The other change was more subtle; in fact, had I not happened to be looking in the right direction at the time, it would have slipped past me, unnoticed. It was the mangy cat that was Alastor Moody’s Animagus form. I felt a fresh wave of bitterness flood up inside me, wondering if Dumbledore had set up his own spy on me, or if Moody were Dumbledore’s guard, but surely he would have been surplus to requirements, the old buffer having the option he always used of changing to his own alter ego. I was too tired and too bitter to think it through though, and it just attached itself to the growing list of questions I had to ask, not at all sure then of whom I would ask them.

I got to the warehouse before I even wondered just where I had intended going, and found that that dingy concrete and wooden block, with its windows set high in the walls to discourage intruders, now broken by a generation of stone-throwing youngsters with nothing much better to do, was my final destination. I rummaged in the dirty corners to see if there were anything worth sitting on, but it seemed that Lucius had already picked the most suitable seat, and I found myself sitting on the upturned box he had used the day before. At least I had the whisky, I thought sourly, as I unscrewed the gold cap on the first green triangular bottle, and tipped it to my lips.

I don’t suppose I was alone for long, just a few drinks, just enough for the false warmth to begin to spread through me, only to leave a chill of a different sort in its wake. I watched the black dog as he slipped through the door and stopped, looking around at nothing, and then sniffing the air. For a moment I felt strangely overwhelmed that he had come, or perhaps just that someone bothered; I suppose the whisky had already made me maudlin. I should have guessed he would be able to scent past the charm I had cast around myself to the wretch beneath.

‘Go back, dog, to the warmth of the hearth,’ I said. ‘There is nothing here for you.’

Black took that as an invitation, and I heard again the soft swishing noise of him doing his transformation. Of course, he could see me now, now that he knew I was there, and he turned over a smaller box and sat down. He was so tired that he seemed barely to have the strength to look across at me, which was hardly surprising for an injured man who had had no sleep.

‘What say we head back now?’ he asked, shivering in the cold. ‘You and I have got a lot of planning to do, and we can’t do that without sleep.’

I found it so hard to back down, filled to the brim as I was with righteous indignation, as though someone else had thrown me out of my own home, and it was not up to me alone to go back.

‘Dumbledore’s gone,’ he added. ‘And Lucius is becoming a bit difficult.’ He looked across at me and found me unmoved. ‘I can’t deal with him alone, Snape … he’s going to be a monster.’

I sighed at the thought of that, trying to remember what rush of nobility had prompted me to take Malfoy to Spinner’s End in the first place, and I found myself nodding reluctantly.

‘Where did Dumbledore send Andromeda?’ I asked, ignoring the fact that she hadn’t left alone. ‘Hogwarts?’

He watched me, and I knew he hadn’t wanted me to ask that, not just yet, not until he got me to agree to going back. ‘They’ve gone to the Potters,’ he said. ‘James’s parents have taken them both in … Dumbledore didn’t think Ted was safe either.’

I supposed that was true; Riddle had plenty of people who could scout around in the Muggle world. ‘Why is it any safer there than Spinner’s End?’ I asked.

‘I don’t think safety had anything to do with it, Severus,’ he replied. ‘I think … fuck it … I know Dumbledore was concerned about you and Andromeda.’

‘What business was that of his?’ I flared. ‘It’s hardly my fault if the old busybody hasn’t got anyone to get his leg over, and thinks that no one else should.‘

Black sighed. ‘You know he thinks the distraction, never mind the complication, isn’t one you can afford.’

‘That’s what he told you?’ I hissed. ‘That Andromeda distracted me? Did I allow her to stop me going to the manor a second time to see if I could help you and Lupin? Did it stop me going to Lupin with you last night?’ I demanded it all in an accusing rush, one that somehow made me feel ashamed at using him as my target by default.

‘I didn’t actually get as far as asking him,’ he admitted. ‘I sort of fell out with him first.’

‘Why?’ I asked, and it took me a moment to understand that for myself. Of course Dumbledore would have had little option; too much had happened at Spinner’s End for it to become public knowledge, too much danger for Andromeda to remember it all, but even then I gasped my outrage, as tears that I would never shed in my lifetime scalded the back of my throat, and I pretended to blame the whisky.

‘Look, Severus, I know how you feel,’ he said.

