Abraxas Apparated outside his front door on a bone-chilling late February day, as he did every day after work. A movement off to his left, far off in the front yard, caught his eye. Damien sat on the lone swing attached to a huge, old oak tree, kicking feebly at the snow under his feet. Perplexed, Abraxas started across the white lawn, unused to the crunch of snow under his feet, the cold wetness edging under his pantlegs. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed being outdoors in the winter.

Huddled in a ball beside the tree, a house-elf saw the master coming and jumped up. “Master Malfoy, Sisidy wishes to bring Master Damien in. Is Master Malfoy wanting something?”

“No.” He walked past the elf with hardly a glance. “Damien, why are you out here in the cold?”

“I don’t like being in the house, sir,” the child answered, staring at the ground. “It’s so big and empty.”

“Where’s your mother?”

Damien hesitated, biting his lip to stop himself from saying what he really wanted to say. “I think she went shopping or something.”

Abraxas came round in front of him, squatting down to look at him. “I want you to tell me the truth. Do you know what happens if you lie?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “Father said there would be… something bad. I think it means he’ll beat me.”

“That’s right,” Abraxas agreed in a tone every bit as solemn, “and I couldn’t stop him because he’d be doing his duty by you. Now tell me, has Mother hurt you or threatened you?”

Damien stared into the man’s gray eyes, studied the thick, silvery blond hair curling around his ears and brushing his collar. “No, sir. She never did.”

Somewhat confused, Abraxas shifted a little on his stiffening legs. So why had the boy acted so frightened of Narcissa the other day? Admittedly, he found it hard to swallow that Narcissa was capable of harming a child, but people were not always what they appeared to be. “Yet I have the feeling you don’t like her. Why?”

Damien shrugged, consciously dropping his eyes and evading the subject. “Grandfather, did you grow up here?”

Abraxas smiled and stood up, stretching his legs. “Yes, I did. I used to swing on the very swing you’re using. As the heir, I inherited the place when my parents died.”

“And Father is your heir?”

“Yes. One day everything will be his,” Abraxas confirmed.

Damien continued to stare at the ground as he kicked the snow beneath him into a pile of mush. “If you had another son, would you give him away?”

“I did have another son,” Abraxas confessed quietly. “He was my eldest, but he died.” He lifted the boy’s chin in his palm, gently forcing his face up. “I love all my children, I couldn’t have given any of them away.”

“I’m an extra,” Damien said bitterly. “They didn’t want me.”

It cut the man’s heart to hear the boy speak so plainly on a topic that hurt him deeply. “That’s not true. Your parents love you, but they wanted to give you a better life. In time, you’ll see that.”

The lad shook his face free and stood up. “I’m cold. Can I—may I go inside?”

Abraxas nodded and the boy dashed off toward the mansion with the man watching him. The house-elf skipped along behind him, relieved to be going in as well. What an odd little boy, Abraxas thought. One day he seemed loving and happy, the next brooding and sulky. Did he even want to be here? Not that his desires mattered: the deal had been struck, money had changed hands, the boys’ parents had signed the documents. All that remained was for Lucius and Narcissa to sign during the meeting scheduled in a few days’ time.

Misgivings over this whole affair flooded Abraxas’ brain, not for the first time, which irritated him no end. A Malfoy knew his mind, he didn’t vacillate! He’d encouraged Lucius to do this; he’d look like a spineless idiot if he changed his mind now, and who’s to say his son would even listen? Lucius wasn’t known for being particularly obedient or responsive, hence the multitude of thrashings he’d had to dish out over the years. And when all was said and done, even though he was Lucius’ father, Abraxas couldn’t forbid him to adopt the boy. He had the right to an heir. Besides, Damien may be less than ecstatic at the moment, but he’d be grateful later. It was a ridiculous waste of time to dwell on it. Heaving a sigh, he trudged back up to the manor.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus kept his wand close to the ground, its tip glowing against the plants, reflecting off snow and ice. He shivered under his robes, which were the best he could afford, yet poor quality nonetheless, and he found it necessary to breathe on his fingers repeatedly to warm them.

