The Darker Edge

    Severus Snape lay flat on his back in the king sized bed with silver satin sheets, aimlessly twirling his wand. It was only the beginning of the summer, and already overwhelmingly hot. Severus felt sweat drip down him in rivulets, dampening the sheets. An ornate fan turned slowly overhead, doing little to cool the air. The small window was thrown as wide open as possible, but there was no breeze. His black hair was damp from the humidity; it was abnormally warm for so early in the summer. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of grey shorts, but still it was too hot.

    “Damn you! Damn you,” his mother was shouting from out in the hallway. Her voice was high pitched and frantic, her sobs ragged. His parents were fighting again. His father’s voice was thick with alcohol and frustration, his normally clipped tones slurred with hatred.

    Severus ignored them. He no longer cared if his father got drunk and raged through the house breaking things. His mother and his father’s fighting had gotten old. He longed to be somewhere else, even back at school. At least there was a library at Hogwarts, and he could lounge near the cool lake in the summer heat.

    “I’ll kill you, you bloody bitch,” called Severus’s father in a roar. He thundered roughly through the hall, clearly smashing everything in his way. There was a crash, the sound of glass shattering, and Severus knew the Ming vase in the hallway had been reduced to smithereens. He could care less about the Muggle pottery, even if it was supposedly rare and valuable, but his mother screamed bloody murder. She loved to collect works of art, even if they had been crafted by Muggle hands, an odd hobby for a pureblood witch.

    Severus listened to them thumping around in the hallway; his mother’s breathless screams, his father’s stupid shout. He wished they would both die.

    There was a scrape at the window, and an eagle owl fluttered through into the bedroom, a green envelope in it’s talons.

    Severus sat up, running a hand through his lank, sweaty hair. The owl dropped the envelope onto the bed, circled the room once and flew out the open window without waiting for a treat or reply.

    Severus watched it go, wishing for a second that he could escape Snape Manor so easily. Then he picked up the envelope and slit it with a silver letter opener.

    The parchment was rich cream, decorated with the Malfoy crest. The letter was written by hand in green ink.

    “Severus,

    “As much as you no doubt enjoy suffering you cannot possibly be happy at home. Come, join me. My parents have fled Europe for the summer, you shall have all the privacy you desire. I await your arrival breathlessly.

    “Lucius Malfoy”

    Severus snorted as he tossed the letter aside. Arrogant Lucius, the same as ever. He never bothered to ask, he directed. Severus had no intention of paying a visit to the Malfoy estate anytime soon. Spending his summer with Lucius constantly trying to seduce him, or worse, sell him on some ridiculous cause for blood purity was not Severus’s idea of an enjoyable break.

    He leaned back on the bed, too lethargic in the damp heat of the bedroom to even sit up. All he wanted was sleep, but he had always had trouble sleeping. Too much noise in Snape Manor for one thing, with his parents always fighting, and he could never relax. The least sound awoke him with a start, and he spent long hours lying in the cool sheets, his eyes closed but his mind racing.

    There were sleeping draughts, potions for dreamless sleep, but they always left Severus dull witted and dragging the following morning. He preferred his mind keen and hated to lose his capacities. Most nights he studied until very late in the evening, slept poorly for several hours and awoke before the sun was risen. The shadowy early morning hours were his favorite time of day. No one else was ever awake and it was silent. He could work, or simply retreat and read in the grayish light of a struggling dawn.

    Severus sighed. The crashing in the hall continued, as well as yelps of pain from his mother. His father was no doubt beating her again for some imagined transgression. He always drank and then became convinced that his wife had slighted him in some way. In their fights they often managed to destroy the entire house, breaking valuables, throwing heirlooms at one another. More work for the house elves.

    “Drunken fool,” Severus’s mother shouted. Severus climbed off the bed and went to the door. He flung it open and found the hallway a predictable mess of broken glass and ripped wall hangings. The family tapestry was ripped in one spot. The fools were always getting into fights and ruining their home.

    Severus’s father was wearing navy blue dress robes with a high collar and fringed cuffs, very elegant. The robes however were torn and smeared with an oily substance that Severus recognized at once as Moonflower wine. He positively reeked of it.

    Severus glanced at his mother, who was struggling to her feet. There was a cut across her left cheek, oozing blood, and a greenish bruise blooming over her eye. She was in her white silk slip and had obviously been napping before her husband had arrived home ready to pick a fight. Sweat dripped down her back, staining the silk.