‘You know fuck all about how I feel.’ I stood up from my box and went to the corner to get the rest of the whisky; I certainly wasn’t leaving it a third time. I wasn’t sure how to bear the fact that if Dumbledore had Obliviated Andromeda’s memories of Spinner’s End, she would remember nothing. It would be between us as though we had parted that last time at the manor in bitterness, and the chance Black had given me, the one I had finally taken, would be nothing but another pathetic fantasy.

‘Yes … I do … I know how it feels for the memories you thought you shared with someone you loved, to suddenly be yours alone,’ he said, stopping me in my tracks.

I closed my eyes, for a couple of seconds longer than a blink. Of course he knew; hadn’t he not only lost his love, but had had to come to terms with never getting it back? It was, after all, only with life that there also came hope.

*****

Black went in front of me, but Lestrange seemed not to notice him; he was probably fed up with dogs. It was only when I passed him by that I remembered about Moody having been there earlier, and wondered if he had indeed been the guard for Dumbledore. I cast my thoughts about, but couldn’t find any trace of him. I hoped I’d remember to ask Black about him, but for now I needed to reclaim my sanctum sanctorum, and get some sleep.

I squared my shoulders as I pushed the living room door open, but Ethel was in her picture, busy pottering about in her garden, and only took the time to wave out at me and tell me she’d left a snack on the table, and to hurry in case Lucius ate everything. As it happens she was wrong about that.

Lucius sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, the food untouched, something remarkable in itself. He raised his head when Black and I closed the door, and I could see he was seething with a confusing mixture of accusation, anger at being left alone for so long, and fear. He hadn’t shaved either, something I hadn’t noticed earlier, but thought very odd for one normally so perfectly presented, the fact that he was still wearing the day before’s clothing notwithstanding.

‘Is anyone going to tell me just what the fuck is going on?’ he demanded.

‘Can it wait until tomorrow, Shirley?’ Black asked, reverting to the name I had heard him call Lucius behind his back in his Hogwarts days.

Malfoy flared his nostrils in anger, rewarding Sirius’s remark by subconsciously tossing his ridiculous blond locks over his shoulders, and turned to face me. ‘Why have you brought him here, Severus?’ he asked, as though Black were trespassing in the manor instead of my home.

‘I didn’t,’ I said, picking up a rather appetising looking roast beef sandwich from the otherwise untouched platter. ‘Like you, Lucius, he just arrived on my doorstep, and like you, I took him in.’

Malfoy looked away as Sirius helped himself to three sandwiches, one he stuck in his mouth, and the other two in his pocket. ‘I’m going to bed, Snape,’ he said around the mouthful of bread and rarely roasted beef. ‘Where do I sleep?’

Lucius looked back at him when he said that, and I didn’t miss the speculative look he gave Black, albeit this time tinged with puzzlement.

‘Wherever you find a room that is not mine,’ I replied, sitting down opposite Malfoy. I was going to have to spend just a little time with Lucius, I supposed; it wasn’t fair, or safe, to just leave him alone again whilst I slept for what I suspected was going to be the best past of a day. There was no knowing what he could get up to with only Ethel there, not with the mind talents he had at his disposal. I needed to know just where Lucius stood, and I really needed to know before he was left to own devices for too long.

‘What’s going on, Severus?’ he asked me again as Black closed the door behind him.

‘What has Dumbledore told you?’ I asked.

‘Nothing. He had a few angry words with Black and left just after he did.’ He looked down, and I could see he was struggling to find somewhere to begin, but I was so tired now, and I didn’t feel much up to beating about the bush.

‘I’m going to turn your question to you,’ I said. ‘What’s going on, Lucius? Why are you here?’

‘For the same reason as Black, and you, and Andromeda was. I have nowhere else to turn,’ he said, his pale grey eyes wide and ingenious. ‘I have to break away … and Riddle has given me that chance, had he but realised it.’

I didn’t say anything, but I found it as confusing as it was disturbing that his mind was a soft blank wall.

‘You don’t trust me, do you?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I admitted. ‘I cannot afford to.’

‘Yes you can,’ he hissed. ‘We can thwart him, Severus. Thwart him from within, from where he is entitled to expect it least.’

Of course, that was pretty much what I intended to do anyway, but I seemed to be acquiring passengers at an alarming rate, and I wasn’t used to so many demands on me. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I replied, wondering why I was bothering to feign loyalty to Riddle.

‘Don’t take me for the idiot you know I am not,’ he snapped.

