Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Severus was seven when he first met the man.

He was running away from his house—from his parents who were once again arguing like there was no tomorrow, tears falling on his cheeks and starting to dry by the cold winds of harsh winter that always plagued their little rundown neighbourhood.

Occupied with the maelstrom of emotions in his mind, Severus didn’t see the tall stranger in his path until he collided with the man rather forcefully. It seemed the well-dressed man hadn’t noticed Severus until that point either as they both fell into a tangle of limbs without anything to stop them on the way down.

The man recovered first, gracefully extracting himself from the unwilling embrace they had fallen into and offering Severus a hand. How someone could look graceful while standing, he didn't know.

Severus squinted up at the man for a moment, trying to gauge his intentions through a scrutinising look, before accepting the calloused hand.

The handsome stranger pulled him up as though he weighed nothing, which may as well be true as Severus ate very little, or rather, couldn’t afford to eat much. Both his parents appeared emaciated as well due to their low income.

The black-haired man looked more amused than angry at being sized up by a child, with a small tilt to his lips. The gaze of his dark eyes was strangely intense, despite the mirth Severus could see there.

Suppressing a shiver, Severus searched for polite words that he had never heard in Spinner’s End. “Sorry, sir. I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m sorry I got dirt all over you,” he mumbled.

The aristocrat-looking adult did have dirt all over his clothes, which were probably worth Severus’s dad’s two years salary. He didn’t think the man would demand he pay for it, but even if the stranger did, Severus had nothing to pay him back with anything, anyways.

The man didn’t respond to his apology, instead choosing to focus on Severus’s tear-streaked face. “Why are you crying, child? What is the matter?”

He avoided the sharp gaze of the man as he wiped away the tears that had been momentarily forgotten in the face of the accident he had landed himself in. “My parents are arguing,” he reluctantly answered.

The expression of the man tightened. “Is that so?” He pulled his pocket square out, which was a soft blue and also looked expensive. “Here. Use this, child.”

Severus physically backed away from the fabric. “Er, I… You don’t… you don’t need to give me that. I have… I have…” He failed to produce a suitable replacement.

The light in the aristocrat’s eyes softened a tad. He put the handkerchief in Severus’s hand. “I have plenty of these. Consider this an apology for bumping into you.”

Severus gaped uselessly. “But I…!”

The tall man took his hand and actually wiped his tears away. “There. Now, you have to keep it.”

Severus gaped some more.

His mind was stuck on the enigma that was this tall, handsome, wealthy man. Severus was just a poor little boy who was rude and dirty all the time. Their paths weren’t meant to cross, and the man wasn’t supposed to be kind.

No one had ever been kind to Severus in his life other than his mum.

Why was this stranger being kind to him when Severus was the one who had ruined his outfit because of his inability to be perceptive of his surroundings? If anything, the man should be angry.

But he wasn’t.

“What’s your name, child?” The man asked as he finally brushed away the dirt that coated his thighs and arms.

Severus bit his lip and glanced up shyly—he hoped he appeared as shy, anyway, because he was wary of the man and didn’t want the elder to know it.

He decided to reply when it became clear the man was willing to wait for the entire night if it meant he would get his answer. “Severus, sir.”

“Severus, hm?” The man hummed quietly and continued in that soft low voice of his. “That’s quite a…unique name.”

Severus couldn’t stop his defensiveness from leaking into his response. “My mother likes it. She says it’s Portuguese.”

He nodded as if to placate Severus. “Hm, I’m sure. It originates in Latin, did you know? It means ‘stern’.”

“I know,” he said petulantly, barely keeping from crossing his arms. “I’m learning both Portuguese and Latin. My vocabulary is good.”

“Really?” The man muttered before abruptly switching to Latin like he used it every day. “I’m quite curious, Severus. Do you know what the word ‘warlock’ means?”

As far as the muggles knew, Latin was a dead language. Schools still taught it, but not as a spoken language. Who the hell was this man who spoke a dead language like he had been born speaking it?

His wariness increased tenfold when the question registered in his mind. There were quite a lot of words to choose from to test his vocabulary. Yet the man had chosen a magical title.

The rational part of his mind said that it was probably just a coincidence. The paranoid part of him that his father's anger had fostered whispered that the stranger was a danger to his mum and him.

Severus was well aware of the anti-muggleborn campaign that was gaining pace and support in the Wizarding World. Though his mum was a pureblood, and he, a half-blood, he was fairly certain they would be labelled blood-traitors by blood supremacists.

He swallowed slightly. “Yes?” He opted for English, not really wanting to give away just how much Latin he knew.

The dark-eyed man hummed, his gaze leaving Severus and going somewhere above him. “From the House of Prince, hm?” He switched back to good ol’ English, too.

Severus took a step back, suddenly much more wary and scared. He took several more to be able to see what the wizard was looking at. It showed his magical family tree, going back two generations. Severus hadn't even known a spell existed for that purpose.

He also hadn't known that his grandfather was named Severin.

“W-Who are you?” Severus questioned, his hands tightening into fists automatically and crumbling the handkerchief held in his right hand.

The wizard's smirk held just a hint of cruelty. His eyes reflected much the same. “You may call me Marvolo, Severus Prince.”

Despite his fear, he bit back, “Such a unique name.”

Marvolo laughed freely, low and rich and rumbling. “We are rather unique, wouldn't you agree? All these muggles have no idea the power we hold at our fingertips.”

Severus took a step back farther, intent on putting as much physical distance as possible between them. “I hope not. The Statute of Secrecy exists for a reason,” he replied.

“Oh, I'm gonna tear it down, Severus.” The claim was boastful, just shy of bragging, but it felt like a promise—something that Marvolo would make sure come true no matter the cost. “We have lived in fear of muggles for far too long. It is time we take our rightful place at the top of the food chain.”

Severus shivered. His instincts were correct. This man was strange and dangerous and mad. If he was going to be breaking the Statute of Secrecy, Severus wanted nothing with it. It would still be not enough if he were in the one hundred miles radius of the man.

“You’re not going to ask me what my family name is?” Marvolo queried.

Severus shook his head. “I don't want to know. And I don't care for that pureblood stuff.”

The wizard smirked again. “Neither do I. Tell me, Severus. Have you heard of Lord Voldemort?”

He wrecked his brain for the name, because he had heard of it—only, he couldn't figure out where and when. “It rings a bell.”

“Lord Voldemort wishes to restore the Wizarding World to its former glory. He wishes to reintegrate the old ways that have been sidelined for so long and to practise magic freely without idiotic distinctions and limitations like ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’. I myself think these are noble intentions. Do you agree?” He wore an expression that spoke of polite patience.

Severus had to wonder why this man was talking about these things that could get him in trouble with the Ministry to a seven years old boy of all people. Perhaps the man really was mad.

“What old ways?” he demanded. Severus had understood everything else and somewhat sort of kind of agreed with them. But he couldn't agree with something if he didn't understand it.

Marvolo’s smile widened. “Lady Hecate, the Mother of Magic. We, wizards, used to worship her, did you know? The practice has all but died out on the Isles. They still worship her on the mainland, but there, too, the practice is dying out. We must not abandon the source of our powers who have blessed us with magic, lest she abandons us in turn. The Ministry and the ‘Light’ doesn't quite seem to grasp the idea.” He sneered.

This time, Severus could say with absolute certainty that he had not heard of Lady Hecate—in that context, anyway. He knew from Greek Mythology that she was the goddess of magic. “What about the Greeks? Do they also not worship her anymore?”

Impossibly, Marvolo’s smile widened even further. “You’re a smart child, aren't you? To answer your question, they still do. It would be a crime if Greece, of all places, had forgotten their goddess.”

Severus stayed silent, though he agreed whole-heartedly. It would be an unforgivable crime if the Greeks were to forget their gods.

“Surely your parents would be done by now. Are you not going home?” Marvolo questioned, raising an eyebrow delicately.

Severus decided then and there that he was going to practise how to do that. It looked brilliant.

He shook his head with a frown. “They’re going to be at it for the whole night. I’d rather wander around than go back.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he almost smacked himself. Why… Oh, why did he tell a stranger that? This wizard had no qualms about using magic without permission on a child. Who was to say that he wouldn’t harm Severus?

If only he hadn’t said anything, Marvolo wouldn’t have known that no one would be coming to find Severus for at least twelve hours. His mum would be so disappointed in him. She’d taught him better.

“It is that bad?” Marvolo asked, the displeased expression from before coming back.

Perhaps he wasn’t so bad.

“Would you like to come with me? This kind of neighbourhood can’t possibly be safe for a child as young as you,” he continued.

Yeah, no. He was definitely bad.

“No, thanks.” Severus was quick to refuse, his lips twisting into an uncomfortable smile that was more like a grimace. “Mum says I’m not supposed to go with strangers for any reason.”

The amused glint re-entered Marvolo’s eyes.

It struck Severus suddenly how much alike they both were and how different they were despite that.

They both had dark hair and dark eyes. They were both tall and thin. Their complexions were so pale as to be compared to a vampire’s. They shared high cheekbones that were defined.

Yet, Marvolo was someone society would consider very handsome and very desirable. Severus? Not so much.

Marvolo’s reply brought him out of his sudden bout of dizziness. “Not even for magic? I am a very talented wizard, you see. I can show you the types of magic and sorcery you can’t even imagine.”

Severus took another step back to make a point. There were at least seven feet between them by now. “Not even for magic.”

Marvolo smiled in amusement. “Very well, very well. I will be going now, Severus Prince. I shall see you again.”

Before Severus could say anything, the man was gone, leaving a loud crack ringing in his ears.

Chapter Text

Severus was eleven when he met the handsome stranger again.

In those four years, he had seen neither hide nor tail of the man, seemingly gone for good.

Severus wished it were true, though, because Marvolo’s parting words had remained with Severus throughout the years, confident and certain. They had held the unshakable conviction of a man whose many talents included divination.

Loathe as he was to believe in such fickle magic as divination, he knew through his mother that there had been a handful of seers and prophets in their house over the years. Though it was not widespread knowledge, their prophecies had come to pass one way or another.

In the end, Marvolo’s promise came true even though it took four years for it to happen.

-

It was the opposite of that first day Severus had bumped into Marvolo.

The first day had been a relatively nice day with a clear sky and a cool breeze, while Severus’s life had been full of gloominess.

This day carried the beginning of a storm, rain pouring all over London and pestering citizens who didn’t have the luck to be able to hide out in their homes. The visibility was low, and the winds were strong, a forebearer of the even stronger winds that would pass through London a few days later.

Severus was, impossibly, in a good mood, despite the terrible weather.

It was a week after his eleventh birthday, and his mum had promised to send him to Diagon Alley to get his things. She was supposed to go with him, but she had caught the flu. So, Severus would be venturing into the Wizarding World alone for the first time.

He was terribly excited for the adventure.

Getting to the alley wasn’t very complicated; he just had to take a bus, walk through a few wards, ask Tom the barman to open the wall for him, and then he was there.

It wasn’t his first time in Diagon Alley. His mum brewed potions on a regular basis and also taught Severus. So, she had to buy ingredients every few weeks, and sometimes, she had enough money to even take Severus with her.

Severus had already mapped out all of Diagon Alley and some of Knockturn Alley, but this was his first time being here alone. There was a sort of giddiness to him at all the possibilities.

Armed with a handful of sickles, a galleon, the list of things needed for the school, and Hogwarts’ approval for his request to be allowed a stipend, Severus marched through the alley, buying things where he could, and ending up in Gringotts to extract the money Hogwarts gave out to students entrenched in poverty.

It took a mere fifteen minutes, then Severus was out. He went straight to the cauldron shop, needing it to carry his things since he didn’t have enough money to buy a trunk.

Buying everything second-hand except for the cauldron and the potion ingredients left Severus just enough to get a wand.

His mother’s spare ancestral wand worked just fine for him, but it was good to have his own bonded wand as well. Being chosen by a magical item was a feeling unlike any other. And Severus did want to be a powerful wizard. What good wizard didn’t have their own wand, after all?

He was greeted by Ollivander, who was sporting a look that rather resembled Albert Einstein and his wide, insane eyes.

Severus was immediately unnerved. He had seen Garrick Ollivander on multiple occasions, and the man had never looked like this.

This was just plain creepy.

There was no mention of his mother or her wand, which made Severus be thankful for her absence, as the insane wandmaker was sure to say something if she had been with him.

Even though Severus showed up by himself and certainly had never been introduced to the elderly man, there was still something like recognition in white eyes, come and gone in a flash.

He took Severus’s measurements, inspected Severus from all angles, then narrowed his eyes. “A potioneer, yes?”

Severus stammered at the very astute observation. “Y-Yeah.”

“You’ve studied Hogwarts’ course?”

“Yes.”

Ollivander tilted his head, his gaze going to above Severus’s head, though there was nothing to see when Severus looked up. “Which disciplines are you more in tune with?”

“Runes. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Spellcrafting.” It was more than what was expected of a student his age—even pureblood heirs were not taught these subjects until they were at least thirteen—but his mum was a powerful witch who had passed down much of her power to him. She hadn’t liked the thought of her knowledge not being passed down alongside her magic.

Her knowledge in these disciplines was more advanced than what the Hogwarts curriculum had to offer, Severus suspected. And he was all too willing to soak up everything thrown at him.

Ollivander seemed to smile, his lips quirking in one direction before going back to their initial position. “I have just the wand for you.”

Yeah, it did turn out that he had just the wand for him.

It was a 12-inch-long wand made with ebony wood and a rare snake feather instead of one of the three core ingredients Ollivander was famous for favouring. It fit his hand perfectly and was the most perfect conduit for his magic.

Severus knew he would not be parting with the wand until he was well beyond death.

Just as he was halfway out the door and thought he would be escaping Ollivander without any suffering, the wandmaker opened his mouth and ruined Severus’s day.

“I haven’t an idea how you are connected to him, young man, but I will warn you to be careful. I remember the day I sold my wand to him, and to this day, I regret ever letting him in my shop. Leave him if possible. He will ruin you,” the white-haired man warned in a grave tone.

Severus didn’t have any idea what the old man was on about. The only man in his life was his father. He already knew the man was a good for nothing abusive bastard headed for hell, thank you.

He continued to stare in confusion at the elderly man. Ollivander stared back, his eyes wide and unfocused.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder without warning, making him jump. A quick glance up revealed the person with no manners to be Marvolo of all people.

He suppressed a groan as his day got so much worse.

Ollivander’s gaze got even wider, which Severus hadn’t thought was possible given his eyes’ already large size. The man took a step back in fright, his hand going to his wand that lay on top of the counter.

Marvolo gave a smile to the older man, all teeth and no lips. “Scaring my ward, are you?”

Severus made to protest—he was not anyone’s ward, least of all Marvolo’s—but thought better of it given the tense situation that was rapidly growing out of hand. He might have to run if it got worse.

“Leave,” Ollivander hissed. “I want nothing to do with you.”

What the hell? Ollivander had been talking about Marvolo?

First of all, he met the wizard four years ago and talked to him for a quarter hour. How the fuck did Ollivander know they knew each other? Second of all, was Marvolo a criminal or even a murderer? Ollivander’s dramatic reaction seemed to scream at him that Marvolo of whatever House was indeed a dangerous criminal.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself, Ollivander. I will not be so kind next time.” Marvolo’s tone was beyond icy, cold and ruthless.

The wandmaker gave a jerky nod. “You won’t find me doing so again.”

Marvolo smiled, flat and thin-lipped. “We’ll see.”

Ollivander’s hand tightened on his wand, his jaw visibly clenching.

Marvolo nodded, the action mocking instead of the respectful nod it should have been.

“Come, Severus. I will take you to lunch.” The wizard forcefully removed Severus from the shop—not that Severus wanted to stay any longer, but a choice in the matter would’ve been nice—indeed leading him to a nice little restaurant tucked in an off-street of Diagon Alley.

Severus rather wanted to bolt, but he stayed, curious despite himself.

Ollivander’s words implied a greater danger in Marvolo than what Severus had been able to ascertain by himself. With all his talks of breaking the Statute of Secrecy, Severus had to wonder if Marvolo was connected to Lord Voldemort in some way.