    “You, wha’ do you want?” Severus’s father slurred, rising to his feet and shaking a fist. His face was flushed and damp. “Get back in your room boy, unless you want some of the same.”

    Severus took a step back. He was not stupid, he had been in plenty of fights with his father and always come out the loser.

    His father held out his wand in one shaking hand. “You want to fight me, boy? You think I’m too old to take care of you?”

    “No,” Severus answered, casting his eyes down. His face burned. He fingered the wand in his pocket, wishing he had the guts to stand up to his father.

    “Expelliarmus,” cried his father suddenly, catching Severus off guard. The wand flew from his robe as Severus was knocked to the ground as if by a hard punch. The wand clattered against the floor, ten feet from Severus’s outstretched hand.

    “Accio,” said the elder Snape, grinning manically as the wand sailed over. He caught it easily and stowed it in his own robe. “Not so easy to duel with your old man, is it Sunny Jim? You should have stayed in your bedroom.”

    Severus agreed, although he said nothing and made no move. He knew if he retreated his father would aim a curse at his back, and he was helpless without his wand.

    His mother stood up unsteadily, leaning against the wall. She stared at Severus, her eyes blank.

    “Get up,” directed Severus’s father. His eyes shone, he was clearly enjoying the frightened look on Severus’s face.

    Severus climbed to his feet and faced his father, although he averted his eyes. The smell of stale alcohol wafted through the hallway. Severus could see a lone house elf, peeking through a slit in the bathroom door. It looked terrified, and Severus couldn’t blame it.

    “You’re the big man now, boy? A tough guy? You thought you would come out here and teach me a lesson?”

    Severus shook his head. “I was just -”

    “Silence!,” interrupted his father, holding up the wand. He grinned wickedly. “You’re the regular pride of Slytherin house, hanging upside down in your underwear.”

    Severus’s mother snickered and Severus found himself hating her. His eyes flicked up at the bruise deepening over her left eye, and he found himself pleased that she had suffered some.

    “I heard that it was James Potter who had you up like that, giving the whole school a show. James Potter, whose father is in the Ministry? Tell me, boy, how did it feel to be held up for ridicule in front of the whole school? That was more attention then you’ve ever deserved in your life, wasn’t it? Your fifteen minutes of fame.”

    Severus felt his face burn as the blood rushed to his cheeks. He wished that the floor would open up and swallow him. He heard his father chuckle and his mother laugh and he wished that they would just shout Avada Kedavra and be done with it.

    “You’re an embarrassment to our lineage, Severus. You aren’t fit to be called a Snape. You aren’t fit to be my son,” Severus’s father declared in a voice that was suddenly no longer joking.

    “It wasn’t my fault,” Severus burst out. He was excellent at restraining himself, but he was desperate for his father to understand. It was the wrong move however, and his father raised the wand.

    The Cruciatus curse hit Severus before he could even attempt to flee. He screamed as the pain flooded through his entire body, making him convulse. His knees gave way and he fell down on the floor, hitting his head. Every thought was a desperate attempt to reduce the pain, but it continued. It was like being stabbed, beaten and burned all at once on a body that had already suffered extensive injury.

    Severus didn’t know how much time had passed when the curse was lifted. He slumped against the floor. He had bitten his tongue on accident while he writhed, and the blood dripped down his chin. His muscles vibrated and he felt as if he had been stretched on the rack.

    “Get up,” commanded his father’s voice.

    Severus shifted on his sore muscles and struggled to pull himself into a standing position. He felt completely drained.

    “You’re worthless, boy. Remember your place next time and don’t interfere. You can’t do anything anyway,” his father said.

    Severus stood still and said nothing. He prayed that the torture was over so that he could retreat to his bedroom.

    “Don’t shame this family again, boy. Don’t let anyone humiliate the Snape name like that Potter kid did. Kill them first. Defend yourself or die trying.”

    “I tried,” Severus replied.

    “Don’t try, succeed. Why can’t you be more like Lucius Malfoy?” interjected his mother, frowning. “He wouldn’t let himself be caught dangling naked in front of a crowd. He would die before he let that Potter boy do that to him.”

    “It was three against one,” Severus implored, wishing she would understand.