He didn’t like the idea of being in the Forbidden Forest, at night no less, but as that’s when the full moon tends to come out, he had no choice. The plant he was looking for had to be picked tonight or wait another moon cycle. He’d made a promise to Lucius; the least he could do was fulfill it to the best of his ability.

At last he found what he’d been searching for. One hand clamped around the frozen, dead leaves while he wiggled the roots free with the aid of a spell. He stuffed the whole thing into a small sack he’d brought along and tucked it into his robes, then hurried to the edge of the forest. He left the sense of oppression behind him, along with all the terrors lurking in those woods.

High above the castle grounds, Sirius and James were sharing a prohibited night flight on their brooms. James motioned to his friend to come near, then pointed down at the ant-like figure scurrying out of the forest. “Somebody’s coming out of the forest. I wonder who it is?”

“That’s pretty weird,” Sirius remarked. “Nobody goes in there, especially at night!”

“Maybe it’s one of the teachers,” James offered.

“Maybe,” Sirius agreed, then pointed down at two more tiny figures crossing the lawn toward the Whomping Willow. “There’s Moony and Pomfrey.” He observed them from his lofty perch, then noticed something peculiar. “James, look! The one who came out of the forest—doesn’t it look like he’s hiding? If he was a teacher, he wouldn’t care if Madam Pomfrey saw him.”

James studied the scene. “I think you’re right. Whoever it is was up to something and doesn’t want to get caught. Speaking of which, we’d better go in before we get caught. There are too many people out tonight.”

“You go on, I’ll be along in a minute.”

James swooped down to the castle, grabbed up his broom, and ran inside. Sirius circled around lower and lower. Madam Pomfrey was heading back to the castle as well. As soon as she was gone, he landed and ran for the Whomping Willow to see if the student he’d seen was anywhere about. As luck would have it, the student happened to be standing out of reach of the wicked tree, peering at it curiously.

“You!” Sirius yelped.

Severus spun around, wand at ready. “Why are you following me?”

“I’m not,” the other retorted. “I saw you coming out of the forest.”

Noting the broom in his hand, Severus admitted to himself it could be possible the obnoxious twit was telling the truth, which might not be a good thing. He wasn’t permitted in the forest… but then again, Sirius wasn’t supposed to be flying at night, either.

“You can put your wand down,” said Sirius, not at all liking the way it aimed directed at his head. “I’m not planning to duel.”

“As if you could win,” Severus drawled with a sneer. The wand didn’t move. “Where did Lupin go?”

“You were sneaking around watching, you should know. He went in there.” Sirius indicated the Whomping Willow.

“Why?”

With a little shrug and a fiendishly smug smirk, Sirius replied, “I guess you’ll have to go in and find out. All you have to do is push that knot on the trunk with a long stick and the tree will stop moving.”

“Why should I trust you?” Snape demanded.

The smug look had not left Sirius’ face. Snape was hooked, the nosy snake had to be a busybody! “I’ve been there. It leads to the Shrieking Shack.”

Intrigued, but keeping his face impassive, Severus raced through the facts. Lupin was in there; quite possibly this is where he disappeared every month when the Marauders showed up strutting around the castle without him. It was a full moon… Madam Pomfrey led Lupin here, which meant it wasn’t a furtive place to take a girl…didn’t he always go missing on a full moon? If, as he suspected, Lupin was a werewolf, he could tell everyone and the boy would be drummed out of school. Then he’d only have three assholes to get rid of so he could have some semblance of a normal life. This opportunity was too good to pass up, but still, this was Sirius.

“If I go in, you’ll tell on me or do something to keep me from getting back.”

“I swear, I won’t do anything. I’ll even make an Unbreakable Vow if you want.” He paused, receiving no answer. Unable to resist, he added, “Are you afraid?”

“No!” Severus barked, hearing the bravado in his own voice and hoping the dipshit didn’t hear it.

Sirius gave a derisive chortle. “It’s alright, we don’t call you Snivellus for nothing.” Ignoring the wand pointed at him, he turned and walked off, smiling to himself. Snape was too nosy to let it go, he’d have to investigate. It would probably be better if Sirius were nowhere near.