From what his mother had told him, Lord Voldemort was gaining followers rapidly, and his cause was advancing. She had even told him that the war had already started—it was just not on actual battlefields yet. His mother said that the Wizengamot had been made a battlefield where purebloods fought over muggleborn rights and blood supremacy.

The arguments, the petty fights, and the insults from both sides were nothing new. They had been at it for centuries, but it had been taken to a whole new level. Threats on families and friends had come to be issued, sometimes being actually carried out.

There were speculations of an all-out war breaking out in a couple of years.

Both Severus and his mum believed that Severus and his generation would be caught up in the middle of it when the time came.

Marvolo ordered for them, spewing off some French cuisine Severus had no idea about.

The dangerous shark-like smile from earlier was long gone by the time they were seated, a charismatic grin taking its place to bedazzle the waiter instead.

Severus watched the somewhat flirtatious exchange quietly, uncomfortable.

It was good that Marvolo took control of the order. Severus didn’t think he would be able to get out anything after witnessing that display of shameless and free usage of charm.

Mostly because he had a feeling he would be just as flustered as the waiter had that smile been directed at him.

“Hogwarts?” Marvolo asked, peering at him over the table.

Severus cleared his throat. When had it gotten so parched? “Y-Yeah. Mum wanted me to go to Durmstrang, but Hogwarts is easier to commute to.”

Marvolo hummed, studying him. “You would’ve done well in Durmstrang. I have been to the school and had the chance to study their curriculum. They offer many more courses than Hogwarts cares for or can afford to do, and their teachers are much better, less stagnant and stuck in their ways.”

That was his mother’s exact reasoning. She, too, had visited Durmstrang once while studying for her spellcrafting mastery and knew very well what they could teach Severus.

“Let me guess. Their professors are decades younger than Hogwarts’,” Severus dryly said.

Marvolo chuckled. “Perhaps.”

It was a good sound, melodious, and unique. He could listen to it all day, especially coupled with that handsome jawline and—

Abort. Abort.

“What are you doing here?” He queried to distract himself from the turn his thoughts had taken.

The man raised an eyebrow. “This is a public space, no?”

Severus grimaced unhappily. “I’m trying to see if you were stalking me. Who knows? You might have stolen my hair and scried for me.”

“Oh? You believe I am a practitioner of divination?” A glint of interest entered dark brown eyes.

He snorted. “Please. It’s obvious. I may not have the gift of divination myself, but I hail from a house famous for its seers. I know the signs.”

There were no signs. It was just gut feeling and intuition. It helped that he also possessed the skill of reading people’s microexpressions; he had to to avoid incurring his father’s wrath every few seconds. Marvolo was definitely pleased that Severus had made the connection.

Marvolo shook his head, his lips curled in a small smile. “No, it is not obvious, Severus. No one has ever found out I have a talent for it in my entire life. You’re the first one to deduce it, and so quickly, too.”

Severus flushed at being praised. So rarely had he been given compliments or praises. His mother loved him with all her heart, but she was a reserved individual and used her words seldom.

Faintly, he registered that Marvolo had completely deflected Severus’s question and derailed it to become about Severus rather than him. It would be like pulling teeth to get a straightforward answer out of this man.

Still, Severus had to try. “What was that about with Ollivander?”

Marvolo didn’t lose his cheer, even though his eyes darkened to almost black. “He has never liked me. I once worked at a magical artefact shop in my youth, you know. The items they sold are considered ‘dark’ by the Ministry, as expected of a shop located in the alley over, and Ollivander’s niece got a hold of one. He believes I sold it to her with malicious intentions. He’d held a grudge ever since.”

It was a plausible story, very realistic. Severus would’ve believed it if he hadn’t seen with his own two eyes how Marvolo had threatened and cowed Ollivander with a few mere sentences. Not to mention how frightened Ollivander had looked. The man had feared for his life and Severus’s.

Outwardly, he just nodded, seemingly accepting the story.

The arrival of their meals saved Severus from the need to verbally agree with Marvolo.

As they ate, a thought occurred to Severus. “Why were you in Cokeworth?”

“Hmm?”

“Cokeworth. That day I ran into you—why were you there?” He clarified. “Not only is it a muggle neighbourhood, but it is also a poor one. You don’t seem like the type of person to frequent that kind of place.”

Marvolo took his time, leisurely chewing his food then swallowing it. “I accidentally ended up there,” he admitted.

Severus’s eyebrows flew up. How would someone accidentally end up there? Their town was at least a mile away from the nearest bus station. “How?”

Marvolo’s smile was wry. “I was mid-apparition when I sensed something. It… felt like a thread—tied to me and something else. I decided to follow it, to see where it led me to.”

He frowned. That sounded a lot like… “Like the threads the Fates weave.”

The man nodded sharply. “Precisely.”

Severus, copying Marvolo, chewed his food slowly while getting his thoughts in order. He frowned harder. “But… you left after talking to me. Was it...?”

Marvolo looked a little uncertain as he nodded. “I believe it's you. I normally don't bother with children. But you're important...somehow.” The older wizard seemed infuriated, with a hint of frustration mixed in.

Severus eyed him warily, privately amused at his perturbed expression. “I don't see how I can be. I'm just a half-blood. I'm not even a member of any House.”

Marvolo raised an eyebrow over his glass of wine. “I told you I don't care for that pureblood nonsense, did I not?”

“Yeah, you did,” he agreed. “But you're also a supporter of Lord Voldemort—possibly more—when he's the leader of the campaign that's advocating for the eradication of all muggleborns and blood-traitors.”

“Possibly more?” The dark-haired man repeated.

“The way you talked about him,” Severus began cautiously, “there’s something strange about it. It makes me think you're close to the heart of the campaign—close to him.”

“You're rather shrewd for an eleven-year-old,” the wizard remarked.

Severus didn't let the praise get to his head this time, knowing it was a deflection. “Who are you, Marvolo? You know almost everything there's to know about me, but I haven't a clue who you are other than your name, which might not even be your real name."

The man smiled, linking his hands together and making a loose ‘u’ on the table. “I assure you, it is my name. As for who I am, well, you are correct in that I'm close to Lord Voldemort. Closer than even you might think.”

“That doesn't give me anything,” Severus retorted. “You’re just confirming my suspicions.”

“How about this?” Marvolo said. “You ask what you want to know, and I'll see if I can answer.”

Severus furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out if there was any trick involved.

There wasn't.

Weird.

“Did you go to Hogwarts?” He finally asked.

“Yes.”

“What year did you graduate?”

There was that amused glint again. Goddamnit. How was that man so easily amused by anything? Or was it because it was Severus?

“1946.”

That meant his mother would have seen Marvolo at least in passing. She would've been a third year while Marvolo was a seventh year.

“What masteries do you have?”

The devilishly amazing smirk made an appearance. “Dueling, Rituals, Spellcrafting, and Arithmancy.”

Severus’s eyes widened comically.

Holy hell. All very difficult disciplines. Barely a hundred people all over the world had a mastery in arithmancy. A Mastery of rituals was even more difficult to earn; a mere dozen could claim to have the title.

It took roughly about ten years for someone to earn a mastery, which meant Marvolo had somehow studied for all four of his masteries within the rather short timeframe of twenty-five years. What was the IQ of this man?

“Impressive, isn't it?” Marvolo murmured, pride and pleasure swirling within dark eyes. “You might be able to shorten the time required for a mastery if you start studying now.”

Severus put down his fork and knife, done with the food. It was excellent food, probably worth a fortune, and certainly not what Severus himself would order, ever. “I’m working to become a Potions Master. I have a knack for it.”

Marvolo hummed. “I’m sure you do. Your grandfather is a renowned Potions Master as well.”

Severus gritted his teeth. Yet another detail about his own family that Marvolo had revealed offhandedly. His mother hadn't deigned to tell him about any of his immediate family, preferring to weave tales of ancestors long gone instead.

It had never bothered Severus before, knowing that his mother still grieved over the loss of her family and identity. But with Marvolo, it felt imperative to know everything he could know about the House of Prince. The man seemed intent to lord his knowledge of Severus's family over him.

“Is he?” He tightly replied.

“Yes.” The older wizard's voice was even. “He is a lonely old man now. His wife, your grandmother, passed away two years prior. He's willing to talk about just anything to anyone these days.”

“To anyone, huh?”

The cold smile Marvolo threw his way sent shivers down his spine. There was something horribly vindictive and cruel behind that handsome facade. “He seems healthy. He'll probably live another decade or more. But...it would be quite difficult to determine how, or when, if he is to perish in his sleep. Not a soul lives with him, after all.”

Severus kept his face completely blank. He knew what Marvolo was insinuating, and he didn't want to be caught up in it. Yes, he hated his grandfather, but not to a degree that he was willing to murder the man in cold blood.

No, that part of him was only reserved for his father.

The brown-haired man leaned back in his seat, lounging like a king. “Ah, I see. Who is it, then?”

He bared his teeth in mockery of a smile. “None of your business, Marvolo.”

The man completely ignored him. “Is it your mother? Me? Oh, I see. Your father, isn't it?”

Severus snarled, furious at being read so easily. “What's it to you? Trying to get me thrown in prison?”

Marvolo tutted. “Nonsense, Severus. I only wish to be of help to you. We're connected, aren't we? We should help each other.”

At the prospect of a deal, Severus calmed down slightly. This was known territory. “I’m a first-year student who's going to be secluded in Hogwarts for eight months. I don't have anything you could possibly want.”

“On the contrary, my Prince,” Marvolo said, his voice mocking. “All I want is you. You have potential, and that? That could be very useful.”

He continued, “I was once a boy striving to prove himself to the world, just like you, hoping against all hopes that the world would see my worth if I worked hard enough. It didn't happen, Severus, and I can guarantee you that you will meet the same fate.”

Severus gnashed his teeth together. He already knew all of this. It wasn't anything new, but it still hurt to be reminded of the lot he had drawn in life. “So, what? Am I supposed to take your hand and go on an adventure?”

Marvolo laughed. It was neither joyous nor free, instead filled with a strong sense of irony. “I meant what I said four years ago, Severus. I can show you magic beyond anyone's imagination. I can teach you disciplines few or none have dared to venture into. Whatever it is that you seek, be it power, knowledge, or love, I can help you find it.”

It was an offer all too tempting. Even though Severus had known this man for all of two hours, there was no doubt in his mind that Marvolo could do all that he promised and more.

He already knew the man was powerful and intelligent, with easy access to powerful people like the Head of a House.

Marvolo might have said that his grandfather was willing to talk to just anyone, but Severus doubted it heavily. Stuck up purebloods like that would never associate with someone they deemed unworthy of their attention.

Though he'd only seen Marvolo perform one spell—using it on Severus without his consent at that—it was a spell Severus knew to be extremely draining.

He had wanted to ask his mother but had ultimately decided against it, not wanting her to know about the encounter. Through his covert search of his mother's books, he became aware that it was a spell the Ministry had all but banned.

It had been used prominently to check for a child's parentage to make sure there were no affairs going on or, god forbid, line theft. Due to the rather unfortunate bloodshed the spell had been prone to lead to, at some point in the eighteenth century, the British Ministry of Magic had been forced to heavily restrict its use lest all magical aristocrats die out.

Marvolo had used it without being detected by the Improper Use of Magic Department of the Ministry, and he had shown no sign of tiredness afterwards, even performing apparition without difficulty or an adequate amount of rest.

Severus had been suitably impressed.

“What exactly is it that you want from me, Marvolo?” He decided to ask.

The man seemed exasperated, his gaze almost chiding at the repeated interrogations of his intentions. “I want you to be my apprentice. I have searched long and wide for someone worthy of carrying on the knowledge I have obtained. I had yet to find one when I was led to you by the Fates. You wish to learn, and I wish to teach.”

It was so hard to refuse that kind of reasoning, mainly because the older man was being so bloody reasonable. Also because Severus wanted what was being promised desperately.

It was almost like everything he had ever wished for was suddenly dropped into his lap, or at least, the key to everything. And it was for that reason that Severus knew he couldn't accept, not now.

The universe, the Fates, or the Norns, did not like Severus Snape. When it appeared that they might do so, something much worse followed it.

“I am underaged,” he stated. “My mother will not accept this.”

“I am certain I can convince her,” came the confident reply.

“I’d rather not try her patience.”

Marvolo’s eyes narrowed. “Then, what do you wish to do, Severus? It seems to me that you, at least, want to accept my offer.”

Severus swallowed lightly. “I do,” he admitted. “But I don't trust you. I'd like to research your identity and claims at the very least.”

“With just a first name, I doubt you will succeed,” pointed out Marvolo.

He nodded reluctantly. “That’s why I was hoping you'd give me your full name.”

Marvolo laughed shortly, incredulous and amused all at once. “A child with my name can do horrific damage.”

“Then, how will I know you're not just lying to me to get what you want?” He shot back.

The man shook his head, a small twist to his lips. “I am not giving you my name, Severus Prince. However, I'll leave you with a means to verify my accomplishments. You'll have until the start of your fourth year to decide. You'll know how to contact me.”

“Wh—” Severus tried to ask.

Marvolo cut him off by standing up. The wizard put a couple of galleons onto the table. (Gods be good; that much?) He beckoned Severus up, too. “Come. I'll take you back home.”

Severus wanted to protest, but Marvolo was already halfway out the door and seemed impatient to be rid of him.

He swallowed down his indignation and frustration, willing himself to calm. “Alright,” he murmured.

-

A silent walk into the Leaky Cauldron, a muffled apparition, and an uncomfortable walk later, they were in Spinner's End, only a few houses down from Severus's.

Severus had not intended for Marvolo to know exactly where he lived, but it appeared that the universe had other plans, for his mother had come out of their house at that precise moment to catch sight of them and freeze.

Marvolo gave her an award-winning smile that was only slightly predatory and marched forward.

Severus trotted after the older man with visible hesitance. He knew his mother didn't take well to strangers intruding into their home. He also knew that she took even worse to Severus talking with people he should not. And Marvolo was definitely someone his mother wouldn't like—someone who had shot up from a non-magical background to blend in with the purebloods—the complete opposite of her fall from grace.

“Eileen Prince...it's been quite a while, hasn't it?” He heard Marvolo say.

Wait, what?

He turned around so fast that his neck let out a loud crack. It was painful, but he couldn't focus on the pain as the new revelation that his mother and Marvolo knew each other messed with his head.

Why did it keep turning out that people knew Marvolo?

His mother's answer was stiff. “More than a while, I'd say, my lord.”

Severus turned back around to set his stare on his mother. He had never heard her address someone with reverence. Never.

Sure, she called those pureblood lords Lords, but it was just a formality, an expectation and tradition she had to conform to. This, however, was wildly different. It sounded like she meant and believed in the title.

Who the hell was Marvolo?

“You've raised your son well. He'll make a fine wizard one day,” the man praised.

Eileen pressed her lips together, seeming displeased to be complimented. “Thank you.”

Marvolo’s smile widened a little, simultaneously more predatory and genuine. “My, you haven't changed one bit, Eileen.”

“Nor have you,” she said.

Severus, tired from hauling the cauldron and other items in it around, made to put the thing on the ground. He revered potions, but setting the cauldron on the ground for a bit couldn't interfere with his work later.

Just as it was about to touch the soil, it shot out from beside him into the house.

Wide-eyed, he stared.

He seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

“Do treat your belongings with respect,” chided Marvolo.

Severus couldn't respond, too shocked at his mother's lack of interference at someone else scolding her child in front of her. That had never happened. She was a tad possessive and didn't allow anyone to discipline Severus in any way. With his father being the exception, obviously, since Eileen herself was being abused by the bastard just like him.

The adults, meanwhile, continued their talk. “You haven't strayed from our ideals, I hope?”

Severus tried not to frown. What ideals? Was his mother involved in some type of organisation?

“I'm sure you already know the answer given that you escorted my son home,” Eileen replied, thin-lipped.

Marvolo chuckled dryly. “Despite what you may have heard, I have not strayed, either.”

