The Eye of the Storm
Jul. 23rd, 2005 03:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosie_ruesMy first work of fanfiction. I was intending to start by writing something about Percy Weasley but ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
junediamanti's post on Snape's origins got me thinking about the internal dynamics of Slytherin House and this little chat got written.
Title: The Eye of the Storm
Disclaimer: If they were mine they'd be living happily ever after. JKR's, obviously.
Spoilers: Um, not really. mention of a new character from HBP. Nought else.
Notes: I have assumed that children from wizarding families can get away with magic use in the holidays if their families approve. The warning notes Harry gets seem to be focussed on location rather than wand.
Two Slytherin seventh-years discuss the future....
The Eye of the Storm
“It will be the wedding of the decade, naturally,” Narcissa said, studying her reflection in the alembic. “Darling, what is this? It’s the most foul colour.”
“If you were to turn your admittedly frivolous mind to your first year potions’ class you would recognise an infusion of wormwood.” Long, pale fingers plucked it from her hand. “I am continually astounded that you managed to achieve even an E in your O.W.L.”
“Purely because I copied your notes for the entire course, my dear. But my potion brewing days are behind me. I always had more of an aptitude for Charms.” And she settled back against the scarred bench and waited.
The youth bent over the bench ignored her. His hands were moving swiftly, chopping the roots with an easy confidence she would never have dared. She had never been entirely comfortable with the sharp silver knives of the lab. Knives were Bella’s favourite toy, after all, and she had perfected the art of being good whenever Bella was bad. She liked to watch the knife, though: its rise and fall, the glimmer of firelight reflected. The steady clunk of it was reassuring, somehow. When this year was over and they were both cast out into the greater world, someone would be down here, chopping roots with the same old knives, deepening the scars in the same old bench. Hogwarts, unlike all else, was immutable.
Lost in her thoughts, it took too long to realise he had not made the appropriate response. Pouting, she said, “Aren’t you even going to ask?”
“Certainly.” He used the knife to shape the chopped root into a neat square and then scraped it into the cauldron. The viscous liquid glowed blue and then began to steam fiercely. Through the steam, he looked down his nose at her, eyebrows raised. “You desired a question? In which case, dear Narcissa, would you be so kind as to pass me the oak resin which is on the shelf behind you?”
She stared at him in outrage and he added, patronisingly. “It’s the large brown block – as dense as Sirius Black’s head.”
Narcissa stamped her foot. “Severus. Just ask me.”
“The resin first,” he said and almost smiled. “I have no need to ask. I’m quite sure you’ll enlighten me.”
She tossed the block of resin to him, shaking her pale, pale hair back disdainfully. “I would have hoped my dearest friend would be interested in the identity of my future husband.”
“Really? I suppose I will feel obliged to offer him my commiserations.”
“Severus!” Then, before he could rile her any more, she said quickly, “Lucius Malfoy.”
He stared at her through the dark swirls of smoke, his face closed. She hated it when he went like this, unreadable and dangerous. At last he said, “An interesting choice. When did he make the offer?”
“Oh, he knows nothing of it yet,” she said, with a secretive smile of her own.
“Far be from me to warn you of the dangers of overconfidence but aren’t you being a little premature?”
“Not at all,” she said, fanning the steam away from her face. “Though I will need your help, of course.”
“No.”
She had been expecting such a reaction so she crept a little closer and said coaxingly, “Severus.”
“Certainly not.I will not, under any possible circumstance, brew you a love potion.” His eyes were blazing and she drew her shoulders up defensively. This was a Severus she hadn’t seen for months, furious, bitter and self-righteous. She’d thought that he had finally forgotten the old grudge against the world and all its injustices as enacted upon one Severus Snape. She should have known better.
“I don’t require anything quite as lower-class as a love potion. Such matches are about advantage rather than affection.”
“I can’t give you any advantage, Black. You know quite well I’m a liability to your pureblood friends.”
His accent was slipping away from the cool purr of recent years to the flat vowels of his childhood. Damnit, that meant he was genuinely upset. She crossed to him and put her hands on his shoulders, squeezing until she felt his bones press against her skin. “Severus. All I want is a glamour. Once he’s noticed me I can do the rest myself.”