Severus resisted the urge to hex the pompous bastard as he swaggered off. How he despised Sirius Black, almost as much as he hated James Potter! Well, possibly every bit as much… no, he definitely hated Potter more. He waited a few minutes to be sure Black was really gone as his ears strained for sounds of the loathsome pack of jackals lurking about. Using his wand, he picked up a chunk of ice and threw it at the knot on the tree. Instantly it stopped moving, which surprised him. True words had actually spilled from the Black scoundrel’s mouth! Looking around again and seeing no one, Severus stooped down to enter a large hole near the ground.

Sirius returned to his room laughing to himself. James was sitting on his bed playing catch-the-Snitch with himself, Peter was eating something by the window.

“You guys won’t believe this,” Sirius crowed. “I got Snivellus good.”

“How?” asked Peter with his mouth full.

“He’s the one who was in the forest, James. I sent him into the Whomping Willow.”

James sat bolt upright, horror etched on his face. “You did what?”

Sirius leaped onto his bed and laid back, his head propped on his hands. “He wanted so bad to know where Remus was going, so I told him. I helped him along.”

“Remus will kill him!” James screamed.

Sirius snorted dubiously. “We can only hope. We’re not that lucky.”

James didn’t reply. Already he was on his feet, tearing out the door. Heart pounding frantically, stomach gnarled in apprehension, he raced to the still-immobilized tree and dove headfirst into the hole. He dashed down the cave-like hallway leading to the Shrieking Shack, his shoes smacking loudly against the floor, his wand gripped in his fist. He was almost there; he didn’t hear screams or roars, that was good…unless Remus had already finished with him. At the turn in the corridor he saw a shadowy robed figure that seemed to be staring his way, then rounded the corner.

“Snape!” he shouted. “Snape, get out!”

James slammed against the wall as he rounded the corner and almost ran into Severus, who’d halted a short distance from the shack’s entrance. He appeared mesmerized by a lean, hairy creature stalking about. Not thinking, James grabbed his arm and started pulling him down the corridor.

“We have to get out NOW!” he hissed with terrified glances at the werewolf. “He’ll see us!”

The spell broken, Severus turned and fled alongside Potter. The sound of their retreat seemed to stir the animal, who howled long and loud, making them run all the faster. James shimmied out of the hole, grasped ahold of Snape’s robe, and physically dragged him out. The two lay panting on the ground for a time, then James spoke.

“What the hell did you go in there for? How stupid!”

Severus sat up, his perennially white face a bit more pallid. He was right, Lupin was a werewolf! Black had sent him there knowing all about it! “Don’t try to pretend you didn’t have anything to do with it! Black never does anything without you—you were both trying to get me killed!”

James snorted. “Really? Then why did I save you?”

“Technically, you didn’t,” Severus clipped. “I would’ve left—”

“Or got eaten! You were just standing there like an idiot!” interrupted the other.

“You only came because you chickened out on your malicious plan!” spat Severus. “You were afraid they’d find out you were behind it! Then you, Black, and Lupin would all be sent to Azkaban where you belong!”

“Boys, your shouting is enough to wake the dead,” Headmaster Dumbledore commented as he drew closer and stopped, his sharp eyes studying each one carefully. “In fact, all this activity in the castle halls and noise out here did wake a couple of our ghosts, and they notified me of students out and about at this hour. Pray tell, what are you doing out here?”

Neither of the young men cared to answer that particular question, so they ducked their heads and mumbled incoherently.

“It’s been, let’s see, perhaps a month since your detention finished last time,” Dumbledore went on, ignoring them. “Apparently it wasn’t very successful in bringing about a change of behavior.”

“Remus Lupin is a werewolf!” Severus declared. He got to his feet, still a bit trembly from the excitement, and pointed out in the direction Lupin. “He’s in the Shrieking Shack.”

“Yes, Severus, I know,” Dumbledore said, to the boy’s utter dismay. “Come to my office, where Mr. Black should be waiting for us.”

James managed a feeble, “Why would he be?”

“Because, Mr. Potter, rarely do the two of you part ways. If you’re up to some sort of mischief, I can only conclude your bosom buddy is also involved.” He shooed them off ahead of him. Only when he was certain they couldn’t see his face, he relaxed into a bundle of relief. One or both of these students might have died tonight, but for the grace of God. How on Earth was he going to deal with such a diabolical issue?

