Hey guys! I am so sorry that it's taken so damn long for me to update! This chapter has been fighting me for a LONG time. So a huge thank you to any and all of you who have stuck with this story. Please let me know what you think about it!

Side note, thank you all SO much for the excitement and praise I received for 'Last Night's Dress'! Chapter 2 will be up soon!

XO Kiwi

Rowling's world, I just play here. Ginormous thank you to my beta Glittergrrrl05! You fantastic witch you!

Chapter 4 - The Dawn

The late October sun had just barely risen over the horizon, and the light that streamed through the high windows was comprised of vivid oranges and deep reds. The somber grey and dark blues of night were fading away as the new day dawned bright and glorious. Sunlight gleamed off the various armaments displayed on the stone walls; some were for decoration, like the enormous double-bladed great axe that hung horizontally above the doorway. There were others, however, that looked to be handled frequently. Long thin-bladed rapiers, a few heavy broadswords, multiple sets of daggers. It wasn't a large collection, but each well-cared-for piece was integral to it. Each had a story to tell: how they had come to be in his ownership, the blood they had spilled, lives saved or taken.

Sweat beaded on Severus's forehead; a drop from his brow fell to the mat beneath him. His normally smooth silky voice was heavy with exertion as he counted, "Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty." The well-formed muscles in his arms, back, and calves coiled as he completed his last push up and then, jumping up quickly, fell into the rest of his morning routine. Hard breathing and the impact of his attacks echoed off the walls as he delivered kicks and punches to the large sand-filled bag bolted and charmed deeply into the stone ceiling above him. The room he used for his workouts and training wasn't overly large, but it suited him well; it had been built with only him in mind, after all. It was more a studio for training in the deadly arts of combat, as the word 'gymnasium' just didn't seem to work with Severus' vocabulary.

Being the half-blood that he was, he had always known how to fight the 'Muggle' way. He knew intimately the satisfaction of a clenched fist smashing into flesh, skin on skin, drawing blood and breaking bone. How to cause significant pain with his body rather than his skill with a wand. His entire childhood had been a How-To-Guide on self defense and survival. Regularly as a child he was locked out of his house for multiple reasons: eating the last slices of bread in the loaf; not cleaning the cheap dishes he was never allowed to eat off anyways; breathing too loudly; merely being in the same room; existing.

Or the small bursts of accidental magic that appeared only in times of little Severus' intense emotional distress. Those were the harshest of beatings. They came with whatever was handy at the time or with large unforgiving fists, after which he would be thrown onto the porch. The door slamming shut and locking loudly behind him.

His father hated anything different, anything at all, which happened to include his wife and only child. He had only remained and wedded Eileen due to some convoluted sense of propriety when she had become pregnant. Tobias hated everything with every fibre of his being. Which, in turn, made forcing his son to spend many nights sleeping awkwardly in trees or on park benches, huddled under an ill fitting jacket for warmth, an easy thing for him to do. His wife and child were abominations in his eyes.

Breaking back into the house would only earn him a second, more severe beating no matter how much his mother begged her husband to see reason or, later on, begged him for mercy. 'He's just a child, my son, our son! Let me love him!' She had cried out in defense of her boy. He could still hear the words she screamed clear as day, as well as the loud thump of her hitting the floor before the door was slammed shut in his five-year-old face. As a result of his father's hatred, young Severus had grown up mostly alone on the filthy industrial streets of Spinners End, a slum in Cokeworth.

The neighbourhood kids had been nasty little shits who bit and tore, hurt and bled him. His excuse of a father had been their king, as no other pain could rival what he could inflict. Slowly, but still too fast, his mother became more and more shadow-like, a ghost of her former self. She didn't even seem to look in his direction anymore, as though he didn't exist either; as if not existing would make things better. But he wasn't going to just lay there and die with her.

So he had become a quick study in the ways of the fighter and the thief. He would survive. If for nothing more than to spite Tobias. Most days he had to find himself food, which had become literal child's play to him. Having to steal clothing out of necessity as he grew, he learned deplorable skills and how to employ them better than any child ever should. These were things he had learned from other kids like himself, other wretched, unwanted children that grew up in the alleys. As he delved deeper into the underbelly of society - one that had accepted him with open arms - he had come to realize his parents didn't want to feed or care for him, they couldn't be bothered. Or maybe, he thought when he was little older than eight, maybe they just didn't care if he lived or died.

When his father had frequently found the bottom of a bottle, it was instances like those that young Severus' life had depended on his new skillset, generally his ability to dodge an attacker and flee quickly. He had tried to run away from 'home' a few times, but the police had somehow always found him and physically dragged him back. No matter how hard he resisted or pled for them to take him anywhere else.

There he was promptly hugged tight by his smiling excuse for a father, his wraith-like mother dutifully playing the part of relieved parent under the watchful eyes of the cops. But as soon as the door was closed and the cruisers had pulled away, the act dropped quicker than Severus could inhale, and Tobias's thick fingers were tightly wrapped around his young throat, yelling furious obscenities into his face. Even after all these years he could still hear that detestable mans voice. Ungrateful, waste of skin, useless scum… just like your mother...

At around age nine, when he had begun to really grow into his magic, it had opened an entirely different world for him. Suddenly he was filled with ideas of new ways to defend himself, new ways to fight back and keep himself alive, maybe he could make his mother love him again.

He found a brand-new friend (an actual friend) in the form of a girl his age named Lily Evans. She was from a nice upper-middle class family, though her sister was a piece of work. She was the only one with this power in her family, having thought all this time that maybe she was the freak her sister said she was. But a single afternoon in the park had changed everything. The two had become fast friends, and bonded quickly over their ability to do magic. He could still remember the days they spent together in that park, the way her green eyes shone with excitement when he first told her what little he knew about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place where he would one day set ablaze their friendship, where he would cement the type of man he'd grow to be.

Though what came with this new magical power, the heritage of his blood, were more excuses, more reasons for his father to hate and attempt to destroy him. A new reason for his mother to wither away. If only Severus had known just how proud she would have been in different circumstances! Once Eileen had been full of life; she'd always had a smile for him, a gentle hug out of his father's view, whispered confessions of love.

She was the light in the shadow of her abusive husband, hiding with tiny Severus in the attic of their decrepit home, showing and reading to him the wonders from the world in which she had grown up. Those ratty old potions textbooks with their loose bindings and tattered pages had been some of the things Severus prized most in this world aside from his mother. Under her loving gaze he had learned to read using those textbooks.

Some of his fondest memories of his mother were some of his earliest. Quiet praise and hushed laughter, a kiss on the forehead in the dead of night. Until the light and life had been forcibly taken from her, dragged out and erased over the long years. Eileen had died under extremely questionable circumstances only two weeks after Severus began his first year at Hogwarts. His new Headmaster, with all his power, the influence and titles afforded to him, conceded to Tobias Snape's wishes. Severus had been forbidden to attend the funeral.

Severus caught the rapidly swinging sandbag with his hands and slowed its movements. That last punch had been thrown with incredible force. Recounting these things helped fuel the anger that perpetually fed him and his will to survive, to endure. Reaching up he brushed strands of sweaty jet black hair out of his face. The rest was still tied up at the back of his head in an uncharacteristically casual way. If he hadn't taken such pleasure in watching the life fade from the eyes of Tobias Snape - patricide the day after his graduation - he might have thanked the man for setting him on this path of darkness.

It was how he was still alive after all the years of torture he'd endured, and, how at thirty-eight years old he'd become one of the most influential men in Wizarding Britain. It was too bad - though more than a little petty - that he couldn't rub his successes in his father's face. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself he raised his arms, the palms of his hands held out and open, ready for the two identical daggers that came soaring at him from their mounts on the wall. He caught them with practiced ease, the moment his long fingers curled around the leather grips, Severus' body began twisting, moving with acute muscle memory, in a dance of sharp flashing silver and lethal precision.

The clock had nearly reached 10 a.m. when Severus was interrupted by Pummel for the second time. He'd long since finished his morning routines and was sitting at the cluttered desk in his laboratory, not yet having begun the day's work; still, a few of the larger cauldrons already had stasis charms or similar shimmering overtop their rims. A now-cleared breakfast plate rested on top a stack of books on his desk. Ink-stained fingers hovered near a mug of cold, nearly forgotten coffee that sat to his left, as if he had intended to drink it but his thoughts were much too focused on the task before him to really be mindful of his surroundings.