His mother's eyes seemed cold, fathomless in a way that let Severus know that she was occluding. “Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe.”

“If I truly had changed, you would not be alive, Eileen. I have become...acquaintances with your father,” Marvolo said, his voice mild.

The threat no longer shocked Severus, having already witnessed that dangerous voice being directed at Ollivander. But it did anger him that Marvolo was threatening his mother. He had to fight to not insert himself into the tense conversation.

His mother, however, seemed to relax, if only marginally.

What the hell was happening?

Everything was so bloody complicated when Marvolo was involved. He had to wonder whether he truly wished to become this man's apprentice if his world would become convoluted beyond belief as a direct consequence.

“Dare I ask what you'll do with them once your objective is achieved?” She questioned, looking wary.

“I have some ideas,” Marvolo smirked, vicious.

Eileen shook her head, the ghost of a smile appearing on her lips. “What do you wish me to do?”

Marvolo tipped his head towards Severus. “Your son can tell you everything later. For now, all I need from you is to tell him who I am. He is woefully uninformed.”

His mother stiffened, her concerned gaze flickering over to Severus. “My lord, he is but a child.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “I am not demanding he fight immediately, Eileen. He will have the choice when he is fourteen. His decision will be respected.”

Severus stopped his nervous fidgeting. Fight? There had been nothing about fighting when they had talked. It had only ever been about knowledge, learning, and power. Just what had he gotten himself into?

“As you wish,” Eileen relented.

Marvolo smiled, satisfied. “Nurture his potential. He will be a sight to behold whether he joins me or not.”

She nodded sharply. “Yes, my lord.”

Severus tried very hard not to gape. He could not embarrass himself in front of his mother.

The man—a lord, apparently—turned to face him. “Severus, until we meet again.”

Then he was gone, silent and quick.

Instantly, his mother seemed to deflate, her shoulders slumping and head drooping.

“Mother?” Severus tentatively asked.

She took a deep breath, and when she raised her head, there were tears in her eyes.

“Mother!” He crowded closer, more than a little alarmed.

Eileen clutched at him, pulling him into her arms and squeezing tightly. “Oh, Severus,” she nearly sobbed.

Severus hugged her back. He was confused, but he could still tell she needed him. “Mum, what's wrong?”

Her response was to pull him into the house and smother him to death.

It was very hard not to struggle in her embrace. Eileen Prince was not a tactile woman, and neither was Severus; their hug was more than a little awkward, with more elbows and bones than soft skin and fat.

“Mum, what's wrong?” He repeated the question worriedly.

She clutched him a touch tighter. “By the gods, Severus. How did you meet Him?”

He could almost hear the capital and distinct ‘him’. It confused him further.

“I– ” He almost lied, but his mother had an uncanny ability to spot his lies, and she surely would not appreciate his attempt when she was so clearly distressed.

“Four years ago. I...ran into him.”

“Where?” She demanded.

“Around the corner.”

Her arms slackened in shock. “Around the corner?” She echoed in a coarse whisper.

Severus squiggled to lean back a little and look at her. “I was surprised, too. He looked much like he did today, and he seemed to be just wandering.”

Eileen swallowed heavily. “Merlin. Did you ever learn why he was in Spinner's End?”

He resisted the urge to bite his lip nervously. “He said today that he felt something call to him while apparating and followed it.” Not the whole truth, but close enough to it that his mother shouldn't notice easily. Severus didn't exactly want their apparent connection to be known, not even by his mother.

Her pale skin seemed to pale further, which was worrying as she nearly resembled a corpse. “And it led him here?”

Severus nodded, too panicked by his mother's unusual reactions to verbally respond when a nonverbal one would suffice just as well.

“Gods save us," Eileen muttered, eyes unfocused.

“Mum, who is he?” He asked, trying to get some answers to questions he had been searching for four whole years.

She pushed them down onto the sofa shakily, not releasing Severus for even a second. “That, my Prince, was Lord Voldemort.”

Even his old nickname couldn't distract Severus from the latter part of the sentence. He doubted anything, short of his mother dying, could.

Severus ran through everything he had said to Marvolo during their two interactions, desperate to know that he had not said something horrible about Voldemort to the man's face. It would be like signing his whole family's death warrant if he had.

“So, when he said ‘fight’, he actually meant fight,” Severus concluded faintly.

“Yes, Severus. He did mean it.” A shaky exhale filled the small space between them. “But he also promised to respect your decision. We can count on it; he will do as he says, for my sake.”

“Mother, how do you know each other?” He wanted to outright demand if his mother was a ‘death eater’, but she had taught him better than that. He would wait.

“He was charismatic, so very charismatic.” Eileen ran her fingers through his hair, still shaking. “I got caught up with him at Hogwarts. He was a natural leader, and all of us Slytherins gravitated towards him. He had a facade that he cared about blood supremacy to lure in purebloods and keep them obedient, but I saw through the mask.”

“It intrigued me,” she continued. “It was known he wasn't pure, but he had all those purebloods catering to his every whims. We got close. We became friends, though I'm sure he only saw me as a child who had the means to help him in his cause.”

Severus tightened his hand around his mother's blouse, the lingering hurt in her voice causing him to try to offer what comfort he could.

“We stayed in contact after he graduated, and… when I left Hogwarts, we went to Bolivia together to earn our masteries. It was then that I visited Durmstrang.”

He stopped breathing in shock. That was more than friends!

“I learnt that he was descended from Salazar Slytherin on that trip. He exposed me to much of the world. When we came back to Britain, he was ready to pursue his goal. He became Lord Voldemort, and I, an anonymous helper. Then, I met Tobias. He wasn't pleased, but he let me go. For the time shared between us.”

Eileen's hand stopped in its movement, stilling to become a heavy weight on his head. “He will let you go if that's your wish, my prince. He isn't a man who breaks his promises with ease.”

“I know, mum. Last time we met, he promised me that we'd see each other again. And we did,” Severus murmured. “We will again in the future.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, you will.”

Chapter Text

“What are you doing, Snape?”

The flat, unimpressed voice caused Severus to nearly drop the stirring rod in his hand and jump. He almost completely froze in terror but managed to cast a preservative charm on the potions he was making.

Before he could do anything else, the wand was snatched out of his hand, leaving him defenceless.

He swallowed harshly and turned slowly, determined not to dig himself a deeper hole. “Sir,” he said.

He was reckless, but he wasn't foolish, not nearly enough to address the pureblood heir Head Boy solely by his name. Under the eyes of the public, it was just Malfoy, but behind closed walls, it was ‘Heir Malfoy’ or ‘Sir’—at least for no-name muggleborns like him. Days of torment awaited those who dared to break the rules.

Malfoy raised a silver eyebrow. “Well?”

Severus hadn't actually thought this far ahead. He had...foolishly believed that he would be able to do this deed without being caught by anyone. The lack of a plan had come to bite him in the arse, and Severus dared say that he deserved it.

“I apologise,” he said stiffly. “I sneaked in to brew potions without permission.”

“Not—” Malfoy began to circle him like Severus was the prey and he the hunter. It happened to be an apt description of the situation at hand. “—what I am asking, Half-blood.”

“What do you mean?” He muttered, tracking the older boy's movements with the highest attention he could give.

Malfoy jabbed his chin at the long table that currently displayed two potions in making. “What potions are these?”

He licked at the insides of his front teeth, self-soothing. These were N.E.W.T.-level potions, and Malfoy, as a seventh-year student, knew their ingredients and the processes of making them by heart. There was no reason for him to be asking this kind of question unless he was testing Severus.

“Veritaserum and Polyjuice, sir.”

Malfoy released a short humming sound and peered into the cauldrons. “You are progressing rather nicely,” remarked the pureblood. “Where is the recipe book?”

Severus looked around wildly, trying to find something that remotely resembled an old, worn textbook. Malfoy’s sharp gaze prompted him to stop his search and come clean. “I don't have one.”

Grey eyes bore into his soul, clever and assessing. “You brewed these from memory?”

“Yes.”

The Head Boy hummed again, longer this time, stretching it to almost become a tune. He circled the long table one more time before coming to stand in front of Severus.

The older boy was quite tall, and Severus always had to crane his neck to meet his eyes. This time, though, Malfoy bent his head to be level with him. He held out Severus’s wand, but he dared not take it, afraid he would be cursed.

“Our Lord is right to covet you,” purred Malfoy. “I see your potential now.”

Severus, shocked still, stood frozen.

Lucius Malfoy put the ebony wand in Severus’s hand, directly touching his skin, which was something he actively avoided doing when the other person was of lesser blood. He righted his posture, standing tall once more. “You may use my name to have this laboratory to yourself for as long as you are at Hogwarts. I shall give you the privilege.”

“....Thank you,” Severus could only breathe.

“A word of caution, Snape: Do not get caught.” The coldness in his grey eyes never ceased as he sharply turned away.

-

Slughorn exclaimed in delighted surprise when he found out, proclaiming that Malfoy truly did have excellent insight and perception.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes in thought as she listened to Slughorn boast about a student's skills that were not learnt from him.

James Potter sneered and threw a jab about sponsorship, his friends falling in line and making the same jokes twice.

Lily squealed in wonder and stayed in the lab for two hours straight, brewing what caught her fancy. Felix and Josh, his roommates, barged in around the end of Lily's brewing session, calling him stupid and entirely unremorseful about interrupting delicate potion-making.

Severus remained stony-faced throughout it all as he was confronted with the existence of Lord Voldemort and his followers for the first time since he was welcomed to Hogwarts.

Somehow, in the last year and a half, Severus had managed to get Marvolo and his offer of apprenticeship out of his mind, with schoolwork and teenage drama taking root in the busy corners of his head.

Malfoy’s words had brought everything back, along with the reminder that there was only a year and a half left before the start of his fourth year and he would have to make his choice.

Oddly, even though almost two years had passed, Severus was no closer to making the decision than he was before Hogwarts. Marvolo had this way of charming people and keeping them in his orbit, never to leave again and forever to follow him where he went.

Severus, as much as he preferred logic over emotion, had fallen victim to Marvolo’s tactics and had become infatuated with the older man. Marvolo likely was aware of it; he wouldn’t be surprised if the older man had deliberately acted so charismatic towards him.

There had been no communication from the man and no such encounter like their previous two. He had not contacted his mother, either. Marvolo, for all intents and purposes, had decided to give them genuine space for Severus to make his decision.

Eileen, likewise, had told Severus all he asked and agreed to let him make the decision without her influence. This was his choice and his choice alone—which meant that this would be solely his responsibility, no matter what good or bad came of it.

One could say that this was the biggest decision of Severus’s life, and they would be correct.

So, Severus brewed and brewed and let his overly analytic brain sleep for intuition to take its place.

-

Heir Malfoy,

Please accept my gratitude for allowing me to use your personal laboratory at Hogwarts. It is my honour, and I cannot thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to improve my skills in potion-making.

I would like to ask a favour from you. It is time for me to contact our mutual friend, as I am certain he has been waiting. I ask you to please graciously bring this matter to his attention.

I eagerly await your reply.

Yours sincerely,
S. Snape.

-

Stefan’s Cafe, 63 Whitechapel High St., August 12, 10:30 a.m.

He shall await you.

-

Severus didn’t dress to impress.

Most of his illegal income was used to buy books and whatnot to expand his knowledge and skills. Clothing was largely of little import to him, and his wardrobe reflected that, consisting mostly of stitched-up robes and too short trousers.

Though he spent 80% of his money to buy as many secondhand books as possible, ten percent went to new, presentable clothes. He did not care for good clothes, but society did, and Severus, unfortunately, was someone who lived in a human society and thus had to abide by the rules somewhat.

Still, he refrained from purchasing expensive clothing the elite members of society, the likes of purebloods, preferred. He was content with being presentable, and the combination of a good shirt and well-fitted trousers was just fine.

That was what he chose to wear for the meeting with Marvolo he had requested: a navy blue long-sleeved shirt and dark grey trousers. It wasn’t overly formal or casual. He figured it was the best he had and the most suitable for speaking with Lord Voldemort about his apprenticeship with said man.

Three years had passed, and Severus still could not believe he had been hand-picked by a man like that. It was incredibly surreal, and he suspected that it would never stop being so.

Marvolo was sitting outside of the cafe, at an easy-to-spot table, with a single cup of latte in his hand. He welcomed him with a smile that was barely just and more closely resembled a smirk.

“Severus. I had wondered if you wouldn't contact me.”

With pursed lips, Severus seated himself opposite Marvolo. “I doubt you would let me be if you didn't hear from me at all.”

“True,” he conceded. “I made a promise, after all.”

Severus took the time to flag down a waiter and order his own coffee, black and with lime. He had no idea how to start the conversation with this dangerous man, and stalling was a strategy as good as any.

“Tell me, how is Eileen?”

He narrowed his eyes, a touch defensive about the topic ever since he learnt that his mother and Marvolo had been way more than friends in their youth. “She’s well. Thank you for asking,” he said curtly.

Self-preservation skills did not seem to exist in his body when it came to Marvolo because he had learnt long ago that this was Lord Voldemort he was speaking to, and yet he still dared to be insolent towards the man.

His rudeness only served to amuse the older wizard, however. Marvolo huffed out a laugh. “I have no wish to upend her life, Severus. She made her choice, and I will let her have it.”

‘Along with the consequences of that choice’ went unsaid, but he heard it all the same. He couldn’t exactly find fault with that kind of logic; if one wouldn’t bear the consequences of one’s actions, who would?

“What of your father? Does he still breathe?” Marvolo chose a fine time to ask the question, saying it at the exact time the waiter was putting down his black coffee.

The poor man was so surprised by it that he almost splashed the coffee onto the table and Severus. The redheaded man profusely apologised, and Severus, equally flustered, had to repeatedly wave away the multitude of apologies.

His glare was met with an unfazed smile. The light in Marvolo’s dark eyes seemed to dare him to continue to be impertinent. Yet, mirth danced behind the coldness, and Severus ached to see it come to life.

With a huff, he broke eye contact, not admitting defeat but conceding about the differences in their stations nonetheless. “Yes, he still lives.”

Marvolo’s smile had widened into a cruel grin. “Only until your seventeenth birthday, I hope?”

Severus shook his head, feeling wry instead of the horror he felt for the topic just three years ago. “Plausible deniability, Marvolo.”

“That is fascinating, isn’t it? Sadly, it works better with the muggles than the aurors. Magic is too advanced for it to fool the ministry’s lackeys.”

“A good thing the ministry won’t be getting involved, then.”

“Indeed.”

They both took a small sip out of their respective cups, and when the cups were put down, the sound carried a finality.

“I don’t want to fight,” said Severus.

The Dark Lord hardly blinked. “And your reasoning is?”

“I cannot—I will not pretend that I even remotely care for pureblood supremacy. They subjugate and suppress us, and I refuse to show sympathy or compassion for their vacuous cause.”

“How ever will you interact with my followers when you come across them? I will not allow you to blatantly destroy my years of work because you are stubborn.” Marvolo never raised his voice, never changed his body posture or tone, but Severus knew with all his heart that he had started to irritate the man.

“I will be your potions master. I will provide support for you. I only ask that I never be put on the battlefield when it comes to it.”

The older man did not question Severus’s competence in potions-making, likely already having been informed of his skills by Malfoy. But the brown-haired wizard had another question to bestow him with. “You realise that you will be my second in everything once you become my apprentice—that you will have to get involved with the Knights of Walpurgis one way or another?”

Maybe this was the childish, unrealistic part of him speaking; maybe a child still lived in him despite all odds, but Severus didn’t wish to do anything that Marvolo was implying. He was not made for war, and he wouldn’t be moulded into a soldier.

“Not on the battlefield, I won’t. I will follow you, as my master, but not to the battlefield. That’s where I draw the line.” This time, Severus held Marvolo’s gaze and let him see how immovable he was on this particular topic. If this was the dealbreaker, so be it. He would not subject himself to a life filled with horrors of war.

After a long moment where Marvolo stared, unblinking, with a mild look that terrified Severus to his core, the wizard released a small exhale. “Very well, I shall draw up a contract and send it to you. Do make sure that the terms are to your agreement.”