Sure enough, a very sober Sirius was pacing Dumbledore’s office when they arrived. He looked relieved to see James, which could only mean he’d known James was in danger. Dumbledore honestly couldn’t read the expression on his face at catching sight of Severus. It seemed at once hostile and surprised, even somewhat confused.

“Sit down, boys. Let’s start with what you were doing out tonight.”

Nobody volunteered to begin.

Dumbledore prodded Sirius. “Go on.”

“I, uh… I was flying.” Sensing the chance to point the finger at Severus, he hurriedly added, “And I saw Sniv—Snape coming out of the forest.”

“And?” prompted Albus.

“And I saw him creeping around the Whomping Willow.”

“Is that all?” inquired the Headmaster, completely unsatisfied with his account.

“I went back to my room and told James I saw Snape.” Sirius kept his eyes pasted to the floor, dreading the thought of Dumbledore finding out the whole truth. Everything he’d said was true, even if he left out a lot. An awful lot.

Miraculously, Dumbledore turned to Snape. “Severus, why were you in the Forbidden Forest?”

“I needed to collect a nightshade root,” said the boy levelly. So saying, he removed the sack from his robes and handed it to Dumbledore. “On the full moon.”

“Nightshade? Isn’t that deadly?” asked James.

“He probably intended to kill us,” muttered Sirius.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” snapped Severus with a sarcastic sneer. “I wouldn’t expect morons like you to realize there are a wide variety of nightshade plants, most of which are perfectly harmless. If I wanted to poison you, I’d be a bit more surreptitious.” The way he narrowed his eyes did nothing to alleviate the fear that he might, indeed, try to poison them in the future.

“Severus, why did you go into the Whomping Willow?” Dumbledore asked.

Because I was stupid enough to trust a single word from Black’s malevolent lips. Because I wanted to get Lupin out of Hogwarts. Because I hate them, I hate those damned Marauders, I wish they’d all die a horrifically painful death! Why can’t they get expelled and away from me! Why must you always be so frigging prying!

“I’m waiting, Severus.”

Softly Snape replied, “I saw Lupin go in, Professor. I was curious.”

“How did you know the method of calming the Whomping Willow?” the aged wizard continued.

Severus shot a hateful glance at Sirius, a move noticed by Dumbledore. Now all the pieces were fitting together, and he didn’t like at all how the puzzle was shaping up.

“Sirius, I’m appalled that you would permit Severus to enter the Shrieking Shack, knowing your friend was at the other end!” If Dumbledore had been the violent type, he would have cuffed the boy across the head. “And don’t deny it! James, what was your part in all of this?”

Realizing it was futile to try to hide anything, James confessed, “When Sirius told me about Snape, I went running to stop him. I don’t like him, but I didn’t want him mauled or… anything. I pulled him out of there.”

“I was perfectly capable of pulling myself out,” Severus replied coldly.

Fuming, Dumbledore stalked up and down the room. It had been a deliberately malicious act on the part of Sirius, a foolhardy and rulebreaking act on the part of the other two. In fact, a veritable plethora of rules had been broken this night! And yet, if he expelled Sirius, his parents would demand to know why; Remus’ condition would be made public and he—an innocent party—would be forced to leave as well.

He drew in a deep breath, then addressed Snape. “Severus, I want your promise that you will tell no one that Remus is a werewolf.”

“Professor—” he began to protest.

“Promise. Me.”

Severus looked up at him from where he sat. Dumbledore was one of the few people in the world who’d ever been truly kind to him, even a little bit. If it meant this much to the old wizard, shouldn’t he agree? “I promise,” he whispered.

“Good, thank you. Although I rightfully ought to assign you and James a full year of detention, I think you’ve suffered enough. Both of you return to your Houses immediately.” The boys got up to go. “And, Severus? If you feel the need to enter the Forbidden Forest again, I suggest you notify me and we’ll arrange for an escort.” He handed him the bag containing the nightshade.

“Thank you, Professor, I will.”

Complete, unremitting silence reigned after they’d gone. Dumbledore paced with his hands behind his back and stared at Sirius for a good twenty minutes. The latter kept his head down, nervously anticipating a severe scolding or worse. Every time the man passed him he expected a hard clip on the ear.