He snorted and turned away to hunch over his cauldron. She sighed and crossed her legs, waiting for his mood to pass. She was beginning to feel drowsy and she couldn’t tell if it was his potion or whether the hour had grown late. It was so hard to track the passing of time down here. Outside, she was sure it was dark and cold, with a wind full of wet leaves wuthering round the towers. Down here, it was warm and close. The firelight beneath the cauldron cast yellow light against the stone walls. The curved bottles which filled the shelves glowed softly with reflections. The foot high jars of pickled eyeballs behind Slughorn’s desk seemed to be filled with glowing marbles or crystal gobstones like the one’s she had given Reggie for his birthday three years ago. Without realising, she let a sigh escape. There were days when the thought of life beyond Hogwarts seemed not only terrifying but cold. She wondered what the dungeons were like in Malfoy manor. The Malfoys had been Slytherins for generations, after all. Perhaps they understood the dungeons.
She knew it was a vain hope. Bella was Slytherin, too, and she had never understood. Neither had Sirius, naturally, and she let her lips curve with affectionate disdain. No, Sirius, Gryffindor fool, had no concept of subtlety. Severus understood. Reggie understood. It had been Reggie who had spoken up, that awful Christmas before Sirius left. Sirius and Bella had been sniping at each other all morning, a constant whispered stream of malice that had made Narcissa’s head throb until she wished she had defied Daddy and run off to Andromeda’s despite the scandal.
Sirius had been taunting Bella about what he called ‘Slytherin perversions’, a stream of explicit filth about chains and racks and dungeon floors that had made Narcissa, trapped beside them at the table, feel queasy.
Bella, newly engaged and full of dnagerous secrets, had laughed and run her finger down Rodolphus’ arm. “Why, cousin,” she had purred across the table, “are you afraid you’re missing out? I’m afraid I don’t do Gryffindors.”
Sirius had gone for his wand.
Before the hexes could fly Reggie, quiet, nervous, little Reggie, had roared, “Expelliarmus! “ As two wands had spun through the air, he had roared, “Shut up! Shut up, both of you! The dungeons are where we belong. They’re where we’re safe!”
“Who wants to be safe?” Sirius had demanded, belligerant even without his wand.
“I do,” Reggie had said dryly and tossed their wands back. “Please don’t kill other over the table. The blood will spoil the turkey.”
She was so lost in the memory that she jumped when Severus said, gruffly, “He’s too old for you.”
Narcissa shook the unpleasantness away and purred, “I like a man with experience.”
“Then marry Slughorn.”
She shuddered in disgust and relaxed a little. If he had been truly angry with her he wouldn’t have started with something so gentle. He would have gone for her heart. “You are the most impossible man,” she said lightly and was touched to see him smile quickly, a sweet, shy flicker of his lips that she didn’t think she deserved.
“I aim to please.” Then, more serious, he turned away from the cauldron and asked, “Why Malfoy?”
“It’s a extremely advantageous match,” she said and began to tick the reasons on her fingers. “The Malfoys are a reasonably old family, although not as old as the Blacks.”
“How old is ‘reasonably’?”
“Norman upstarts,” she replied with a curl of her lip.
Severus rolled his eyes and muttered, “Purebloods.”
She ignored him and continued. “He has, due to his name and wealth, considerable political influence. As Andromeda’s little escapade has put paid to Daddy’s Ministerial hopes, it would be useful for the family to expand with that in mind. His reputation is impeccable. He is appropriately beautiful – if I to spend my life spawning some man’s heirs, I insist upon pretty children. The Manor is delightful and a considerable improvement on both Grimmauld Place and the Dowager House. He has fathered no bastards although he has had a number of discreet liasions. None of his paramours have expressed any animosity towards him after-”
“Enough,” Severus said, glaring at her. “As much could be said of half the eligible purebloods in the country. Why do you want him, Narcissa?”
She wet her lips and looked him in the eye. “He has what I want.”
“Which is?”
“Power.”
“I didn’t think you were one of those Blacks.”
She sneered at him and then crossed her hands primly on her lap. The rough lace cuffs of her robes caught on her skirt and she unsnagged it carefully. Everyone in Slytherin House wore long sleeves these days, half-taunt, half-solidarity. Thoughtfully, she studied Severus. She was never quite sure how much he knew – whether he was the most innocent of them all or whether he had already surpassed them.
