagall did not respond, muttering something about 'bloody Ravenclaw logic' as she took another sip of juice.

"Tell me, Minerva, would you have stood by and allowed Albus to expel Sirius Black, when he was acting in what he felt to be defence of a fellow Gryffindor?" Agrippa asked softly. "I merely ask the same leniency for Severus Snape. That potion would not have harmed anyone, least of all Miss Evans."

"Sometimes, Minerva, rules must be broken." That was Dumbledore's voice, from McGonagall's other side. He was not looking at either of them, his eyes fixed on the students. "I am sorry, Heinrich. Surely you understand that I had no choice but to do what I did."

"I understand it, Albus. That does not mean I have to like it." Agrippa followed his gaze, lingering on Sirius Black, who was laughing with the sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect, Meadowes. "But you forget one very important fact."

"What is this?"

"Sirius Black is not alone in the world. And, as much as I flatter myself with regard to my position in Severus' life, it is not the same thing."

***

Unlike the homes belonging to the Rosier, Malfoy, or Black families--all of which Severus had at some point visited--the Lestrange mansion was rather glaringly new. Severus almost smiled at his own snobbery, all the more inappropriate given the fact that his family's status was very much a thing of the past. Rabastan Lestrange, who had just left Hogwarts the year before, had remarked with some asperity that the majority of the décor was the choice of his sister-in-law, Bellatrix, née Black.

Severus recalled making some comment regarding the Black family and a lack of subtlety, managing with some effort to keep the corrosive bitterness from his voice.

"Not all of them," Rabastan confided in low tones. "Proud Cis has Malfoy on quite the leash, if you take my meaning."

"Proud Cis?" Severus echoed, sounding more curious than anything else. "That's none too flattering, is it?"

"I notice you don't argue the point."

"It's not my place. And I don't take your meaning, for the record," replied Severus with a shrug. "I've no quarrel with the Malfoys. Either of them."

Rabastan raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth as if to respond, when the cool, resonant tones of Narcissa Malfoy interrupted. "Why, Severus Snape, this is a surprise."

"Is it, Mrs Malfoy?" he echoed.

She nodded and held out her hand. "Will you join me for a drink, Severus?"

"I..." He hesitated, glancing from her back to Rabastan, then took her hand. "Thank you, Mrs Malfoy. I would be delighted."

"Lovely. Rabastan, a pleasure as always." Before waiting for his response, she swept away in a swirl of cobalt robes. Severus nodded to the younger Lestrange brother and followed quickly. He had barely reached her side when she took his arm and murmured, "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Rosier invited me," was his reply, puzzled and somewhat unnerved by the urgency in her voice. "Is something wrong?"

"Rosier. I should have guessed. Toadying little..." she broke off at the sight of her husband.

Lucius Malfoy looked none too pleased. "Narcissa, really. Must you make a laughingstock of me?"

"Who's laughing?" queried his wife, tartly. "And if you say either of my charming brothers-in-law, I truly couldn't care less."

"Evening, Snape."

"Evening, Malfoy," replied Severus, glancing between husband and wife with some bewilderment. "What's going on?"

"Evan Rosier, being quite the brilliant little sycophant, promised you to the Dark Lord in exchange for his Mark," Narcissa explained, her disdain very much in evidence. "You are, after all, the prize pupil of Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa."

"But...what would he want with me? I've not done anything."

"Not you." Lucius' voice was thick with exasperation, whether at the situation or at his wife, it was difficult to tell. "Agrippa's the one he wants. He would use you to get to him."

"You're better than that," Narcissa informed him.

"What would you have me do?" Severus cursed inwardly at how confused he must sound, how childish. "I'm here, after all."

Narcissa gestured toward the door. "Why not come with us?"

"Snape!" Rosier called from the doorway to the drawing room. He was about to move toward Severus, but stopped short at the sight of his companions. "Mr and Mrs Malfoy. Leaving so soon?"

"I'm afraid so, Evan," Narcissa answered with a smile that seemed to belie her previous words. "And I believe Severus will be accompanying us."

"Se...Snape, what's this?" Rosier's eyes had narrowed, twin slits of green beneath lushly golden lashes. "You're here as my guest."

"Indeed I am," replied Severus. "I'll join you in a moment." Conscious of both Lucius and Narcissa's gazes upon him, he continued, "I was just saying goodbye."

Rosier relaxed visibly. "Very well then. Don't take too long."

Severus turned back to the couple. Narcissa was all icy disapproval, and Lucius looked torn between annoyance and amusement. "I can hold my own, Malfoy," he said softly. "But thank you for the warning."

Lucius shrugged. "The least we could do. Can't have you selling yourself too cheaply, can we? It would be a shame."

"I would do no such thing," Severus assured him before turning to Narcissa. "I'll be quite alright."

Inclining his head politely to both of them, he turned on his heel and returned to the drawing room. Narcissa's eyes lingered on the doorway for several moments after his departure, even as Lucius drew her toward the front door. She nodded mechanically to assorted guests, thankful that none saw fit to detain either her or Lucius.

Owing to finely honed instincts of self-preservation, they chose to delay further discussion until they had returned to the safety of the Malfoy manor in Wiltshire.

"I told you he could handle himself," her husband remarked impatiently as he shrugged off his cloak in a single graceful movement. "He's not a child, nor is he ignorant in the least."

"Not a child?" The smile she offered him was fractured. "Sweet Merlin, Lucius, he's sixteen."

"Yes, sixteen. And what of it? Albus Dumbledore himself is teaching him Occlumency, or so I was informed. Not all sixteen-year-olds are as bloody unreliable as your cousin."

