A Closer Look In The Snake Nest

Voldemort would have done so, had the situation been opposite.

Something inside Severus told him that he shouldn't lower himself to that. That he shouldn't bother. That... thing would die anyway; his life was fading quickly, as was Lucius'...

There was only one other time Snape could recall having seen Lucius that bad. It had been at the time the elder Malfoy had been branded as Voldemort's.

What had Draco said?!

Severus gripped his wand tighter as he made his way, as silent and unnoticed as he could, heading back to Lucius' room. He absently took notice of Barty Crouch's body missing him by inches as a spell of Goyle's sent him flying, head colliding with the wall. For some reason he thought of Winnie the House Elf, and all the whining she was bound to make when she saw that big red stain on the wall. He shrugged it off, climbing the main staircases, two steps at a time, his mind screaming at him.

How could he not have seen it?

The Uylessea stone, meant to unite, had achieved its intent. There was a reason only two of the life fluids could be poured into it.

To give all three would mean complete donation. The sweat, one's body. The blood, one's heart. The tears, one's soul.

To receive such a present would be to embrace and welcome. A union, for both parts. One, never to be parted again.

The stone's power was too great when it was complete; thus people only put two of the fluids in. It was meant to be carried by one its maker loved the most, and who therefore wouldn't, at any rate, cause the person to shed tears, sweat or blood.

Severus thought darkly, then forced his mind back to the urgency of the present situation.

His nemesis... his greatest love.

The threat of the world. His only light in life.

Linked together. Should he kill Lucius, and there would be no more torment. No more pain. No more Lord Voldemort...

Gryffindor rubbish. What had the world ever done for Severus Snape? He wasn't about to sacrifice his one joy in life for the world's bloody well-being. They could shove their problems for all he cared. He was a goddamn Slytherin, an utter bastard by definition. It would be understandable.

Yet he rushed upstairs, intending to stop Draco.

No, he wanted to be there when his Lucius would come back.

Besides, there would always be a Dark Lord, but would there be another Lucius Malfoy? Not in Severus' lifetime. Not even Draco could compare - Draco was too much Severus, too much his own. There was Lucius within him as well, but not enough. Severus could never get enough of Lucius.

Why should the decision be left to him, Severus Snape? To him, who had not started the mess, who if anything had done all to prevent it? To him, the quiet one, the bitter one, the pessimistic one? To him who was not a Malfoy?

That was the answer. He, who was not a Malfoy. He who still had both feel on the ground and strength to hold Lucius' heels, keep him tied to earth. The sensible one.

The one who was about to go mad with everything that was happening.

Severus began to run, leaving aside all composure, all thoughts, just wishing to see Lucius.

-*-

Lucius gasped and coughed. He moved his hands in search of something to hold on, since he couldn´t feel the bed under him. A hand came to lift his head and help steady his breath. The hand was gentle.

"Shh."

So was the whisper. Lucius blinked, but his vision was still blurry. He felt angry at that. Angry at being in his state, lying on a bed, needing someone to help him breathe. How had he reached that state?

The thought made him suddenly stop letting the air out, and so he entered another coughing fit. Most unfitting since he needed to get up. Voldemort was with Draco. Draco, his son, his baby boy, was being hurt. Lucius struggled.

"Draco..." he let out in a weak voice.

"I´m here, Father."

Lucius allowed himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath. His son's tone was soft. It was hard to believe in danger when Draco was holding him tenderly, speaking to him so softly. He had been so worried... His hand moved in a rather pathetic attempt of lifting it. Draco caught hold of it, and squeezed it between his slender fingers, bringing it to his youthful lips to bestow it with an impassioned kiss.

"I'm here..." he murmured, pressing his father's hand against his cheek.

Lucius could sense the pain on his son's tone and he knew Draco was about to cry. He felt agitated.

He was feeling his strength come back to him steadily. He tightened his hold on his son's hand and was about to say something when the door burst open.

Two pairs of cobalt eyes landed on the panting figure of Severus Snape.