He only realised when his mouth hung open that he had been dreading being rejected by Marvolo. This insane man had been living in his head rent-free ever since he had been seven, and Severus had built up entire dreams around him. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he was rejected after working hard for so long to prove himself to the Dark Lord.

In contrast to Marvolo, Severus took a sharp breath. “For how long?”

“Until you reach your majority for now,” answered his soon-to-be master. “We can revisit that later.”

“Okay.” He nodded slightly in agreement. “What will this change for me?”

“At Hogwarts, or in general?”

“Both.”

Marvolo shifted to cross his knees, his right leg over the left, leaning back against the chair. His posture resembled a satisfied cat lounging after getting what it wanted or, perhaps, a king who had just won a political war. “Well, let us start with Hogwarts. Some older-year students are aware that I wish to have you as my apprentice, as you know.”

He gave a small nod of affirmation. Lucius Malfoy had nearly given him a heart attack with the revelation of his knowledge.

“In small but not insignificant ways, they have been protecting you from those who would wish you deadly harm. They will continue to do so. Ask for help from them when you need it. I will not handhold you, so you will have to figure out their identities by yourself.”

That actually did not surprise him. James Potter and his band of idiots could be very lethal, and Severus had woken up several times with fewer injuries than he remembered. He had mostly chalked it up to his magic healing him in his time of need and desperation.

“There may be a slight increase in the interest of purebloods in you. You may perhaps find yourself in Slughorn’s Club. Who knows?” The handsome man smirked in response to Severus’s disgusted grimace.

He might’ve once wanted to belong when he had been a poor boy whose only friend had been his books, but things had changed drastically. It turned out that having such an extraordinary person’s praise and attention did wonders to improve one’s self-confidence.

Severus was sure of himself these days, and he knew that he’d rather spend time developing new potions than mingle with Slughorn’s partygoers. The professor was a Potions Master only barely. He was confident that he could outdo the man when the time came for his mastery exams.

“I will not give you my mark until you are of age. Even then, it shall be your choice. The mark makes it far too easy to be recognised as my follower,” Marvolo continued.

Cautious but curious, he asked the obvious question. “What do you mean by ‘your mark’?”

Something—terrible, beautiful, and monstrous all at once—flashed in the Dark Lord’s eyes. Severus was tense when Marvolo reached for him. “Let me show you,” Lord Voldemort murmured.

Against his better judgement, he obeyed.

Marvolo’s hand clasped around his left forearm, and Severus writhed.

He didn’t know if he was screaming or not, but he was certain that he was making a humongous scene. He had experienced various kinds of pain in his short, miserable life, but this one topped everything that had ever happened to him.

Marvolo’s magic was crawling into his body, as though it had a physical form, and it was determined to make a home out of his forearm. The resistance his own magic put up was measly and pathetic, surrendering to the unimaginable power poured into this tiny, tiny space.

After an eternity, the pain stopped, and the thing stopped moving around in his arm. Severus didn't know what the fuck was just done to him, but he was sure it wasn't anything good. He was panting by the time he had enough strength to look up at Marvolo.

“What did you do?” he bit out.

In response, the older man merely let go of him and motioned for him to look.

There was a living snake in his arm. An actual living snake that was alive and moving around. Like there weren't muscles and bones in there, as though it were swimming in water. There also appeared to be a pattern to the way the snake was moving in, following a rough ‘8’—it could be the infinity symbol; he couldn't really tell through the haze of pain.

Severus swallowed heavily. He saw now what Marvolo meant by being easily identified. “Please tell me this is not permanent.”

The Dark Lord shook his head. “It will disappear when you board the Hogwarts Express.”

That was an entire nineteen days away. How was he to hide it from his mother?

Peering at Marvolo’s flushed cheeks, Secerus got the sense that he was focusing on the wrong thing. “What did you do to me, Marvolo? I can feel you in my arm.”

It was him. The form was a snake, but Severus was certain this was a representation of Lord Voldemort—perhaps even an extension of him.

“Exchange of magic. Horribly complex and briefly touched upon in the sixth-year magical theory class,” returned Marvolo. “I took a small amount of your magic and gave you a not so insignificant part of mine. It is a bond that nearly transcends the soul bond.”

Severus took issue with that. “The soul is the highest, most spiritual state of being. Magic hardly transcends that. Magic is everywhere; souls are not.”

Seeing Marvolo still and blink, he belatedly realised that he took issue with the wrong problem. The whole process was just done to him without his informed consent, and he, apparently, was entirely too concerned about the academic disagreement to care for the violation of his person.

Something was definitely wrong with him.

When Marvolo didn't say anything, he decided to pretend that the whole issue hadn't happened at all. “Did you cast a notice-me-not?”

Marvolo recovered, and he, too, decided to gloss over the issue. “Of course. I know to be prepared.”

Severus raised an eyebrow in judgement. “Every single one of your people reacts like this, and you still use it?”

The brown-haired man tilted his head in inquiry. “It is a test of loyalty. The mark rejects those who do not believe in me.”

Severus quickly averted his gaze and suddenly flushed. “What happens to them?”

Marvolo’s plump lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Their magic resists, and they perish.”

He didn't know how to deal with that knowledge. He could've possibly died right there, at the hands of the man with whom he was infatuated, in the middle of London, with no one to concern themselves about him.

He could've lost his life, and Marvolo had told him nothing in advance. Anger simmered, but he dared not let it boil over, undeniably frightened of this powerful wizard. He had chosen this, and he would have to deal with it.

If bad came to worse, he would forfeit the contract before it could be finalised.

“What do I call you? I don't think your name is going to cut it anymore.”

Marvolo lifted his shoulders delicately. “In private, it is fine. With my followers, it should be ‘my lord’ or ‘master’. In public, ‘sir’ will suffice.”

He frowned slightly. “Does this count as public?” He gestured vaguely to the muggles around them.

“No. They haven't any idea who I am; you needn't bother,” said the wizard easily.

Severus accepted the answer with a shrug. He'd gotten comfortable with being able to say Marvolo’s name after so long, and he was not looking forward to using titles. “I’m going back to Hogwarts soon. How will you teach me?”

Marvolo seemed to smile a rare, genuine smile. Life entered his eyes and danced, making them sparkle. “I have written many books. Most of them should interest you, obscure and advanced they are. Until summer, you'll read your assigned books and owl me any questions you'd like answered.”

“In summer?” At this point, Severus felt like he'd been asking entirely too many questions. He should feel bad about pestering the man, but curiosity was a fundamental part of Severus, and Marvolo needed to get used to his prodding sooner rather than later if they were to truly become master and apprentice.

The older wizard’s answer was as matter-of-fact as it could be. “Well, you are my ward, are you not? You shall live with me.”

Severus would forever deny that he gaped like a fool, but in that moment, his mouth hung open and his eyes bulged to a comical size. He truly had not been expecting the response.

The man raised an eyebrow at him, enquiring about his state. “Have you an objection?”

He dumbly shook his head. “N–No.”

Marvolo scoffed lightly at him and smirked at his expense. “I tire of sitting, Severus. Let us go.”

Since he stood up, Severus had no choice but to follow his example. If they were going to be master and apprentice, Severus mustn't forget his manners, especially when they were in public. Practice made perfect, after all.

“Where are we going?” asked Severus once he lost track of their path.

In response, Marvolo took a hard right into a quiet little alleyway and held out his arm.

With a sigh, he grabbed a hold of the strong forearm clad in the finest of cloths. He didn't particularly trust the man yet, but for now, it was his role to play along with everything.

“Hold tight, my prince,” Marvolo whispered. The mere murmur of the wizard seemed to carry over the wind, enveloping Severus's whole being with the coldness of it.

He shivered and resisted the ridiculous urge to run his hands along his arms. “I will.”

Chapter Text

His fourth year was...different.

He'd expected it, of course. Marvolo had warned him of it, and he himself had known that everything couldn't be the same. But he hadn't foreseen the extent of it.

From the moment he stepped foot into the Great Hall at the opening ceremony, the air seemed to change. He could feel a thousand pairs of eyes on him from all directions; even the staff couldn't tear their eyes away from him, much to the bewilderment of the entire Hogwarts population.

If he had turned into a completely different person, he'd understand. However, he was still him. He was still in his stitched-up robes and shin-length trousers. He still carried the old satchel his mother had used in her school days, and he still wore his long hair unkempt.

A paranoid part of him thought for a brief moment that they could sense the Dark Mark on his arm, but that was impossible as the mark had vanished the moment he had boarded the Hogwarts Express, just as Marvolo had promised.

He kept his head down and scurried down the hall to his usual seat at the edge of the Slytherin table, near the high table.

The attention eventually dwindled down with the arrival of the first-year students, as he had hoped. Unfortunately for Severus, his housemates weren't so merciful. Their glances remained, and discreet whispers made their way over to him frequently.

The trek to the dorms was painful. Slytherins loved to gossip—information sharing, in their words—and Severus had become a victim of the entire house.

His dormmates were the same two boys he had shared a room with since his first year: Felix Dawn and Josh Gabor. They were second-generation and third-generation immigrants, respectively. Severus had been lucky enough not to have to dorm with purebloods.

Felix was already there when he arrived at their assigned room, propped up on his elbows on his bed. The black-haired boy gave him a heads-up. It was horribly casual and not something anyone would expect a stuck-up Slytherin to do, but dorm rooms were sacred. Ultimate privacy was granted to the good and bad of many things, and their rooms were where masks came off.

“Do you know where Josh is?” His hazel eyes tracked Severus as he moved across the room to his bed.

He thought that even Felix was being weird. Normally, the boy treated him like they were brothers, using Maa words and gestures Felix had taught him to communicate with. “I saw him in the common room, talking to Bookwell. He probably won't get here until tomorrow.”

Felix snorted loudly, then fell back on the bed. “I swear they're going to marry the day Josh turns 17.”

Severus agreed wholeheartedly. Josh Gabor and Magnus Bookwell were madly in love with each other, and they saw the sickening displays of affection nearly every day. “Good thing they can't get pregnant, or we'd already be godfathers.” They also happened to behave like rabbits released into the wild.

“Imagine that. Godfathers at 14.” With the context of Felix's background, the joke didn't hold much sustenance. In Maasai culture, 14 years was the age where boys were circumcised and began warrior training. Felix's short hair and black shirt told him that the boy was already undergoing training to become a Moran*. How he was going to continue it at Hogwarts with no other Maasai present was beyond Severus.

The only thing they could be grateful for about the Bookwell and Gabor situation was that the couple never had sexual relations with each other in Josh’s bed. None of them fancied the idea, as it was frankly quite disgusting.

“Yeah. I can't even care for myself. Having the responsibility for a whole child is just...no.”

The Maasai boy made a sound of agreement.

While organising his bedside table and pulling out his books, Severus waited for a verbal follow-up, perhaps a remark about the quick death their assigned cactus had found or the runaway owl who had refused to become their pet again.

Silence greeted him—utter and complete silence that was rarely ever found in their room.

It made Severus tense, his muscles visibly stiffening under his robes. He turned steadily, his face set in stone.

Felix watched him with eyes that were too sharp. Teachers and students alike mistook the African boy to be an energetic airhead. Severus itched to show them how wrong they were because Lanyoka Olenkai** hid his remarkable intelligence behind the stereotypes people expected to see.

He was an expert in showing people what they wanted to see, shifting the various aspects of his personality and scaling them based on how they were needed. Severus himself had once been fooled by it, barely realising that Felix Dawn was not his real name.

“What is it?” Severus asked.

“There are all sorts of rumours going around the school.”

“About?”

“Who else but you, Half-Blood Prince?”

It was meant to be a tease, something to ease his mind, but it was simply too soon. Marvolo had called him that very recently, and Severus was still very sensitive about the whole thing. “What does the grapevine say, Lanyoka?”

Felix held up his hands in surrender. He knew well that Severus did not call him that unless it was serious. “I won't report you or anything.”

“I know you won't.” It sounded like a reassurance, though it was anything but. If Felix did break his trust, Severus would make him pay, and Felix knew it. While Felix was more intelligent, Severus was the one who possessed more natural power and innate magical talent.

The narrowing of Felix’s eyes told him that the threat had been received and acknowledged. “Only the upper years know it for now. No one has tattled on you to the teachers.”

“How did it even get out?” he enquired tiredly.

“Let me copy your potions homework for a month of my choosing.”

That was typical Felix—too smart and too lazy to succeed in life. Severus had practically given up trying to get the bloke to be motivated and ambitious. How he got into Slytherin with no ambition was anybody's guess. “Deal,” he sighed.

The satisfaction in his smile was ruined by the wariness in his eyes. “Regulus Black is the source. I heard that he heard it from Bellatrix Black and that Michael Avery eavesdropped on him and Anton Crouch.”

Why was it always Blacks who kept giving him trouble? First, Bellatrix, then Sirius, and then, fucking Regulus. It was almost as though the entire house was born to inconvenience him. It was a good thing that he and Narcissa had never crossed paths because he quite liked her character and was reluctant to hate her.

Since he knew Regulus would never gossip such sensitive information with outsiders, his wrath fell to Avery. The bastard had bullied him on and off for years just for the fact that Severus was a disgraced half-blood from the House of Prince. Severus had thought the idiot had some brain cells in his empty head, but apparently not, as evident by the fact that Avery had let the entire Slytherin House know about his apprenticeship with the Dark Lord.

Marvolo had never intended for the news to spread so quickly, and neither had Severus. He wished that they had prepared for this scenario, but they hadn’t, unluckily. He would have to mail the news to Marvolo before it could get out of hand.

“You heard it from whom?” As much as he wanted to get in contact with the Dark Lord right that moment, he needed to verify the information he was planning to hand over to Marvolo. He couldn’t stomach the thought of someone being wrongly punished because of him.

“Erikson. He told me that Avery’s sister told him about it.” The answer was instantaneous, and it made Severus wonder how in the world Felix was able to keep track of it all. He knew that he had lost the trail at Anton Crouch and Michael Avery.

“...Right.” He slumped bonelessly onto his own bed, leaning against the bedpost for the lack of energy in his being. “Right,” he said again.

“What are you going to do about it?” Felix asked.

He sent an annoyed glance at the boy. “What can I do? I'll have to let him know.”

The sudden silence was expected this time. No mention of the Dark Lord went without a dramatic reaction these days, no matter where it happened.

Felix opened his mouth to say something. “Just Ave—”

Only for Severus to interrupt him unceremoniously. “What exactly is the rumour?”

The other boy licked his lips, apparently nervous beyond belief. He usually was not this cooperative, or rather, obedient, but he could adapt when the situation called for it. “Everyone thinks they know the truth. Michael Avery says you're a new recruit. His sister says you've been a follower since day one.”

“Regulus?”

“He’s sewn his lips shut. He refuses to say anything. Probably too scared after his fuckup. The kid's boyfriend is in the same boat.” They had better be. Otherwise, Severus couldn't imagine the shitshow they would be getting into.

He noted that Felix had remarked about every key person involved in the disaster but had yet to mention his own thoughts. Severus raised an eyebrow, inquisitive. “And you?”

Felix shrugged. Instead of the comfortable, casual motion it was supposed to be, it was several moments too slow, and the movements were too tight. “I’m just the gossip cop.”

His lips curled, both in irritation and amusement. “You, of all people, would have accurate information and opinions. Don't bullshit me so soon into the year, Felix.”

It took a long moment for his roommate to respond. “You're not just a follower. You can't be. Malfoy gave you his lab. Only Narcissa Black got to use it.”

“Then what do you think I am?”

“I don't know. All I know is that, somehow, you're high up in his ranks. Even though you're a half-blood and a known muggleborn supporter.”

Severus did see his reasoning because he had thought the same once. Why would Lord Voldemort, the awesome, powerful man heading the blood supremacy movement, wish for someone who opposed his cause to be in his ranks? It was absurd and didn't make a lick of sense.

