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I, Too, Shall Follow by notwolf [Reviews - 2]

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“Lucius, are you ready?” Narcissa shrilled up the staircase. He heard her, she was certain. He was probably hiding out somewhere hoping she’d get tired of waiting and leave without him. That bloody well wasn’t going to happen, not after he’d promised to go shopping with her!

She’d just made up her mind to send a house-elf to search him out when Lucius came plodding down the stairs, a glum expression marring his handsomeness. His hair, unlike days when he had to work, hung free past his shoulders, though as always his robes were impeccable.

“Love, must I go? I’d only be in the way,” he pleaded with a tiny pout and doe eyes.

“You promised,” Narcissa reminded him. “Besides, I don’t like to shop alone.”

“Bella was supposed to go,” he grumbled under his breath, silently cursing the evil witch for bailing on Narcissa and forcing him to step up to the plate like a true gentleman, regardless of his sentiments regarding the wretched trial to come. Oh, what he didn’t go through for his woman! “Shopping is a job for an elf.” He stomped the remaining steps to the floor.

“What are you mumbling, dear?”

“Nothing, sweetheart, I just observed that your lovely sister ought to be here about now. Didn’t she invite herself on your little spree?”

“She’s probably busy,” said Narcissa, fluffing her hair in the foyer mirror.

Doing what, I wonder, Lucius thought snidely. The wench barely left the Dark Lord’s side anymore; it didn’t take vast amounts of reasoning to deduce who or what was keeping her busy.

Together they went outside, clasped hands, and Apparated to Horizont Alley, where a wide variety of upscale stores and restaurants were located. Narcissa, beaming, dragged her husband off toward one of them. As they drew near, he noted the name, ‘Essential Foundations’, and a couple of signs blocking out the windows. Sale! Sexy pumps to drive him wild. All thongs ½ off.

Lucius cocked an eyebrow and smirked. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. In fact, it would be downright exciting, even erotic, if he was lucky and his beautiful wife modeled the merchandise for him! He followed Narcissa in, to find himself immediately bewildered. In confusion he turned circles—yes, the signs were in the windows—and craned his neck to view the entire shop. He let out an exasperated breath.

“This is a shoe store!”

Narcissa looked down her nose at him, wrinkling it slightly. “Yes, dear. What did you think it was?”

“It’s supposed to be sexy underwear! When’s the last time a shoe drove me wild?” he snarled.

“What?”

“The signs!” he said, pointing furiously at the front window, nearly speechless from anger. “They say—it’s a huge lie! False advertising! The prevaricators should be drawn and quartered!”

“Lucius, are you quite alright?” asked Narcissa as she led him to a stool to sit down, worry glinting from her blue orbs. She’d never known shoes could cause such a reaction.

Momentarily a middle-aged witch popped in beside them. “Welcome to Essential Foundations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. How lovely to see you again, Mrs. Malfoy. Can I get you anything?”

“Firewhisky,” Lucius said.

The employee hesitated, then smiled. “We don’t ordinarily stock Firewhisky. Would champagne from the south of France suit your taste?”

Lucius’ head bobbed. As long as it contained alcohol, it would do. A simple Accio brought two glasses of the champagne; Lucius gulped his. “May I have the bottle?”

“No problem, sir,” answered the witch with an odd sidelong glance at Narcissa, who pretended none of this bothered her in the least. Another Accio Summoned a nearly full, chilled bottle, which she handed to Lucius. “So, are we shopping for the lady or the man of the house?”

Lucius pointed at his wife while downing another glass.

“For me,” said Narcissa, resisting a strong desire to slap him. “I’d like to try on all the new shoes of the season. Lucius can’t wait to give his opinion on them, can you, dear?”

“No, I can’t wait,” parroted the man, already finished with his third glass. Now that the buzz had begun to kick in, he honestly didn’t mind being here, as long as he didn’t have to get up or do anything.

Seven pairs of boots, six pairs of sandals, and eighteen pairs of shoes later—fourteen of which Lucius thought were strikingly similar—Narcissa had finished modeling. He had to admit, he did love watching her walk back and forth, wiggling her rear just for him, though he found it immensely tedious to come up with so many intriguing or even banal comments on footwear. Fortunately, the champagne having loosened his tongue, he was able to make what he considered to be insightful, witty, helpful observations sure to endear him to his wife.

Having selected a meager three pairs from the mountain to purchase, Narcissa directed the woman to charge them to her account and have two of them sent to Malfoy Manor. The third she slipped on to wear for the remainder of the expedition.