    “I don’t care if it’s the entire school against you,” stormed his father. “Better you dead then our honor lost. You hear me? I would rather have you dead. You want a sample of what will happen to you the next time you come home after getting your ass kicked?”

    Severus shook his head.

    “I’d kill you son. You remember that next time you think about backing down. You remember this,” his father said. “Crucio!”

    Pain was the entire world. Severus tried to bite back his shouts but he was overwhelmed by the horrid sensation of his muscles being ripped, his body being shattered. He screamed against the pain.

    The curse stopped but Severus remained on his side on the floor, gasping for breath and trying to force himself not to vomit. His entire body ached and twitched, his nerves were frazzled by the awful pain.

    Above him, his father sneered. “Worthless boy.” He threw Severus’s wand down and it struck him on the side. Severus closed his eyes as he listened to his father stomping away. His mother drifted off like a ghost, clearly eager to sleep away her misery.

    He lay there for several minutes, forcing himself to inhale and exhale. There was a cramp in his side which he ignored, and he could feel bruises blooming on his face and back from convulsing. He had also hit his head hard against the wall; he could feel the matted blood in his hair.

    After a while he grasped his wand and pulled himself into a standing position. His legs ached and his head hurt badly. He was dizzy and wanted nothing more but to lie down. Somehow he staggered into his bedroom and fell down on the blissfully soft bed.

    Still laying on the mattress, Severus opened the drawer in the stand beside his bed and pulled out a clear vial, which held a deep blue potion filled with silver sparks. It was one of the stronger sleeping potions that he was capable of making. He sat up with some difficulty, coughed and removed the cork. The normal dosage amount to no more then a small sip; the bottle contained at least four times that amount. Severus tipped it back and drained the vial dry, not caring if he took too much. He could think of worse things then oversleeping.

    He fell back on the bed, feeling the cooling, calming sensation of the potion. His aches faded a bit. His breathing returned to normal and his heart stopped pounding. He closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to a much needed slumber.

    Sometime later he opened his eyes, surprised to see the light filtering in through the open window. It was twilight and the sky was a pastel rainbow, the light deeply golden. The air was somewhat cooler and slight breeze blew through the room.

    Severus sat up gingerly. His aches were mostly gone, although he could feel some bruising on his face, arms and chest. He touched his head and winced. It was tender, but at least the bleeding had stopped. He climbed off of the bed and stretched carefully, not wanting to reawaken the soreness in his muscles.

    He paused, straining his ears for the slightest sound. Snape Manor was silent. Praying softly that he father was gone, Severus removed his sweaty shorts and tossed them into a corner already piled with dirty robes. He dressed himself in black pants and a black Muggle t-shirt and threw on his cape.

    The movement in the mirror caught his eye, and he stared for a moment at his reflection, feeling ice in the pit of his stomach. A blackish bruise was forming over one eye, and there was a scrape on his chin. More then the injuries his expression unnerved him. He looked wicked, his eyes cold and unfeeling. Severus took a deep breath and decided it was high time to get out of the house. He combed his fingers through his hair a bit, trying to cover the small, swelling bump on the head, before giving up.

    After a moments pause he waved his wand at some of the less dirty robes and directed them into a small, black leather satchel. He gathered up a few articles of Muggle clothing as well, which he often wore as a statement of rebellion against his pureblood family. He frowned and glanced around the room. The pillow on the bed was stained with red flowers of blood, but he ignored that as he yanked open the desk drawer and grabbed a few vials of potion. He hated to leave his stores, lest his father take out his fury on them, but he told himself that it would only be for a bit. To his bag he added a few of his favorite books, which he could not imagine leaving behind. He zipped the bag closed and shouldered it.

    The hallway was silent and shadowy. The door to his parent’s bedroom was closed and Severus could hear his mother breathing deeply. He crept to the kitchen with his wand raised, listening intently. There were no sounds. His father’s cloak was gone, as was his broom. He had clearly gone out to drink some more. Severus did not envy his mother, who would no doubt be dragged into another drunken battle when her husband returned, but he didn’t care about her either. He himself had no intention of being home when he father returned. He grabbed hold of his own broom.

    He strode across the finely decorated room - the house elves had done their work well - and yanked open the door. The gilt edged twilight had a hopeful quality. He spared Snape Manor a last glance before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He hoped Lucius was ready for company.