Lucius blinked. So natural to see Severus when he was in such a bad state. Severus, the one who'd go with Lucius through whatever life threw their way. The bitter, pessimistic, scowling and painfully necessary, ever-present lover. Lucius' lips curled in a smile.

"Sevvie," he whispered.

"You know I hate it when you call me that."

Severus breathed hard in response, his eyes surveying the elder Malfoy.

The injuries were no longer bleeding. Oh, there would be scars, Severus thought angrily. He could always count on Voldemort to somehow sully his Lucius.

Something else attracted Severus' attention. Draco was smiling luminously at him. He sighed, and made his way to Lucius' bedside, kneeling like Draco had done, reaching out for Lucius' other hand.

Lucius welcomed the reassuring contact, taking Severus' hand, still smiling. He breathed in. At that moment, he could be the happiest man in the world. In spite of lying on a bed, he was fine. He wasn't bleeding, nor did he have any broken bones or bad injuries. Most importantly, he had the two he wanted by his side.

he thought, directing his gaze at Draco.

He couldn't suppress a chuckle upon the use of such an adjective to describe the currently grumpy Potions Master by his bedside. One of Lucius' aims in life was to annoy Severus Snape to the point of madness, and then make him laugh.

Right now, Lucius felt like bursting with laughter himself. He was alive. So were his dear ones. All of them, unharmed.

A shadow took his features as he thought of the one by whom he had been bruised. His face assumed a serious expression.

"What has happened? Where is Voldemort?"

He saw Severus and Draco exchange glances, and furrowed his brow. Something was very, very wrong.

Upon closer inspection of his son, Lucius could see that the boy had small cuts and bruises all over his face and body. He untangled his hand from Draco's, bringing one finger to trace the length of one particularly long slash on the youth's forehead.

"It's over, Father. Rest," Draco said, his eyes pleading as he pressed one hand down Lucius' chest, forcing him to lie back down.

But the elder Malfoy wouldn't. Not with the worried expression on Severus' eyes, not with the Potions Master's thoughtful silence. Something was just wrong.

That, and the Manor was screaming at him. Intruders. Hostile ones at that.

Lucius sat on the bed, and for a few moments his vision blackened due to the sudden move. He blinked, startled, and pushed away Draco's hand.

"What happened?"

His tone was firm enough to make his son stop the attempts of making him lie down, and to make Severus clear his throat, evidently preparing to speak.

"I'm afraid it isn't over, Draco." Snape said, slowly.

"What do you mean? They'll retreat when they know he's dead, just like fifteen years ago..." Draco's eyes flashed angrily. "And he can't be alive. He was barely breathing when I left!"

"So was your father when I left him."

Uncomfortable silence fell upon the trio. Lucius' glare was still on the dark-haired wizard, prodding him to go further.

To no avail. Severus was facing the ground now, seemingly busy with an internal struggle.

"Care to expand on that?" Lucius said after one long, silent minute.

"Voldemort had the Uylessea stone, Lucius." Severus finally lifted his chin, finding the words he needed. "That explosion when you were duelling in his quarters..." with the corner of his eye, he saw Draco flinch. "You do know about the properties of the stone, don't you?"

"Yes." For the second time that day, Lucius found himself at a loss for words.

"Would anyone explain to me what's happened?" Draco cut in anxiously.

"We should get moving. Where's my wand?"

The Malfoy's hand trembled, too slightly for anyone to notice. He was losing energy. His power had returned to him quickly, somewhat miraculously, but now its source didn't matter, not more than the use he should make of it anyway. And right now he was sending it in waves, the shape of express orders for the Manor to defend itself against the intruders.

Lucius' tone was cold and commanding. Severus nodded and rose, tightening his grip on his own wand, watching as his lover got up and Draco handed him the wand. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of Lucius standing a bit uncertain on his feet, and repressed the urge to reach out and help the blond.

With that in mind, Severus offered Lucius one arm without saying anything. The elder Malfoy took it, for a moment his eyes found Severus' and the dark-haired wizard knew he was being thanked silently.