That was where the Dark Lord's background entered the picture, for Lord Voldemort himself was a lowly half-blood raised in a rundown orphanage that had withstood the London Blitz. Marvolo and Severus were kindred spirits in a way; he was sure Marvolo saw a little bit of himself in Severus.

“Beats me. I don't even know how it happened.”

Felix dug his teeth into his lower lip. “I’m awfully curious and am practically dying to know... but I think it's better that I don't ask. I'd still like to visit Kenya at least once before I die.”

“Great gods,” Severus found himself exclaiming. “You’re not getting killed, Felix. Unless you're, somehow, secretly a spy of our esteemed headmaster.”

The laugh the boy let out held a distinct, shaky note. “I’d never be that. I'm not suicidal.”

He wondered absently if this was what his future had in store for him: close friends becoming wary of him.

Felix, for all that he hid from people, had always been open to Severus. They were the outcasts of their year—a Black immigrant boy and a poor, dirty boy with a horrid accent. Josh wasn't well liked per se, but he was white and wealthy. He was tolerated because he was rich and could blend in with Britain's purebloods. The two of them: not so much.

Severus knew Felix's real name. He knew random Maa words and could speak the language if he ever needed to. He knew Felix's preference for random conduits over wands. He had seen the beaded necklace that the boy kept hidden under his robes. He had seen a picture of him adorned head-to-toe in jewellery, with a shuka*** wrapped around his shoulders.

Severus knew Felix on a personal, intimate level. The boy was one of his three friends and arguably the closer one out of the three. For him to treat Severus like they were back on the first day of Hogwarts in 1971 was admittedly hurtful.

“I’m not going to become a spy, Felix.”

“I didn't think you were.”

“Let me speak,” Severus murmured. It was more of a plea than a command, begging to be given a chance. He was still the lonely little boy from Cokeworth on some level, and truthfully, he didn't want to lose a friend. Lily pulling away was bad enough.

Felix frowned, looking confused. There was a long pause before he assented. “Alright, I'll listen.”

Severus gave his wand a quick wave and whispered a spell to turn away eavesdroppers. “I’m not a follower. I'm opposed to his cause, and he knows it. He didn't recruit me; he asked me to be his apprentice.”

Felix nearly jumped out of bed, instantly sitting up and gaping. “The Dark Lord's apprentice?!”

“Keep it down,” he hissed. “And yes, you heard it correctly. He asked, and I accepted. He's merely my master and teacher, nothing more. I'm not one of his knights, Felix.”

The boy, confused beyond belief, latched onto the unfamiliar wording, trying to delay the conversation as much as possible. “‘Knight’? What's that?”

Severus shook his head. “A Death Eater. They used to be called knights back when the Dark Lord was just starting.”

“Am I going to be hearing obscure facts about the Dark Lord, Severus?” The difference was subtle, and the shakiness still remained, but his tone had turned teasing, something a little more close to their usual dynamic—the fun to his unending seriousness.

He damn nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but that had to wait. He needed to make sure before letting his guard down. “Depends on you, Lanyoka. Are you going to stick around?”

The response took longer than it usually would, but Severus would take what he could get. All he cared about was that Felix wasn't abandoning him and their years of friendship. “Yeah, I think I am.” By then, the other boy's confusion was mostly resolved, and his intelligence was back to the forefront. Felix gave him a reassuring look, accompanied by a small grin.

“Good,” Severus said. "Because I was going to obliviate you if you said no.” He was unsure if that had been a joke or a serious threat.

The reassuring look immediately turned exasperated. He, too, was used to the painstaking process of trying to decipher Severus's words. “You sick bastard.”

Finally allowing himself the relief, Severus laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one,” Felix laughed along. “But wait, you gotta tell me. How does my hair look?”

He took a long look at the shortened hair, changing angles to give a critical review. “It’s not bad. It's short, but it'll grow back.”

“Exactly!” Felix exclaimed suddenly. “It’ll grow back! Do you know what this means, Severus? Do you know what this means?”

He wracked his brain but failed to come up with the correct answer, only remembering that Morans were known to wear bright red. “Ah, no?”

Excited, Felix abandoned his bed and began to walk back and forth around the room, literally unable to stay still. “I can keep long hair! Until I go through Euroto****, I can wear my hair long! With the strings! And the braids! Can you imagine? We can be hair twins!”

Severus truthfully found the idea horrifying. He'd keep his hair simple, straight, and free of strings or braids; thank you very much. “No.”

“Come on, Severus.” The boy's lips were formed into a pout, and Felix approached him like a calf asking for milk. “You don't wear my wristbands. You don't wear my anklets or necklaces. Something's got to give.”

Resolutely, Severus physically scooted away from the approaching danger. He was getting cornered here, and he knew it. “I prefer to keep my body free and without accessories weighing me down. I'm sorry to hurt your feelings, but I'd rather not wear any of those.”

“No, no, no. Something has to give, Severus. Choose one while I'm giving you the choice.” The boy didn't climb onto the bed, but he did lean over it threateningly, staring him down from a mere half-foot away.

“How the mighty had fallen,” Severus bemoaned privately. Just minutes ago, he had been the one threatening Felix. Now the opposite was happening. With a sound not unlike a whine, he nodded jerkily. “Wristbands—I’ll wear the wristbands.”

Felix leaned back, righting his posture and towering over Severus, who cowered on the bed. The asshole had the audacity to giggle like a toddler, only to bestow him with a sentence that left him shaken. “You can have the black ones. You could use some purity.”

“Here, black means death. You know that, Felix.”

The other boy deliberately played dense. “I’m not giving you the red. I need those. There are really only two to choose from: Enkai Narok or Enkai Na-nyokie*****.”

“Don’t make me choose Enkai Narok. So, give me those blue ones paired with the white. I can't risk being identified with Death Eaters right now.”

Felix chuckled and sauntered back to his side of the room to rummage through his wardrobe. “You remember, huh?”

Severus set about changing into his pyjamas, firmly ignoring the expensive clothes Marvolo had gifted him. “It’s not hard, Felix. Black is the only color that has a drastically different meaning.”

“That’s because I'm Black. Who would consider the color of their own skin a representation of death? That'd be absurd.”

He paused in folding his cloak. “I’ve never thought about it like that. Do you know what colour represents death in Asian cultures?”

Felix gave him a look over his shoulders. “No idea, mate. I've never been out of the country, just like you.”

"Technically—" Felix released a loud groan, trying to deter him from finishing his sentence. “—we’ve both been out of the country. We live in England. We're in Scotland right now.”

“You’re right, Severus. As always.”

He smiled at the admission of defeat, only to be knocked off his high horse not a second later as a high-speed projectile hit him square on the head. “What in the world?!”

A lightweight stone sat on the floor innocuously when he pivoted around to find the weapon of attack. “You don't throw good luck charms like that!” He yelled, picking up the dark brown stone carefully.

Felix cocked his eyebrows arrogantly. “What’s my name? Do I need luck?”

“Fuck off with that nonsense,” Severus angrily murmured. He marched forward to put the charm on his infuriating friend's bedside table. “Next time, give it to me if you don't want it.”

“Okay.” A pair of wristbands and a matching pair of anklets were offered to him instantly.

He decided to be the mature person and grabbed both of the pairs, stomping back to his own space and putting the accessories with his ties.

When he went off into the bathroom to wash up, Felix's laughter followed him, victorious and joyful. “Admit it, Severus! I got you!”

Chapter Text

A slender figure ran ahead of him, occasionally glancing back with a smile that threatened to swallow the sun. She shined so bright that Severus had trouble following after her, stumbling over what felt like tree roots.

Faint giggles floated over to him, melodious and sweet. “What are you waiting for, Severus? Let's go. I saw moonlaces that way.”

Dazed, he responded automatically. “Moonlaces? What are those?”

“Flowers, silly.” She paused in her sentence to laugh with the most beautiful sound. “Don’t tell me you haven't heard of them. We talked about how it might be the key ingredient for an alternate Wolfsbane potion, remember?”

Did they? Huh, they must have at some point. “Oh, right. Are we harvesting them?”

“Of course. It's just this way. We're almost there.”

Without thinking much of it, Severus trotted after the red-haired figure through the woods. It was daylight, and they had wands. What could go wrong? They were both talented and powerful wizards; they could fight off whatever creature would attack them.

The trees became thicker and thicker as they braved the forest. Some canopies were so thick that sunlight didn't even reach the ground anymore. At one point, they were blindly treading the ground with just the tiny lights from their wands.

Severus began to feel trepidation, suspecting that any plant, no matter how precious, would not cause a sensible person like Lily Evans to go into the Forbidden Forest without adult supervision. He was reckless and impulsive like that; Lily was not.

“Lily?” he called. No responding calls came back, shouted, whispered, or otherwise. “Lily!”

Starting to panic, he ran through the forest, not giving a bloody fuck about the branches that smacked into him or the large roots that tripped him every other minute. His small flashlight got smaller and smaller, then bigger and bigger.

Severus failed to comprehend this, too focused on running after Lily, whom he'd lost track of without realising. Only when the sunlight was gone and a different kind of light was shining upon him did he think to look up and around him.

It dawned on him that it wasn't daytime. It was hardly close to day, for the world was dark and the sky was awashed with the soft, glorious light of the moon.

To his horror, the moon was round and whole, covered by nothing but wind.

The hairs all over his body stood upright, making him shiver violently. The creepy goosebumps were followed by a long, loud howl that was too animalistic and feral to be of a dog.

“Fuck!” Severus lurched forward the clearing that presented itself, spurred on by the horrible grunts and the screams of pain.

What awaited him was straight out of his worst fears. Lily Evans, the one person for whom he'd gladly give his life, was being ripped apart by a humongous mess of teeth and claws. The creature shook her around like a ragdoll, her limp body flailing uselessly.

“Bombarda! Protego!” He had failed to save her, but he could damn well kill her killer. Even if he couldn't, Severus would die trying.

They weren't close friends; they weren't any sort of friends, but they had been there for each other in their formative years when the world had labelled them as freaks, and that had to mean something.

It meant something to Severus, so he wasn't going to let her death not be avenged.

“Langlock! Levicorpus! Incarcerous! Incendi—”

His body began convulsing without a discernible reason, cutting him off mid-curse. Still, he held onto the curses he had already cast, determined not to set the foul creature free.

“Severus! Wake—!”

“—the fuck up, god—mit!”

The convulsing turned into hands shaking him wildly. Voices called out to him with desperation, pleading with him to just open his fucking eyes.

It felt like too hard a task, somehow. Severus had fallen three entire sets of stairs before and had walked out just fine. But somehow, his eyelids felt too heavy, as though weights were attached to them.

He faded in and out of consciousness, barely taking in the words being spoken to him. Or were they talking amongst each other and Severus just happened to be there?

An indignant, affronted voice overtook the other scared, fearful voices soon, enveloping them by the sheer volume. Severus, even while delirious, honed in on that irritating sound. “What is happening here, Dawn?! We have anti-eavesdropping charms for a reason! What the fuck are you three doing ... in here … ?”

Who he guessed was Felix snapped back instantly. “You think Snape of all people would be in this state willingly? Get Pomfrey. We don't know what's happening.”

Another voice—unfamiliar and distant—popped up. “We’re not allowed to get Pomfrey.”

“By whom?!” Josh practically screamed.

Tensions ran high, and the response was an annoyed bark. “Who do you think, fuckface? Fucking Snape is who. He doesn't want everything to be on his record.”

Oh. Yes, he had said that—to the sixth and seventh year prefects after he found himself delirious in the common room with a fever and Madam Pomfrey hovering over him. Well, that had come to bite him in the ass because Severus would rather like a pain-relieving potion right now.

“Fuck that! He's passed out! I'm not dealing with a dead Snape and a pissed-off Dark Lord. Call the fucking healer!” Josh, stressed as hell, cursed without regard for proprietary or his public image.

Severus remembered his potion collection in time and managed to grasp the nearest person's wrist weakly before someone could hightail out of their room. “Potion,” he croaked.

The person turned out to be Felix, who immediately dropped to his knees to hear Severus better. “What do you need, Snape?”

“Pain reliever,” he whispered. Felix repeated it louder, presumably asking for Josh to find the requested potion.

The potion was soon poured down his throat. The horrid thing slid down his stomach like slimy mud, uncomfortable and greasy, but it did take away his migraine and the blinding ache at his temples.

Concealing a groan, Severus rolled over to his side and pushed himself up with arms that felt like lead. Keeping his head high proved to be difficult when he succeeded in moving his head skywards to look at the people present. His neck behaved like it was a bowling ball, rolling around with nonexistent control.

When he finally looked up again after a good two minutes struggling, he noted that all were frozen stiff, as though he were about to cut their limbs off. He hated showing weakness, but he wasn't idiotic enough to prioritize his image over his health.

“Shut the door,” he muttered. He wasn't able to raise his tone any higher, but everyone heard him well enough.

The sixth-year prefect, Axel Bach, closed the door with a noticeable nervous gulp. The seventh-year prefect beside him, Nero Avery, tried to keep a brave face, but his shaking knees betrayed him.

The prefect was aware that his younger brother, Michael, was in trouble with Severus for leaking his apprenticeship to the Slytherins. Nero would be easy to coerce because he would not risk getting on his bad side to be together with his brother in the afterlife.

“This doesn't leave this room,” he prefaced, continuing before anyone could interrupt him. “Sirius Black told me in the evening to go into the Whomping Willow tomorrow night—if I want to know what they're up to.”

There were immediate protests.

His enmity with the heir of House Black was no news, and almost the entire school was aware and wary of its disastrous results. Felix looked like he wanted to strangle Severus.

“I'm going,” he cut them off before they could gain momentum. “I only need you to cover for me.”

“You don't know what kind of shit they've got set up for you,” Josh shot back. “No way, Snape, I can't do it.”

“Gabor is right. This is most likely a trap,” Bach said.

“I don't care. They've done enough. I want to stop this ... rivalry once and for all.”

“That doesn't make sense, Snape. You need to stop getting so riled up by them if you want to stop this enmity,” Felix pointed out.

Frustrated, Severus stood with his meagre strength and paced back and forth, gritting his teeth and trying extremely hard not to wobble. “I already decided on not going before I went to bed. I can see the same thing you can. But ... that dream—it almost feels prophetic. I can't remember much, except for the fact that someone gets hurt. And I've never been affected physically by a dream before. I need to make sure it doesn't happen in real life.”

“What if you get hurt?” Felix stared at him with an intensity outsiders rarely got to see.

Severus was accustomed to it, though. “I won't. I can protect myself.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, all furiously thinking how to deter him from this useless endeavour. Severus sympathised with their frustration; he knew he was a stubborn bastard.

“We’re coming with you,” Josh said.

Felix gave a sharp nod in agreement.

“What?” squeaked the two prefects.

“What?” snapped Severus.

“You want to go. We can't let you endanger yourself. So, we're going together.”

“In what world is that logical?”

“Tell me why it isn’t.”

“I—”

“You can’t, can you?” gloated Josh. “Accept it, Snape. We’re both coming with you.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Felix said. “Listen to your elder, Snape, dear. This is final.”

In the background, Josh ushered out the two prefects, who didn’t even pretend to resist. They wanted to wash their hands off him, and they wanted it done.

He couldn’t blame them. All the prefects were being either blackmailed or threatened by him if they weren’t people he liked; it had the unfortunate effect of them disliking him.

He decided to try to deter them. “I can handle myself. You don’t need to come.”

“Your unwillingness to take us along has been acknowledged and disregarded. Frankly speaking, we don’t care what you think because your reasoning isn’t sound and you’re insane.” Sometimes, Felix really was too brutal. He didn’t need to go that far on this simple matter.

“I’m with Felix, Severus. We’re going together, no matter what you say. We aren’t going to accept anything that comes out of your mouth if it isn’t an agreement.”

Reaching deep into his soul, he took a long, slow breath, exercising patience. Marvolo had taught him that patience was an essential component to get what he wanted, so he would have to be patient about this if he wanted his two friends to remain in safety.

“Why don’t you want us to come?” Josh demanded, changing his strategy.