‘I know no such thing,’ I replied. ‘I only know that you are the epitome of everything Riddle admires, and now you seek to tell me that you wish to betray him in some way.’ It was his turn to be silent, but I needed more, and he knew I could not accept his disloyalty to the Dark Lord’s teachings at face value. I needed proof to take him into any confidence, and he already knew far too much. ‘What of your family?’ I asked, changing tack. ‘Will Abraxas not seek you out and convince Riddle to take you back into his favour?’

‘I have played the idiot for long enough for my father to want to wash his hands of me,’ Malfoy replied, and I began to wonder if he were playing a very clever, though dangerous, game. ‘He was quick enough to get rid of Lucretia when her existence threatened to sully the perfection of the Malfoy façade.’

‘The Malfoy family needs a new heir, Lucius,’ I pointed out. ‘Abraxas is no longer a young man, and right now the continuity of the line hangs on your weakest breath. Abraxas will not allow you to be out in the cold for too long,’ I went on, as he looked away from me again, clearly uncomfortable. ‘Why not go to Narcissa?’

He let out a suspiciously wavering sigh as a reply, but I cautioned myself not to take anything about him as genuine, not until he proved himself to me in some way. I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me, all but leaving me totally exhausted. I think he finally understood just how tired I was, and that I was not going to make any decisions until I could think clearly. He held up his manicured hands in some sort of submission as I removed my wand from its slim pocket.

“Just use the stone, dear,” Ethel’s voice said into my mind. “The white stone will not trust anyone with a dark heart.”

“Why didn’t Dumbledore know that?” I sent the thought back.

“Albus does not know everything, Severus,” she chided. “And I have known that stone for almost eight hundred years. Anyway,” she went on reasonably, “you had taken it with you.”

I smiled to myself; sometimes the most profound questions had ridiculously easy answers. I put my wand back and slipped the stone from my pocket, laying it on the table between myself and Lucius. Malfoy frowned and lifted the stone, and I quite clearly saw it throb in his palm, before he closed his hand over it in what almost looked like a possessive gesture.

‘What is this?’ he whispered, as though fully aware that it was not just any old white stone. ‘What is its power?’ He shook his head a little, as though confused, and laid the stone back on the table between us. ‘I’m really tired, Severus,’ he murmured. ‘Can this wait until tomorrow?’

‘Of course,’ I concurred gladly, wondering why Ethel had gone through the rigmarole of the stone when she had managed to put Black to sleep so easily the first day he had arrived.

Lucius stumbled to his feet, seemingly as exhausted as I felt. ‘Where shall I sleep?’ he asked, the same question Black had asked.

‘You haven’t been shown your room?’ I asked, rising to my feet too, relieved as I somehow understood that however long I slept, Lucius would sleep too. ‘Where did you sleep last night?’

‘No,’ he said, giving me his hurt, “I have been wronged” look. ‘No one spoke to me at all … I just woke up on a settee in the room next door … I don’t even recall sitting down on it.’

I didn’t think that was very fair; it was one thing to have an unwelcome visitor, but quite another to treat him as though he didn’t exist. I wondered why that had been, and found myself contentedly shifting the blame onto Dumbledore’s shoulders; it certainly didn’t sound like Ethel’s way of doing things.

‘Follow me,’ I said, ‘and we shall both discover the wonders of this house. You know about as much as I do at this point in time.’

I hadn’t the vaguest idea which room Black had gone into. I hadn’t ever seen behind three of the doors which now led off the top landing; in fact I was sure there had only been two new ones the last time I had been upstairs. I got lucky; the first room I opened was empty, and Lucius made no comment at all as he closed the door.

At last I was alone, and I stood on the top landing for a moment, hardly even noticing that it had become a corridor to accommodate the new rooms. I wondered if the third of them had been for Andromeda and Tonks, but put the thought away; I needed sleep, not maudlin insomnia. I made my way to my own bedroom, to the room I had shared with Andromeda for two precious nights, trying not to remember that, as Black had so succinctly put it, the memories of those nights were now mine alone. But I had to stifle my gasp as I breathed the air, and caught the scent of wild summer roses after the rain, the scent of her; and I looked at the bed, and imagined I could still see the dent her head had made on the pillows; and I had to resist the urge to scream my impotent fury at the uncaring walls.