“You know at whose right hand Lucius Malfoy stands,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Even down here, in Slughorn’s lair, walls could have ears. “When the world changes, as it will change, I know where I should be standing. The new world will not be an easy one. It will not be a peaceful one. When Bellatrix and her ilk are unleashed upon the world, I know where I wish to be standing and whose ear I wish to be whispering in. My sister and her bloody hordes will not last. They are soldiers, to be put to the pyre. But I, I shall stand by his side and bear Lucius Malfoy’s heirs and I shall be untouchable. Let the fools rush in. I am Slytherin and I shall endure.”
“You could run,” Severus said, his voice equally soft, almost drowned by the bubbling of the cauldron. “You could run and hide and wait and when the world is cleansed you could return and choose your own path.”
Sometimes, he was so naïve it hurt her. She shook her head and said, “Dear, dear Severus. Where is the safest port in a storm?”
“Here. Below the ground where the wind does not blow.”
“I cannot hide in the dungeons forever.” She cupped his face in her hands and made him look at her. “The safest place in a storm is at its eye.”
He continued to study her, his black eyes fixed upon her blue ones as she clutched his face. Then, he nodded reluctantly.
“Thank you,” she said on a breath and released him. “Will you make me my glamour, then?”
He grunted but she knew it was acquiescence and found herself close to tears. To hide it she batted her eyelashes at him and said, “I knew I could rely on my Sevvie-wevvie.”
She knew he would explode and watched the first signs happily. Then, he grinned quickly, and widened his eyes before saying breathily, “But, Cissy.”
The impression was uncanny enough to make her squeal and jump back. “Merlin! Don’t do that to me. One of her is more than enough.”
“The same could be said of your entire family.”
“Reggie’s lovely.”
“A shame he couldn’t have been an only child.” He watched in amusement as she began to gather ingredients. “You could do most of this yourself, you know.”
“Not as well as you could,” she said practically. “And it would take me months.”
“In a hurry, are you, Miss Black?”
“It’s only a few weeks until the Christmas holidays and we’ve been invited to the Malfoys’ ball. I believe we should formally announce the betrothal on Walpurgis Night.”
“For a Halloween wedding, no doubt. How frightfully pureblood.”
“Certainly not. Christmas. The colour scheme will be much more suitable.”
“You really have planned this, haven’t you?”
She shook her hair back, enjoying the slide of it against her neck. “This is my destiny, Severus. I was bred for this.Can we start the potion?”
“Patience. I need to bottle this and then I need to plan it.”
“Isn’t in the textbook?”
He looked at her, affronted. “You hardly think I would use someone else’s recipe for something like this?”
“I suppose not,” she said, warmed. “Let me help with bottling.”
The liquid had cooled and now sat calmly in the bottom of the cauldron. Despite the mass of ingredients he had added the liquid was clear as water and odourless. She could see her relfection as leant over it, her blue eyes wide and dreamy and her hair falling down her back, as pale and smooth as silver. She looked like a child, though she knew she was not, not at all.
“What is this?” she asked.
He looked over her shoulder and she thought that his reflection, too, seemed far younger than the man she had been talking too. For a moment they stood there, gazing down at themselves, as if all the answers in the world were hidden in those clear depths. Then he said, curtly, “Veritaserum,” and turned away.
Neither of them were willing to speak as they bottled the serum. They were both neat workers, one of the foundations of their friendship, and no drop was wasted. When they were finished, he pressed one of the vials into her hand. “In case you need it at the eye of the storm.”
“I’ll always have you to make it for me,” she said, puzzled.
His face stiffened and he said, “I doubt your husband will approve of you having halfblood friends.”
Oh, trust Severus to leave that until last. “He might not do,” she said, knowing when he needed honesty. “But he will see the use of my best friend the potions genius, regardless of his birth. I will ensure it.”
He shrugged and said, “Keep it anyway. Slughorn won’t notice there’s one missing.”
She nodded and tucked the vial away under her robes. It was always safer to have extra resources. Severus was already bending over a scrap of parchment, scribbling cramped notes, his lips pursed as he thought. “You’ll want something extremely subtle, I assume,” he said, without looking up. “Something your family won’t notice.”
“Preferably. Although, if you can also ensure that Lucius does recognise it, that would be excellent.”
“You want him to know?” Severus blurted out, looking shocked.
“Oh, yes,” she said dreamily. “I’m quite sure Lucius Malfoy is the sort of man to appreciate subterfuge. Diamonds for the engagement ring, of course, but I’m thinking platinum or silver. Gold is so common.”
Severus shook his head and then bent over his work again. Narcissa sat on her bench and breathed in the spice and sulphur scent of the workroom as she dreamt of pale-haired children.