At last Dumbledore said, “Sirius, I don’t even know where to begin. I have never been so ashamed of a student with such potential. I cannot comprehend the depravity that would not only allow a boy to walk to his death, but actively encourage it. You have disappointed me on a level I didn’t know existed.”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Sirius said meekly.

“Words can hold tremendous power. Your words—right here, right now—mean absolutely nothing to me, as I’m sure they’d mean nothing to Severus. Until you can prove to me that I’m wrong, that you’re not a vicious, vindictive thug, I have nothing more to say to you. Please leave my office.”

Sirius got up slowly, wounded inside by the harsh words and by the way the Headmaster turned his back to him. He swallowed hard, tempted to speak and certain he shouldn’t. Plodding out, he started off toward his House. James would ask what Dumbledore said…he couldn’t bear to hear the words rattling around in his skull, let alone say them himself. Was he really that awful? It was a prank, Snape wouldn’t really have got hurt, not too bad, anyway. But what if he had? Could he live with knowing he’d caused a boy’s death, even if the boy was Snape? And Lupin. He’d be a murderer through no fault of his own, and who would he blame? Sirius, of course! And well-deserved it would be.

He’d stopped in the middle of the corridor, where he stood contemplating the evening. Finally he turned and started in a different direction, purposefully striding directly to Mr. Filch’s quarters. He knocked, cringing as he remembered what time it was.

Filch, more disheveled and grumpy than usual, flung open the door. “Whattaya want?”

“I’m to have detention with you.”

A glint of glee brightened the caretaker’s face. “For how long?”

Sirius shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was quiet in their bedroom. It was always quiet now, unless they were arguing. Lucius lay on his side of the bed, staring through the darkness at the ceiling. Any joy they used to share had been sucked from their lives, leaving a very bleak existence. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“Narcissa,” he said softly.

“Yes?”

So, she was awake, too. For some reason this knowledge pleased him. “Do you remember what tomorrow is?”

“March first,” she answered, not even bothering to look at him.

“Yes, but—”

“I know, Lucius!” she hissed. “I don’t want to talk about Damien or his adoption or what a wretched person I am!” She wrenched the covers more tightly around herself.

In a voice so low his wife had to strain to hear it, Lucius said, “You’re not wretched, Narcissa. I am.”

Silence. Then, very slowly and almost warily, she rolled over to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been pushing you so hard, blaming you for deliberately disliking Damien,” he confessed, feeling his face flush and grateful for the dark so she wouldn’t see it. “I never even gave you a chance to mourn not having your own baby. I’m sorry.”

More silence. At first Lucius thought she was waiting for more, until he heard a sharp intake of breath and a muffled sob. In a flash his heart melted and he scooted over to hold her; she rested her head on his chest and burst out weeping, her tears soaking his night robe, his hands stroking her hair and her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over. “I love you so much; I need you so much.” He kissed the top of her head as he squeezed her.

“I’m sorry, too,” Narcissa choked out. She lifted her head to look at him and his heart broke all over again at the sight of her tearstained face. “I wanted to give you a baby, Lucius. I feel like such a failure!” Her sobbing resumed as she buried her face against him.

“You’re not, it isn’t your fault,” he soothed. All at once he realized he meant it. Up to now he had been blaming her for her inability to conceive, but now he didn’t. She was a victim the same as he was. “I love you.”

“I—love—you,” she sobbed.

If he could have held her any tighter without crushing her, he would have. Minutes passed in the blink of an eye as he gazed down at his beloved, secure in his arms. He never wanted to let her leave his arms again. “I missed you, my love. Holding you, kissing you…loving you.”

“I felt so alone,” she murmured, reaching for a handkerchief to wipe her nose and dry her eyes. “I was starting to wonder… to think you didn’t want me anymore.” A new rush of tears began spilling down her cheeks.

“I will always want you.” Lucius cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips. “Always.” He kissed her again, devouring her lips in a fit of passion, inflamed and encouraged by her own hungry desire pressing against him, her slim fingers unbuttoning his robe, trailing over his body to linger at certain key points. Oh, how he’d missed that!

Tomorrow he’d deal with tomorrow. Right now he needed to prove his love, and maybe a little more.