"Draco!"

Draco stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and turned to face his father.

"What?"

"Stay here. This is an order," Lucius remarked rather firmly. "Come," he said to Severus, directing his steps out of the youth's room. As soon as the door was closed, Lucius whispered to the Potions Master as they walked silently through the halls of Malfoy Manor.

"Fill me in."

"Draco and I carried you back here, and while I brewed a way to have you not dying on us Draco morphed into a Dragon and, together with the rest of the Inner Circle, fought the remaining Death Eater Party along with Voldemort. There's something resembling my Hogwarts halls arguments with the Marauders still going on downstairs, though I strongly suspect a great amount of people is either dead or knocked out by now."

"And Voldemort is still lurking around the Manor."

Lucius said in a low voice, while peering over a plant on the place where the staircases joint, the marble ones that gave access to the Hall from the inner quarters, where hung the portraits of himself and his wife. He idly wondered where she would be as he took in the sounds of the battle. He felt someone touch his arm, and turned his eyes to his brooding companion to find worry written all over his face.

"We can't kill him, Lucius." His tone bore slight despair.

"I know."

"Then why are you *looking* for him?!"

Now Severus sounded exasperated, and Lucius couldn't help but smile in spite of the situation. He had always loved that side of the dark-haired wizard.

"He can't kill me either, can he? Besides, he's an unwanted guest."

He said with the calmness that was so Lucius.

"Well, he can kill *me*."

Severus' remark was ever so dry as to make Lucius chuckle.

He stopped chuckling to pull Severus' arm roughly to the right, so that the other wizard was no longer in his way. His eyes were steel cold as he locked them with crimson ones. Wand in hand, he strode up quickly to the taller, older man.

"Lucius."

Voldemort's voice was harsh and a bit throaty, making it seem as if he had hissed instead of talking. Nevertheless, it was still easily distinguishable, as from where they were standing the acoustic of the room made their voices echo as a side-effect of the roof.

Lucius wasn't surprised to see most of the previously engaged on killing each other heads turn their eyes towards him, Severus and Voldemort. He suppressed a small grin. He had always been one to enjoy an audience.

-*-

Since waking up dizzy somewhere close to the Hall of Malfoy Manor, Voldemort had been dangerously on the verge. He hadn't understood what happened; he could hear the voices of the ones who had betrayed him crying in triumph. All around him there had been corpses and seriously injured people. The Dragon hadn't been in sight, and Voldemort's mind had remarked rather acidly that a ten-feet long silvery Dragon was hard to miss.

He had felt alone. He was unfamiliar with the feeling, for since Christmas he hadn't spent one single second without the dear company of Lucius Malfoy.

He had gripped at the chain on his neck to find nothing. The Uylessea stone was gone. Actually, he couldn't remember seeing it since... he certainly hadn't clutched it on his hand after the...

Realisation had sunk in. The stone gone, the explosion. What did that tell him? His stone, his precious stone. Containing the essence of his beloved. His beloved who had broken into his chambers, looking the angriest Voldemort had ever seen him. The Dark Lord had revelled in the moment then, savouring the hurt. The sensation of, after so many years of unsuccessful tries, having broken Lucius Malfoy.

Apparently, Lucius had lost other things as well upon the vision of his about-to-be-raped dear son. Such as any kind of respect he could ever have felt towards the Dark Lord. Voldemort had found himself duelling the Malfoy.

Voldemort had never duelled Lucius before. He had, though, studied his dear rival carefully enough so as to think himself to know every of his moves.

How much can fury alter a person? Voldemort found out.

It had turned out incredibly wrong. What was supposed to be an experiment, the end of his craving, the mark of his ownership had ended with him losing Lucius.

And then there had been the explosion. And everything afterwards had been a tornado of grey robes and battle fireworks. During all that, Voldemort could only hurt.

He hurt on the inside. He had lost. Lost Lucius. Lost his reasoning. His mind. His followers, damn them, had turned over to the traitor's side.