Lucius got up at last, thrilled to be going and also a little tipsy, leaving the empty bottle on the tile next to his stool. “Those are nice.”

“Really?” asked Narcissa caustically. “So when you said they were—and I quote—‘perhaps the most hideous footwear I’ve ever seen, short of the trash your sister wears’, you were joking?”

Caught in a conundrum, Lucius paused to reflect on his options. He vaguely recollected saying some things not particularly complimentary, but he was trying to use constructive criticism. Wasn’t that what he was here for? “I don’t recall saying precisely that…”

By now Narcissa had flounced out the door with Lucius at her heels. “I’m surprised you recall anything after swilling a bottle of champagne like a common drunkard!”

“I’m not drunk. And besides—”

“Cissy!” A dark-haired woman in a short red dress and spiky heels that looked dangerously high waylaid them only steps outside the store. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”

Narcissa held up a foot for Bellatrix to take a gander at her new shoes. Bella oohed and aahed appropriately. “I bought three pairs, despite Lucius’ dreadful comments and boorish behavior.”

“I was helping!” He rolled his eyes, which made him a bit dizzy.

“Oh, I didn’t notice you, blondie,” sneered Bella, giving him the once-over. “When did you take up shoe shopping?”

“When my wife’s harlot of a sister stood her up,” he sniped back.

Bella waved a hand back and forth in front of her face to ward off the fumes coming from her brother-in-law. “Do you always take him out when he’s drunk, Cissy?”

“I’m not drunk!” he insisted, stumbling on a loose cobblestone and pitching forward into Bella.

She shoved him away. “Tell him to keep his hands off me, Cissy. I’m not a plaything.”

Lucius burst out laughing. “That’s a good one, Bella!”

Narcissa took his upper arm and pinched hard enough to bruise, making the man wince. “You’re embarrassing all of us, Lucius. I’m going shopping with my sister now. Maybe you should go home.”

Through his champagne haze, it took a great deal of concentration to focus on her. “I thought we were having a…tolerable time,” he sulked. He couldn’t bring himself to say a ‘good time’, for it would be a monumental lie she’d see through in a second. It wasn’t even that he wanted to shop with her, it was the simple fact she didn’t want him there that irked him.

His wife kissed him and stepped back. “I’ll see you at home, dear.”

“Fine,” he snipped peevishly, watching them walk away. Bella turned back to stick her tongue out, and if he weren’t a Malfoy, he might have reciprocated. Instead he had to content himself with huffing away in indignation.

Since he was so close, he thought he may as well wander over to Diagon Alley. It was only the end of April; his father’s birthday wasn’t for ages, but it wouldn’t hurt to check out Flourish and Blotts to see if any new books on Healing or Dark Arts had come in. After that he’d make a stop at Borgin and Burkes. He’d asked them to reserve any out-of-the-ordinary poisons for his collection, which he had to keep hidden from Narcissa in the secret room under the drawing room floor. She was so squeamish about silly things like that, as if he intended to use them or something. Women!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

“Slytherin wins!” came over the loudspeaker, to thunderous applause and hoots from the Slytherin section, a chilly reception from the rest of the stands, for booing and bad sportsmanship were discouraged by the Headmaster.

Regulus navigated his broom down to the Quidditch pitch, Snitch held aloft, grinning uncontrollably. His team lit down around him to pat him heartily on the back, along with most of Slytherin House pouring out onto the field.

The Gryffindor team, on the other hand, stormed off in a huff for their changing room. It was obviously unfair, the Slytherins had cheated! How they cheated remained a mystery, but since everyone else agreed that Gryffindor had a better team, the only logical conclusion was that the rascals had outwitted the referees and defrauded the Gryffindors of their win. With this in mind, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter crept over to the Slytherin changing room. No one would be there yet, they were busy celebrating with the rest of their obnoxious House, leaving the way wide open to exact a little revenge for their trickery.

“Remus, you stay out here as lookout,” instructed James, stationing Lupin where he had a good view of the pitch. “If they show up, yell and we’ll go out the other way into the corridor.”

Remus nodded his understanding. It excited him to be a part of the mischief, while simultaneously worrying him. To be honest, he wasn’t convinced the Slytherins had cheated, and he saw the whole episode as a feeble excuse to pull a prank on the enemy. Still, they were his friends, and no one was getting hurt. He leaned against the building trying to look nonchalant but coming across as stiff and suspicious.