“First of all, this is my business. Second, I don’t want you to get hurt. Third, I want to handle Black by myself. I don’t want it to be said that I couldn’t win against him by myself and had to get you two involved.”

“Okay, that’s utter bullshit,” Felix snapped, bearing his teeth and turning away furiously.

Josh, used to their tempers and being the one to speak reason when either of them were too pissed off to do so themselves, responded. “Your business is our business. That’s what being friends means. We don’t want you to get hurt, which you most definitely will if you go alone—you were half dead that one time, you dunderhead; don’t argue. And you can’t win against Black. That’s the goddamn truth because he has three of his friends with him at all times. This has never been a fair fight, Severus.”

His argument was logical, reasonable, and simply unacceptable. Severus tried to argue again when Felix cut him off with a cold-hearted question.

“It’s easy enough to guess that the Dark Lord doesn’t know about this stupid rivalry. Do you want him to, Severus Snape?”

It was an act of pure cold-bloodedness.

Ever since he had entered the apprenticeship under Marvolo, he had done all that he could to keep Felix and Josh out of the man’s radar. He’d done everything from threatening and blackmailing to persuading and manipulating—for them. He’d been so bloody worried about the possibility of them being forced into Marvolo’s war that he’d deliberately kept information from the Dark Lord.

Felix had the audacity to threaten him with this out of everything. He’d done this for their sake. What an ungrateful friend.

He almost cursed him out. Severus wanted to—he wanted to so desperately—but there were Felix’s wristbands and anklets on his body, keeping him warm and reminding him of what they represented.

He didn’t worship any god, but the reminder of Engai was constantly with him. The black god and the red god, forever at war, arguing for eternity in favour of and against humanity.

Maasai was a community-oriented people. They relied on each other, and everyone contributed to the community. Morans protected their community and were, in turn, respected. It would go against Felix’s very nature to let Severus go down to the Whomping Willow by his lonesome after he had just had a horrible nightmare he couldn’t wake up from and got injured by.

By the look on the Maasai boy’s face, he knew he had won.

“Alright, fine. Both of you can come,” he sighed.

They only said, “Good.”

-

The next evening, after getting Bach and Avery to cover for their absence in the dorms, the three of them hid near the greenhouses.

Severus hadn't agreed with sneaking back out at midnight, so they had come armed with food, snacks, homeworks, and light reading.

One confundus or two did wonders for preserving their hiding spot and turning away unwelcome visitors.

By the time a tall, shaky figure and a plump figure came into view from the entrance of the castle around 8 p.m., their food was all gone, and most of their homework was done. Josh, the one with the best eyesight, identified the figures as Pomfrey and Lupin.

They all perked up, shedding the incredible boredom that had been plaguing them, gathered their books, and shoved them into someone's bag.

“Are we following them?” Josh whispered.

Felix and Severus shared a look and shook their heads. “An hour. We wait until 9.”

“As soon as anything happens, we run. Do you understand?” Felix demanded. “No matter how interesting it is, I don't care. We're running at the first sign of trouble.”

“But—” Severus tried to protest.

Josh bulldozed over him. “At 9, we'll apply disillusionment charms. Silencing charms on the grass if we need to make a quick escape. Cast protego while moving and depulso, bombarda, and incarcerous behind cover. Langlock would be great if you can manage to—”

“Wait a minute,” he hissed, “do you seriously think that we're about to have an actual battle on our hands?”

His friends’ expressions told him that they thought he was being a great idiot. “Yes?” Josh said, squinting at him in apparent confusion.

“Anyway,” Felix picked up, “if we're separated, we can use our wristbands to locate each other. They have tracking charms and are interconnected. If you're in danger, heat it up, and the other two will feel it. If you're safe inside the castle, freeze it.”

This time, it was Josh and Severus who blinked at Felix.

“Are you telling me you've had our locations for months?!”

“Years, in his case.” The bastard pointed at the only white person in their midst.

Josh couldn't muster up a word. The poor boy continued to stare with his mouth agape in betrayal.

Naturally, Severus gladly compensated for him. “Have you not heard of privacy, Lanyoka?! Privacy! We have the right to be wherever we want to be without having to inform anyone! And you don't have the right to keep track of us like we're unruly dogs prone to trouble!”

Felix crossed his arms and made an unimpressed face. “You are unruly. And you are prone to trouble. The only thing you're right about is that you aren't dogs.”

He sputtered in indignity. “I am not unruly! I'm just— I'm just … chaotic!”

His response was flat, “Right.”

When Severus failed to produce a suitable argument, Felix gestured for them to crowd closer and pulled up his shirt sleeve, showing them his red wristband with elaborate, intricate patterns.

At his urging, they exposed their own wristbands—blue and white for Severus, and yellow and purple for Josh.

“Look, see that place where the colors mix up very badly?” They nodded, feeling like little kids being lectured on how to open the gate to Diagon Alley. “Tap your wand there and say Severus's severing curse.”

Once again rendered speechless, they blinked at their friend.

Sectumsempra was dark magic. It was as dark as light magic-users could go without killing themselves and impossible to be used for good. Intent to harm was essential for the curse to work; otherwise it was just a simple, nonsensical word. When it did work, however, nothing aside from its counter-spell could heal its effects.

If the curse was used to cut a finger at its tip, with enough magic, the dark magic would remain in the body, winding its way through blood, bone, muscle, and tissue. It would travel far and wide, and when it was satisfied, the dark magic would rot the body from the inside out. Being an unknown, unregistered spell, there was no hope for the victim to survive it. It was designed solely to harm, take, and kill.

The Dark Lord had been incredibly pleased with him when Severus had presented the curse to his master as a birthday gift.

To use such a spell for tracking—or quite possibly, unlocking—was simply preposterous.

Severus said so.

Felix had the gall to wave him off. “Only we know it, which guarantees that no one else will be able to use these. The opportunity presented itself, so I took it.”

He had another more pressing concern. “They are wristbands. To be put on wrists. My spell's purpose is to deeply lacerate. We will end up killing ourselves!”

“No, we won't. Our control is precise. Are you telling me you can't—”

Josh hushed them, planting a firm smack to their heads each. He pointed at the approaching dark mass of Madam Pomfrey.

As they huddled together in the shadow of Greenhouse IV, Severus glared at his closest friend furiously. Honestly, Felix had the audacity to call him foolish and insane and question his decisions when he'd used Sectumsempra on goddamned wristbands.

He was never sharing his spells with them again.

The mediwitch passed them quickly, hurrying along towards the castle under the light of the moon. She hadn't spared a glance in their direction and gave no indication of checking for students on the grounds. For someone responsible for the well-being of students, Pomfrey was incredibly lax with her duties.

“What do you think is up with Lupin?” Josh asked, whispering as if he were a child requesting a bedtime story.

Severus scowled at him. “How would I know?”

“Shut up, you two,” Felix said, irritated. “We need an extraction plan. I don't trust any of those so-called Marauders. Who knows what will happen once we go into the Willow? So, plan. Give me your ideas.”

He levelled the boy with a flat glare. “We aren't Death Eaters preparing for battle, Felix.” Even considering that Severus had been involved in the Dark Lord's strategy-making, none of them were Death Eaters, and what they were facing now wasn't the Order of the Phoenix. “This doesn't need to be so intense.”

“Yes, we do. You always get hurt whenever you interact with them. I'm not dealing with the Dark Lord when he comes looking for the idiot that let his apprentice be bodily harmed. I like my limbs intact; thank you very much.”

He rolled his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Marvolo didn't care about him that much. The man might threaten or intimidate, but he wasn't going to murder anyone. “Okay, fine. Have it your way. I say someone stays behind to guard the entrance and for back up. One of you, come with me, and when I heat up the wristband…”

All of their plans utterly failed to prepare them for the actual sight that awaited them in the Shrieking Shack.

Severus wondered faintly how in Magic’s name he could have forgotten that the night was a full moon. And Lupin's scars—they made sense finally. How shabby he was, how anxious he acted, how he always seemed to be sick; they all made sense.

Felix made some sort of choked grunting noise, seizing up in fright.

Severus watched the world from somewhere far away, distant and not affected by it.

Then, he blinked, and the beast that had yet to notice them whipped around in place, lips curled in a vicious snarl. Its teeth were sharp-looking and most definitely capable of cutting into flesh and bone.

They both acted in an instant, casting curses simultaneously as they scrambled to escape the presence of this mindless creature.

Unfortunately, they happened to pronounce the same incantation.

No sooner did the beast twitch from perfect cuts along its cheek and arm than Severus and Felix grappled for the stairs. The sheer will to harm with which they had casted the spell would ensure that the werewolf would be dead come tomorrow.

For now, the creature lunged after them, snarling and growling. Its powerful jaw snapped at empty air, where Severus and Felix had been moments ago.

They jumped down entire flights of stairs, cushioning their landing with spells, and blindly cast protego at their backs. Magic didn't do much to werewolves, and Severus was loath to use more dark magic on school grounds. He was in enough of a mess already. He'd rather not land himself in prison.

As they neared the entrance of the tunnel, loud voices came from above. It sounded as though a particularly heated argument, which didn't bode well at all.

Felix scrambled through the entrance and reached back to pull Severus out.

He cast an overpowered protego one last time over his back before grasping the hand offered to him and climbed out.

He was just about to relax, believing that the werewolf couldn't possibly be capable of leaving the Whomping Willow, when James fucking Potter, who had been arguing with Josh, lunged and transformed into a god-be-damned stag mid-air.

“What the fuck, Potter!?” The three of them hastily retreated from the Willow, regrouping a few metres away to stare incredulously at stag-Potter and werewolf-Lupin.

The animals were fighting brutally, each one grappling for victory. But they were … play-fighting. It was in the way they merely nipped at each other's throat instead of biting down. Their fight almost seemed like an embrace—a savage one, but an embrace nonetheless.

“So, they've known the entire time,” Felix concluded, gripping his wand just a bit too tightly.

“It makes sense, doesn't it?” asked Severus, transfixed at the unfolding scene. He might also be in shock; the world still felt far away. “They share a dorm. Of course they knew.”

Josh, unlike the two of them, stared at Severus instead of the animals. “What Black did—telling you to come here tonight—it’s attempted murder, Severus.”

He didn't respond.

He couldn't respond.

“It isn't only attempted murder,” added Felix, seemingly incapable of tearing his eyes away from the creatures who weren't. His voice was brittle and flat. “It’s a declaration of war.”

“Once He gets wind of it, Black’s life is forfeit.”

Severus walked away.

From Lupin who was unknowingly dying. From Potter who had saved his life. From the Whomping Willow where the truths of Headmaster Dumbledore’s failures lay.

“Severus, wait! Where are you going? We have to speak with the idiots!” Josh called, jogging to catch up with his long strides.

He said, “Let's go, Josh.”

“But Lupin—”

“I am not asking.”

Felix grabbed Josh by the arm with a quelling look. The boy fell silent, protests no longer falling from his lips.

They returned to the Slytherin common room, unharassed and in relative safety. The shortcuts they had taken perhaps helped with that.

Severus claimed an armchair near the fireplace, needing the warmth of the hearth.

Felix muttered something to Josh then fell into a sofa after the latter went up to the dorms. “He will die tomorrow,” he pronounced in a voice not as low as it should be.

As the common room was completely empty, Severus didn't scold him for it. And if it hadn’t been empty, he wasn’t sure he would’ve found any problem with Felix announcing a kill to the students. “He will,” he agreed with the older boy instead.

“Will Potter risk his best friend and reveal our presence?”

“I don’t think he will.”

“Even though it means we won’t be prosecuted for Lupin’s death?”

Severus had never been more certain in his life about anything than this. “He won’t put Black in danger. Lupin is just a stray they felt bad for. Black and Potter—they are a pair I wouldn’t hesitate to call soulmates.”

Felix contemplated it, working his jaw. “I suppose you're right. Black looks at Potter like he is the sun. And putting Potter’s undying love or persistence for Evans aside, he treats Black as if he’s entitled to everything Potter owns. He’s even willing to share his parents.”

“And Pettigrew won’t be a problem,” added Josh, with a book and a pen in his hands. “He will go along with whatever Potter says.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “What are those for?”

The blond teen gave him a crooked smile, something nervous and reckless behind his teeth. “To write to Him.”

“You or I?”

“You.”

He clenched his jaw and gave a curt nod. As much as he would like to postpone informing Marvolo, it was best to get it over with. “Hand me those. I also need an envelope and Lopt.”

Josh gladly volunteered for the task, despite the contentious relationship between him and the least popular Slytherin House’s owl. “I’ll get her.” Lopt had once nipped his fingers so badly that he had needed to stay a night in the infirmary. For him to jump at the chance, he must be dying to escape Severus’s company.

Quietly, Felix crafted an envelope.

Marcus, he wrote.

I just woke from a dream. In it, I managed to brew a perfect and much improved Wolfsbane potion. I just can’t remember the recipe. I do remember one ingredient, though I haven’t actually heard of it. Moonlaces—do you know them?

The dream has left me strangely shaken. The full moon must be messing with my head.

Do you know any plant or flower that is similar to what moonlaces might be?

Reply at your leisure. It is simply a silly dream.

Severus,
Your friend.

By the time he was done, Felix had a perfect replica of the envelopes England’s purebloods liked to use, and Josh had Lopt on his shoulder.

In a few minutes, the owl had left the castle through the window of the dungeons’ highest floor, which equated to the ground floor.

Severus asked a house elf for drinks, and the three of them sat in the common room for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Bach and Avery were the first ones to stumble upon them, wide-eyed with ruffled hair. They clearly had been anxious to see if Severus’s ill-advised adventure had killed them.

Having had zero sleep during the night, the three of them levelled flat stares at the prefects.

“We’re alive,” Severus stated, with the gravitas of a commander of an army.

“Barely,” Bach whispered, fearful.

Avery frowned, fidgeting with his hands. “What happened? Is anyone dead?” He was a bit too calm for a teenager asking if someone had passed away. It might have something to do with having witnessed the murder of his sister as a child.

“Not yet. But soon,” he murmured, to the horror of the prefects.

Evan Rosier and his friends were the next to grace the common room with their presence. When they saw the sorry state the lot of them were in, the group of four stopped at the bottom of the stairs, processing.

“Rough night, Snape?” said Rosier, an eyebrow delicately arched. He was impeccably dressed despite the early hour, proper as always.

He didn’t answer, instead making an enquiry of his own. “Are you heading out?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Any kind of situation could be waiting for us out there,” he said pointedly, conveying a warning without spelling it out. “All you need to know is it’s related to the Marauders. If anyone asks, the three of us were drinking firewhiskey the whole night and will be in detention until the end of the month.”

The older boy shrugged. “That’s fine. As long as trouble won’t come to me, I can cover for you.”

Severus sighed, relieved. “Thank you.”

While it was true that everyone knew he was in the Dark Lord's favor and treated him accordingly, as not even Lucius Malfoy had ever enjoyed such a privilege, some purebloods had yet to fully accept him. Mostly, it was the old families, like the Rosiers and the Blacks. They treated him with respect, certainly, but there was no deference and barely any acknowledgement of Severus's position.

Evan Rosier could have refused if he'd wanted to. The boy wasn't sworn to the Dark Lord yet, despite his father's insistence. Marvolo wouldn't have faulted him for withholding his aid. But the Rosier heir simply shrugged again and left, taking his entourage with him.

“Make it seem like you found us getting shit-faced drunk,” he told Avery. “Around 10 last night. Then you locked down our dorm room so that we couldn’t get out.”

The prefect nodded dutifully, “We’ll spread the word.”

“Thanks.”

The sun rose higher in the sky, and people began to come down to the common room, crowding it in earnest. They gave Severus and his two accomplices shifty looks, unsure what had happened to reduce them to this state. But soon, they started to talk about the spectacular rule-breaking that had occurred in the Slytherin House last night, the news travelling quickly.

The three of them just burrowed deeper into their respective chairs and looked as miserable as possible. It helped to sell the story that they had been drinking too much firewhiskey in one night.

At some point, Slughorn stopped by to check in on them and to give them a half-hearted lecture about respecting the rules. The man, too, left when they failed to respond.