Wouldn't he have done so? Were he below Lucius as the others, he would have followed the blond anywhere. But as things were, he had to loom impressively over him and conceal his craving.

The craving he thought he would satisfy or at least fool with Draco. Draco, who was the cause of it all. Who was the key to Lucius' downfall. Previous words of the Dark Lord's echoed on his mind.

How so very true a statement, especially when applied to himself. He had loved and lost. He had agonised for that love.

When he had awakened, he had thought of all this. Had contemplated his situation, trying to understand it. He should have been dead. There had been the explosion, which had bruised him up so badly. Magical explosions tended to have that effect.

Magical explosions. The absence of the Uylessea stone. What had been the circumstances then? He could recall having marred Lucius' skin with crimson blood, he could recall appreciating it before losing his senses.

The Uylessea stone. The blood. Lucius' blood. The Uylessea stone. The explosion.

Voldemort had searched for his wand while getting up, then walked about, careful not to trip on any of the corpses nor draw attention to himself. If he was alive like that, it could only mean one thing... Lucius was still out there. And if there was one thing the Dark Lord did not like, was unfinished business.

-*-

"Leave."

Lucius pointed his wand to the Dark Lord menacingly, lowering his eyebrows.

"I believe there's something here that belongs to me."

"There is nothing here for you, Voldemort."

The man's eyes shone red in anger. Lucius had never, ever addressed him without the conveniently respectful 'Lord' or 'Milord' preceding his name. And respect was something Voldemort would never have lacking. The corners of his mouth twitched downwards and he narrowed his eyes. He seemed to become taller as his aura enveloped him and the other two wizards. He felt it touching the walls, where a silent conflict between it and Lucius' own aura, that was entangled to the Manor, began. He retreated. He'd need that energy. He focused his eyes on the blond, ignoring all the gazes he was getting from the surviving Death Eaters, a small crowd downstairs, for the time being.

"It is over." Lucius added, holding the Dark Lord's stare.

Voldemort's face broke into a grin. Explaining was within his capabilities, as was gaining people's sympathies.

"Put that down, Lucius. The only reason I'm not holding my own wand is that I know it won't be of any use."

"I wonder what makes you so pleased about it."

"I have reasons to be pleased. If you are ignorant on the matter, then I shall clarify to you that I am currently-"

"Giving a speech in front of a hall full of people, mostly turn-coats who have just finished up a great part of your faithful followers , and of which previously consisted you elite army, if I'm not mistaken. And," Severus continued, taking one step forward so that he was standing next to Lucius, "surprise, surprise, your dear Second-in-command is the cause of it all and not just the favourite servant you've just lost, but the one who's dragged along the most powerful and efficient among your own. It really is no wonder you're pleased."

Dark eyebrows were arched in a gesture full of meaning.

Were the situation not so serious, Lucius would have turned around and kissed the Potions Master.

Voldemort turned to Severus, his eyes shimmering dangerously as he pulled out his wand.

"To you I am not linked for life," he hissed, raising his weapon.

Lucius chose that exact moment to step in between the two before the fight got any more physical.

"Would you say the same about me?"

The Dark Lord had to stop in mid-curse and resort to evil glaring instead.

"Leave. My. House. Now." Lucius said slowly, wand still in hand, and turned his steely stare to the ones downstairs. "And that goes for the ones who are with him as well. Feel invited to leave before any more harm comes to you." His voice boomed.

"This isn't over and you know it, Lucius."

"No, it isn't. It's merely a change of... sides."

His hand reached behind him, to find Severus' sleeve. Voldemort intensified his glare.

"I cannot leave. Neither can you separate yourself from me."

"Oh, I have no doubt whatsoever about that. However, our blood link doesn't necessarily mean a bond of minds." He paused for a moment before smiling a dazzling veela smile. "Or do you see me all over you?"

"Fortunately, no." Voldemort was scowling by then. "Although I must inform you that, much to your dismay, I am not all over you, Malfoy."

"Indeed. You're irritatingly under my skin."

