The Last Sanguimagus

Sarah sat in her office, taking a few moments to finish rereading the chapter she was currently teaching the sixth years. There was a light knock at the door. "Come in," she said.

The door opened to reveal Filius, who carried in one hand an immaculately wrapped gift. "Hello, Sarah," he said. "Happy Birthday." He handed her the present.

"Why...thank you," she said, surprised. She unwrapped a thick book on advanced Charms. "It's lovely." She fingered the gilt lettering on the spine.

"It's quite new," said Filius excitedly. "The author has obviously done her research...the chapter on Talismans is especially well thought out." He beamed at her for a moment. "Perhaps when you have finished we could discuss her approach," he added.

She looked at him, surprised. Was he volunteering to have an extended conversation with her? "That would be nice," she said, smiling faintly.

"Good evening, then," he said.

"Yes, good evening," she said, watching as he left.

***

Sarah woke to a quiet and dark room. It dimly registered that it was late, very late, and her eyes began to adjust to the gloom. The cold air was comforting against the heat that always poured from her body. She blinked a few times. I'm alone. This is not his room. This is not my room. She was disoriented until it came to her that of course she was alone, he was gone and would never come back, and she was at Hogwarts, trapped.

***

Severus dreamt, a nightmare chorus, a razor whip, a high-pitched voice, an endless litany of blame and guilt. He woke to find himself cold and disoriented, the covers thrown off, the dark room oppressive, his arm asleep. He tried to calm himself, drawing the blankets back up over his body, but sleep would not return.

***

An eagle owl swooped low, bringing Severus a message. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter. Lucius. He scanned it quickly. An invitation. During his only free time in the school week. He scowled, but it could not be avoided. Lucius was still far too powerful, his pull extending through the Death Eaters and the Ministry.

And Lucius was his friend.

Perhaps his only friend, really; most of his childhood friends had been killed towards the end of the Dark Lord's first years of power. Lucius had stuck with him, even when it was not advantageous to his societal climbing, and Severus knew how difficult that was for a man like Lucius.

He folded the letter and placed it in a pocket.

As much as Severus hated giving up his one free class of the week, he could at least be comforted that he might learn some new bit of information for the Order.

***

The doorknocker argued with Severus for a moment, but finally agreed to alert the Malfoys to his presence.

The door opened. Narcissa let him into the Manor, and showed him immediately to the study. She seemed to be preoccupied, and said very little, taking his travelling cloak and then closing the door behind him as she left.

"Severus," said Lucius warmly. "Let me offer you a drink."

"Thank you," he murmured in return. Obviously Lucius was in a good mood. "I must thank you again for your timely intervention in that messy affair..." A messy affair that had been entirely Lucius's fault, really, but nonetheless he really was grateful for the help.

Lucius waved his hand dismissively. "That was as much for my own protection as yours," he said. "Poor Burgin...I daresay he was ill prepared for such an investigation." He handed Severus a tumbler of firewhisky.

"He should have taken more care," said Severus darkly.

"Yes," agreed Lucius, sitting down behind his desk. It was impressively clean and gleaming save for a beautiful quill and ink bottle set in a serpent quill holder. He set his own drink down. "We all must take great care these days..."

Severus nodded and sipped his drink. "Speaking of risky behaviours..."

Lucius smiled in a predatory manner. "The owl yesterday."

"Yes," said Severus. "Silas noticed."

"What I wouldn't give to see her face at that moment," said Lucius. "You wouldn't be open to putting the memory in a Pensieve, would you?"

"I would rather not."

"Of course," sighed Lucius. He took another elegant sip of his firewhisky. "Perhaps Draco will when he returns for the summer..." Lucius's eyes were unfocused. "Do you know, I still dream of her," he said wistfully. "My work...preserved for her lifetime, as beautiful as the day I bestowed it upon her. I remember so well her unmarked flesh, and the first application of the Slicing Charm...she trembled so gracefully under my hand..." His voice trailed off for a moment. "She is my masterpiece." He suddenly looked up at Severus. "The Dark Lord has promised that I may keep her when her services are not being required."

He repressed a shiver. "Really."

"You will have to brew it again," said Lucius, his grey eyes hopeful.

"I cannot," said Severus, as firmly as he dared.

Lucius looked cross. "I don't see why not."

"One of the ingredients is impossible to obtain."

"You brewed it before."

"Yes, but at that time we had free reign to plunder Ministry supplies. I used the last that they had, and that was nearly two hundred years old."

"The Dark Lord will obtain it for you," said Lucius. "Surely you don't need much of it, after all."

Severus gritted his teeth. Even if the Dark Lord brought him bucketfuls of the elusive substance he wouldn't brew it. Not even on pain of death. Never again. "It is a tricky potion, even with the correct ingredients," he said, trying to appear calm. "You must recall how many failures there were before I succeeded."

"Yes, of course," said Lucius impatiently. "But you did succeed in the end, and it was brilliant. One single cauldron-full, enough for countless applications."

And nearly twenty deaths. "I am telling you that it is highly unlikely that I would succeed again," he said. "And I think it is not the best time to approach the Dark Lord in an attempt to retrieve a potion ingredient." I will not be responsible for a lifetime of agony again.

Lucius sighed. "Too true. Perhaps later...when Harry Potter is no longer a difficulty..." He sipped his firewhisky slowly. "Draco tells me that Nott is becoming a problem."

"Really?" asked Severus, curious. "He does seem to have found Pansy's affections."

"The boy has always been on the periphery until now," mused Lucius. "Draco tells me that recently he seems to be currying favour within the group. I am beginning to suspect that there are plots of which we know nothing."

Severus was alarmed, remembering Nott's conversation with Filius, and the odd sickness afterward. Azkaban had certainly whittled away at Lucius's channels of information, and Severus wondered how dangerous it was that he knew so little about Nott's plans. "He has been involved in some very suspect behaviour lately," he agreed.

Lucius poured himself more firewhisky. "You are staying for dinner, are you not?"

"I was planning on returning."

"Stay," commanded Lucius. "I've already informed Narcissa."

"Very well," said Severus.

"Good," smiled Lucius triumphantly. "I have another piece of artwork that you might be interested in," he added.

I doubt it. "Your artist must be quite thankful for your multiple commissions."

Lucius was standing up, his robes as impeccable and unwrinkled as they always were. "You'll be impressed by the resemblance."

Severus stood as well. "To whom?"

Lucius smiled, he eyes unnaturally lit from within. "Why, Sarah, of course."

No. He couldn't possibly watch. But he would have to, as Lucius would be affronted if he didn't. Severus clamped down hard on his emotions.

Lucius led the way to his private art room, mentioning his latest Ministry battles, but Severus could barely pay attention. Lucius was his friend, yes, but that did not mean that he was blind to the elder Malfoy's faults. His overwhelming predilection for pain was a weakness that could never be fully satiated or overcome. Despite all of the power and wealth he possessed, despite his elegant wife and pure-blood heir, there was some wildness within him that needed another to submit to him completely, unwillingly, and pay for it in their pain.

Lucius was pulling the drapes back with a flick of his wand, and, pointing to the hapless victim, he waited in breathless anticipation as a man entered the painting. Severus noticed that the man bore more than a passing resemblance to Lucius, and that the girl was obviously shorter than Sarah. That was certainly new.

The painting-Lucius grabbed the painting-Sarah by the arm, and began the violent tableau. Severus forced himself to concentrate on the difference. She is not Sarah.

***