He had finally found a way! The quill in his right hand scribbled furiously on the parchment he hunched over. His dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly and his thin lips upturned in a miniscule smirk. As soon as he had finished jotting down the last sentence, he had sat back in the wooden desk chair as if to admire the work in front of him. His eyes read over the last few sentences once more and then flicked to the never-ending silver chain lying delicately atop a scrap of deep cobalt velvet; it glimmered beautifully in the daylight. It was then that his mind seemed to catch up with him and he remembered the knock on the door. Partially elated at his success on paper, the smirk turned into a small smile as he bid the door open.

Pummel stepped just over the threshold and into the room to deliver his message. "Sir, th-there is being a-a Floo c-call, Sir. In the front l-l-lounge Sir." Pummel, a normally belligerent and sour elf to everyone but his master, was wringing his hands slightly as if he was nervous. Severus immediately sat up in his chair, the smile dropping from his face. There was only one person he knew that could terrify Pummel like this, if terrify was even the right word. He sighed wearily and closed his eyes as if to regain his own composure.

"Please, tell me she is still on her own end." His voice was a bit of a croak from disuse despite the many hours he had been awake today. He didn't wait for a reply before he stood and straightened his dark grey waistcoat, then reached for the black robes that helped him strike such an imposing figure. Much akin to armor his robes were; they helped conceal many a thing from prying eyes, yet allowed him the free, fluid movement contradicted by the wide floor-length sleeves that would have hindered any other. He fastened the last button of his high collar before sweeping out of the room, robes flapping like dark wings behind him. Pummel closed the door behind his master and followed behind as the tall man stalked down the hall radiating irritation.

Severus had barely made it through the dark oak doorway of the room with the active Floo connection when the elegant and attractive figure of Narcissa Malfoy stepped from the roaring emerald flames and into his sitting room. Swallowing a groan of annoyance, he continued forwards and greeted the woman who now brushed imaginary soot off her person, paying him no mind, as though she had yet to notice he'd entered the room. The samite fabric she was clothed in was an exact match to the flames dying in the grate. Emerald green and yet, in the daylight from the window, the threads shone with shots of silver. Gods above knew how the Malfoy family remained impervious to the mess of Floo travel. "Good morning Madam Malfoy. You look stunning, as always."

She locked her ice blue eyes onto his face and gave him a disarming smile. "Severus, my dear, we have been friends for so many years. Why must I always remind you to call me Narcissa?" She moved gracefully to where he stood in the middle of the room. The fabric of her robes whispering softly as she glided across the stone.

Part of his mind wondered what in Merlin's name she had come here for, hoping it was anything else than what he was assuming. The rest of him knew without a doubt the reason for her arrival and was not at all pleased. She touched his arm gently, her pale, perfectly manicured hands in sharp contrast to the dark void that was the color of his robes.

"We're family, Severus." She gave his arm a light squeeze. "We've been friends for so many years." Her voice, as always, was like the plucking of a harp: beautiful, ethereal, and inviting, but each note with purpose. "So, why don't you send for some of that wonderful black cinnamon tea, and then," she paused and he could have sworn her eyes narrowed, although it could have been a trick of the light, "you and I shall discuss the events of last night." She gave him another endearing smile, tilting her head to the side just slightly, her lightly kohl-rimmed eyes belying none of her intent. Then she was gliding past him to seat herself delicately on the cream-colored settee.

It left Severus standing in the center of his sitting room, expression growing sourer by the second as he tried to comprehend what just happened and how he was to deal with it. He was well versed in Narcissa's ways, and she had already beaten him at this chess match. He'd closed his eyes when she swept past him, internally reviewing last night's conversation with Lucius and coming to the conclusion that there would be no getting out of dinner tonight. He muttered a few obscenities under his breath.

Narcissa, meanwhile, had removed her small black velvet hat and set it down beside her, not a white-blonde hair out of place from her chignon. She smoothed a hand over its iridescent veridian plumes, a tiny, pleasant smile on her face as she waited patiently for her host to come to terms with himself. Her eyes flicked quickly from her new hat to Severus, who stood with his back to her. "I do hope it won't be too much trouble for you, Severus. As I recall, you both had quite the celebration last evening." Her tone teasing, but he could distinctly make out the veiled threat in her voice.

Severus spun around in a swirl of black fabric and stalked to the chair nearest Narcissa. His back was stiff and he had yet to speak a word, snapping his fingers to call for Pummel instead. He was not at all pleased by the turn of events, and the evidence was on his face for her to read plain as day.

They had been friends since their days at Hogwarts, and she had always tried to look out for him though she was five years older. As a Slytherin Prefect she had felt it was more than her duty to look out for the younger years, and there was something about the cheerless and gloomy little eleven-year-old that had drawn her curiosity. It was she who had first introduced Severus to Lucius and, as males are wont to do, they bonded faster and much closer than she and Severus ever had. For years she had sent Lucius in her stead to speak to him, and she had never come to him herself since they had grown. It was hardly proper anymore, and she obviously felt that her husband would get a more desirable response from his best mate.

But this time she was finished with his games. Now she had ways to deal with those who might speak ill of her for something so trivial as visiting an old friend who happened to be male, so she made the decision. Severus had always found some way or excuse to get out of anything remotely like tonight for years, and so finally she had come to his home herself -no owl, no Lucius, no prior notice whatsoever. When Narcissa Malfoy wanted something, anything at all, she got it; there was always a way, and everyone had their price. She would be damned if he didn't go tonight! If one were to ask for the Silver Tongue of the House of Malfoy, more often than not eyes would turn to Lucius. After all, he was the obvious choice - the Head of the Family, ruthless politician, and successful businessman. They however, would be dead wrong, and Lady Malfoy rather preferred it that way.

Pummel popped up before the echo from Severus's fingers had faded. "What does Master be requiring, Sir?" He bowed his head and kept his eyes glued to the floor. This was the most respectful he had ever seen the elf before. It left him wondering just what this fearsome woman had said to the poor creature. Pummel was doing his very best not to wring his hands and to stand as straight as was possible. His drapery even seemed to have been freshly cleaned and pressed.

"Tea, Pummel. The Napali black," was the terse reply from Snape. Pummel was used to the difference in the treatment he received; he wasn't a young elf and was aware of how the world worked around him. The way his current master treated him in public was to be expected. House elves were slaves, dirt underfoot. They were definitely not worth any sort of basic rights. But in the quiet of his estate, with no ears or eyes to watch him, this formidable man was a kind master to those who served him. Pummel and the others had counted themselves quite lucky to have such a man to care and work for. All of them knew the horrors that could have awaited them serving in another wizard's House. Especially now… Even with there being a lower rung introduced beneath theirs on the ladder of society. The elf winked out of sight the moment after he had bowed low enough for the tips of his floppy ears to scrape the floor.

Severus glanced at his unexpected guest. She was once again preening the feathers on the hat sitting beside her, giving the illusion she wasn't paying attention to anything but the bit of black velvet and delicate plumage. He knew this couldn't be farther from the truth - Narcissa had been watching his every movement since she had arrived. He sat straight and tall, the embodiment of male pureblood propriety, something she herself had felt the intense need to instill within him. It was the complete opposite of the way he had relaxed the night prior with this very woman's husband. It appeared Narcissa was quite intent on waiting for the tea before beginning what Severus knew would be a demand hidden inside the politest of requests. It left him curious whether he should even bother attempting to snake his way out of this entirely dreadful situation. At this point, for her to have sought him out herself… He felt a tiny pang of pity for Lucius. It was quickly erased, as that fair-haired man had known exactly what he was getting himself into when he married the youngest daughter of Druella Black.

He was still in the process of resigning himself to his fate when the tea service appeared on the low table between them. It was nearly amusing to watch her switch so rapidly from her fascination with the feathery black thing she had worn on her head to the unique set they had been presented with. Inwardly he was very proud of Pummel's insightful choice in serving them with it. If there was a smarter, more perceptive House elf, he would eat the Sorting Hat.

