The Last Sanguimagus

Severus raised the glass of firewhisky to his lips. No Old Ogden's for Lucius, of course; this was premium, smooth, knock-you-under-the-table-if-you-weren't-paying-attention liquor. But of course he was paying attention. He always paid attention.

For a Malfoy affair, it was low-key. Severus savoured his drink, relishing the taste. Lucius had purposely invited fewer people than usual, no doubt attributing it to his recent release from Azkaban. His most staunch supporters and allies were there, as well as some of his friends. Despite its rushed nature, it was still an impressive fete. He reopened his eyes to see Fudge laughing with Lucius.

Your friend, with the predilection for pain. Sarah's words suddenly rushed back to him. He grimaced. She was, of course, correct, though it was a gross oversimplification. Severus had always been a little in awe of Lucius. Beautiful, grand, impressive...those were Lucius adjectives, while he had always been left with dark, greasy, and unpleasant. He downed the rest of the firewhisky. Lucius kept him around because of his position at Hogwarts and his potion-making abilities, and Severus wisely never took it for granted. He knew all too well what happened to those who asked too much from Lucius.

"Ah, Severus," said Narcissa in her mock-sweet way. "So good of you to come. You're looking well." She eyed his robes--his best dress robes--but he knew by the unchanging look on her face that they did not meet her exacting standards. Her hair was shining in the light, icy blonde, with a few artful coils lazily bobbing at her temple.

"Thank you for the invitation," he said stiffly.

"Of course." She paused for a moment. "Draco has been telling me about a new professor at Hogwarts...a Talismans professor."

"Yes, she is a guest instructor at Hogwarts," he said, but inwardly he was puzzled.

"Lucius tells me that he surprised her in a corridor and that she became hostile," continued Narcissa. She was a master actress, and her feigned indifference would truly have been something to behold, except that he could sense with his limited Legilimency the real doubt lurking underneath.

Think. What does she want? "We live in difficult times," he said, praying that he wasn't being too enigmatic. "Some of us are a little...defensive."

She looked at him curiously, and then beckoned a house-elf towards them. "More firewhisky for Professor Snape," she ordered. It scurried off to obey. Turning back to Severus, she licked her lips slowly. "I am wondering...if perhaps he knew her previously," she said carefully.

Fool, he thought angrily to himself. What would Malfoy have told her? "She did attend Hogwarts," he said neutrally. "He may have met her there."

She leaned closer. Severus took in the beautiful lines of her face, the exquisite gown she wore. He could sense the delicate scent of her rare and unusual perfume. "I remember her," she said softly. "She was no prize."

He shook his head, almost afraid to say anything further.

"Here," she said, removing the empty firewhisky glass from his hand. The house-elf obediently took it from her and handed her a fresh tumbler. She pressed the new glass into Severus's hand. She stared at him, and for a moment she reminded him of Sirius, and felt a glimmer of unreasoning hatred rise within him. "My husband...he is a beautiful man," she said suddenly, staring to where Lucius stood, still deep in conversation with the Minister of Magic. "Some women...women who are lacking...they want that very badly."

He nearly choked on the whisky. Narcissa could not possibly think that Sarah had seduced Lucius. He wanted to laugh. The very thought was ludicrous. Though he had to admit...Narcissa understood Lucius very well, and his indiscretions. She was afraid that he had sullied himself with a Mudblood, and an unattractive one at that. Of course she forgave him his affairs; he was tremendously discreet, always choosy, and she knew well on which side the bread was buttered. He absently traced the Malfoy crest on the crystal was his thumb for a moment. It suddenly became clear to him. Lucius had left Hogwarts after the altercation with Sarah and come home for the first time in months. Yet instead of being properly moved at the sight of her, he had been flustered about seeing Sarah. Now he understood. "I doubt you have anything to worry about," he said, holding her eyes with his own. "He spoke to her only for a moment, I believe, and then I escorted him to Draco."

Still her eyes doubted. "There was something about seeing her," she said very softly. "He was angry...but also..." She straightened the sleeve of her dress and looked at the floor, biting her lip.

He knew what she was alluding to. Severus had seen Lucius at the height of his rather considerable tastes. Sarah had been something of a pinnacle for Lucius in some way, and to see her again had brought that unhealthy gleam to his eye, and Narcissa could not help but notice, despite her carefully constructed oblivion toward his infidelities. "He has not...indulged in that particular whim in years," he said cautiously. "I do not think that there is anything there to fear."

She looked at him again with only a guarded sense of relief, and seemed to return to her senses. "Oh...I am neglecting the other guests. Please forgive me, I must see to the Minister." She gracefully inclined her head towards Severus and then walked toward Fudge, once again completely composed.

There was a time when Severus would have done nearly anything to have the beautiful Narcissa as his wife.

She smiled and offered Fudge a fresh drink, her entire bearing conveying graciousness. She preferred Malfoy Manor to a small room at Hogwarts, and he couldn't fault her for that. Nor, upon years' acquaintance with her, did he think that either of them would have been satisfied with the union.

It was troublesome, though, her unease...though perhaps she was concerned that Lucius's weakness would destroy her standing. After all, how could she feel about his return to the Death Eaters after so many years? She enjoyed the privileges and power of her social standing, and would be angry at anything that threatened them.

He surveyed his surroundings again. Ministry officials were rubbing elbows with pureblooded high society people. Very few Death Eaters had been invited. He was certain that his own invitation was only due to Lucius's insistence. A lovely harp was playing itself, filling the room with quiet, shivering notes. The decorations were, as always, elegantly refined, even more so in an attempt to give the Malfoys the appearance of upstanding citizens.

It was getting late, and some had already made their apologies and left. Severus found himself half-listening to a conversation between Percy Weasley and another official. He grimaced. Certainly he was the only one of the redheaded clan who possessed any real flair, but it was quite obvious that he was in over his head. Severus remembered teaching the boy. He had been an excellent student, not above attempting blackmail in his seventh year, though it failed miserably due to his Gryffindor-like approach. At the moment he was staunchly defending his latest promotion.

"Severus." Lucius was at his side then, wearing his most restrained set of dress robes. It did not hide his unusual paleness, or the thinness of his face, due to Azkaban, no doubt. "Have you seen my latest acquisition?" Lucius took him ungently by the elbow and pulled him toward one of the side rooms. Severus had been in this particular room before. There were many paintings on the wall, each hidden by its own set of velvet draperies. Lucius gestured, and the curtains parted, revealing a woman sleeping in a bed. A man opened the door, closing it and locking it behind himself, and Severus did not really have to watch to know what happened next.

"Your usual artist?" he asked.

"Yes," said Lucius, his grey eyes lit from within as he devoured the scene. The man in the painting was ripping off the woman's nightgown as she shrieked. Severus tried not to appear unsettled as the tableau played out. Lucius looked around, then murmured the counter-spell to the eavesdropping spell out of habit. "Severus, Nott has told me that there is to be a...special meeting for us," he said quietly, though his eyes kept straying to the bloody scene above them.

"A special meeting?" asked Severus, immediately concerned.

"Yes," said Lucius. "It is a week from tomorrow, during the afternoon."

Severus was surprised. Death Eater meetings nearly always took place at night. "Unusual."

"A new member will be given the Mark that day," he added.

"Ah." It made sense now, and Severus felt a profound sense of relief. During the Dark Lord's earlier reign a meeting during the day had sometimes spelled the end to a traitor.

The scene was drawing to its inevitable conclusion, and Lucius could not hide a predatory smile. "A beautiful piece of work...I shall have to commission another soon." There was a sudden gleam in his eye that troubled Severus, though he did not know why.

***