Above them, beyond the walls of Hogwarts, the wind was rising.
junediamanti's post on Snape's origins got me thinking about the internal dynamics of Slytherin House and this little chat got written.Title: The Eye of the Storm
Disclaimer: If they were mine they'd be living happily ever after. JKR's, obviously.
Spoilers: Um, not really. mention of a new character from HBP. Nought else.
Notes: I have assumed that children from wizarding families can get away with magic use in the holidays if their families approve. The warning notes Harry gets seem to be focussed on location rather than wand.
Two Slytherin seventh-years discuss the future....
“It will be the wedding of the decade, naturally,” Narcissa said, studying her reflection in the alembic. “Darling, what is this? It’s the most foul colour.”
“If you were to turn your admittedly frivolous mind to your first year potions’ class you would recognise an infusion of wormwood.” Long, pale fingers plucked it from her hand. “I am continually astounded that you managed to achieve even an E in your O.W.L.”
“Purely because I copied your notes for the entire course, my dear. But my potion brewing days are behind me. I always had more of an aptitude for Charms.” And she settled back against the scarred bench and waited.
The youth bent over the bench ignored her. His hands were moving swiftly, chopping the roots with an easy confidence she would never have dared. She had never been entirely comfortable with the sharp silver knives of the lab. Knives were Bella’s favourite toy, after all, and she had perfected the art of being good whenever Bella was bad. She liked to watch the knife, though: its rise and fall, the glimmer of firelight reflected. The steady clunk of it was reassuring, somehow. When this year was over and they were both cast out into the greater world, someone would be down here, chopping roots with the same old knives, deepening the scars in the same old bench. Hogwarts, unlike all else, was immutable.
Lost in her thoughts, it took too long to realise he had not made the appropriate response. Pouting, she said, “Aren’t you even going to ask?”
“Certainly.” He used the knife to shape the chopped root into a neat square and then scraped it into the cauldron. The viscous liquid glowed blue and then began to steam fiercely. Through the steam, he looked down his nose at her, eyebrows raised. “You desired a question? In which case, dear Narcissa, would you be so kind as to pass me the oak resin which is on the shelf behind you?”
She stared at him in outrage and he added, patronisingly. “It’s the large brown block – as dense as Sirius Black’s head.”
Narcissa stamped her foot. “Severus. Just ask me.”
“The resin first,” he said and almost smiled. “I have no need to ask. I’m quite sure you’ll enlighten me.”
She tossed the block of resin to him, shaking her pale, pale hair back disdainfully. “I would have hoped my dearest friend would be interested in the identity of my future husband.”
“Really? I suppose I will feel obliged to offer him my commiserations.”
“Severus!” Then, before he could rile her any more, she said quickly, “Lucius Malfoy.”
He stared at her through the dark swirls of smoke, his face closed. She hated it when he went like this, unreadable and dangerous. At last he said, “An interesting choice. When did he make the offer?”
“Oh, he knows nothing of it yet,” she said, with a secretive smile of her own.
“Far be from me to warn you of the dangers of overconfidence but aren’t you being a little premature?”
“Not at all,” she said, fanning the steam away from her face. “Though I will need your help, of course.”
“No.”
She had been expecting such a reaction so she crept a little closer and said coaxingly, “Severus.”
“Certainly not.I will not, under any possible circumstance, brew you a love potion.” His eyes were blazing and she drew her shoulders up defensively. This was a Severus she hadn’t seen for months, furious, bitter and self-righteous. She’d thought that he had finally forgotten the old grudge against the world and all its injustices as enacted upon one Severus Snape. She should have known better.
“I don’t require anything quite as lower-class as a love potion. Such matches are about advantage rather than affection.”
“I can’t give you any advantage, Black. You know quite well I’m a liability to your pureblood friends.”
His accent was slipping away from the cool purr of recent years to the flat vowels of his childhood. Damnit, that meant he was genuinely upset. She crossed to him and put her hands on his shoulders, squeezing until she felt his bones press against her skin. “Severus. All I want is a glamour. Once he’s noticed me I can do the rest myself.”