The tea cups and saucers were hand carved from a gorgeous bright sun-shot amber, with intricate twisting silver vines that began, rose and curled up from under the cup forming both base and handle. The pot itself was a single solid piece of amber caged inside a delicate weave of more glinting silver vines, the knob on top the lid was a large raw yellow topaz stone. The service was painstakingly hand-crafted down to every last miniscule silver leaf etched to perfection. It was absolutely exquisite and more than likely one of a kind. Narcissa was taken with it immediately. He could kiss that elf! Now Severus had a bargaining chip. He had only to use it and get out of whatever plans she had for this evening.

"Severus!" She gasped softly and sat forwards quickly, dropping every pretense of ladylike poise and forgetting about the hat altogether. Sitting before him was the fifteen-year-old girl he had first met who would gush over pretty jewels. "You must tell me where did you get this? It's gorgeous." Her pristine hands picked up the teapot as though it might break at her very touch, fingertips touching the vines and tiny leaves caging the carved amber. Although being the guest, she poured for them both, filling his cup first and then her own; the refined woman couldn't be more obvious about her agenda. She set the pot back down with the utmost care. "I should hex you for keeping these from me," she said as she lifted the cup and saucer in front of her. Leaving her tea black and bringing the rim closer to her face, she inhaled the delicious scent of cinnamon and something that was inherently just the pleasant smell of tea. Severus watched intently as her eyes closed when she took the first sip.

"The set was, in fact, my grandmother's," he responded. Her azure eyes shot open quickly, the delicate blonde eyebrows above them raised high. It was clear to see that he had shocked her, which pleased him more than he would have thought possible. This was a rare thing to see. The smirk that seemed to be the natural state of his face these days reformed as he watched her purse her light coral painted lips and swallow quickly so she could question him that much sooner.

"Odessa Prince?" Narcissa asked as soon as she was able. The man rarely spoke of his family. She knew all she needed about his parents, and once she had learned his mother was the disowned heiress Eileen Prince, Narcissa had done extensive ancestral research to help him discover his roots, so to speak. Nevermind her insatiable curiosity of the old family. It hadn't become a serious project of hers until she had little else to do while pregnant with Draco. It wasn't something that was mentioned often, as with Eileen's disinheritance he had been as well. Before, he had always rightly assumed no part of the Prince estates would ever pass legally to him. How the world had changed. Snape carefully stirred some sugar into his own tea with a miniscule smile before raising the amber cup to his lips and taking a slow sip. He was enjoying every millisecond of making her wait for a reply. The tea was just right as well.

Narcissa was nearly sitting on the edge of her seat awaiting his response. He could tell how excited she was to hear anything at all that pertained to this topic and was inwardly crowing over this little victory. This little slip in the facade she showed to the world could be all he needed to secure his victory. Snape had to plan this conversation perfectly, else it would fail. He was not going to be coerced into going to dinner tonight - he refused - though he certainly would take all the joy he could from this small act. He took another drink from the cup, humming his satisfaction at the taste, dark brown eyes shining with mirth as he watched her nearly begin demanding answers from him. She was so excitable when prodded sufficiently.

"Indeed." He drew out the word. "It would seem that I am the only living blood Prince. All others have entered the family by marriage, and in the eyes of the law," he caught her eye and they shared a devious little twitch of the lips, "I am the one true heir of the extensive estate, the holdings and accounts of the late Therron Prince." He nearly laughed at just how ridiculous that sounded to his ears, much less how it felt rolling off his tongue, and yet it was very much the truth. It was known that with his new title as the Left Hand of the Dark Lord, he had become a wealthy man, raised into the highest echelon of wizarding society. Add to that sum all the gains from the very old and extremely prosperous Prince family, and as his younger self would have described, he had more money than God.

"Oh! That is just wonderful! I can imagine Julian Fonesca and his little simpering wife Claire are absolutely furious!" She was speaking of cousins of his who, though they were of a different family name, had previously held the rights to the Prince name and its vast wealth. The elegant fair-haired woman across from him laughed like a wind chime, and the sound was a gift in and of itself. They had never been romantically involved, nor had either of them ever given the idea more than a single second of thought. They were family, close as a brother and his older sister. She had been one of his very first friends in Slytherin House, and theirs was a friendship that had carried strong to this day, though it was mostly through letters of late. Another thing that looked to be changing.

Teenaged wizards are both hilarious and a danger to themselves and others, and once there had been a bit of confusion on Lucius's part regarding the relationship between his then-girlfriend and Severus. There had been some miniscule amounts of jealousy, a few traded curses between the two, and in the end it was the six years younger Severus who had threatened Lucius at wand point should he ever harm Narcissa. It was an act that had cemented the camaraderie between them because Lucius had quickly realized just how the boy he had taken under his wing had meant that threat; it had been familial rather than some sort of claim.

It was then that Lucius had really looked closer at the dynamic between Severus and Narcissa, and not another word had been said on the matter since, by Lucius anyways. As soon as Narcissa had become a married woman, however, friendship was no longer a legitimate excuse. It had suddenly become highly improper for her to visit any man by herself. It was one of the many confusing things she had to endure in her place atop a Pureblood pedestal. A daughter from the House of Black - the Malfoys could not have done better for their only son inside of Britain.

"I received two howlers from them before the matter was taken care of," he responded over the rim of his teacup.

After they had taken the Ministry, and then Hogwarts, multiple laws had been changed to suit the new rulers, ushering in a new life built on meticulous designs that had been years in the making. The regime change, when it came, struck swiftly and without mercy. Sweeping smoothly over the growing empire of the Dark Lord. It was join or die, support and yield to your Lord or be cut down where you stood. New laws were in place and a twisted re-creation of the Aurors were formed to ensure the understanding and compliance of the People, all put into effect only days after their Lord proclaimed his victory over Wizarding Britain.

Sure, there would still be those that whispered if they dared about how improper Lady Malfoy was being. It gave her great pleasure to know she could curse their snooty little faces inside out with impunity as the beloved wife of the Right Hand. "Only two? I'm stunned." Narcissa wore a delighted little smirk. "For years I was led to believe Mrs. Fonseca was a harsh woman. I expected more from her. Seems I am to be disappointed." She poured herself a fresh cup. "I am truly envious Severus. As you know, I paged through some of the catalogues from the estate years ago; I remember reading about this set and falling in love with it." Narcissa was all smiles as she sipped from the beautiful amber teacup.

Severus actually returned it. His plan was working perfectly, only a few more sentences between them, and he would secure his freedom from tonight. "Some of the catalogues? I had to personally go through all two hundred and seventeen volumes to find out just what exactly I inherited. When you say some, Cissa, we both know that means most," he responded with amusement. She had every right to be proud; this set represented the fruits of her labour! After all, it was thanks to her digging that he had ever learned about his heritage.

Once again she sat straight and tall, proper and imposing on the settee. He was instantly grumpy at having missed her change in demeanor. "I am so pleased that the paperwork went through quickly. You must tell me when you start going through the old portraits; I would be extremely upset if you left me out of the fun." She was looking him straight in the face now, slowly lowering her cup with a gentle smile. He had nearly forgotten that she was here to play her own game. "Now you have all these wonderful collections of jewels and antiques, so many properties, but no wife or heir of your own to gift them to." She touched a hand to the square cut emerald and platinum clasp at the top of her robes, which he knew was an heirloom piece from her own grandmother. "Does this mean I am in for a particularly wonderful Christmas this year?" She asked with a teasing smirk on her softly painted lips.

Now or never. "If it will get me out of dinner with one of your tedious friends, you can have the damn tea service." He finished what was left in his teacup. He had said it, it was on the table now as it were, and he could only hope she craved the extraordinary pieces enough to concede. A small part of his brain pondered why he hadn't also requested something to eat with the tea. Small cakes with a few drops of that Ormita elixir could have been helpful, but he had not yet reached the point of drugging his close friends to achieve his desires. He could not be called a good man, but he still possessed limits. There it was, the tinkling bells of her laughter again. It was easy to see why Lucius had fallen for her, but Narcissa, while very attractive and very kind to him, was also very not his type.

"Oh you horrible, despicable man!" Her shoulders shook gently with her mirth. "While any other time I would not hesitate to take you up on your generous offer, I must decline," she said with the politest of smiles, blue eyes glittering with delight as she slowly lowered her empty teacup to the saucer with a soft clink. Though he could hear the joy in her tone. She kept the smile on her face as she placed the cup and saucer on the table between them. "You will go tonight, or I will make you" she stated simply.