*****

I slept for about fourteen hours, and was awakened only by the smell of the smoke from what was presumably Black’s cigarette, wafting up the stairs and coming through even the closed bedroom door. I tried to ignore it, tried to get back to sleep, but it invaded my senses, reminding me that this was first day of the rest of my life, and it was today that I had to try to put my failures behind me.

It was only when I was about to immerse myself in the bath I had drawn that the Dark Mark surfaced, from where it had been lingering all that time in my subconscious, to the very top of my awareness. It was like a sickening jolt, one to remind me that whenever I put away all of the other things that troubled me to the dark corners of my heart, the Mark would rise to fill the void, to take up the slack, so to speak. That panicked me, that I would never have any rest from some sort of torment, and it took me a moment to remember about the white stone, and another to wonder if I could glean some solace from it. I found that if I laid the white stone at the side of the bath that the Dark Mark seemed, perhaps not to be subdued, but that some buffer was placed between it and me. That both comforted me and worried me; if the Mark could be so easily cowed, perhaps Mordestone would recognise the stone, as Dumbledore had hinted it might do.

Despite a long warm bath and dressing in comfortable clothes, I felt groggy and slow, as though had I had slept too long and had awoken un-refreshed. I left my room and squared my shoulders, and I was halfway down the stairs when I remembered about Lucius. I was almost tempted to leave him in some sort of suspended animation for a few days, but that wasn’t to be. I had only just turned to haul myself back up the stairs to awaken him, when the door to his room opened, spilling the quintessential Slytherin demi-god into the hall. He had shaved, but I could see how disgruntled he was about wearing the clothes he had already worn for two days. Black had been right; before Lucius opened his mouth to complain I had already come to terms with the fact that he was, indeed, going to be a monster.

‘Next time you go to the manor, Severus,’ he said, foregoing wishing me a good morning, or a good whatever other part of the day it was, ‘you will have to bring me some clothes back. Will that be today?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ I replied, and turned to go down the rest of the stairs. ‘Perhaps you should send for an elf or two to do your bidding.’

‘If I am to be a guest in this house,’ he remarked to my back, ‘I would expect to be treated as such.’

I didn’t even reply, but felt somehow gratified at the thought of the culture shock Lucius was about to be dealt. I had shoved the living room door open, and now found the smell of Black’s cigarette to be rather pleasantly mingled with the aroma of coffee and toast wafting through from the kitchen.

Black looked a lot better than he had the day before. He was sitting reading the Daily Prophet with his legs slung up on the kitchen table, the paper in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other and a cigarette dangling from his lips; I couldn’t see the point really, as he was going to have to put something down to take the cigarette from his mouth before he drank the coffee.

‘Morning,’ he grunted, leaving all his props exactly where they were.

The Prophet had become pretty much Riddle’s mouthpiece over the past few months, and every day it had taken to publishing a list of those wanted for whatever atrocity was Riddle’s fancy that day. That day was no exception, and Black shoved the paper across the table, stabbing his finger on pictures of himself and Lupin under a headline: “Wanted: for Deviant Practices”.

But I was still thinking about the headline I had seen before he spread the paper on the table, the one that read: “Where is the Heir?” I had an uneasy feeling that the missing heir was the one who had sat at Black’s side, and was even now reaching for the toast, with a discontented pout which didn’t really suit him at all. Lucius had noticed the headline of course, and he stuck a piece of toast in his mouth, before frowning and turning the paper over to scan the article. It didn’t really say much, just a bit of speculation about the fact that Lucius had not been seen for a few days, and I thought it odd that such an unimportant matter merited the day’s headline. That apart, it had only been two nights since Lucius had left Malfoy Manor, and as Riddle was quite clearly in charge of the Prophet, I found that gave me something else to worry about.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Lucius asked no one in particular, picking up the paper again. ‘It says “Our source at Malfoy Manor informed us that the heir to Malfoy Estates has not been seen for several days”. That’s crap,’ he snapped indignantly. ‘I was there the day before yesterday; in fact I hadn’t moved out of the ruddy place for … well, not since…’

‘You arrested me?’ Black asked helpfully.

‘Exactly,’ Lucius concurred, with what sounded suspiciously like aplomb. ‘And that was only … well, a few days ago,’ he muttered.

Black sat back and lit another cigarette, and I stifled the urge to reach across the table and knock it out of his hand, and the even more overwhelming desire to help myself from the packet he left on the table. He had a thoughtful look on his face, and his almost ever-present frown deepened and then cleared. He flicked the paper open again to where his own “wanted” noticed was, and stabbed it with the hand that held the cigarette.