    Lucius Malfoy closed his eyes and dove into the pool, relishing the refreshing sensation of the cool water on his hot skin. He had been lying pool side for an hour, stretched out on a long wicker chaise, exposing his nude body to the rays of the sun. The lime flavored drinks the house elves kept bringing him had not been enough to cool him, but he was pleased nonetheless. His skin, always porcelain, had the faintest brush of bronze, which only served to accentuate the positive.

    He surfaced and drew a long breath of air, smiling to himself. He was pleased, pleased to have the entire estate to himself alone, with his parents absent. True, they were more lenient then average, never questioned the sounds of moans coming from his room or the stream of women and men coming and going at all hours, but he preferred to have the place to himself. It was most difficult for him to feel comfortable in the presence of his parents. He liked to think of himself as utterly self-controlled, not as a child in need of guardians.

    A magical mattress floated several inches above the water, and Lucius grabbed hold and pulled himself up, breathing a sigh of relief. In the cup holder on the side was yet another coconut filled with lime juice, sugar and alcohol, some concoction dreamed up by house elves. Lucius knew none of their names, he merely shouted “house elf!” whenever he needed one.

    For a moment he let himself lie back and imagine that he was not alone in the pool. The thought of Severus crossed his mind, but Lucius refused to give in to that familiar fantasy. The crush was to

totally unlike him. Sure, he was somewhat driven of late and he loved physical encounters, but the mere thought of seeming desperate or needy made Lucius shudder. It should be Severus coming to him. Lucius had a reputation to uphold; it would never do to be chasing after the Slytherin misfit when there was a whole school just there for the taking.

    He reminded himself that his sights were set on Severus for a reason. Despite the childish crush, Lucius had a job to do. Lord Voldemort had been most impressed when Lucius had mentioned Severus offhand. When Lucius had detailed Severus’s skill in potions and Dark Arts, Voldemort had been most intrigued. Voldemort wanted Severus as a Death Eater, and it was Lucius’s job to convince Severus to take part. He knew it was only a matter of time. Severus was so pessimistic that he hated to try anything new, but Lucius was quite confident that the moment Severus met Voldemort he would give anything to join.

    It was just a matter of time, Lucius decided as he dangled one foot in the water. The sunshine was hot on his chest and made him think of warmer places then Britain. Sighing to himself, he jumped back into the water. He was getting lazy, it was time for laps.

    He swam the length of the pool, flipped and swim back before taking a breath, and then worked on his breaststroke back and forth for a while. Lucius wanted to remain fit, and reminded himself that summer was no time to let oneself go.

    Back and forth, back and forth. On the thirtieth lap, Lucius surfaced. It had been a long time since he last swim, and he would need to work on it. He was breathing a bit heavier then he felt comfortable with.

    A shadow moved along the edge of the pool. Lucius swam to the side of the pool and hauled himself out. Still naked he reached for a towel and looked around. The tiles he stood on were green and white alternating, and flowers had been planted all around the edge of the fence. The black iron gate was ajar.

    Lucius stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. Had it been the wind? He felt himself tense slightly as the sun slipped behind a cloud, darkening the sky a bit. He toweled himself of, glancing about suspiciously. There was a sound of rustling leaves and something thumped to the ground. He jumped.

    “Master Malfoy, sir?”

    “Great Merlin, what to you want!” Malfoy demanded jerkily as he spun around to face the house elf, who stared back with wide eyes. Its hands were full of empty coconuts. “How dare you disturb me!”

    “I, I, Twink is sorry, Master,” it replied, looking extremely frightened. “Twink merely came to tell you there is a visitor.”

    “Then show them out,” Lucius responded icily. “Have you forgotten your manners entirely?”

    The elf regarded him with frightened eyes. “Yes, yes of course Master. Twink wanted to tidy up a bit first.”

    Lucius picked up a nearby potted plant and flung it at the elf. “Get on with it, go and show out my guest. At once! When you’re finished, go...,” he paused, thinking. “Go and iron your hands! I shall teach you how to behave properly in this house!”

    Large tears formed in the elves eyes as it turned, shaking. “As you wish, Master.” The small figure retreated silently, save for barely audible sniffles.     