He snorted and turned away to hunch over his cauldron. She sighed and crossed her legs, waiting for his mood to pass. She was beginning to feel drowsy and she couldn’t tell if it was his potion or whether the hour had grown late. It was so hard to track the passing of time down here. Outside, she was sure it was dark and cold, with a wind full of wet leaves wuthering round the towers. Down here, it was warm and close. The firelight beneath the cauldron cast yellow light against the stone walls. The curved bottles which filled the shelves glowed softly with reflections. The foot high jars of pickled eyeballs behind Slughorn’s desk seemed to be filled with glowing marbles or crystal gobstones like the one’s she had given Reggie for his birthday three years ago. Without realising, she let a sigh escape. There were days when the thought of life beyond Hogwarts seemed not only terrifying but cold. She wondered what the dungeons were like in Malfoy manor. The Malfoys had been Slytherins for generations, after all. Perhaps they understood the dungeons.
She knew it was a vain hope. Bella was Slytherin, too, and she had never understood. Neither had Sirius, naturally, and she let her lips curve with affectionate disdain. No, Sirius, Gryffindor fool, had no concept of subtlety. Severus understood. Reggie understood. It had been Reggie who had spoken up, that awful Christmas before Sirius left. Sirius and Bella had been sniping at each other all morning, a constant whispered stream of malice that had made Narcissa’s head throb until she wished she had defied Daddy and run off to Andromeda’s despite the scandal.
Sirius had been taunting Bella about what he called ‘Slytherin perversions’, a stream of explicit filth about chains and racks and dungeon floors that had made Narcissa, trapped beside them at the table, feel queasy.
Bella, newly engaged and full of dnagerous secrets, had laughed and run her finger down Rodolphus’ arm. “Why, cousin,” she had purred across the table, “are you afraid you’re missing out? I’m afraid I don’t do Gryffindors.”
Sirius had gone for his wand.
Before the hexes could fly Reggie, quiet, nervous, little Reggie, had roared, “Expelliarmus! “ As two wands had spun through the air, he had roared, “Shut up! Shut up, both of you! The dungeons are where we belong. They’re where we’re safe!”
“Who wants to be safe?” Sirius had demanded, belligerant even without his wand.
“I do,” Reggie had said dryly and tossed their wands back. “Please don’t kill other over the table. The blood will spoil the turkey.”
She was so lost in the memory that she jumped when Severus said, gruffly, “He’s too old for you.”
Narcissa shook the unpleasantness away and purred, “I like a man with experience.”
“Then marry Slughorn.”
She shuddered in disgust and relaxed a little. If he had been truly angry with her he wouldn’t have started with something so gentle. He would have gone for her heart. “You are the most impossible man,” she said lightly and was touched to see him smile quickly, a sweet, shy flicker of his lips that she didn’t think she deserved.
“I aim to please.” Then, more serious, he turned away from the cauldron and asked, “Why Malfoy?”
“It’s a extremely advantageous match,” she said and began to tick the reasons on her fingers. “The Malfoys are a reasonably old family, although not as old as the Blacks.”
“How old is ‘reasonably’?”
“Norman upstarts,” she replied with a curl of her lip.
Severus rolled his eyes and muttered, “Purebloods.”
She ignored him and continued. “He has, due to his name and wealth, considerable political influence. As Andromeda’s little escapade has put paid to Daddy’s Ministerial hopes, it would be useful for the family to expand with that in mind. His reputation is impeccable. He is appropriately beautiful – if I to spend my life spawning some man’s heirs, I insist upon pretty children. The Manor is delightful and a considerable improvement on both Grimmauld Place and the Dowager House. He has fathered no bastards although he has had a number of discreet liasions. None of his paramours have expressed any animosity towards him after-”
“Enough,” Severus said, glaring at her. “As much could be said of half the eligible purebloods in the country. Why do you want him, Narcissa?”
She wet her lips and looked him in the eye. “He has what I want.”
“Which is?”
“Power.”
“I didn’t think you were one of those Blacks.”
She sneered at him and then crossed her hands primly on her lap. The rough lace cuffs of her robes caught on her skirt and she unsnagged it carefully. Everyone in Slytherin House wore long sleeves these days, half-taunt, half-solidarity. Thoughtfully, she studied Severus. She was never quite sure how much he knew – whether he was the most innocent of them all or whether he had already surpassed them.
“You know at whose right hand Lucius Malfoy stands,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Even down here, in Slughorn’s lair, walls could have ears. “When the world changes, as it will change, I know where I should be standing. The new world will not be an easy one. It will not be a peaceful one. When Bellatrix and her ilk are unleashed upon the world, I know where I wish to be standing and whose ear I wish to be whispering in. My sister and her bloody hordes will not last. They are soldiers, to be put to the pyre. But I, I shall stand by his side and bear Lucius Malfoy’s heirs and I shall be untouchable. Let the fools rush in. I am Slytherin and I shall endure.”