Looking at her, he saw that he had struck a nerve. Narcissa was staring straight ahead, her face perfectly expressionless, but she was fidgeting with her wedding ring. He reached forward and covered her hand with his.

"You're being overprotective, love. Why, I can't possibly imagine."

She just shook her head. "You're taking the Mark, aren't you?"

"What has that to do with anything?" He frowned. "It's about time I did. Even Rookwood's taken it, and he's higher up in the Ministry than I am. I have no reason not to, Narcissa. In fact, it will look more suspicious if I don't, and you're well aware of that."

"I don't like it, Lucius. Anything Bella follows with this much enthusiasm..." She trailed off with a sigh. "I have no quarrel with his views or his philosophies. I just don't trust my darling sister. Lucius, why can't you...?"

"Hold out, like your mother and aunt?" he finished. "You forget, darling. They have children to do their dirty work. Bella and Regulus, to appease the Dark Lord. Andromeda and Sirius, to hold for the other side. You Blacks are quite brilliant when it comes to saving your own skins."

The words stung more than she wanted to admit, and she replied frostily, "I have no control over my family, Lucius. What I do know is that there are very good reasons why the Blacks have survived this long, and I see no reason to divert from that path."

"Which is why you will remain aloof, Narcissa." Lucius tilted her chin upward so she was looking directly into his face. "You've played the game this long, Merlin knows you've an aptitude for it."

"What? You would have me be a hostess, nothing more?" she spat, flinging aside his arm. "Your sweet society wife, putting up the perfect façade for...whatever on earth it is your Dark Lord does?"

"I do this for our safety, Narcissa--"

"Oh Lucius, tell the truth for once! Why are you following him? I know why you started, I know who prompted it, and I know what came of it. But why now? Why still?"

His jaw had tightened, the only sign that he was on the verge of losing his temper. "Because he is the future, Narcissa. He is the most powerful wizard in the world, and I would think you of all people would appreciate the necessity of staying on his good side."

"They said that of Grindelwald too, and you know what happened to him," she retorted. "What has this Dark Lord of yours done, Lucius? Killed a few Muggles? That seems more my sister's line than yours."

"You're letting your feelings toward Bellatrix cloud your judgement. It's not like you." Lucius paused, taking a deep breath. "Why can't you trust me?"

"Do you even need to ask that, Lucius?" All the anger melted from her voice, replaced by hopeless weariness. "I love you. Almost certainly more than I should, but love doesn't answer to reason." Stepping back, further away from him, she turned her head to the window. "Do this if you must, but please, just be careful. I lost you once. I won't do it again."

Lucius crossed to her side, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I don't want to fight you, love, but I do think you're overreacting. Everything will be fine. And if Snape worries you so much, I'll speak to his father, see about having him here over the summer holiday if he's not staying at Hogwarts. Does that satisfy you?"

She sighed. "At least promise me you'll keep no secrets from me. That you'll tell me the truth, whatsoever it might be."

"Of course I will. Though perhaps I ought to write to old Nott, see about acquiring a Pensieve, just in case Crouch and that guard-dog of his, Moody, have their way. No point in taking unnecessary risks, don't you think?"

Narcissa nodded, aware that she had been rather adroitly outmanoeuvred, at least on the surface. "I could contact Professor Doholov at Durmstrang as well, if you wish. Nott specialises in antiquities, whereas Antonìn seems more likely to know the manufacturers of such things." She satisfied herself with the telltale tension in her husband's grip at her use of the man's first name. "I'm sure he would be willing to make enquiries on behalf of Arcturus Black's niece."

It was a low blow, but first blood had gone to him. It was only fair, after all, that she exact some penance in return.

***

Severus could feel Rosier's cat-green eyes boring into the back of his skull as he moved forward to greet the dark-cloaked figure standing near the hearth, flanked by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Master Snape..." The voice was beautifully modulated, lingering perhaps just a little longer on the 'S' than necessary. "I've heard a great deal of you."

Severus glanced up, but the man's face was obscured beneath the hood. "My lord," was all he said, and that in tones of perfect precision.

"I've been told you are a protégé of Professor Agrippa himself." Severus could imagine an expression to accompany those words, an arched eyebrow not unlike that of Lucius Malfoy. "No mean feat for a young man of your age."

"Thank you, milord," he replied.

"A man of few words as well," remarked Lord Voldemort, addressing the words to Rodolphus.

Severus did not hear Lestrange's reply, murmured as it was. Instead, he found himself facing the man's wife.

And what did sweet Bella have to say? Black's words flickered back to life, accompanied by that unnerving pallor, so very unlike him. Of course Severus knew Bellatrix Lestrange; had known her even before her marriage, though they had never really spoken. It was odd, though, that he hadn't noticed how very closely she resembled her thrice-damned cousin. Except in the eyes that now met his, almost mesmeric in their darkness. Of the three sisters, she is the most powerful. There is no doubt of it. But power isn't everything, Severus. You must remember that. Agrippa now, a memory snatched from even further back.

He heard Rosier's voice near his ear even before he had registered the other's presence.

"You did well, Snape. I'll admit you had me worried," confided Rosier, not sounding worried in the least. "Surely you know Malfoy only looks out for Malfoy."

Severus shrugged. "And is Rosier any better? We're all Slytherin, after all. Were we not taught to look out for ourselves?"

"Touché," replied his friend. Reaching past Severus, he took two glasses of wine from a passing servant. "A toast, Snape?"

Severus looked from Rosier to the trio by the hearth and back again. "To the future?"

Rosier smiled and clinked his glass against Severus'. "To a new era."