    Lucius sighed as the iron gate swung closed with a bang. He toweled himself off and then wrapped the fluffy white towel around his waist. He sincerely hoped the visitor was not a friend of his parents come by to check on him. While he had been trained to put on a good show, he found his parents’s associates utterly boring and terribly pompous. It especially annoyed him when they exchanged bits of rumors regarding Voldemort, pretending to be familiar with him and his plans.

    No movement came from the main house. Lucius frowned and swung himself back onto his wicker chaise. The elves were so incompetent! They had probably imagined a guest, or else lied about one to get out of work, the lazy things. Lucius looked longingly at the crystal clear pool, but just as he was getting up to dive in he heard brisk footsteps on the walk and settled himself back down.

    The gate swung open, and there stood Severus Snape, looking extremely unhappy. Lucius stared momentarily at the bruises on Severus’s face before snapping his fingers at the accompanying elf.

    “Sit down, Severus, and what has happened to your face?” Lucius questioned. He shot a glare at the trembling elf. “Drinks, immediately!”

    The elf bowed and ran off. Lucius shook his head. “So difficult to find good service nowadays. So, Severus, what happened? You look like you were hit by the Hogwarts Express.”

    Severus settled himself into a wooden reclining chair, looking extremely uncomfortable as he leaned back awkwardly. In his dark cape he did not look like he belonged pool side, or in the summer season whatsoever. He touched his face gingerly.

    “This? This is the result of my father,” he spat, looking murderous.

    Lucius nodded. He was quite familiar with the dynamics of the Snape household, although he was always treated like a king when he came to visit. “He was drunk, I imagine.”

    “Filthy,” Severus confirmed, twirling his wand through his fingers and frowning. “I decided to take you up on your offer.”

    “So pleased to hear it,” Lucius said truthfully. He stared coldly at the house elf who carried out a tray of drinks. “Ah, finally.”

    Severus picked up a coconut carefully and stared at it as if unsure what it was. He scowled at it. “What is in this?”

    “I’ve no idea,” Lucius replied, taking a long swallow of his own. “It’s delicious though. I think it has some rum in it, but I can’t be certain.”

    Severus raised the coconut to his lips and took a tiny sip. “It’s tequila.”

    “What?”

    “Tequila. Muggle alcohol.”

    “I see,” Lucius remarked, raising an eyebrow. “And how is it that a pure blood wizard is on familiar terms with Muggle beverages?”

    “I had some when I visited my great aunt in Mexico. Tastes awful on it’s own, but in this drink it isn’t so bad.”

    Lucius nodded, feeling the heat on his skin. “I wonder why we have Muggle alcohol in the house. Well, come, Severus, join me in a swim. It’s too hot out here.”

    “Absolutely not,” Severus declared. “I have absolutely no desire to go swimming, and furthermore, as you can see, I’m not dressed for it.”

    “Take of your clothes and swim in the nude. I’m naked,” Lucius explained needlessly, as he had dropped his towel onto the tile. “Come on now, don’t be such a Hufflepuff. Live dangerously.”

    Severus snorted. “I have nothing to prove to you.” He set down his drink, however, and stood, edging toward the water.

    Lucius shrugged and dove in. He swam the length of the pool and back again, beaming at Severus. His long, silver blond hair floated in the water and drops of water ran sensuously down his face. “Just try it, Severus. I have a bathing costume if you’re going to play modest.”

    Severus looked skeptical, but slowly unfastened his cape and threw it across the chair. He pulled off his t-shirt, turning his body slightly away from Lucius, then, cringing as if fulfilling a dare, he stripped off his pants.

    “Nothing under, I’m impressed,” Lucius grinned, trying not to look too interested in Severus’s lean body. “Come on now, get in the water. It’s wonderful.”

    Severus nodded and dove in, surprisingly graceful. He swam underwater quickly, crossing the pool in seconds, and coming back before coming up for air.

    “You see, it’s not so difficult,” Lucius remarked.

    They swam for several minutes, Severus concentrating on seeing how long he could go without a breath, and Lucius lazily floating on top, eyeing Severus.

    After a bit, Severus climbed out of the pool and tossed himself into a chair, modestly pulling his cape over his bits. Lucius, aware of Severus’s gaze, continued to do laps at a rapid pace, working every feather kick to his advantage. He was confident about his lightly tanned body and his excellent musculature, and appreciated having an audience.

    Lucius swam up to the edge and regarded Severus for a moment. “Come back in.”

    “No,” Severus said, frowning. “It’s too cold.”