‘This is really quite good, Severus, you know,’ he said. ‘We can use this … and get shot of Shirley at the same time.’

Malfoy’s nostrils flared dangerously at Sirius’s use of the Hogwarts nickname again, but he seemed to save whatever comment he had lined up for later, concentrating instead of the rest of what Black had said. ‘What do you mean by “use it”, Black?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘You’ll go back to Malfoy Manor with your prize, and that will whip the rug from under Abraxas’s feet, and make you the hero in Riddle’s eye … for a time at least,’ Black replied.

‘What prize?’ Lucius asked, ‘Make yourself clear, Black, if you are in any way capable of doing so.’

‘Me,’ Black said, grinning like a maniac. ‘You were sent to find Sirius Black, weren’t you? … And with Sirius Black will you make your triumphal return.’

‘You’re insane,’ Lucius retorted. ‘He’ll kill you this time.’

‘No he won’t … not when he understands my loyalty to him.’

‘What loyalty?’

‘I am about to become a Death Eater too,’ Black said, spreading his hands disarmingly. ‘After all, I’m a perfect candidate.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Lucius objected, and I sat back listening to their arguments, and the pros and cons, as I tried not to let the feeling of euphoria wash through me that indeed I would have men I could trust, well, one I could trust and one I would have to keep a steady eye on. ‘You’re shop-soiled goods, Black,’ Lucius went on. ‘You’re a ruddy Gryffindor. And … well, not to put too fine a point on it, you’re homosexual, or at least Riddle believes you to be so.’ He nodded to where the paper still displayed Black’s picture and its assertion to his deviant practices.

‘So is Riddle,’ I put in quietly, breaking my silence for the first time since I had come into the kitchen.

Lucius pulled back at that. For a moment he looked as though he were going to scoff his disbelief, but he paused to think about it, the smooth Malfoy forehead creased in concentration, and it struck me again that he was not the fool had let others think him to be. Then he nodded slowly. ‘You know, I think you are right.’ He gave me a long look. ‘Is that the attraction you hold for him, Severus? Does he seek to take you as his own?’

There it was again, that assumption which had cropped up so often in the past few days that I was beginning to wonder just how I had portrayed that image, one that was completely alien to me.

‘Riddle sees what he wants to see,’ I remarked as cryptically as I could. Lucius didn’t need to know anything about Aqua Vitae, and if he ever spilled any knowledge of it, I would know it had come not from me, but from Riddle. Not exactly a foolproof acid test of his loyalty, I knew, but one that would always be around all the same.

Lucius gave me a hard look, one that I recognised as him feeling more in command of himself, and I admitted that was good; it was when Lucius became unsure or frightened he would be dangerous, and like a rat trapped in a corner, I suspected he would find the quickest way to safety, even if that included betraying those who had placed any trust in him.

‘He’ll still kill Black,’ he said. ‘He had sent me down to the cellars that day to bring him to his presence, and I suspect that was his intention.’

‘I doubt that,’ Black replied. ‘Why keep me alive at all?’ Why not just kill me and Lupin immediately?’

Lucius shrugged, and I realised that had been something that had puzzled me as much as it seemed to puzzle him. ‘And what of my father?’ he asked, changing direction. ‘He is hardly likely to welcome my return.’

‘Of course he will,’ Black argued. ‘He will seek to marry you off to Narcissa and secure the Malfoy line before the year is out.’

Lucius suppressed a shudder. ‘I cannot marry that shrew.’

‘Assert yourself, for the love of Merlin,’ Black grunted, the cigarette back in place at the corner of his mouth. ‘She’s only a girl; surely you can teach her her place in the pecking order.’

‘I still think he’ll kill you.’ Lucius went back to his original argument, obviously not wanting to discuss his betrothal to Narcissa, and I found it mildly gratifying that he had not just latched onto Black like the trophy he was going to purport to be. ‘However did you get away anyway?’ he asked. ‘The door was locked … and that wand … did you steal Bella’s wand at school?’ he asked. ‘I confess it rather got me off the hook.’

Black turned to me, not even bothering to veil his accusation. ‘You gave me that harpy’s wand?’ he spluttered. ‘You gave me a wand belonging to Bellabitch? How could you, Severus?’

‘I didn’t know it was hers,’ I confessed, letting my eyebrow rise. ‘Would you have preferred me to have left you to your own devices?’