It was a school day, but for some reason, no one told them to go to classes. They were left alone in front of the fireplace, staring lifelessly into the eternally dancing flames.

Which soon proved to be a blessing because Marvolo’s face appeared in the fire abruptly without any kind of warning whatsoever.

Both Felix and Josh fell out of their chairs, swearing wildly.

Severus didn’t do any of the sort, but his heart rate picked up alarmingly. It was just his luck that Marvolo would choose a floo-call on this particular day. “Can I have some privacy?” he said evenly to his friends.

Felix recovered fast, immediately faking a yawn. “Eh, fine. I’m gonna sleep off this hangover. You coming, J?”

Josh squeaked out an agreement, and the two practically fled the common room.

“I got your letter,” Marvolo told him, his features stern. He seemed both disappointed and stressed, which made for a terrible view on his handsome face.

Severus tried not to let the man’s expression affect him and quietly admitted, “I was in shock when I wrote it, so it might have been nonsense.”

His master’s lips thinned. “I understood well enough. Are you injured?” His gaze swept over Severus up and down, assessing quickly.

He shook his head wearily. “I’m fine. Just shaken.” Also probably traumatised, but he doubted Marvolo would care about that.

The man clicked his tongue, his brow furrowing. “Tell me: is it a student?”

Severus nodded curtly, not wanting to voice his answer out loud. “Your birthday gift. I used it.”

Marvolo sighed, like he had always expected a situation like this to happen. Maybe he had even foreseen it. “How long?”

“A few hours at most.” If Lupin weren't dead already. The severing curse had been so powerful that it didn't matter that the werewolf had only suffered two thin cuts. Dark magic was already destroying his being; he just didn't know it yet.

“I know there are things that you have left out,” Marvolo said almost gently. It strangely suited him. “Is it wise to keep them from me?”

He gulped, knowing from his soul that it was the opposite of wise. “No. You should know.” With a deep breath, “Potter was there; I owe him a life debt.”

The Dark Lord patiently waited for him, his expression revealing nothing. Though, it was doubtful that he would find the situation Severus had ended up in particularly opportune or advantageous.

“I went there because Regulus’s brother told me to—that I would find out what they were up to if I went there.”

Marvolo sighed again, weary from it all. “I will speak with the Black family. Can you handle the fallout at Hogwarts?”

For once, Severus did not have the answer to a question. He shrugged helplessly, wishing he could say anything else. “I don't know.”

His mentor nodded easily as though this were an everyday matter. “If you find that this incident is affecting you more than you would like it to, tell me right away. I will pull you out of school for the rest of the year. You can take your O.W.L.s elsewhere.”

It was reassuring to know that Marvolo would have his back even when he failed. The Dark Lord was trying to soften his fall, when he could've simply ordered Severus to deal with it.

“I'll keep it in mind.”

“Inform me about any developments.” Then Marvolo was gone, leaving behind inanimate charcoal and ashes.

Alone in an empty chamber, Severus slumped into his armchair, praying that Marvolo wouldn't tell his mother about the werewolf. He tried not to think about how he'd already become a killer at the age of sixteen and failed.

-

A second-year girl scurried into the common room just before lunch, harried and nervous.

For a moment, Severus thought that she was merely scared to pass him on the way to her dorm before he realised that the girl was counting her steps towards him.

He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “What is it, lass?” He had never been the best with children—even when he had been a child himself.

She squeaked.

“Did somebody send you?” he tried.

She nodded timidly, her eyes somewhere left of his face.

“What did they say?”

“To tell you that … that Remus Lupin is dead.” Apparently, having said her piece, she was quite eager to leave because the girl turned and sprinted for the door.

“Who sent you?” Severus called after her.

“The nice Mr. Rosier!”

He sighed, staring forlornly at the closed door of the Slytherin House. “Dead, huh?”

A killer at sixteen.

It had been self-defense, but that did not make what had happened any less of an act of killing. He had known the cure—he had invented both the curse and the cure—yet he had done nothing. It had been within his power to save Lupin's life. He hadn't.

He hadn't even considered it a possible course of action. Neither Felix and Josh nor Marvolo had also suggested it to him.

Severus chuckled, the hollow sound echoing in the empty chamber. “Following his footsteps, aren't I?”

Eileen was reasonably certain that Moaning Myrtle had been killed by Marvolo when he had been sixteen. Decades later, he, Marvolo's apprentice, had claimed the life of another fellow student. Oh, how Dumbledore must be fuming to see yet another child die on his watch.

Walking over to the fireplace, he grabbed a fistful of floo powder and threw it into the fire. “Malfoy Manor.”

A house elf soon appeared in the green fire, its sizable head floating weightlessly. “Who would you like to talk to, sir?”

“Get me Heir Malfoy, please. Tell him it's Severus Snape.”

“In a moment, sir.”

To his shock, Lucius did arrive in a moment, his blond head replacing the hairless elf from earlier. “This better be urgent, Snape. I was in a meeting with ministry officials. I had to tell them my peacock was ill.”

“I need you to pass on a message,” Severus said, squinting his bleary eyes to see Lucius squinting back.

“To whom?”

“Our mutual friend.”

The man pressed his lips together, all impatience and indignation gone. In the past year, since Severus had begun to be more involved with the Death Eaters, Lucius had learned some respect for him. “What shall I say to him?”

“That the crow has taken it.”

“What does that mean?” snapped Lucius.

“O corvo já levou,” he returned, not even pointing out that Lucius was not privy to the matters between the Dark Lord and Severus. He found that he did not have the energy to trade banter with the man like usual.

“I do not speak Portuguese, Snape!”

Severus bit his tongue so as not to snap back. He was in a terrible mood. If he let himself go, his relationship with the Malfoys would be utterly trashed. He mustn’t. “He will know what I mean. I need you to simply deliver the message.”

Lucius looked like he would push for a moment, but after a long look at Severus’s no doubt too tired, too thin face, the man relented. “Anything else?”

He thought about it for a second then nodded. “Tell him I will be in bed for the next twenty-four hours. Best not to get him pissed because I'm too busy sleeping to respond to his letters.”

The older man huffed at his audacity, amused despite himself. “Alright. That's all?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

With a deliberately pompous sniff, Lucius disappeared.

Severus stumbled up the empty stairs like a zombie on drugs and headed for his room, running into walls more often than not. He fully intended to sleep away his misery, just like he just told Lucius Malfoy.

In their dorm, Felix and Josh were in their respective beds, snoring away. So, Severus followed their example and fell into the warm embrace of Hogwarts’ soft, soft bed.

-

When they stumbled down into the common room late in the night, groggy and half-asleep, they found the normally empty room to be almost brimming. All Slytherins, bar the first and second years, were gathered in the chamber and staring at them with grim faces.

“What happened?” Josh mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Rudely, everyone returned to their conversations without providing an answer.

Before Severus could scowl, Evan Rosier was suddenly there, saying, “Why don't you three join us, Snape? We'll fill you in.”

Considering that Rosier had sent word to him about Lupin's demise, Severus accepted, just to be courteous. They shuffled after Rosier like tired ducklings and sat down in the space the boy's group made for them.

Severus arched an eyebrow at the older boy, ignoring everyone else. He knew no one of their group, save the Rosier heir, and none of them held his interest. “What tragedy has befallen this school?”

Rosier huffed in laughter. “Not so much a tragedy as good riddance.”

“Sirius Black is foaming at the mouth,” Pecker, a second son of a traditionally English House, said in apparent excitement, smirking. Perhaps due to his family name, Matthew was a deft hand at falconry, though he failed to excel at much of anything else.

“For you, Snape, if that wasn't clear,” added Baldwin, a German boy raised in Ireland. His heritage and the environment he had grown up in had given him an accent as horrible as Severus’s. It was so mixed that it was nearly impossible to decipher exactly where he came from.

Rosier rolled his eyes, gesturing for his friends to settle down. “To start from the beginning, Remus Lupin died around noon. Dumbledore determined the cause of death to be a dark curse that none of the professors have seen. Sirius Black accused you of casting the curse but was unable to provide evidence or reasonable cause for suspicion. Classes are temporarily stopped while they investigate Lupin's death.”

“What does James Potter think about this?” Felix asked, his head tilted.

“That’s the thing,” Ackles replied, grinning darkly. He was a fifth son of a French House with no prospects. From what Severus had heard, Alan planned to move to the States after graduation and play golf professionally. “He refuses to say anything. He doesn't dispute Black, but he also doesn't agree. We all know how tight their friendship is. If they aren't on the same side, something is terribly wrong.”

“And before you ask about Pettigrew—that dunce is in the infirmary because he fainted after Lupin's death and Black's subsequent breakdown. I sincerely hope he falls into a coma and never wakes up. If I never hear his sniveling again, it'll be too soon.”

“Too soon," they agreed.

There was a loaded silence where they all glanced at each other, waiting for the other to break first. The weak point turned out to be Pecker, who made the question all Slytherins were thinking but afraid of voicing. “Was it you, Snape?”

“Of course not,” he muttered, casually flicking his wand to clear the dirt from his shoes. “We haven't ventured out of the dorms any farther than the common room since yesterday evening. And I definitely didn't encounter Lupin during the daytime.” He used magic to polish his shoes to a shine then did it for his two friends as well.

Felix, who had caught on to what exactly Severus was doing, charmed a pair of scissors to start clipping away at his hair. Severus put his long hair into intricate braids, carefully controlling his magic to get the designs he wanted. Josh straightened out their clothes and robes, which were both wrinkled and crumpled after having been slept in.

Understanding dawned on Rosier's and his friends' faces, but it was swiftly smothered. That was the thing about pureblood Slytherins. A good percentage of them had been around for at least a murder or two; they knew to keep their mouths shut and look the other way.

“In any case,” Ackles murmured, “that’s good riddance. Lupin had been on my arse for years. It'd be nice to be able to use the library again without his annoying self.”

Baldwin cooed. “Aww. I didn't know you and Lupin were close like that. Have you told his old man yet?”

A hex flew from Ackles’ wand, but Baldwin just leaned a bit to the right and let the hex strike some poor fourth-year. The fourth-year, who turned out to be Regulus Black, released a series of gibberish words, glaring darkly at their group.

“He deserved that,” Ackles justified himself hastily, his eyes round. “He has no business eavesdropping on our conversation.”

Severus sighed. “He’s always been too nosy for his own good.”

Nods of agreement were shared, and Ackles relaxed.

“For all their pompousness and supposed dignity, Blacks are horribly nosy,” Josh commented.

“Don't let Narcissa hear you say that,” cautioned Rosier.

“Are you kidding?” Pecker exclaimed. “She's the worst of them! She hosts gossip parties every week!”

Felix coughed, fighting a snicker. “I thought the word was ‘tea parties'?”

“No, no. They drink tea less and gossip more. My sister always comes home beaming, and she only does that after getting nightmarish blackmail on some poor fellow.”

An idea entered Severus’ mind, slowly forming into a plan. He would have to get the Dark Lord's approval, but seeing as his idea had plenty of merit, Marvolo would grant it easily.

“Regardless,” Rosier spoke loudly, “my point remains that Narcissa isn't an enemy we want. You've just proved my point, actually, Matt. She has blackmail on most of the purebloods. So, we definitely shouldn't go poking sleeping dragons.”

“I'd rather face Abraxas Malfoy than piss off Narcissa,” Baldwin declared gravely.

Rosier gave a nod, just as serious as his friend. “No one can disagree with that, Hans. Lord Malfoy would just treat you like scum or curse you. Narcissa would ruin you.”

Ackles released a foreboding hum, his eyes narrowed at Severus. “You’re close with Lucius. How does Narcissa treat you?”

He tried glaring—harshly, mind you—but the older boy couldn't be persuaded. Ackles continued to stare at him evenly, expectantly.

Severus conceded defeat with a sigh, “For the record, I am not close with Lucius. He believes that I am an uncultured heathen, and I am of the opinion that he desperately needs to get his head out of his arse. But that's not relevant, is it?”

He pretended not to see the way Pecker's ears went red, the way Baldwin choked, or the way Ackles clenched his jaw tightly in an effort to keep it together, and continued. “Narcissa…she has always been courteous the few times we've met. One would think I'm a pureblood lord with how she's so unfailingly polite.”

“Not a lord, perhaps,” said Rosier in a low voice. Their area quieted abruptly, all sensing that the mood had shifted. “But certainly an heir.”

Severus went very, very still.

Evan Rosier, for all his friendliness towards Severus and his friends, had never once acknowledged who Severus was.

Most simply thought that he was just a favoured follower. But not the Rosier heir.

Gerald Rosier had long since told his son that the Dark Lord had taken on an apprentice. Evan had known for as long as Severus had been learning from Marvolo.

And some time ago, while Severus had been unaware, Marvolo must have let his closest friends know that Severus had become his second.

“I am the heir of Prince,” he returned slowly, deliberately misunderstanding the older boy's words.

Rosier wasn't to be dissuaded, however. “And more,” he added, still in that quiet, low tone.

Felix, who had so far been incredibly silent, cocked his head. “What are you trying to say, Rosier?”

“I wasn't sure at first when my father told me. I believed it was impossible. However, after this...debacle, I see that He has made his choice, and the rest of us simply must accept it. Considering that we will not be in school for much longer, I thought now is as good a time as any.”

In Severus's opinion, now was the worst possible time to pledge loyalty. They were surrounded by the entire Slytherin House, and attention was already on them since the latest hot topic was Severus's role in a fellow student's death. Even if the Dark Lord had informed his friends, he doubted that the man would want it to become common knowledge.

But to Severus's dismay, it was a good time for those exact reasons.

Evan Rosier was trying to set an example. He was saying, ‘If I, the heir of an old pureblood house, can trust our Lord and follow His chosen second, why can't you? What does that say about your faith in the judgement of our Lord?’

And it was working—somewhat. All three of Rosier's friends looked thoughtful, and Regulus Black, who had kept on loitering despite having caught a stray hex, gazed at Severus with sharp eyes.

Nothing changed the fact that Severus would like to not be dealing with this, though. He'd had a rough few days. He wanted the world to fade away and leave him be.

Josh nudged him discreetly when he took too long to respond.

He cleared his throat. “I appreciate your...confidence, Heir Rosier. But I would prefer if you could keep that tidbit to yourself.”

His response was a tight smile. “I figured as much.”

“Will you… We will meet this summer, yes?” Given that the older boy would likely be getting marked during the summer holidays, it was pretty much guaranteed for them to encounter each other.

Rosier inclined his head. “I believe so.”

Severus mimicked his gesture. “We will talk, then.”

With that, the seventh-years retreated to their dorm, leaving their space to Severus and his friends.

Felix and Josh spread out so they could see each other while conversing.

“You’re getting your own followers, Snape,” Josh whispered.

He shot the boy an annoyed look, hastily casting the ‘muffaliato’ charm. “I can see that.”

“You can't avoid it, olalashe ai*.” Felix gazed at him with an unusually solemn look in his eyes. He had never wanted to get involved with the crowd that was enamoured with the Dark Lord. Though many things had changed since Severus became Marvolo’s apprentice, Felix was one who had not.

That look coupled with the serious tone reminded him of the first day of their fourth-year, which had been nothing good. He gave a token resistance, even while knowing the wisdom of his friend’s words, “I help out where I can, but I'm not planning to be his successor!”

“This was inevitable, Severus. Can't you see? It's Him we're talking about. He wouldn't have taken you in if He hadn't seen your potential.” Felix shook his head. “I believed for a time that the potential He saw was your genius. But it's clear that He saw your darkness.”

“He’ll let me go if I ask,” he stated stubbornly.

Josh's lips twisted. “But do you want to?”

Severus gritted his teeth. “No,” he bit out, knowing that his answer was as good an admission of defeat as any.

“You better start preparing, mate,” Josh advised. “I reckon you'll only have more responsibilities from now on.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Josh gave a few pats to his back limply. “There, there.”

Chapter Text

The next day when the three of them returned to the dorms from the borderline interrogation they had endured—courtesy of Sirius Black—a similar scene from yesterday awaited them. The Slytherin students were all in the common room, huddled in their own little groups. When they entered, a great many Slytherins turned, gazing at them expectantly.