    Lucius grinned and climbed over the edge. He padded across the tile and took hold of his wand. “I can fix that in an instant.” With a quick flick of the wand, giant, pink bubbles appeared on the surface of the water.

    “It’s like a bath now, Severus, you can’t complain.”

    Severus made a disgusted expression and threw down his cape, giving Lucius a very brief show before gingerly lowering himself into the foam at the shallow end.

    “It is warmer,” he admitted grudgingly, gliding through the water. He sank below the surface of the water for a moment, the rose up, shoving pink bubbles out of the way.

    Lucius jumped in, splashing waves every which way. “You must try the raft,” he declared, indicating the floating mattress now hovering amid the bubbles. “It’s so relaxing.”

    Severus climbed aboard, but as if wise to Lucius’s plan he rolled over on his stomach. His black hair hung in his face, and he shoved it aside. The scent rising from the pool was strawberry, and he felt himself relaxing against his will.

    “It is nice, isn’t it?” Lucius questioned as he floated on his back in the foam, not the least bit embarrassed about his figure. Severus couldn’t help but glance over, but he blushed and forced himself to look away.

    “Nice? It’ll do.”

    “So negative, so obstinate as always,” Lucius joked. “Would you like more to drink? I’ll call the house elves.”

    “No,” Severus replied. He laid his head down on the raft, feeling the gentle bobbing of the water and the warmth rising up and comforting him. The entire pool smelled so delicious.

    “Something else then, perhaps?” Lucius questioned. “Tea? Butterbeer?”

    “Nothing I said, now stop pestering me,” Severus answered. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his back. The water lulled him gently, rocked him back and forth. He could hear the sounds of Lucius practicing laps, the sharp kicks splashing, but he did not care enough to be watching. Severus knew Lucius was sneaking glances at his bare buttocks, but he didn’t feel like climbing down from the raft.    

    The next thing Severus knew, the rocking had stopped. He was lying on his back, motionless, and the scent of strawberry bubbles had faded. Instantly his hands shot out to cover his private bits, but they met cool silk instead of skin. Severus sat up and opened his eyes. He was lying in a massive bed surrounded by blackness.

    The bed shifted and Severus turned. Lucius was sitting beside him, propped on pillows. He was wearing a navy blue silk bathrobe and sipping tea. “You’re awake, wonderful. You must have been very tired.”

    “What am I doing in here?” Severus demanded. He reached under the sheets and his hands touched warm, bare skin. “Where is my clothing, Lucius?”

    “It’s around here somewhere,” Lucius said unconcernedly, waving his hand. “I magicked you in, Severus. You fell asleep aboard the raft, I thought you would be more comfortable in the bed.”

    “And you did nothing to me while I slept?” Severus sneered. He yanked back the black velvet hangings. The bedroom was softly lit by floating candles. There was a pile of clothing on the floor, neatly folded, and his leather satchel. Severus pulled the silk sheet from the bed and swathed himself in it, then climbed out of bed.

    Lucius managed to look both perturbed and at ease. “You are so paranoid, Severus, what would I want with you?”

    “We both know the answer to that,” Severus spat as he rummaged around on the floor, trying to dress himself without letting the sheet fall.

    Lucius kept his gaze fixed on Severus, wondering if he would drop the sheet. “You worry too much.” He set his tea cup down on the saucer and magicked both away. “Are you hungry? The house elves should have dinner prepared by now.”

    “I could eat,” Severus remarked grudgingly as he pulled his pants on.

    “Let’s then,” Lucius said. He climbed from the bed, which was at least three times that of an ordinary king sized bed. He untied his robe and let it fall to his feet. The room was silent but for the whisper of the silk as it crumpled on the ground. Lucius dressed himself in grey pants and a white t-shirt.

    “Muggle clothing?” Severus asked, looking amused. “You dress in Muggle clothing at home?”

    “When my parents are out, yes.” Lucius imitated his mother’s high pitched voice. “We don’t dress like common Mudbloods in this house.”

    Severus snorted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in your room.”

    “Too long,” Lucius answered, cocking an eyebrow and smiling wickedly. “But first, we eat.”

