The Last Sanguimagus

"Why does Potions have to be the last class of the week?" moaned Ron as they approached the dungeons.

"The sooner we get in there, the sooner it will be over," said Harry. He wasn't looking forward to it either; Snape had been glowering at the Gryffindors for the last two days.

They sat down in their accustomed seats, and began to set up their cauldrons.

"What a wonderful idea you had, Nott," said Pansy, loudly enough so that the entire classroom could hear her. "Casting a Vanishing Spell on the flag was brilliant."

"Potter was right next to it, and he never even bothered to check," drawled Malfoy. The Slytherins laughed.

Snape entered the room, looking smug. "Today we will have a competition," he announced, his arms crossed, staring at the Gryffindors. "Whichever House has completed the most successful examples of the Alertness Potion by the end of class will receive fifty points."

All of the Gryffindors exchanged angry looks. Harry immediately guessed that this was because of Professor Marten's class, as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff totals were quite high after a week of winning every competition.

Malfoy looked at them, smirking, and Harry was angry. No matter how hard the Gryffindors tried, the fifty points at the end of the class would be awarded to the Slytherins.

***

"Ah, as pleasant as this conversation has been, I must be going," said Filius with regret. "On Friday nights I usually attend a small soiree at the Three Broomsticks."

"Thank you for taking the time to discuss Charms theory with me," said Sarah sincerely. "I enjoyed it."

"Good evening, Sarah," said Filius.

"Good evening," she replied. The only other teacher left in the staffroom was Severus, who was intently reading a giant book entitled Agony-free Antidotes to Perilous Potions: Third Edition.

She looked down at the few pieces of parchment that she had brought with her. Filius had drawn a complicated chart on one. She picked up a blank parchment and looked at it thoughtfully.

She conjured an ink and quill. She hadn't written anything in years, preferring to use the auto-quill, as the posture required for writing had been too painful. Dipping the quill into ink, she attempted to write the word Dear. Too much ink. It smudged terribly, and her hand shook a little. She spelled away the attempt and started anew. This time she did not use enough ink and tore the paper. She fixed the paper and tried again. The letters were too far apart.

She kept at it, until the phrase Dear Madam Malkin was to her satisfaction. She dropped the quill into the ink bottle and stared at the rest of the page. She was uncertain what to write next.

"Tea?" asked Severus. Surprised, she looked up just in time to see him set a cup of tea next to her hand. He sat down next to her, placing his own cup on the table as well.

"Thank you," she said, picking up the cup he had brought her and using it to warm her hands. The Warming Charm that she had placed on her robes did not extend to her fingers, and the staffroom was a bit on the cool side. The tea was black, which was how she drank it, but she didn't know if he had somehow known or just assumed that she would add what she required herself. There was an awkward pause, and she cast about for a topic of conversation. "Your book was satisfying?"

"The author seems to have forgotten the basic lunar cycles and how they correspond to the maturation of fluxweed," he said with some annoyance. "He also has erroneously illustrated foxglove instead of comfrey, and, yet again, has omitted several of the basic properties of nightshade. I shall have to send him another owl, though it hardly seems to help."

"Oh," she replied.

He paused for a moment, looking at her. "You are wearing two sets of robes," he said bluntly.

"Yes, I was rather aware of that," she replied, "having put them on myself this morning."

They sat in awkward silence for a heartbeat or two. "You don't have any winter robes, then."

"No," she said. "I'm not able to travel to Madam Malkin's establishment, nor am I able to Floo there."

"So you're requesting her to come to Hogwarts...or perhaps send her measure to you. A simple enough letter." His dark eyes glanced at the nearly empty parchment and then back up to her face again.

"Yes."

"There are other issues, then?"

She hesitated to tell him of her situation. "There is the question...of payment." She looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "I have a choice between purchasing winter robes, or purchasing dress robes for the Halloween Feast, you see..."

"I'm certain that, were you to ask, you'd receive a pay advance that would adequately cover both expenses."

"I don't wish to cover both expenses."

"Why not?" He sounded confused.

"There is the...inevitable...prospect of..." She took a calming breath and met his eyes. "At some point in the future I may be forced to leave, and I would wish for every Galleon possible to be at my disposal."

He looked away himself, but not before she caught the faintest expression of worry. He took another sip of tea. "You're torn between a set of winter robes, which would be of great practical use, or dress robes, which would only serve on one occasion, yet save you from public embarrassment."

"Yes, exactly," she said. "I must say that I'm leaning heavily to the former, as I've grown quite sick of casting Warming Charms."

He looked at her again, and she was now certain that there was something else in his gaze. His eyes seemed to penetrate her. "I can see how tempting that would be," he said quietly. "The embarrassment of being seen in plain robes for a single event can't possibly outweigh the satisfaction of being warm on a regular basis."