Severus was surprised at just how quickly things had turned on him, and how blunt she was being about it. She was usually much more under-handed in her scheming. His jaw dropped open a fraction in shock.

"Whether it is by force, blackmail, or of your own choosing, you will be going tonight." She leaned forwards slightly, her hands folded demurely in her lap and eyes narrowed at him. "Am I clear in my request of you Severus?" Her tone had not changed at all throughout her little speech; he was sure this was a woman who could Avada a man in a pleasant voice, like she was speaking about something menial.

One word stopped him from retorting caustically the way he usually would: blackmail. There was not much either Malfoy had on him that was of substantial worth to anyone. But there was one thing, and he couldn't quite believe he was being threatened with it. If she was willing to go that far, however, he wasn't going to go down over something as trivial as dinner. No, he would leave that threat alone this time. More than half of his mind was rebelling against him for not having insisted on elixir-drugged tea cakes. He, too, placed his teacup and saucer back atop the table. "You drive a hard bargain as always Narcissa, although I think tonight I'll choose to go willingly." He was far from pleased about how his morning was going, completely irritated if truth be told. Swallowing down the defeated sigh that threatened to spew from his lips he added, "But know this: I will do my best to be miserable." They both stood from their seats on the expensive furniture.

She smiled at him kindly as she placed the small black velvet hat atop her perfectly styled hair. "I would not have you any other way, Severus." Skirts rustling as she moved around the small table and gave the much taller man a loose hug and light kiss on his cheek. "Be as miserable as you want. But you must be there." He barely caught the slight narrowing of her eyes. She patted him on the face in a slightly condescending way. "We are expecting you at the Manor at six. Dress appropriately." Her eyes giving his robes a cursory glance, finding stains from potion ingredients and small tears on his sleeves.

Turning away from him she walked gracefully towards the mantle, the train of her veridian robes flowing behind her like lazy waves. A thin length of wood slid down quickly from the inside of her sleeve, in the same movement she silently Accioed Floo powder and sent the swirling grains into the still embering grate of the large fireplace with a quick flick of her wrist. Vibrant green flames erupted from the cinders. "Be there tonight Severus. Or I will kill you." She called to him over the loud roaring from the fire. Looking over her silk-draped shoulder with a charming smile on her face she added, "Malfoy Manor!" and vanished in the ever dramatic flair of Floo travel.

Severus exhaled loudly as he watched the flames die. His shoulders dropping just slightly.

Fuck.

Dinner - if what transpired in the formal dining room could be called that - had been an excruciatingly painful affair for nearly all those involved. Lucius had been thoroughly entertained with the entire ordeal, whereas Severus did not have to pretend in the least to be miserable and more than partially enraged. Narcissa, in her haste to find Severus a suitable match in a wife - and if played right, a bit of an edge with the domination efforts - had given little thought to the personality of the woman she had invited into her home for dinner. Everything had been agreed on through a mutual friend by letters and traded favors. Something she was now commiserating with her husband, one of their oldest friends, and an extremely good bottle of red wine.

"This was a disaster wasn't it?" She asked the two men sitting on either side of her on the couch. Her tone dangerously close to a whine. The three of them had large glasses of wine in their grips. A fire crackled cheerfully in the grate in front of them, warming the room from the chill of late October. They were sitting in one of the lounge rooms in the family suites, and the scene was very much reminiscent of their days at school. Narcissa, who was on her third glass was near to pouting. "She was of excellent political standing in the Scandinavian Ministry, her family line is ancient and well respected. They are eagerly supportive of the changes that have been made here in England." She took a long drink from the finely cut crystal nestled in her hand. "How was I to know what a promiscuous harpy she'd be?"

"I believe that is an insult to Harpies." Severus added taking a large drink from his own glass. He sat back relaxing into the cushions. "They don't squawk nearly as much as that woman did."

Lucius placed a gentle hand on his wife's knee as if to calm her. "Everything looks better on paper, my dear. Do not fret over one dinner. There are other ways to achieve our goals." He raised his own glass to drink. Out of the three of them Lucius was the only one who'd found the event amusing, but knew he wasn't the only one thinking of how they could use this woman still. Both he and Severus were of the same mind when it came to such things, and while the terms of use varied greatly, ultimately the results were the same. The dark man sat to Narcissa's left, swirling the deep red liquid around in his glass.

"She looked so perfect for him. The history she had in the Dark Arts was outstanding! I had such high hopes for her." There was the pout. Narcissa leaned to her right and rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "She was so beautiful too…" She sat up to drain her glass before her head dropped to Lucius's shoulder once more, turning her eyes to the dance of the flames. "If she could have just kept her mouth closed and her breasts in her dress during dinner, Severus would be a happy man right now." She grumbled, then raised her arm, shoving her empty glass in Lucius's line of sight, indicating her desire for more wine.

"He is still right here, Cissa." Severus's deep baritone sounded from beside her, giving her a slight start while Lucius refilled her glass with a steady hand.

Her gaze flicked over to the dark-haired man to her left without moving her head, and the pout on her face grew into a happy smile. The normally poised woman giggled. "Yes! Severus you are! How could I forget you?!" Narcissa sat up quickly from her position resting on Lucius, and launched across the couch at Severus, latching herself onto his arm somehow without spilling her fresh glass of wine. His black brows rose high at her display of affection, lack of self control, and her skills with a wine glass. "You must agree, she was gorgeous." She demanded gripping the arm of his robes. Needing to know, if only to understand better what type of woman Severus was attracted to. "She had such beautiful brown eyes…", her voice light and airy. "I want to carve them out of her despicable little face and feed them to the peacocks." Severus snorted into his glass, chuckling under his breath. A Malfoy for years, but definitely a Black by birth. She looked sideways at her husband as if seeking permission.

Lucius raised a meticulous silver brow at her, not entirely sure if he had really heard what she had just said. After a second longer he reacted, "Sweet Salazar, my lovely witch, I do believe that you've had enough." Before he plucked the fine crystal wine glass from her protesting fingers, she downed her remaining wine in one gulp. He shook his head at her childish antics and she grinned at him. "What the hell kind of wine is this Cissa?" He picked up the large nearly empty bottle from the table beside him.

Reading the label under his breath he let out a quick laugh, while she let go of a quietly chuckling Severus, sat up and began swaying slightly in her upright position between them, four full glasses in her system already. "Druid-made wine. You do realize they infuse this with venom, correct?" The mischievous smirk she gave him in return was enough to tell him she knew exactly what they'd been drinking. "Honestly woman, and I thought you were giddy when you drank whatever that red liquor was while we were in Egypt." He emptied the remains of the bottle between his glass and Severus's.

Narcissa was pouting again, and slowly leaning to the right until her head was resting once again on her husband's shoulder. With a small huff she returned her gaze to the fire. "You were letting that thing verbally abuse me in my own home!" Her face twisted into a sneer. "Flirt outrageously with my own husband, at my table right in front of me! Insult my home…" The petite blonde made a sound akin to an enraged hiss. "The tart nearly ripped her dress open trying to convince Sev!"

She attempted to swat Lucius on the arm, missed and was content to rub small circles on his chest instead. "Very strong wine sounded sensible. You, sir, are a cruel man, Luscious Malfoy." She giggled again, the slip-up of his name purely intentional. "Please? I only want to cut out her tongue. The things she said to me…" She snuggled closer into her husband's side. "Such a rude woman… Call me an old bitch… Send her home in tiny pieces… " Narcissa trailed off, voice getting quieter until her breathing had evened out. Severus and Lucius both glanced down at the sleeping woman between them. She was out like a light.

Severus spoke after nodding his thanks for the top-up. "Depending on the circumstance, her death or abduction could benefit us." He smirked into his glass before taking a sip. "I would have to take a closer look at the current terms of our alliance, but I'm sure I can come up with something." He knew exactly where that sheaf of parchment was, having an extensive filing system on all of their political assets, internal workings and various other things. Scandinavia being one of the more pressing concerns of late, hence the 'dinner'. Severus was one of the most well-informed men in Europe these days. If you had a secret, odds are he knew every detail. "If need be, of course."

Lucius chuckled from across the couch, though he was trying his best not to jostle his sleeping wife. "Whatever we do, I think it's best we look into it in the morning. I should get this one to bed." The fair-haired man looked down lovingly at the woman nestled into his left side. He moved some stray hair off of her face and smoothed a thumb over the apple of her cheek. Severus in turn, quickly downed the rest of the strong wine left in his glass. He stood quickly from his seat on the couch, swaying just a tad, causing both men to grin at each other. "Watch your step there, Sev. First one's a kick in the ass." Lucius smirked, "Do you remember the last time we had Druid-made wine?"