    “Do you enjoy?” Lucius inquired a half of an hour later, when both he and Severus were sitting in the formal dining room. The table they were at could heave seated fifty. Lucius sat at the head of the table with Severus to his right, preferring the intimacy. The ornate candlesticks, carved with a figure of a winged serpent in flight, were lit, casting long pale shadows throughout the room. On the table was a silver and glass bucket, filled with ice and holding an unopened bottle of white wine.

    Severus shrugged, not willing to give Lucius the satisfaction of being impressed. While he too resided in a wealthy home his own accommodations were lacking and his dinner was never served so elegantly by house elves. Normally his mother prepared something single before falling into a drunken daze. He gestured at the small bowl of dark, round things before him. “What is this supposed to be?”

    Lucius set down his wineglass and frowned. “Caviar. Beluga caviar. It’s very nice, Severus, do try it.”

    “Fish eggs?” Severus clarified, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “No, thank you. I’ll take more wine, however.”

    Lucius nodded curtly at the house elf standing beside the table. It was dressed in an old but clean green and white dishrag tied toga style. It’s eyes were huge as it stood motionless, apparently not daring to approach the table.

    “Well, get on with it!” Lucius insisted in a stronger voice, snapping his fingers. “Pour the wine, ignorant beast.”

    “Charming,” Severus remarked with a snort as the elf practically jumped out of it’s skin and poured the wine with shaking hands. A few stray drops fell onto the table cloth but Severus shifted his arm to cover them, not caring to see the elf abused further. Despite his recent nap his body still ached from the Cruciatus curse and he was not desirous of seeing further violence.

    “Bring the bread, fool,” Lucius hissed at the elf, which fled. “Honestly,” he remarked, turning to Severus. “These incompetent elves are more trouble then they’re worth. It would be simpler to just serve ourselves.”

    “No doubt,” said Severus. His bowl, which had been empty a moment ago filled suddenly with a clear soup. Severus sniffed it and decided it was some sort of fish stew. Never one to enjoy seafood he pushed it away with an irritable glance.

    Lucius swallowed his caviar and sighed. “So what did happen then? Your face,” he added at Severus’s confused expression.

    “Father dear, of course,” Severus told him bitterly. “I made the mistake of crossing his path. Fear not, mother darling is in worse condition.”

    “One of these days they will kill each other,” Lucius predicted. He did not look very grim at the possibility, however. “Did he use the Cruciatus again?”

    “Why, as a matter of fact he did,” Severus said sarcastically, flashing a wicked smile. “Of course he’s been doing the same to my mother all afternoon, so I hardly took the brunt of it.”

    Lucius nodded, looking untroubled as if he was viewing a game of Quidditch instead of discussing domestic violence. Then he drew a deep breath. “You know, there are ways to have them killed.”

    Severus looked both amused and annoyed, his lips perking up at the corners very slightly. “Pray tell, Lucius, how shall we do it? The killing curse? An axe?”

    “Not us,” Lucius said, pausing as the house elf deposited a large loaf of bread on the table. Butter appeared a moment later, as did a platter of cheese and fruit. “And not yet,” he continued after waving away the elf. “However, Lord Voldemort could make it happen in the near future if you asked it of him. He is quite willing to meet the needs of his loyal supporters. If you were to join him I have no doubt that he could correct your family troubles.”

    “You want me to work for someone so that they will kill my family?” Severus asked, smirking. “What makes you think that I need him? I can move out when I am of age, and as you know I haven’t long to wait.”

    “Two years is plenty of time, Severus,” Lucius said.

    “You have offered me no proof that your Voldemort can accomplish any of his goals at all, much less in two years time,” Severus retorted, reaching for a hunk of bread. He caught Lucius’s eye and raised an eyebrow as if to underscore his point.

    Lucius sipped at his wine and gently touched his white napkin to his lips. “Very well, have it your way. We shall discuss it no more this evening.” He shifted slightly, clearing his throat in an obvious manner. A moment later two elves rushed through the kitchen door, carrying between them a silver platter, which they hoisted onto the table with magic. “Main course, Severus.”

    They ate in silence for a few minutes; Lucius watching over his water goblet and looking slightly ill as Severus ate a piece of meat with his fingers. After half of a bottle of wine had been drunk Lucius again brought up the subject.

    “You know, there is a meeting next week. Perhaps you ought to come along and see what it’s like before deciding not to participate, don’t you agree?” Lucius questioned slyly.

