The Mystery Wife

"I'm WHAT?!" Draco panicked instantly, his voice hitting the rafters.

"It is safer for you to accompany me than it would be for you to stay here," Severus pointed out smoothly, one shoulder rippling in an apparently indifferent shrug. "There is nothing left for any of us in Britain, as we managed to betray both sides of the recent conflict, and we are all personae non gratae with absolutely everyone. We are, in fact, less desirable company than Neville Longbottom with a case of the clap."

"No need to rub it in, old friend," Lucius muttered.

"Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts would be more welcome in society," Severus continued rather mercilessly, indeed almost cheerfully. "Who would not rather witness an amorous encounter between Argus Filch, Moaning Myrtle and the Giant Squid than spend five minutes' converse with us? In a straight-up popularity contest between the four of us and an infestation of Nargles, the more amiable Nargles..."

"Yes, alright," Lucius cut him off irritably. "Must you?"

Severus smiled slowly, visibly enjoying himself. "So, what do you say, Lucius? Why risk everything by staying? You could always come with me. I paved the way for my own eventual escape long ago."

"Thank you, but no. As I have already said to Narcissa and Draco, if we flee now, no Malfoy will ever be able to return to these shores."

"And that would be unfortunate because?"

"It is a matter of family pride, Severus. The Malfoy name has been one of Wizarding Britain's leading lights for over a thousand years. I will not be the one to throw that away, merely to be safe and comfortable anywhere else."

The Potions Master sighed. "I rather suspected you would feel that way. The offer stands, should you ever need to take me up on it. And in the meantime, I am quite serious about taking Draco with me to France. You must realize that there is nothing for him here, no possible future, not as things are now. His schooling is incomplete, and the family fortune may well not survive the coming trials. If nothing else, he must have a trade to keep the proverbial wolves from the door, and Potions Masters are scarce enough to be valued."

"You want my son to go into trade?" Lucius asked, those patrician nostrils flaring.

"Brewing is an ancient and honourable profession. Do you deny that, given the family's current circumstances, such training would provide Draco with a badly needed safety net? Or would you rather see him conducting the Knight Bus alongside Stan Shunpike once the money runs out, because he is qualified to do nothing else?"

Lucius pursed his lips. "No Malfoy has been in trade in the recorded history of the family."

"A little honest work won't kill him," Severus muttered. "And I will complete his schooling, while I'm at it. That, assuredly, would not come amiss. You could, perhaps, find another Master for him...Slughorn, for example...but you would find his services expensive, and he would undoubtedly demand the traditional bond between a Master and an Apprentice. I would not."

Narcissa frowned. "Whyever not, Severus? Draco is of age, and quite attractive, and it is, as you say, the traditional bond between Master and Apprentice."

"What is?" Draco asked nervously, looking back and forth between them a little wildly.

"Sex," Lucius answered him shortly. "The traditional Erastes/Eromenos relationship as it's come down to contemporary Wizarding society by way of the Athenians. The Master undertakes your training for a three year period, houses you, clothes you, feeds you, and in return, you handle menial tasks for him, and he is allowed to take his pleasure of you whenever he wants."

Draco wasn't sure whether he wanted to faint, or vomit, or start screeching, and finally he opted for the latter. "WHAT?! You have GOT to be kidding me! And no one ever thought to MENTION this little wrinkle?"

"I never foresaw the remote possibility of you apprenticing and going into trade," Lucius shrugged, contemplating his flawlessly manicured fingernails.

"But...what...how can you all be so calm about SELLING ME TO PROFESSOR SNAPE FOR SEX?!"

"Did I or did I not say that I would not be taking advantage of you in such a fashion?" Severus inquired icily.

The boy frowned for a moment, trying to parse that sentence. "At this point, I really don't know!" he admitted. "I'm confused and I have a blistering headache and it's been a really horrible day! I almost died, you know!"

Severus looked at him askance, visibly amused. "I did die. Next objection?"

"So I get to be buggered by either an apparently undead you, or Slughorn? And while we're on THAT topic, let me pause just long enough to say, eeeeew..."

The Potions Master snorted. "Duly noted," he drawled. "But loath as I am to interrupt your virginal adolescent fantasies of undead and blubbery buggery, I am about to be completely incapable of buggering you, so you may unclench at your leisure."

Draco was so instantly curious that he almost forgot to be royally offended. Almost.

"You're not about to cut anything off, are you?" he grimaced.

"Please do not get blood on my carpets, if you are," Narcissa added swiftly.

"Nothing so dramatic as that," Severus said tightly, looking cool as a cucumber, though his breath was coming just a little faster than usual. "It is necessary for me to assume an entirely new identity. My picture has been plastered over every major news rag and Wanted poster in the Wizarding world. Polyjuice is entirely too uncertain a road, its duration too limited. My features are altogether too distinctive to allow me to disguise myself terribly effectively in the Muggle way. Someone would find me out eventually."

"Are you suggesting what it sounds like you're suggesting?" Lucius frowned. "You can't be serious..."

"If you can think of another way, one that would allow me ever to leave the house again, I am, as they say, all ears."

"What are you suggesting, exactly?" Narcissa frowned.

"A sex change," Severus said baldly. "A potion of my own invention. The change would, unfortunately, be permanent. But I see little choice."

"Oh, my," Narcissa murmured.

"Indeed," Lucius said archly. "Severus, are you entirely sure about this? We could always hide you here..."

"And I would be unable to publish my research findings, my discoveries," said Severus, looking very much as if he was trying to talk himself into taking the potion. "I would also be housebound, and quite conceivably your guest, well nigh on forever. I have been a prisoner long enough. If this is my only road to freedom, so be it. There is no sense in delaying this."

He quaffed the potion before he could change his mind, in quite possibly the single most Gryffindor move anyone had ever seen him make.

The transformation was visibly agonizing, even to a man as accustomed to the Cruciatus as Severus. And when it was over, two, perhaps three minutes later, Severus was curled up in a ball in the tall burgundy wing-backed chair, panting.

At first, he looked no different. Long, lank dark hair falling over his face and fists bunched in black silk noil teaching robes. He hadn't given those up, even after he'd ceased to teach. But the robes hung heavier on what was obviously a slighter frame. Severus had been rather tall, as a man.

He uncurled himself, inch by inch, unable to keep his limbs from trembling. And in place of the craggy, sallow, hawkish face Draco had watched with secret fascination in hundreds of Potions classes, there was a woman.

A woman of such breathtaking, chimerical beauty that all the seventeen-year-old Draco could do was stare.