Severus walked a few steps and placed his empty glass on the table beside Lucius. "Vaguely." They shared another chuckle. "It's safe to assume this was Cissa's first taste. How she finally snuck in a bottle beneath our noses, I shall need to discover." Why was it that most of the time their meetings ended with alcohol? Severus swore an oath in his head he would answer that when he was sober and more capable of intelligent thought. "I can see myself out; take your bride to bed. I will stop by in the morning with that mint-flavored hangover potion she enjoys so much." He straightened his disheveled robes a little. They were formal and stiff, his usual black though one side of his collar was drooping. Expertly cut to fit his body perfectly, and ideal for concealing all manner of hidden weaponry. This set was exactly the type of thing to wear to a diplomatic event, which, if one had looked close enough, was as accurate a description of tonight's dinner as any.

Lucius looked relieved, as if he wouldn't have been able to find her one any other way. Which was mostly true; Narcissa was fastidious, preferring the taste of most of her long time friends' brews compared to the more readily available options of an Apothecary. "You have my thanks, old friend; she intends to take a few of her young ladies to Milan tomorrow." The blond man grinned tiredly, the wine finally getting to him.

As much as he complained, he really did enjoy just how much more active she had become, how enthusiastic she was towards the task laid before her. He was certainly impressed with her overall contribution. "Going shopping for the Ball next weekend. She'll be gone most of the day." They shared a conspiratorial smirk. "Without that hangover potion you'd ruin all my finely laid plans." Lucius himself was resplendent as usual, though the green suede tie that held his hair at the back of his head was askew and the man looked as if he'd walked through a fierce wind storm. Miss- whatever her name was had been playing with it, much to the horror of the rest of the table, at first the reaction was shared by Lucius himself, but the expression of Narcissa's face had been worth it. He simply adored when his little snake became aggressive. His hands slowly pulled the jeweled pins from his wife's hair, a soft smile on his face as the white blonde locks tumbled free from the complicated updo.

Severus rolled his eyes; it really was a wonder they only had the one child. "You shall have to disclose these plans of yours in the morning. I am not entirely sure I am coherent enough at present to propelery- properly contribute to them." He swayed once more, smirk on his face, as if he lost his balance even though he was standing still. "I hope you've more of that wine, Lu; we'll need it for Halloween." Raising a hand in farewell Severus left the room and closed the door quietly behind him, leaving the closest thing he had to family to their privacy.

It was often nauseating to watch them flirt and coo over each other like the ridiculous peacocks in their front gardens, but he was happy for them; they were still so very much in love with each other, even after these long years. He walked the opulent halls of the upper floor alone except for the quiet scuttle of busy house-elves, before he finally made it to the grand staircase. The quiet was a large change from just a few months ago, when the manor had still been the base of Lord Voldemort's operations and was bursting with Death Eaters. Now that their Lord had built his own stronghold, the Malfoys had returned to their lavish but quiet home life.

He reached the main entryway of the manor and its overly large white marble fireplace, which was the central Floo of the house. He almost perfectly mimicked the actions Narcissa had performed earlier that day while leaving his home, and the Floo powder swirled for a second in mid-air before shooting into the embers that were kept ready for this exact reason. The emerald flames burst forth loudly, echoing throughout the high ceilinged foyer. He stepped in, calling out the name of his home. "Durnemoor!" With the flash and loud roar of the flames in the silent hall, he was gone.

A house elf quietly cleaned away the soot from the stone and put the embers out with a snap of her spindly grey fingers. She was quick about completing the remainder of her duties. After all, once she finished up she had the rest of the night off to gossip with her fellows about how the foreign witch had propositioned their Master and Master Snape to a ménage à trios over the fourth course! How their Mistress had nearly lost her legendary composure. She was quite excited to share just how loudly the woman had been forced to leave the House of Malfoy. The elf giggled quietly as she made her way towards the kitchens and the elves' quarters, extinguishing ornate wall sconces as she went.

October 31st 1998

Saturday Evening

Muted cracks of apparition sounded in the busy vestibule as guests continued to arrive. Young un-masked Death Eaters stood around taking the cloaks of the people that were popping into existence around them. Mostly male, they were dressed in formal livery of dark green, crests of the skull and snake on their chests. Not having one to be checked, Severus exited the room through a set of expensive looking double doors.

Starting up the grand carpeted staircase his gaze shot upwards for a moment. Far above, the ceilings were covered in a spectacular moving mural of Potter's defeat and the decimation of Hogwarts. The journey the boy made alone into the forest, to Voldemort, to his death. The great castle burning and crumbling, collapsing to the ground. The battle between light and dark, ending in a vivid flash of green. It was beautiful and terrible, but incredibly well painted.

He was dragging his feet as best he could, making the trip up the stairs as slow as possible. With every step he had to work harder to push down the disgust that was boiling in his chest. Meetings he could deal with fine, the agents in his networks coming and going, not a problem. But these parties... He'd rather give Greyback a sponge-bath than be present at these events. As if to make matters worse, this party in particular was already quite tiresome, and he had yet to even be announced formally. This evening it was required of him and all others to wear a mask. Not their customary masks they had earned as Death Eaters, but decorative half masks of varying theme and color. Their Lord in all his wisdom had decided that a masquerade themed Halloween ball was in order.

Recalling pieces of that conversation, he remembered that the Dark Lord had professed his twisted desire to celebrate this first Halloween after his victory in a mocking, grandiose celebration of his first fall all those many years ago. Plus a small amusedly shared tidbit regarding his enjoyment of a similar event in his own school days long passed. The expression that had crossed the Dark Lord's face had been one of manic delight, and neither Severus nor Lucius were entirely sure they wanted further details as to why that was such an enjoyable night. Ever since their overwhelming triumph, the Dark Lord had come to confide in his two advisors increasingly more often. Never as equals, but much more than their high rank would usually afford them; though hardly a safe thing to say, it appeared as if Lucius and Severus were the closest thing to actual friends their Lord had had in a long time. If ever at all.

Thin lips twisted in a polite sneer, he nodded his head in greeting to Death Eaters and their wives who had stopped on the stairs to converse with others before joining the rest of the party themselves. The black and dark silver edged mask covering the top half of his face did little to disguise him in the crowd of loyal Death Eaters. For all the power and influence his position afforded him, all the useful scraps of information he'd collected that could ruin them all, things went smoother if the aristocrats you helped to rule over were amenable to you in ways that didn't include extortion.

Such was his life as the Left Hand. Being feared, respected and oddly trusted -obviously there were those that didn't trust him at all- were enormous aids to the faces he wore in public. As he walked, dark robes billowing behind him, his eyes took note of who was talking to whom, how close people were standing together, their alliances, what drew their gaze, his ears perked for any fragment of conversation that could be advantageous. Constantly prodding his magic at the listening charms placed throughout the entirety of the fortress. It was a poor Spymaster who didn't know the inner workings of his domain.

All too soon he reached the top of the staircase; before him stood thick dark stone slabs at least nine feet tall. Giant twisting stone columns of gleaming onyx serpents guarded either side of the intimidating entryway. The intricately carved and polished black granite served as the doors that led to the Dark Lord's ballroom.

They swung open smoothly and soundlessly of their own accord, granting him entrance into the enormous room. While he was climbing the flight of stairs he had heard the music growing louder as he approached, but with the doors now opened he was hit with the full force of the melody. Laughter and clinking glasses, the buzz of multiple conversations. This was the main body of their vast empire. Hanging from the high ceiling was an immense, exquisite crystal chandelier; its millions of tiny golden flames cast a warm light on the ballroom below. Glinting off heavily jeweled necks, accented the imposing uniform of the Death Eaters formal robes. In front of him was another young Death Eater -Stefan Whitten, his mind supplied the name- who was currently finishing off announcing the Malfoy Family. Good, he hadn't arrived too far behind them.

The grand staircase leading down to the dance floor was made of gleaming white marble with thin veins of black running through the stone, a richly made charcoal silk carpet down the middle. He watched the brilliant blond heads of his friends and godson slowly descend the stairs to join the throng of their peers. Discreetly he made sure his ornate black mask was still situated properly on his face before he made himself known to the young man, dark eyes continuing to survey the massive room in what was more habit now than purely survival.