    “Meetings?” Severus scoffed. “I thought your Voldemort was a daring rapscallion who was bursting to action. Meetings are for the planning committees of local bring and fly sales. I don’t think I have an interest in that, thank you very much.”

    “Forget that I ever brought it up,” Lucius replied dully, setting down his fork with a rather pouting look. He stared off into space, wondering how he could possibly convince Severus to investigate Voldemort. Why did the young man insist on being so stubborn? It drove Lucius mad. He was certain that Severus would be an ideal Death Eater, for he was after all fairly heartless and unquestionably skilled, but he was unwilling to even try.

    Severus continued to eat for several minutes, his appetite ravenous as it always was after he underwent the Cruciatus curse. He had long ago figured that pain must burn calories. He was aware however that Lucius was displeased and as much as Severus really did not want to care, he did. Lucius had somehow slipped into being a friend instead of an acquaintance of late, and as annoying as it was to try to please others Severus felt compelled.

    “Fine, I’ll go, but only once and I’m leaving early if it’s dull,” Severus declared aloud after a moments consideration.

    Lucius’s eyes lit up as if he had been offered a pile of galleons. “You will?”

    “Just this once, and don’t think you can guilt me into going again. I’m sure it’s bound to be dreadful. You owe me for wasting the precious seconds of my life in this fashion,” said Severus, reaching for more grapes. “Don’t think that I’m going to act all honoured to be invited either, because I’m not.”

    “I shall never ask another thing of you,” Lucius said, grinning. His face looked innocent for a moment and he seemed to lose his Malfoy-ness as he smiled. Then he shook his head and resumed his normal air of a somewhat snobby upper-crust Slytherin. His eyes continued to sparkle as he helped himself to bread.

    “When is it, this meeting?” Severus inquired.

    “At the end of the week, Friday. It takes place above a small shop in Knockturn Alley,” Lucius said. “I believe it’s called the Black Cat.”

    “You don’t say,” Severus remarked, looking interested. “I’ve heard they sell all types of illegal potions ingredients as well as black market goods. Sounds fascinating. You always meet there?”

    Lucius shook his head, tipping his chair back a bit, balancing. “No. It’s a different place each time. The dark Lord doesn’t like to invite suspicion about our little group, not until the time is right and he’s ready to stri- well, to start.” Lucius finished, having almost said more then he intended.

    Severus had caught his slip. “Strike? What is he planning to strike at?”

    “This really isn’t something I should be sharing with you, Severus, not until you’re committed to the cause,” Lucius declared.

    “How can I be committed to something which I know so little about?” Severus asked, quite reasonably in his opinion. He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

    Lucius exhaled slowly, buying for time. He cursed himself mentally. The dark Lord had specifically said not to make Severus so aware of the ultimate goals. There was no reason to frighten him off. Lucius risked a glance at Severus, who was looking at him curiously, awaiting an answer. Severus did not appear put off by the mention of strike, instead he was questioning, almost eager.

    Lucius drew a breath. “I have told you what Voldemort plans to do, he wants change in the world, a Ministry where pureblood wizards rule. However, you may not have guessed his means of causing change. He intends to strike out and start, well, a war with the current leaders. We shall convert the wizarding world to our way of thinking and kill those who refuse to comply. First, however, we must build our forces. We cannot launch an attack without adequate support.”

    Severus regarded him, wide eyed. “How can he intend to gain so much support? Certainly the majority will oppose him. Most wizards and witches have accepted Muggleborns into their ranks, many families intermarry now.”

    “Support is not always given freely,” Lucius admitted. “There are tactics of coercion at our disposal. This is what I was referring to, for you. Would you not adore using the Cruciatus curse on James Potter if he refused to lend support to our mission? Can you sincerely say that you would not enjoy making full use of your talents?”

    Severus shook his head, disbelieving. “Surely, this cannot be true. It sounds wonderful, Lucius, but I don’t believe it will ever work.”

    “Come with me, Friday, as you promised and I will allow you to question Lord Voldemort personally,” Lucius said.

    Severus paused. “Very well,” he agreed after a moment, feeling slightly apprehensive but also quite curious. He recalled the words of Professor Binns and realized that as usual the history teacher was on target. Voldemort was planning so much more then most wizards and witches could ever imagine.

    “Now then,” said Lucius brightly, draining the last of his wine. “Enough on that. You shall understand in time. So, how shall we spend the rest of the evening?”