‘So it was you?’ Lucius had latched onto that remark and it implications. ‘You did go into Lucretia’s room when you were looking at the old books. I though you took rather a long time,’ he said, looking down, clearly uncomfortable. ‘And the next I knew I had an Imperius Curse on me and I couldn’t move, and Riddle and my father were going towards you.’ He looked back up in appeal. ‘I knew you were up to something, that’s why I waited at the end of the row, but I couldn’t warn you, Severus. You’ve got to believe me.’

I was about to remind myself about caution again when I felt the stone throb in my pocket, and I wondered whether it meant danger, or if it meant me to believe in Lucius.

“I’m not sure either, dear,” Ethel’s voice sounded in my mind. “Sometimes it can be a bit vague.”

That was no help at all, of course, but for all that I felt that I was moving along somehow, and that somewhere, even if it were only in my own mind, I was beginning to draw up my battle lines. I even found I had troops of my own, and that in turn cheered me enormously.

I liked the thought of Black joining me, and tried to make the logistics of that more important in my mind than just being relieved I wouldn’t be so alone. But Malfoy was right, we were going to have to come up with something good to get Black off the hook as well as Lucius. It was just then that Ethel decided to come out of her picture and join us in the kitchen.

Black grinned and nodded to her as she moved over to the cooking range, and Lucius spoke to her over his shoulder. ‘When you’ve finished there, put some more towels in my bedroom.’

I saw Ethel stop stirring whatever she was stirring, just as Black suppressed a snort of rather mischievous laughter, and I have to admit I was quite intrigued as to how Ethel would react to Lucius’s apparent misconception about her status in the house. But Lucius still had a bigger hole to dig for himself.

‘And while you’re at it,’ he added, this time without even bothering to turn at all, ‘make sure that I have lavender scented silk sheets; I don’t care for anything else.’

Ethel ignored him completely. ‘Breakfast, Sirius dear,’ she said, laying a veritable heap of crispy bacon and lightly scrambled eggs in front of him, as he rewarded her with a very Gryffindor wink. ‘Now eat it all up, dear. I don’t want to see you as peaky looking as you’ve been.’

She moved away from the table again, and this time when she came back from the stove she brought me a plate of equally crispy bacon and some dry toast and buttered mushrooms. She moved away yet again, and this time when she returned she sat in her own spindly little chair, rearranging her voluminous skirts to her satisfaction, and then lifting her toast to her mouth to nibble on it, much the way a little mouse would. Lucius’s face was a study in shocked indignation.

‘Does the hired help normally eat with you, Severus?’ he asked, as Black snorted unhelpfully into his coffee cup again. ‘Come to think of it, she’s a touch over familiar for my taste too … and she seems to have forgotten my breakfast,’ he said, only then gritting his expensive dental work and glaring at her.

‘Are you hungry, dear?’ Ethel asked innocently. ‘If you are, the larder’s right over there. Just help yourself.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Lucius spluttered, and then turned to me again as some sort of realisation began to dawn on him. ‘Who is she? Why can’t you just buy an elf like everyone else, Severus?’ he added, looking around the admittedly beautiful kitchen, with its burnished copper pots and old wood. ‘You’re obviously not strapped for cash.’

‘I, my dear, am Aunty Ethel,’ she declared grandly. ‘And as an elderly lady of high station, gentle birth, and good breeding … not that a Malfoy would have a notion of the true meaning of those … I expect to be treated with respect. That apart, Lucius, we treat everyone in this house in the way they treat us, irrespective of what someone like you may consider to be their social standing. Once you get the straight of all that, Lucius dear, I shall make your breakfast. Bacon, fried eggs, sunny side up, and brown toast, if I’m not mistaken?’

Lucius’s arrogance leaked out of him like air out of a punctured balloon. ‘Someone could have introduced me,’ he grunted in accusation, and that much was true, I supposed. To give him his due, his own upbringing sprang to his rescue, and it never ceased to amaze me how someone with such overweening arrogance could also be possessed of such exquisite manners, and on the few occasions that it was demanded, such disarmingly modest charm. It struck me then just what an accomplished actor Malfoy was, and that it was all a game to him; I just hoped he wasn’t playing with loaded dice.