“You could run,” Severus said, his voice equally soft, almost drowned by the bubbling of the cauldron. “You could run and hide and wait and when the world is cleansed you could return and choose your own path.”
Sometimes, he was so naïve it hurt her. She shook her head and said, “Dear, dear Severus. Where is the safest port in a storm?”
“Here. Below the ground where the wind does not blow.”
“I cannot hide in the dungeons forever.” She cupped his face in her hands and made him look at her. “The safest place in a storm is at its eye.”
He continued to study her, his black eyes fixed upon her blue ones as she clutched his face. Then, he nodded reluctantly.
“Thank you,” she said on a breath and released him. “Will you make me my glamour, then?”
He grunted but she knew it was acquiescence and found herself close to tears. To hide it she batted her eyelashes at him and said, “I knew I could rely on my Sevvie-wevvie.”
She knew he would explode and watched the first signs happily. Then, he grinned quickly, and widened his eyes before saying breathily, “But, Cissy.”
The impression was uncanny enough to make her squeal and jump back. “Merlin! Don’t do that to me. One of her is more than enough.”
“The same could be said of your entire family.”
“Reggie’s lovely.”
“A shame he couldn’t have been an only child.” He watched in amusement as she began to gather ingredients. “You could do most of this yourself, you know.”
“Not as well as you could,” she said practically. “And it would take me months.”
“In a hurry, are you, Miss Black?”
“It’s only a few weeks until the Christmas holidays and we’ve been invited to the Malfoys’ ball. I believe we should formally announce the betrothal on Walpurgis Night.”
“For a Halloween wedding, no doubt. How frightfully pureblood.”
“Certainly not. Christmas. The colour scheme will be much more suitable.”
“You really have planned this, haven’t you?”
She shook her hair back, enjoying the slide of it against her neck. “This is my destiny, Severus. I was bred for this.Can we start the potion?”
“Patience. I need to bottle this and then I need to plan it.”
“Isn’t in the textbook?”
He looked at her, affronted. “You hardly think I would use someone else’s recipe for something like this?”
“I suppose not,” she said, warmed. “Let me help with bottling.”
The liquid had cooled and now sat calmly in the bottom of the cauldron. Despite the mass of ingredients he had added the liquid was clear as water and odourless. She could see her relfection as leant over it, her blue eyes wide and dreamy and her hair falling down her back, as pale and smooth as silver. She looked like a child, though she knew she was not, not at all.
“What is this?” she asked.
He looked over her shoulder and she thought that his reflection, too, seemed far younger than the man she had been talking too. For a moment they stood there, gazing down at themselves, as if all the answers in the world were hidden in those clear depths. Then he said, curtly, “Veritaserum,” and turned away.
Neither of them were willing to speak as they bottled the serum. They were both neat workers, one of the foundations of their friendship, and no drop was wasted. When they were finished, he pressed one of the vials into her hand. “In case you need it at the eye of the storm.”
“I’ll always have you to make it for me,” she said, puzzled.
His face stiffened and he said, “I doubt your husband will approve of you having halfblood friends.”
Oh, trust Severus to leave that until last. “He might not do,” she said, knowing when he needed honesty. “But he will see the use of my best friend the potions genius, regardless of his birth. I will ensure it.”
He shrugged and said, “Keep it anyway. Slughorn won’t notice there’s one missing.”
She nodded and tucked the vial away under her robes. It was always safer to have extra resources. Severus was already bending over a scrap of parchment, scribbling cramped notes, his lips pursed as he thought. “You’ll want something extremely subtle, I assume,” he said, without looking up. “Something your family won’t notice.”
“Preferably. Although, if you can also ensure that Lucius does recognise it, that would be excellent.”
“You want him to know?” Severus blurted out, looking shocked.
“Oh, yes,” she said dreamily. “I’m quite sure Lucius Malfoy is the sort of man to appreciate subterfuge. Diamonds for the engagement ring, of course, but I’m thinking platinum or silver. Gold is so common.”
Severus shook his head and then bent over his work again. Narcissa sat on her bench and breathed in the spice and sulphur scent of the workroom as she dreamt of pale-haired children.
Above them, beyond the walls of Hogwarts, the wind was rising.