"Do not refer to me in such a manner."

"Or what? You'll kill me? I don't think so."

Lucius cocked his head to one side mockingly. He knew that he was angering Voldemort, and that was payback. He had had an idol ripped from him, for he had been truly devoted to and fond of the Dark Lord. He had felt intense things for the man, varying from admiration and a deep desire to please to something else he couldn't name. He had been seriously hurt by the blow delivered, and did intend to bite back. Malfoy fashion.

He hadn't earned the fame of owning a silver tongue for nothing. Once he found a weakness, he knew just how to speak of it to its owner until he had his prey pulling at the own hair in despair. Now in possession of the knowledge that Voldemort had it for him, he was sure to put it to proper, painful use. Even more in front of all those people. Ah, the sweet sensation of causing someone public humiliation.

"There are other ways to make one suffer," Voldemort informed him darkly, clutching his wand.

"I also know quite a few of these." Lucius made a circular move with his wand, voice back to its initial firm tone. "You will leave my house now. I won't meet you again, nor will my son. It's enough of your sickening presence to have you in my blood."

"I see someone has had a bad influence on dedicated you, Lucius." The Dark Lord indicated Severus with his chin, smiling maliciously.

Snape looked positively indignant to hear this and opened his mouth to protest, but the increased pressure of Lucius' hand on his wrist rendered him silent and he merely glowered furiously at the older wizard. Which was no small matter, for Severus' glower was most effective when he chose to make use of it.

"You are pathetic, Voldemort. You've dared to touch my son." Lucius' hands trembled slightly, his knuckles were white and his eyes were nothing but thin lines on his face. He oozed anger. "Do not mess any further with what is dear to me."

Voldemort's eyes flashed blood. He wasn't used to being insulted and threatened. This whole new situation had him losing his ground, and the easiest way out seemed a wave of the wand.

"Immob-"

"Expelliarmus!"

Lucius Malfoy was a remarkably quick duellist. He laid cold, inexpressive eyes on the Dark Lord.

"You don't understand, Malfoy. We. Are. One! You can't shove me out of your life!"

Voldemort seemed exasperated, desperate, and waved his hands in deep annoyance and frustration.

"Unfortunately, he's right, Lucius."

Severus laid a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

Both cursed wizards turned their attention to the Potions Master. Severus Snape left his place behind Lucius and took two long steps so that he stood between the other two, back to the small crowd. As if he gave a damn about them.

He directed his gaze to one and then the other.

"You are linked together. Forcefully, you have a bond. And a strong one at that."

Voldemort nodded in one curt move. But Severus wasn't finished.

"It is, however, merely physical. As long as each of you ensures the own safety, the other has nothing to trouble himself about."

"Which means I already have enough cleaning up to do in my house without you on it," Lucius remarked coldly.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. He hurt. Everything about him hurt. He wanted no more than to curl up somewhere and lick his wounds. With one last glower, he Disapparated.

-*-

Severus had his wand in hand, scowl firmly in place. Voldemort could be invisible for all he knew. Well, his followers were leaving. Maybe he had summoned them from wherever it was he had gone?

Lucius' hand on his arm, pulling it down, made him turn his attention to the Malfoy.

Lucius was giving him the most brilliant of smiles.

Severus' heart ached. With his vests stained, blood over his messed hair, and linked for life to the Dark Lord, Lucius was stunningly beautiful. Incredibly soft as his slender fingers found Severus' face, in a tender caress. He leaned into that caress, but the long-fingered hand was pulled back.

Lucius ran a hand through his hair. Severus guessed he was as annoyed at his current, not-pristine condition as he was at having Voldemort entangled in his very blood. Lucius had always been incurably strict with his self-hygiene, as well as simply having to look perfect.

Lucius overlooked the Manor Hall, his gaze not taking in the ones of the Inner Circle that had been left, but instead surveying his house. Ruined. The columns, the ceiling, the lamp. Not to mention the furniture, the remainders of which currently laid on top of the many limp bodies. Some of them were moving, tentatively getting to their knees. Severus reckoned more than a few were seriously injured. Lucius' stare, though, was focused somewhere beyond them and his face was a mask of evident irritation.