Though beyond exasperated, Severus inhaled deeply and announced to the room at large, “We were cleared by the aurors.”

Smirks of triumph and meaningful looks were exchanged, and the attention went away. Clearly, someone from Rosier’s group had failed to keep their mouth shut. But theirs happened to House Slytherin, thankfully, so he wasn’t too worried about being snitched on to the authorities.

Josh claimed a corner of the room, having moved while Severus hadn’t been paying attention, and waved them over.

They’d barely taken their seats when someone intruded on their company. An unwelcome someone.

“What is it, Black?” he flatly said. He hadn’t been too happy with the Black scion ever since the news of his ‘darkness’ had been spread all over the school.

The younger boy was intent but hesitant, glancing at the three of them alternately. “I overheard you yesterday.”

“You mean you were eavesdropping on us,” Felix corrected.

Regulus went red with embarrassment, the flush reaching his ears. Unlike his elder brother, he was painfully easy to read. Severus hated to imagine what kind of treatment that soft boy was being subjected to under Walburga Black’s iron hand. “It’s a communal space. I can stay where I want.”

“For those without courtesy or decorum,” pointed out Severus.

He gritted his teeth. “Look, I wanted to talk about…Him.”

Severus sighed. That was all anyone wanted to talk to him about these days. He knew the worship these students held for the Dark Lord, but this was getting to be a bit much. “What about him?”

Regulus scowled as if offended. He probably was, being one of those devoted worshippers. “Is it true that you are the…heir?”

At this, it was Severus who scowled.

Thankfully enough, Felix immediately put up a privacy ward, hissing at the lack of secrecy or caution being employed. “Do you have any sense of privacy? Things are kept secret for a reason! Eata en-gewarie ‘n-giyaa!” The night has ears. How apt.

“Just answer the question.”

“You Blacks are annoying,” Josh mumbled under his breath.

While Severus wholly agreed with him, they could not make enemies out of the Blacks. It was bad enough that their heir hated him with a passion. He shot a look at Josh, intending it to be chiding.

Luckily, his glance landed, and his friend nodded in understanding.

“Why do you want to know, Black?”

Regulus raised his chin defiantly. “I want to serve Him.”

“That’s your parents’ decision. The Dark Lord won’t accept minors without their parents’ permission.”

“I have permission.”

Severus took a calming breath, his annoyance rising considerably. “You are fourteen, Black. You have not seen the world, and you do not know what possible futures you have. You shouldn’t throw everything away for someone you don’t know.”

“The Dark Lord wants to subjugate muggles. What more do I need to know?” The boy said flippantly. Idiotic boy.

He growled, definitely angry now. “What kind of person he is, for one. How he treats his followers, for another. Who he is, most importantly.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes, disliking the advice being offered. “I know that He keeps His word and rewards loyal followers. No one knows who He is.”

He caught himself just before blurting out an angry retort. It wasn’t his place to drive away potential followers. Especially not when it was the spare of the Black family. “How long have you been thinking about this?” he asked in as even a voice as he could manage.

“A few years.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “I will speak to the Dark Lord.”

Relief overtook the scowling features of the boy, making him brighten. It highlighted just how young he was—and how clueless he was. He had no bloody idea what awaited him in Marvolo’s service. “Thank you, Heir Prince.”

“I make no promises, Black,” Severus warned. “He is already displeased with your family. I can’t guarantee that my word will be enough.”

Regulus tilted his head, puzzled. “Displeased? I didn’t hear anything.”

Josh snorted. “Write to your mother. I’m sure she’ll gladly tell you all about it.” More like ‘screech’.

With a dirty look at Josh, the fourth-year took his leave, not bothering to refute his statement. After all, Walburga Black’s hatred for her older son was well-known in Britain. She also happened to be extremely vocal about it.

“People do stupid things to feel powerful,” Felix commented out of nowhere, staring after Regulus.

“They do, yeah,” Severus agreed easily. He had seen too much of Marvolo’s followers to know that most powerhungry people were foolish and thoughtless. They had given up everything to lick someone else’s boots, and they didn’t even realise it. It was pathetic.

“Don’t go saying that to others, though,” cautioned Josh, ever the voice of reason to their insanity. “They won’t like that. Half of these people are future-Death Eaters.”

“I know. I have no desire to cross wands with any of them.” Despite his words, Felix gave his wand a shake, a dark look on his face. The beginning of his Moran training had made him rather muscular, and with his hair buzzed so short, the boy looked sinister in the dim lighting.

“Despicable,” he muttered under his breath. “The sheer number of dark curses they know makes my head spin.”

“I also know those curses, Severus.”

“I do, too. But that’s not the point. The point is that they are willing to use what they know indiscriminately.”

Josh shifted uncomfortably. “We are, too, Severus.”

He clenched his jaw and told himself to stay calm. He must stay calm. He must. “Are we going around throwing curses at people? Are we attacking defenseless children? Are we torturing innocent students?”

“...No.”

“Then do not compare us to them again. We are not monsters.”

“I won’t,” their youngest said, contrite. “I’m sorry, Severus.”

Sighing, Felix shook his head at them. “We will kill again, Josh. Our chosen paths demand nothing less. If you can’t live with it, find another path that will get you out of this war. Staying by Severus’s side will see you with blood on your hands, one way or another.”

“I know. And I don’t want to leave you. I just…”

“You just what?”

“I don’t want to kill. That’s not me. I-I want to go hiking with Magnus. I want to make ice sculptures. I want a farm with hens and alpacas. I want a child. I don’t want to become a killer.”

“Go, then,” Severus said tonelessly. “Magnus will take you. That boy is utterly besotted with you to the point that he will marry you this instant if you just ask. Go with him to Oslo and don’t come back. Have your peace there. He will keep you happy.”

“Severus…”

Felix injected before he could truly snap. “You need time away from us. Right? Go. We won’t bother you before you’re ready.”

Hesitant, Josh looked between them nervously. “Please don’t be mad.”

“We’re not mad. I promise.”

“Yes,” Severus added, not entirely sure what this far-away feeling he was experiencing was.

Reassured, Josh went up the stairs to their dorm room, skittish in a way he hadn’t ever been before. He almost bumped straight into the wall on his way. It was as pitiful to watch as it was sad.

“Olalashe,” Felix murmured in a low voice. “Don’t be upset with him. We can’t blame him for wanting peace.”

“I’m not,” he denied. “I’m upset at the situation. I’m upset at Dumbledore. I'm upset at Marvolo. If we didn’t have to worry about the war, Josh wouldn’t even think of leaving us.”

“Treason, Severus,” the older boy warned.

He hung his head, a tired exhale escaping him. “I know. I know. If you want to leave, too, I won't blame you.”

Felix grabbed his wrist, holding it tight enough to grind the bones together. “I won't ever join you, but I won't leave you. You're my brother. I won't leave you alone in this hellhole, I swear.”

Severus closed his eyes, as a wave of relief washed over him. “Thank you…Lanyoka.”

-

The teachers looked at them differently afterwards, their gazes searching and suspicious.

There had been no evidence at all that they had been responsible for Lupin's death, but it hardly seemed to matter to the school at large.

The Hufflepuffs shunned them, while the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws pretended that they didn't exist. The staff regarded them as though they were dangerous criminals out to massacre the entirety of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore, though—the headmaster treated them as if they had graduated already. As if they were adults. As if he had already judged them and found them worthy of punishment.

Severus chafed against it.

They had encountered Lupin in his werewolf form simply because Dumbledore had failed to keep his charity case safely contained. Lupin's death was less on Severus's and Felix's hands than on Dumbledore's.

Taking into consideration the reactions of the members of the staff, he had to conclude that they had all been aware of Lupin's status as a werewolf—perhaps except the Slytherins.

He despised them all.

They were sworn to educate and protect children. And what had they done? They had brought a fucking werewolf onto school grounds then entirely failed to secure its hiding place!

If he could get away with it, he'd take the whole thing to the Wizengamot.

Damn them all.

When he expressed his vengeance to Marvolo, his master's response had been a thin smile and comforting words: “We shall rebuild the world anew, my prince.”

Reassured, Severus faced the school and its judgment boldly. He did not hide, nor did he run. He, along with Felix, went to every class and meal, with their heads held high and shoulders straight. In war, it was kill or be killed. Their actions weren't worthy of reprimand.

He fought with Sirius Black every other day and landed in detention for it—multiple times. The boy was too stubborn for his own good and too consumed by grief to think straight. His curses were wild, and his gaze even more.

Severus half-believed that the infamous Black madness had taken hold of him. After all, Black had been sweet on Lupin. How it must break his heart.

Lupin's death broke up the Marauders, swiftly and irreparably. Potter no longer joked or posed, as Black no longer flirted. Pettigrew was nowhere to be found, and the gaggle of girls often surrounding them had vanished.

The most surprising person who mourned Lupin was…Lily, who turned up to class with swollen red eyes and an even redder nose. She didn't speak to anyone or participated in class. She just sat there as if her world had ended.

Severus didn't know how to console her, given that he indeed had been the killer of Remus Lupin. Felix advised him not to try, saying that the fiery temper of Lily Evans was not to be trifled with.

Eventually, he gave up on her. After all, she had been pulling away from him for years. Why should he keep chasing her when she clearly had no interest?

His popularity in Slytherin grew.

Word had spread that Rosier had formally acknowledged Severus, and sons of Death Eaters began to defer to him—subtly at first then obviously later.

The first of those had been Regulus, who had been introduced to the Dark Lord via Severus. The boy compensated for his brother by sucking up to Severus, with submissive words and helpful actions. It was unbecoming of him. Alas, he digressed.

Josh took a long time away from them, staying sequestered in his own corner of their dorm and going to classes by himself. As promised, they gave him space to figure his wishes out. It would not do to force him into things he did not want, after all. That would be counterproductive.

Sadly, Regulus took Josh's place in their group. The boy was eager to please; when he saw that Severus no longer had one of his usual companions, he jumped at the chance to be close to the chosen heir of the Dark Lord.

Severus was rather dismayed by it, as Regulus was…quite talkative.

He had rolled his eyes at Regulus in this short time they had known each other more times than he had at Felix and Josh combined. It was ridiculous.

After a while, the boy did wear him down. The hyperactive soft boy was charming, if he was honest. He was sincere, and it was clear that he cared about people—and even house elves. Above all, Severus found that he was kind and brave. So, in a fit of inspiration, he dubbed the boy Leo, in reference to both the constellation and his bravery.

The nickname stuck, and Regulus came to be known as Leo, courtesy of Severus.

Josh, unfortunately, failed to fully rejoin their group, though he did return. His exact words had been: “I want to continue being your friend. But don't make me do more.”

Relieved, Severus had nodded and agreed instantly. The sheer speed at which he had responded had been embarrassing.

The school year passed quickly, in a blur of judgmental faces and malicious whispers. Severus found that he was glad to be going home this time.

-

A week into the summer hols, Marvolo held a meeting to which all Death Eaters were invited.

The objective of the meeting hadn't been made known to anyone, yet they gathered, as per their lord's command.

Lucius Malfoy was there, as were Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband and his brother. McNair, Dolohov, Rosier, the elder Malfoy, and many other lords of pureblood houses.

Severus found it…funny when all the lords knelt to Marvolo, but luckily, he managed to control his expression. These blood supremacists had no idea that the man they knelt to was of lowly blood. If only they knew.

“Rise,” Marvolo said, gesturing faintly with his right hand, seated on his throne-like chair as if he were a king.

“In the event that I should fall, my heir will lead you, for he is capable and powerful. His blood is of no consequence as he is of the House of Prince, an old pureblood line. I name Severus Prince as my heir,” announced Marvolo with hardly any flourish.

For a second, all was quiet. No one knew how to react, including Severus. He hadn't thought that such a thing would've been announced so abruptly.

Slowly, the purebloods bent from their waists, offering stiff bows to him. “My lord.”

Flustered, he looked at his master. “What do I do?” he mouthed, half-panicked.

Marvolo laughed at him. “Rise, my followers. You need not call dear Severus a lord, but I shall require you to give him due respect. I did not make this decision lightly.”

“As you wish, my lord,” they answered as one.

At a nod from the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters filed out.

“Lucius, stay behind,” commanded the lord.

The man remained rooted to his spot near the wall, as rigid as a statue.

Once everyone else was gone, Lucius stepped forward to the front of the throne and bowed. “What do you require of me, my lord?”

“Regulus Black requested to join us,” Marvolo began. “I denied him, for now. However, the boy is adamant, wishing to make his family proud. You shall dissuade his parents.”

Lucius opened his mouth then closed it, licking his lips. “Yes, my lord.”

“You are capable of such a thing, yes?”

Gulping, the blond man inclined his head. “I shan't disappoint you, my lord.”

“Dismissed.”

Staring at the doors that fell shut behind Lucius, Severus remembered something. “Is Evan Rosier here?”

“He is indeed.”

He swore. “I promised to talk with him. Bugger.” For all that the Rosier heir was cordial, Severus wasn't terribly looking forward to officially dealing with him.

Marvolo chuckled, descending from his throne to stand beside Severus. “He means well.”

“He wants an alliance,” he retorted.

“You are no lord,” reminded his master.

“But I will be.”

Instead of disagreeing, knowing that he was right, the Dark Lord changed the topic. “Come. There is a potion that I want to teach you.”

“Is it poison?”

Marvolo huffed a laugh. “It can be.”

By the time Severus mastered the potion and was able to get out of the laboratory, it was late in the afternoon.

Evan Rosier sat primly in his office with no hints of annoyance at being kept waiting for so long.

Nevertheless, Severus bowed his head. “I apologize, Heir Rosier. I was with the Dark Lord.”

“I understand. You are a busy man, Heir Prince.”

“That I am.”

He took advantage of the natural pause in conversation to get tea and biscuits from the house elves, giving Rosier his share. “What did you wish to talk about?”

“I wished to formally invite you to my initiation,” said the older boy.

“You are joining so soon?”

Rosier inclined his head. “It is my father's and my wish.”

Severus considered it but found no drawbacks of agreeing to this. He didn't want to witness a branding per sé, as he'd experienced the damn thing once, but as the Dark Lord's heir, it was his duty. “I shall be there.”

“Thank you. I do have one thing that I am curious about, Heir Prince. Will you indulge me?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Will Sirius Black face no penalty?”

He hummed softly. Sirius Black was a complicated topic, especially because Regulus was doing everything he could not to have his brother killed. The boy was quite attached, despite Sirius never even granting him a moment of his time.

Severus wanted the deranged bastard to die, of course. It was only fair that he faced what he had forced others to face.

But the Dark Lord was concerned about the relations with the House of Black since they, along with the Malfoys, provided most of the Death Eaters’ resources. However, Marvolo had promised that he would take care of Arcturus Black, his old friend.

“He will,” Severus answered. “Do not doubt the Lord.” He didn't bother asking how Rosier knew that Black was responsible for the incident. The news had obviously come from his father.

Rosier smiled slightly. “I doubt neither.”

The meaning of his words took a moment to dawn on Severus. When it did, he could barely respond. “How do you wish to serve the Dark Lord?”

“In any way He requires of me.”

It was such a predictable answer that he nearly rolled his eyes. “Let me amend my question: What are your strengths?”

“I am a deft hand at dueling. I have connections outside of House Slytherin. I excel at curses.”

“Will you duel with me?” he offered.

Rosier nodded, smirking. “I would gladly do so.”

From that day onward, Evan Rosier became a staple at the Dark Lord's mansion, running errands for Marvolo and assisting Severus in whatever matters he happened to be handling.

The boy was somewhat of a friend to Severus, as he never looked down on Severus for his blood and was always accommodating. On top of that, the Rosiers had an extensive collection of tomes on dark and obscure magic, which Evan lent to Severus willingly.

Marvolo sometimes teased him by musing out loud that perhaps he would take Evan as his second apprentice, but Severus found that he didn't dislike the idea very much.

Evan was pleasant company.