The grandiose ballroom was crawling with lavishly clothed Death Eaters, their spouses, and older children. Nearly every marked Death Eater in Britain was in attendance tonight, those on assignment obviously excluded. He was already dreading having to speak to any of them. Would-be nobility, greedy, power-hungry aristocrats who would happily destroy each other as easily as they would dance and flirt. He watched Draco move away from his parents' side and head towards a group of finely dressed young people his age up on the balcony. The Malfoy heir was greeted with loud cheers, smiles, and a flute of champagne. It made Severus content to know that at least the boy was enjoying himself.

A wide balcony wrapped around the room overlooking the dance floor. Small groups stood intermittently, mingling, socializing. The air was heavy with conversation. Some were leaning on the ledge watching the dancers below. The groups changed speaking members as frequently as dance partners. Every so often someone would laugh loudly; the night had barely started and it was already looking to be a success. Spaced sporadically around the balcony, small tables of waist height stood against the wall to give a surface for resting a glass on.

House elves popped in and out of existence as they filled and received drink orders for the guests. Lively chatter blended with the melodies of an ensemble seated off-centre stage in an alcove under the balcony, yet audible in all corners of the ballroom. The smooth, polished dance floor was painted in a kaleidoscope of vibrant moving colors, varying expensive precious metals and fabrics, witches and wizards draped in enough jewels to make a dragon envious. A beautiful, expertly crafted mask sat on every face.

Some had themes that coordinated with the wearer's robes, Severus observed a young couple move away from the dance floor, one's face covered with the visage of a white swan, the other a fox. His dark eyes followed them as they wove through dancers on opposite ends of the ballroom before meeting and ducking quickly into the nearest alcove, where they began kissing. Rolling his eyes at the display of teenage hormones, but doing nothing to stop them, and why should he? Let them make fools of themselves. He turned his gaze away. Biting down his sneer. Appearance was everything is this room. He had, however, managed to note who they were before he looked elsewhere. 'The Dawlish girl, Marie? Maria? And Markus Haiming's son -eldest son- that could be advantageous. Are they even trying to hide?' Even his mental voice was sneering at their indiscretion. He was almost embarrassed for their fathers. Raising such idiot children. He shook his head, doing his best to refrain from scoffing audibly.

His eyes and ears had been painstakingly trained to pick up tidbits of information wherever he was and store them for later review. He could kiss the creator of the first Pensieve. If you wanted to hide your words or your motives, muffling charms were handy, yes, but too obvious in such a public venue. Though to a man with Severus's many talents and tendency to distrust, such charms were useless in his presence. Reading lips, body language and facial cues was one of the first of many skills he had acquired during his corrupt youth. Magical folk would protect themselves with charms to block sound, spells to shield thoughts and intrusion of the mind, but they never quite worried too much about such Muggle abilities of perception. They were deemed primitive, inconclusive. How could they trust such vague knowledge when magic worked perfectly fine.

Being able to stall no longer, Severus subtly cleared his throat behind the young green-robed Death Eater -who deserved credit for not jumping out of his shoes- and simply nodded his head once he had been acknowledged. Everyone here knew who he was; it was pure formality announcing him and Lucius at all, their masks nothing but frivolity. Then again, this entire event so far had been all about formalities and levity, every person invited had been announced to the room at large. Tonight was a celebration, but the wealthy and the powerful could afford to celebrate in style and extreme excess. Their ruler most of all.

Eyes still scanning the crowd as the young man announced his arrival to the ballroom, voice magically amplified. "Presenting The Left Hand of the Dark Lord, The All-Seer, The Minister of Intelligence, Master of Potions and Alchemy, Lord Severus Snape." Severus had begun his descent of the flight of marble the moment Whitten started speaking, inwardly groaning at the nickname that he had been officially labeled with. Nearly every head turned to acknowledge his arrival, though the complicated dancing never ceased for a second. He felt a small spark of amusement as he watched almost every guest visibly tense at his announcement to the ballroom.

He was a feared man; rumours that he had eyes and ears everywhere, that no secret was safe from him weren't something he had particularly encouraged, but he had not tried to stop them from spreading, either. Ultimately deciding that they were more useful for now than a hinderance. To the magical population at large, there was nothing Severus Snape couldn't find out, nowhere he couldn't get into. No one knew how, and it scared them. Too many of their own had been revealed as traitors, the evidence more than damning. Their Lord's Spymaster was a meticulous man when it came to his work. Traitors were dealt with swiftly and harshly, and depending of the severity, publically. Severus would be lying to himself if he said he didn't enjoy their fear, their wariness. That they had to hide that fear beneath pleasant smiles and kind words. He enjoyed it greatly; it was one of the finer points in his new life.

Understanding spread throughout the large crowd like Fiendfyre. With both of the Hands now present, it was only a matter of time before their Lord would be joining them as well. He could see mothers whispering to their children about their behaviour, the teenagers present had curbed their volume and straightened their postures. Every person in attendance mentally preparing for the enormous pressing weight of power that came with the presence of their Lord. Though it wasn't something easily seen. These people lived this, breathed this; this was life. Their movements subtle, their words near silent. The overall mood of the ballroom never changing, fear neatly hidden beneath lovely exteriors, blanketed by heavy fabric and muted with large jewels.

Severus finally caught sight of the dancing figures of the Malfoys, the pair a beautiful representation of the House colors. Hunter green and glittering silver spun elegantly in the middle of the glossy floor. They had been keeping their eyes out for him apparently, because as soon as he touched down on the last stair they ended their dance and made their way over to him, gliding arm-in-arm through the throng of dancing couples, which parted reverently as if for royalty.

Lucius and Severus shook hands, the blond wearing a small smirk situated on his face below the dark green mask. "You're here, mask and all. I must say I'm surprised that you are actually wearing it." He chuckled good-naturedly. Severus leaned down and gave Narcissa a kiss on the cheek. It was becoming an easier thing to endure all the eyes he could feel on them as they greeted each other.

"Your lovely wife insisted quite dramatically," was his reply, which earned him a scoff and an amused smile from Narcissa. The top half of her face was hidden beneath a silver mask, detailed with what he knew to be diamonds catching the light every time she moved her head. The trio moved off to the side away from the base of the staircase. From there they made their way towards another smaller staircase to begin their rounds up on the balcony; once they'd reached the top, a house elf greeted them with a low bow, a tray of drinks floating in front of the creature. As soon as a flute of champagne was in their hands the elf disappeared. "I happen to have a surprise for you Narcissa, though I sadly cannot say more until later this evening."

Ice blue eyes narrowed in Severus' direction. "You are a tease, and this had better be worth my while or I'll tell the Scandinavian where you live," she threatened before taking a sip from her glass. Her face lit up. "Oh! This is delicious." She sounded quite pleased. "I adore it when He takes my suggestions." A happy little smile on her face as she took another drink.

Lucius nearly spluttered into the glass he had brought to his lips as the words left his wife's mouth. He laughed quietly. "Of course He does; you've been planning parties in His name for years. Besides, I think after all this time He's developed a fondness for the Black sisters." Lucius wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her temple. "Go; find your witches my dear," he murmured, "make sure they are presentable and prepared for what lies ahead." With one last squeeze he let his arm drop to his side. Narcissa stepped away and smiled at them both, "You two be good, now. Don't get blood on the carpet." She gave them a dainty wave, the sound of her musical laughter following her as she floated off into the crowd of vivid colors, glittering skirts of spun silver outshining them all.

"I do hope this doesn't blow up in their faces," Lucius commented quietly to his best mate as he watched her leave. "Both of them are so eager to do this task properly. I was near positive one of them would be injured after that first week." Severus laughed under his breath, agreeing. "But they are managing to balance each other out; it's akin to looking into a Pensieve of their teenaged years." They walked slowly towards one of the waist-high tables that was not presently occupied. "It's rather disconcerting to say the least." Lucius leaned against the wall, resting his glass on the table between them. "I will say, though, that I am very pleased. Cissa has worked so hard to reconnect, Bella as well. This project has been just what they needed. I've never seen either of them so committed to somethi- well, that's a lie." The two shared a laugh as they received new flutes of champagne from an elf who promptly vanished.