"I can't believe they're such animals. Couldn't they have knocked nicely? That door had been on the Manor for over twenty generations of Malfoys!"

"How could something, be it living or not, possibly endure twenty generations of Malfoys?"

Severus couldn't help but remark. Lucius' glare was immensely rewarding.

As both turned their attentions to further inspection of the Hall and its occupants, Severus remembered that there was one corpse there Lucius might not be particularly pleased about.

"Lucifer." He began, his voice a little uncertain.

"Yes?" Lucius didn't even turn around to look at him.

"Were you a good husband?"

Lucius' silvery eyes glittered with interest as he turned them to look into the Potions Master own black pools.

"Why? Have you been considering proposing to me, Sev?"

"Well, you're available now."

"What do you..." Lucius' voice trailed off as the meaning of Severus' words sunk in.

He shrugged.

"Will make some good headlines for the Daily Prophet. 'Malfoy Mistress Killed During Dark Lord's Strike To The Manor'. Now I'll have the sympathy of all the Magical Community, for I'm a poor, lonely, inconsolable husband." There was this wicked smile on Lucius' lips.

Snape mentally smacked himself for thinking Lucius would be angry with him. However, he sensibly chose to omit the fact that he had been personally responsible for Narcissa's demise. At least for now. Suddenly his attention darted elsewhere.

"And now I can tease Potter without getting that 'You heartless bastard don't know what its like to lose a parent' look."

Severus' dark eyes found Draco, for the youth was making his way towards them. The jet-black haired wizard sighed. Draco, like his father, disregarded completely what people told him to say or do.

He couldn't possibly love that child more.

Snape watched quietly as Draco hugged his father, as Lucius ruffled his son's hair, one hand on the youth's shoulders and the other toying with the strands of silvery blond hair. Something warm filled Severus' insides and, whilst he didn't know exactly what it was, for the first time he didn't want to think about its nature or its reason, simply rejoicing in the feeling.

"Now, Draco, as much as I enjoy having you safe enough as to press yourself against me, we've got much to do. Our friends are in need of medical care and, why not, some food and good wine. Not to mention the reconstruction of our Hall. Don't want the press and the Ministry to see the Manor at anything but its best."

Draco pulled back, looking distinctly disappointed.

"Why can't we call the elves? I hate cleaning up," the young Malfoy whined, frowning.

-*-

Draco mounted his Firebolt 2005 Special Edition Deluxe, and kicked off the ground.

The weather was mild. It was the beginning of May, and Spring was being kind. The sun shone brilliantly in the cloudless blue sky, bringing a kind warmth that didn't roast people's scalps. It cast reflections in all shades of gold and silver in Malfoy hair.

Lucius' cobalt eyes followed the floating figure of his son. Draco made Slytherin Quidditch robes look as if they were tailor-made. And he flew with such effortless grace. Lucius was overflowing with pride.

Next to him, their hands discreetly entangled, was Severus Snape. He had a triangular little flag, dark green with a silvery "S" on it. He was, after all, the Head of Slytherin, and this was the decisive Quidditch match. Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

It was a nervous match, with many fouls from both teams. More than one time did Lucius jump to his feet when a well-aimed bludger hit his son, and after thirty-five minutes Gryffindor had scored three times against one of Slytherin. Not good prospects. But there was still a chance...

Severus clutched Lucius' hand, urging him to look down. A little below them, Draco was making a mad dive for the Snitch, Potter tagging along. Severus' nails dug into his lover's flesh unknowingly as he became more and more anxious. Not once since Draco's third year had Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup.

Harry Potter, in one miraculous move, grabbed hold of the small golden ball, its wings battering against his gloved fingers.

Against the loud cheering of three quarters of the audience, Severus lowered his head, downcast. Some things never changed.

He felt a thumb caressing his hand, and lifted his eyes to meet Lucius Malfoy's.

Some things did.