He stood from his place and walked around to Ethel, gave a courtly little bow, which on another man would have looked ridiculous, and lifted the knotty old hand Ethel held out to him to his lips. He kissed it once. ‘Madam, forgive me,’ he said. ‘All accusations you lay at my door are justified. Know this though, Aunty Ethel,’ he said, without a trace of self-consciousness, ‘…if I may presume to address you like that … I admit to being an arrogant, and perhaps on occasion ignorant, man, but believe me, madam, I am not a bad one.’

“No, I don’t think he is a bad man,,” Ethel’s voice sounded in my mind. “However, Severus, he is a weak one, and equally dangerous for that fact.”

I was glad of one thing, glad that she had summed him up in much the same way as I had done myself, and wondered just where that left me.

‘You could get away with murder just for being a ruddy gentleman,’ Black retorted as Malfoy sat down to the breakfast that had appeared on the table, his humiliation reversed to his satisfaction. But there was no real malice on Black’s part, and I began to hope that we could at least work together somehow.

‘Indeed, Black. Perhaps you should try it out for yourself one day,’ Lucius agreed magnanimously. ‘More to the point though, can you get away with pretending to Riddle that you have done a miraculous volte-face and now wish to become a Death Eater?’

‘What’s this?’ Ethel asked sweetly. ‘Have you been improvising again, Severus?’

I confess I was slightly surprised that she did not already know of the conversation; then I thought about how I had not really been a part of it, just an observer. I filed that bit of information away for the future, that fact that she only knew what was going on around me if I were actually taking part.

‘I’m going to go to the manor once we convince Shirley to face the music, Ethel,’ Black said, grinning his grin. ‘That way he goes back with a prize, and Riddle won’t bite him.’

‘Perhaps not, dear,’ she replied. ‘He very well may bite you though.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Malfoy put in, having given Sirius another glare for his “Shirley” remark. I was going to have to do something about that. Black had always thought he was tremendously funny, and Lucius had never taken very well to being made fun of; that apart, I didn’t care to cast myself in the permanent role of referee.

Ethel turned to Lucius; she seemed to have forgiven him quite quickly. ‘And you are right, Lucius dear,’ she said. ‘Now we shall have to put our heads together to work out some way of getting not only you, but Sirius, into Riddle’s favour.’ She clapped her hands together like a child. ‘I confess I am much happier now that Severus will not be so alone at the manor.’

‘But I’m not going to be at the manor,’ I said carefully. ‘I shall be staying right here. I have something to do for Tom which requires that I stay here.’ A thought occurred to me then that it had been Riddle himself who suggested that Lucius stay at Spinner’s End, and I wondered how to back down to that request without seeming to. The only way I could find around that was going to the manor myself, and I really didn’t want to do that.

“I think you have to, dear, just this once more,” Ethel said.

I felt my shoulders sag at the thought. The false security I had felt that morning had evaporated as the realities of the world outside broke though: enjoying Lucius’s downfall and his remarkable comeback, enjoying Black’s verbal sniping, they weren’t the realties; the reality was that I had to face Riddle again, and so much the better if it were before he came a-calling. Perhaps if I were proactive I could put this across, and once I had, I could begin work in earnest. I had to slow Riddle down until Andromeda’s child was born and taken to a place of safety, and I think it was just then that I finally accepted that it would be a very long time before I ever saw her again, and all that time she would think of me only as the cold bitter man …

“Stop that, Severus.” Ethel’s thought broke into mine, startling me. “I shall not allow you to drag yourself down.”

I had stood up from the table, suddenly feeling alone again, the feelings of camaraderie I had harboured so recently, just another meaningless fantasy.

‘Where are you going?’ Black asked, slipping yet another cigarette into the corner of his mouth, seemingly oblivious to the fact that although he had finished his meal, the others hadn’t.

‘I shall be back soon,’ I replied.

‘Where are you going?’ Black repeated, his tone hardening.

‘To pave the way,’ I said, and turned away.

‘Severus,’ Lucius called after me. ‘Watch out for my father. He does not trust you and tries at every turn to set Riddle against you.’

I had just closed the front door with its peeling paint, just begun to walk down the horrible little slabbed pathway, almost the last remnants of the house my parents had left me, when Ethel’s voice sounded in my mind again.

“Severus … dear,” she said. “I do not know if this will help you to bear your pain, but Andromeda would not have been here for much longer anyway. She is a skilled witch, and within another week or so she will have realised that the child she carries is of no use to the Dark Lord. The baby sleeping in her womb is a girl.”

*****