"Indeed, I believe our dear Bella would sell her soul to jump into His bed," Severus replied, amusement clear in his voice. What a change from the man who had been the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dark and gloomy, grim facial features, and clearly not much to live for. He was still many of these things and more, but now the man smiled in public. "Though there is rumor going around that she has made attempts." Severus spoke softly into his champagne flute, a smirk on his face, one that Lucius mimicked. It was often one would see Severus and Lucius cracking dark-humored jokes at each other.

The conversation was broken every so often by laughter as the topics headed into more immature territory. It made them seem more approachable, more relatable, Lucius had stated one night. It told their soldiers and fellows that their leaders had a strong bond, that they were equals, unshakable, a team. Lucius said it gave their Death Eaters pride, boosted morale to see proof that they were part of something so important, so magnificent. That they were a part of something much greater than themselves. To which Severus had sneered at him in disgust and moved to a chair across the sitting room, taking the bottle of Firewhiskey with him.

Eventually a few of their brothers-in-arms had joined them, standing around the table. Joking and bantering as men do, their champagne had been quickly switched out for something much stronger. When it finally came to business later on in the night, they would all be given a sober-up potion, but for now they were free to celebrate. "Bulstrode!" Someone called in greeting as the large burly man joined the growing group of jovial men. The corner of the balcony had been completely taken over by the twelve men that now stood there. "Your girl is up tonight, is she not?" From there the conversation smoothly changed from amusing topics to those of the true reasons for gathering tonight. Severus quietly excused himself and slipped away to continue his walk around the balcony alone, leaving Lucius behind to attend to the men under his charge.

Two hours later Narcissa had somehow coerced Severus into dancing with her; they made small talk as they spun around the room: Severus's advances in his field, current side-projects, what Draco had been up to, the newest acquaintances and connections Narcissa had made, both of them taking in as much detail of the room around them as they could. "About that surprise," Narcissa began a tiny smile on her painted lips.

Severus raised a brow. "What surprise?" She narrowed her eyes and made to whack him in the arm, their steps never faltering, "Ah yes, that one. They'll be ready soon." He spoke quietly into her ear as they danced. "Though there are a finite number, so you must inform me how many you have. It may be the difference between needing to rank them." She was nodding along with everything he said, her face alight, eager to see them for herself.

"Wonderful! I knew that if anyone could figure it out, you would." The bright smile on her face dimmed. "Though, He still may want them Marked." She emitted a miniscule scoff that was disguised by someone else laughing loudly. She herself bore no Dark Mark, though Bellatrix did. She was proud of her unblemished skin; she was no soldier, she was not required to fight. Narcissa did and always would work better behind the scenes. It was just the direction her life had gone. In fact, she was the only person so high up on the rungs of the Death Eaters who was unMarked, which was sure to be addressed in the near future - not something she was too pleased about, an opinion buried deep. How did this woman make a shrug look so enchanting? "We shall see; they'll be presented with the rest of the initiates once He arrives." The song they had been waltzing to ended, every couple turning towards the orchestra and clapping politely.

Severus kissed her fingers before putting her hand into Lucius's waiting palm. "He has plans, Cissa; be prepared for anything at this point," he murmured softly before leaving the husband and wife to dance, the violins starting up once more. As Severus moved through the crowd back towards the staircase to the balcony, his mind was turning over each name to be presented tonight. For many, a great honor, for others… well, join or die had become the unofficial motto within the lower ranks. How true that could be. The Marking itself was not a pleasant experience, and there were those who had not survived the gruesome process. It was a depressing thought to think that some of the young adults to be brought forwards might not see sunrise.

Standing with his back against the wall, Severus rested one arm on the table beside him. He was watching Draco twirl a blonde girl his age around the dance floor; they had large matching smiles. He wondered if that was the younger or the older Greengrass when his thoughts were immediately cut short as the atmosphere of the room changed drastically. In mere seconds the temperature dropped at least 3 degrees. The orchestra ceased playing, all the dancers stopped. Every voice was silenced, a blanket of eerie quiet covering the enormous room. 'Sweet fucking Merlin, is He actually going to make a dramatic entran- of course He is…' Severus mentally groaned as the thick granite doors at the top of the main stair were thrown open with a thunderous crack, the people flinched as one at the sound. For all of Tom Riddle's years on this earth, he acted like a teenager some days.

Black noxious fog poured forth from the doorway and crept down the stairs in a trail of soot and black ash towards the gathered throng on the dance floor. Not a single scream sounded, but they all backed away from the advancing cloud. It was certainly reminiscent of how He had been ripped from his body on that Halloween night in 1981. Severus firmly stamped down the urge to roll his eyes as Lord Voldemort reconstructed Himself from the dark swirling void. The terrifying wizard strode forth, arms raised high into the light of the ballroom to resounding cheers and applause.

Instead of dissipating the dense smoke fashioned itself into robes blacker than what remained of His soul. Sunken crimson eyes swept the room, every man bowing, every woman dipping low in a curtsy, gazes averted in what was supposed to be respect but was more likely terror as the crushing mass of His power pressed down upon their shoulders. Uncomfortable on the backs on their necks, forcing them down into submission. His Death Eaters, His army, His Empire. His face split into a chilling grin. The visage of the Dark Lord had become increasingly more serpent-like since the final battle, the protrusions in His mouth more fang than tooth. They felt the strain recede from their backs, curling up and away from them, so that they could stand tall once more. Faces forwards, their full attention of Him. "So good of you all to join me tonight, on this the eve of my destruction!" He chuckled, a resonating sound akin to what Severus assumed a dying Thestral would make, which had the entire room laughing along with Him. Fear and nervousness well concealed by practiced tones of entertained delight.

Severus took one last look around the room before moving to the smaller staircase and towards his place beside his Lord. Lucius had done the same; with a small squeeze of Narcissa's hand the Malfoy patriarch moved away from his wife and through the throng to his position. They two men took their respective places, Lucius stood to the immediate right, and Severus to the left of the Dark Lord, who noted their presence with a small nod as the laughter died down.

He stalked around in front of the base of the grand staircase, black mist swirling in and out of reality behind Him. His immaculately dressed followers watching every move. "Now!" His great rasping voice was strong and firm as it ground into their minds, plucking at the cords of their consciousness. "Before we continue with the festivities, it has been brought to my attention we have new blood that wishes to join!" Voldemort lowered himself onto a giant throne-like seat that materialized out of the churning miasma that never seemed to leave His presence these days.

Sitting tall like an Emperor before His subjects, Lord Voldemort observed them all carefully, maniacal grin stretched across pale skin. "Come forth!" His voice rang through a hall so quiet you could hear a shoe scuff the floor. Eleven young people took steadying breaths, their hearts racing, before moving away from the relative comfort of their families and through the crowd towards the front. Stopping in line before their Lord and his Hands who stood on either side of what could only be described as a throne. Such a simple thing created from the darkest of magics. They had all bowed or curtsied low and maintained it until otherwise instructed. "I am pleased to see so many new faces. Fresh from Hogwarts as well; I expect great things from you all." He held out his left hand and Severus handed him a sheaf of parchment.

Skimming over the names the Dark Lord nodded to Himself, the expression on His face changing with each name. His voice echoed off the high ceilings, filling their cores with ice and the slow grip of dread, and commanded the utmost respect from the room. One by one He called a name off the list until all eleven had risen from their bow and held their head high, eyes focused forwards on the terrible creature they were promising their lives to. Five young men and six young women stood before Him awaiting His next words. "You choose this of your own free will? To swear your lives, your wands to me and my cause?" He spoke evenly, perfectly enunciating each word, His gaze fixated on their every move, every breath.

They all nodded their heads once simultaneously. "We do my Lord." They spoke as one voice like they had been directed by their betters. "We are Yours." He took the time to study each of their faces, their posture, and just as the eleven had been nearly positive He was going to delve into their minds one by one, He turned away.

Some of them visibly relaxed free from the immediate scrutiny, their shoulders dropping slightly. The Hands both leaned towards Him and murmured words obviously for his ears only, each of them offering their opinions on the group that stood before them. The Dark Lord was more interested in the young women who had come forwards, his bloody gaze having already sought out the exquisitely dressed figures of Narcissa and Bellatrix. Six! Six young women ready, willing and decidedly eager. He was overjoyed with their progress! An emotion made physically clear as the heavy presence of His magic permeating the air instantly felt more comfortable, more content than it had when He was merely satisfied and it was weighing down on them, muting the magical cores of those decidedly less powerful.