"Yes, but still...I don't wish to upset the Headmaster, or to have others extend to him the ridicule that should be mine alone."

"Perhaps if you spoke to the Headmaster--"

"No," she said. "I couldn't bother him with such a small thing. I have accepted his generous offer of protection, and fulfiled his only requirement. I can't--won't ask something more of him."

They lapsed into silence again. She finished her tea and put the cup down on the table, fingering the china absently.

"More?" he asked.

"No, thank you," she said. There was something about his gaze that she couldn't quite decipher. Something that she had seen, or felt, somewhere before. She stared at him, and her hand stilled on the cup. She remembered a high, shrill voice. Where is the Painstone? "You have...you are doing something," she said awkwardly.

"Excuse me?"

"You are looking at me, and I don't understand why, but something in your eyes...it is rather like...the Dark Lord, when he was questioning me."

"You would compare me to the Dark Lord?" he said softly.

"Only your gaze at this moment."

He frowned. "Do you know of Legilimency?"

"Legilimency..." She tried recalling if she had heard of it before. It did seem vaguely familiar. "That would mean...sensing another's emotions and thoughts..." She narrowed her eyes. "All this time you've been looking into my mind."

His expression was inscrutable. "I assure you, it is not as simple as looking."

"Severus? Are you in here?" came Minerva's voice from the fireplace.

He stood up quickly. "Yes," he answered.

"You need to come to the entrance hall at once--Narcissa Malfoy is here, and she claims that it is urgent." Minerva's voice sounded rather displeased.

"Tell her I will be there in a moment."

The word Malfoy reverberated through her bones unpleasantly. Sarah sent the unfinished letter, quill and ink to her room with a sharp gesture. Severus looked at her, and the look on his face was impossible to decipher. "Good evening," he said, and, picking up his book, strode out of the room.

"Good evening," she replied, watching him leave. Yet again, he was an enigma, and she had to wonder if she was truly doing the intelligent thing. She had taken steps towards him, confided a few things, but the twist of worry in her chest alarmed her. Legilimency alarmed her. Narcissa Malfoy alarmed her.

She frowned at the empty teacup.

***

Severus walked down the marble stairs to the entrance hall. "I will be meeting with Mrs. Malfoy privately," he told a fuming Minerva. She glanced at Narcissa for a moment before bringing her gaze back to him. He could see that the Transfiguration professor was worried about him, but she simply nodded and left.

His gaze fell upon at Narcissa, who inclined her head, and he set off for the dungeons. She followed him wordlessly to his office door.

He took a seat behind his desk, and he could see by the tiniest tightening of her lips that she was angered that he had not invited her into his private study. "I assume that you have not paid a visit merely for idle gossip," he said.

Her lips tightened further, and he had to remind himself to be careful. "It is a matter of some urgency, Severus."

"I had gathered that," he answered. "Otherwise you would not have risked walking into Hogwarts uninvited and demanding my presence."

"I am well aware of the risks," she said. "But my options are limited at present."

"I am still waiting to hear your predicament."

"My predicament," she repeated, looking at him with her beautiful grey eyes. "I have been...worried since your last visit."

"Ah," he said as neutrally as possible.

"Lucius has not been...the same since he returned from Azkaban," she said, more bluntly than he had expected.

"Azkaban has that effect."

"When you spoke to me at the door, you said that he could be in danger," she said. "When I asked him, he laughed, and said you were exaggerating."

"Ah."

"What happened?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. "Why did you come to the Manor that night?"

"He received...an item," he said cautiously. "I had reason to believe it might be a threat."

"That...poppet?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly.

She looked troubled. "Who would send him such a thing?"

"An enemy, perhaps."

She gave the barest of nods. "Yes, my husband is powerful. There are those weaker than him who fear him." She looked troubled, and he knew that it wasn't simply an act. "He seems...changed, somehow. As if he lost something. When he laughs it doesn't sound quite right. There's little of the heat of anger in him now. When he touches me, it's as if he's somewhere else entirely..."

Severus wondered where this was leading. "As I've said, Azkaban can do that to a man. In time, he will regain himself."

She brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face artfully. "I still miss him. The way he was...before." She hesitated for a moment, looking at him, and there was a hunger in her eyes. "I miss you as well."

Severus closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the vision of Narcissa longing for him. It did not work. Her image burned on his eyelids. "You and I both agreed it should end," he said, attempting to maintain control. "There is too much risk." He reopened them to see her tempting him with her body, while her eyes spoke of hurt, and fear, and heat.

"You have no idea," she said softly, "what it feels like. To see him this way. To watch him walk through every room of the Manor and not find what he is looking for in any of them."

H realised, then, that she was including herself. "In time, he will...appreciate you properly again," he said, clenching his fists under the desk.

"Severus...he is not my husband any longer," she said, upset. "He is someone else. He's consumed by his...sickness." She produced an elegant handkerchief out of thin air and dabbed at her eyes. "I have always felt safe with you, and I know that he cares for you as a friend. It will hurt no one to continue what we should never have given up."

Her bald-faced lie struck at him. It was tempting, so tempting to remember how she had looked, in all of her porcelain magnificence, her ice-blonde hair wild on his sheets. Once, long ago, Rodolphus had made a sly comment to him about the Black sisters, and their fervour, and he had in his innocence been fascinated by them, fantasizing about their passion, their insatiable natures, their raw sexuality. Rodolphus had been right. She had all of that, and more, and he very nearly finished the first time they had made love simply from touching her skin, because she was an erotic daydream come to life.

Except that it had become very clear to him that she possessed an inner core that only Lucius could touch. No matter how talented her acting, no matter that she always remembered to call him by the correct name...in her mind was the image of Lucius, and it was Lucius she imagined as Severus held her. Their tryst had not lasted past June. It was obvious to him that she had chosen him because he was trustworthy, and because no one would ever believe that they were having an affair. As their time waned he had felt guilty, and used. Even so, she lingered in his mind.

"It would not be...wise," he said. The remembrance of her hot and passionate beneath him faded, to be replaced with cold, stale fear. It did not matter that Lucius indulged occasionally in an affair; Severus did not want to think of what might happen if Lucius were to find out about her infidelity.

"I need..." A tear was threatening to drop on her cheek. "Severus, I'm...trapped. I am alone, alone in that house, and he's...he's always in his study, or staring at his paintings...I don't know what to do."

There was something in her performance that began to bother him, and he began to feel the first touch of anger. "I don't know what made you think that I could resolve this situation," he said, keeping his voice controlled. "It would not be prudent to continue. I have no wish to jeopardise your position or my own."

She looked shocked. "Severus, you have no one...Lucius is lost to me. There is no reason that we should not..." Her eyes glittered suddenly with anger as she looked at him. "I see that your concern extends no further than yourself."

"You have always been loved," he said softly, the familiar feeling of anger now rising within him. "You have always had everything. You have no idea what it is like to have no one, as you so succinctly put it."

"You may have no one," she snapped, "but at least you don't live in a cage."

How very melodramatic was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that he had to be careful. "You have your life, and I have mine. We've made our choices."

"So you would leave me to lie in bitterness, and as my only sympathy tell me I chose it?" she said, her icy demeanour in full force. Only in her eyes could he see the hurt of his rejection. "I did not choose for Lucius to break into the Ministry of Magic and get thrown into Azkaban. I did not choose for him to be imprisoned. And now that the Dark Lord has risen again, Lucius has gone back to his old habits...the old sickness that I thought was gone I find has never really left him." She looked at him, and there was a twisted regality in her anger and loss. "If this is truly what you want," she said bitterly. "But I know you still desire me."

"And you desire me?" he spat. "You chose me for other reasons, I think." He leaned forward, lowering his voice menacingly. "Don't think that I haven't seen through this little ploy of yours. You are not coming to me now because of some desire for intimate companionship." He smiled in a nasty manner. "You are angered that his attention is elsewhere, and seek to punish him in the only manner you know would truly affect him...by arranging to have us caught in the act, and him made a cuckold."

"You--" She narrowed her eyes in calculated rage.

"Return to your manor, Narcissa," he said coldly. "You've failed."

She stood up, and her eyes flashed. "I should have expected as much," she said frigidly. "Not only do you refuse, you suspect me of some plot." She smoothed her robes, gathering her composure. "If I truly wanted him to find out, I could simply leave the memory of what we've already done in his Pensieve. You are a pathetic, snivelling fool."

Severus could feel the blood rushing to his face. "I am not the one begging here," he snarled.

For an instant he thought she would hex him, her face was so furious. "How dare you!" She visibly struggled to calm herself. "I came here tonight because I was worried," she said, her fists clenched. "I came here tonight because I needed the comfort of someone I thought cared for me. But I've received no answers. Instead I've been treated with suspicious and disdain." She took a deep breath. "My family means everything to me, Severus. Please remember that." She held his eyes for a moment longer, the warning obvious, and then she turned and left, her head held high.

Severus released his own held breath, his heart racing. His mind was jumbled with thoughts. He had expected dishonest dealings, but perhaps she had come tonight simply looking for succour. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed. Yet another difficulty.

He reached for the firewhisky, and poured himself a stiff drink.