Beneath layers upon layers of shields and protections on his thoughts Severus was disgusted with himself and the medieval hierarchy that had become the norm. Lords and Ladies and all the bullshit that came with nobility. The more he learned about Pure-Blood culture and societal norms, the more he hated it and wanted no part of it, wishing he could escape it. Except if he did that, they'd actually kill him. Probably slowly and more thoroughly this time. Frankly, it was ridiculous; Lord Voldemort was essentially holding court. It wasn't some sort of dream or hallucination either, this was actually happening, this was the way of life now, the way of the powerful, the wealthy, the feared, the Pure. Severus was already making plans to later drown himself in alcohol, and the actual Marking ceremony hadn't even begun yet, and wouldn't for a while.

The Dark Lord spoke to the eleven before him, deciding their worth. "You will all remain. Gentlemen, return to your families, and rejoice! For later this night you shall receive the Dark Mark!" The five young men bowed once more before hurrying off into the throng, back to their loved ones. Excitement clear on each of their faces as they returned to proud parents or older siblings.

The six young women remained and had closed the line. The Dark Lord's attention once more rested on them, but the expression of his face was one he had used many times over in his life, though less now what with the disaster his rebirth had been. Even with this monstrous face, he still exuded charisma from every pore. The poor girls were enraptured more than they were terrified. It was no wonder some of them had been hand-picked by Bellatrix. He bid them closer, the quiet rustle of their gowns filled the air as they moved towards the throne. The seductive thrall of dark magic enveloped them in a visible manner as they felt the caress of darkness on their skin, soft sighs spilling from their lips. "You young ladies, you six will be the dawn of a new era, a generation of witches, no… Sorceresses!" His thin lips split wide in a grin revealing sharpened teeth. The alluring lilt of his voice pulling them deeper. This face was much more snake-like that the one Tom Riddle had worn, but did nothing to sway his skills. "The beginnings of an Order, a Sisterhood within the Death Eaters."

Pale skeletal hands waved Narcissa and Bellatrix forwards from the now speculating crowd to stand before their Lord, backs to the witches. They each bobbed a low curtsy. Severus and Lucius were doing their very best not to burst at the seams with laughter, having to work overtime to will their faces into neutral expressions. The Hands were of the same opinion when it came to Bellatrix. The Dark Lord continued, "Do you, Daughters of House Black, Wives of Houses Malfoy and LeStrange vow to protect, educate, train and command these witches and those who will come into your future care, to the very utmost of your abilities, knowledge and skills?"

Severus was shocked to say the least, needing to school his expression for an entirely new reason now. This was mountains more official and formal than he thought the introduction of the witches would be! This was different; this was not something he had been privy to and it made him mentally bristle no matter how much he'd been expecting their enigmatic Lord to throw them a curve. No one had said a damn thing about magically binding vows! He had assumed they'd be Marked, yes, but not something like this! A quick glance to his right told him Lucius was feeling much along the same lines as he; that was his wife up there after all. His wife who had obviously left out details of her own agenda.

Bella appeared more professional and put together than she probably ever had, at least since before she spent years residing inside the walls of Azkaban. The terrifying prison now held their enemies instead. Hands clasped politely before her, resting on the dark burgundy fabric of her gown, posture straight and tall. An air of supreme confidence surrounded her. Sheer black material hung over her shoulders and trailed down to the floor. The low cut of her gown more than alluring as the time out of prison had done wonders for her natural curves. Head held high, the mayhem that was her thick heavy black curls had been pulled back and styled in an elegant updo, pins encrusted with glittering rubies holding it together. With her hair pulled back, her face was uncovered and the usual deranged smile that made its home there had been replaced with one of cold assessment, though the gifted could see the tell-tale frenzied glee as her dark eyes flicked over every inch of each witch.

The sisters carefully removed their masks and turned to face the six young witches, their wands now in hand. "I Bellatrix Black LeStrange make this vow, bound by magic and sealed in blood." She slid her wand tip across her palm, slicing open the skin and let the blood pool in her palm. Narcissa repeated her elder sister's actions to the dismay of her husband. In the crowd, with the younger Greengrass daughter tucked into his side, Draco watched with fascination and insatiable curiosity, if not a tiny bit of horror. Still unable to forget the trauma that was his sixth year at Hogwarts.

"I Narcissa Black Malfoy make this vow, bound by magic and sealed in blood." Without a wince or even a blink she drew the wand-tip across her skin, fresh crimson filling the bowl she had curled her hand into. She didn't care much at this point what her husband thought; she knew he would understand. He had to. It's why neither of them could know before now. Overactive hatch-lings the both of them. They didn't have the anatomy to understand the power they as witches could wield. The Dark Lord had a working knowledge of the school and design of this type of magic, having studied it in his youth, and so they had been sanctioned to move forwards. This was the beginning of something wonderful, some new adventure. She could feel it thrum in time with her pulse.

Narcissa was a sharp contrast to her older sister, though her hair was styled in a similar fashion, it was held tight atop her head with a net of tiny diamonds. Shimmering silver skirts, a tight laced corset, the outer shell consisting of albino peacock feathers. Tight sleeves woven from wisp-cotton gave the woman an overall ethereal glow. They both dipped their fingers in the small well of blood they held in their palms, and moving in the opposite direction of each other, marked each witch with a diagonal line. Once finished the six, heads still high, chins up, proud expressions on their young faces, had an X painted in blood on their foreheads.

Narcissa and Bellatrix spoke as one, finishing what was apparently a binding ritual or some sort. It was not one Severus had ever heard of before, and he used to pick Albus Dumbledore's brain. He wasn't even sure what language they were chanting. They clasped hands, pressing their bloodied palms tightly together. "Viid bina galdur, okkar ograc, salir sokatda saejil!" Their words echoed in the silent ballroom, the whispering guests had stopped as their attention was drawn elsewhere.

Blood magic. The Black sisters were using blood magic. Their joined hands began to emanate a void of light, not color, not black, just… not. It curled around their fingers, encircling their hands completely before it receded as fast as it came forth. Seeping into their pale skin, through the free-flowing gashes in their palms, which when they drew back from each other, had healed over.

"These are your mentors; follow them, learn from them. Become what I know you have the talent to be." The Dark Lord's voice was calm, controlled, but the power felt behind His words was palpable to the six entirely stunned young women. Narcissa and Bellatrix had just vowed -with some incredibly dire consequences- to protect them and teach them with all they had. "They will be your guides in the times to come." Narcissa and Bellatrix recognized the dismissal, turning to face Him, they dipped in low curtsies, bowing their heads in deference to the Dark Lord. Masks in hand they rose and swept from the dance floor-turned throne room, the six young women following quickly behind them up the grand marble staircase and out the large granite doors.

The gathered crowd of Death Eaters, their spouses, and older children fell into quick whispers of speculation, trading rumours and what little knowledge about the matter they thought they had. Lucius strode forwards to speak, his eyes reading over the parchment he was holding one last time. "The masquerade had come to an end; those of you unMarked may leave. We wish you a pleasant night and safe travels home." Many of the women and those older still unMarked children bid their peers and their Lord a good evening before disappearing up the stairs and through the large stone doors.

The heavy granite swung slowly closed as the last to leave made it over the threshold, the scrape of stone on stone similar to what one would hear when sealing a tomb. Attention returned to Lucius as he cleared his throat. "Tonight we have the pleasure of witnessing the execution of the one who foretold our Lord's demise!" He spoke loudly, enjoyment evident in his tone, and the whispers were traded out with full-blown excited gasps and cheers from the those that remained.

Every one a faithful Death Eater, or in the case of five young men, soon to be. "My Lord, might we present to you a gift." Lucius signaled another Death Eater, who opened a hidden door behind a facade of stone. Bound heavily, a rat's nest for hair, bruised and beaten, and lead by the chains encircling her wrists, ankles and neck, the 'gift' was shoved to the immaculate floor by the guard. Given only a threadbare roughspun tunic to wear, the figure huddled at the feet of Lord Voldemort, who sneered down from his throne at the quivering sack of flesh with clear disdain. "May I introduce to you the Seer Sybill Trelawney."