The other three slinked into the Slytherin changing room, surprised to find it nearly identical to the Gryffindor one. A row of lockers with benches in front lined one wall; sinks, toilets, and showers took up the remaining space.

James rather wished he could get out of his own sweaty Quidditch uniform about now, but first things first. “They don’t even have a barrier to separate boys from girls,” he scoffed, peering around.

“There aren’t any girls on their team,” piped up Peter.

“That’s ‘cause they’re not only a bunch of pureblood nutcases, they’re sexist jerks, too,” replied Sirius. He opened the first locker, pursing his lips as he pored over the contents. “From the looks of it, this is Rosier’s locker.”

“Guys, what’re we gonna do?” asked James. “We didn’t exactly have a bang-up plan when we came in here.”

“Hmm, right,” said Sirius, thinking hard. His eyes lit up. “I know! Let’s jinx their underwear and socks with an itching spell!”

Having no better plan himself, and agreeing it would be fun to watch, James snickered and whipped out his wand. One by one the boys opened the lockers, repeating the words Promere jucken as flashes of orange light struck the clothing, temporarily coloring it, then dissipated into nothingness.

“We should shrink their shoes, too,” giggled Peter. “Just a little so they hurt.”

The other two youths gave him congratulatory praise for his atypical, impressive contribution to their deviltry, and set to work on his suggestion. Outside, Remus glanced around warily, hoping no one noticed him. So far he hadn’t seen anyone headed this way, which was perfect. A second later he fell to the ground, the victim of a Stunning Spell from a bush far off to his left. The Slytherin Quidditch team moved forward slowly. Seeing nobody else, they approached the entrance.

“What’s this dork doing here?” griped the captain, kicking aside his body to open the door. He readied his wand, as did the others.

The instant the door smacked open, James and Sirius whirled from the lockers, wands raised. Peter tried to squeeze into the locker in front of him. Expelliarmus charms disarmed the three Marauders in the space of a second, leaving them helpless at the mercy of the entire Slytherin team, none of whom seemed happy to see them.

Regulus stomped forward, his features livid. “What are you doing in here? You have no business here!”

Sirius, cocky as ever, faced him. “Just came to applaud your team on the stolen win. I guess we’ll be going now.”

From behind Regulus, the burly Keeper, Evan Rosier, came forward, exuding fury. “Like bloody hell you are! Look, guys, our lockers are open, they were up to something!” He grabbed Sirius by the front of his robes, lifting him up on his toes. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing, we’re just nosy,” interjected James. As much as he wanted to help his friend, attacking Rosier didn’t seem the brightest thing to do with all the other teammates standing there.

One of the Beaters snatched ahold of Peter’s hair to drag him from the locker. “Okay, rat boy, ‘fess up. What’s going on?”

“N-n-nothing,” Peter whimpered.

Rosier gave Sirius a hearty shake that rattled his teeth in his head. “I’m not stupid. Tell us what—”

“Not stupid?” laughed Sirius, as though this were the opportune time to mouth off. “You are hilarious!”

Rosier hauled off and punched him in the mouth, dropping him to the floor. James ran at Rosier, headbutting him in the stomach. He doubled over, winded, and James made to strike him. The Beater holding Peter kneed the small boy in the side, while one of the Chasers made a grab for Potter, swung him around, and crashed his head into a locker, denting it badly; the nose guard of his glasses snapped and they fell to the floor, cracking one of the lenses. Potter fell beside them, his nose dripping blood.

With a cry of rage, a panting Sirius was on his feet trying to decide which Slytherin to attack. Most of the team stood around the walls shouting encouragement without actively participating, though no doubt existed they’d enter the fray if the odds swung to favor the Marauders. Sirius went for Rosier, clipping him on the ear with a hard roundhouse that sent the boy staggering onto a bench. The Chaser who’d hurt Potter kicked Sirius in the ribs; the Beater clubbed him over the head with his interlocked fists, driving him to the floor again.

Peter leapt onto Rosier’s back and sank his teeth into the big boy’s neck. Rosier howled and threw Peter head over heels across the room, where he crashed against a wall, slid down, and moaned piteously. Just then Remus entered the room, still jittery from the Stunning Spell, wand in hand. One of the watching boys disarmed him. Seeing the beating his friends were taking, he tried to escape out the way he’d come to go get help, but it was too late. Two more members of the team snatched his arms; a third pummeled him in the face and gut repeatedly.

James lurched over to punch the boy in the back of the head. Infuriated, he turned and hit James so hard he flew backward, tripped over the bench, slammed his head on a locker, and lay silent.

Enter Severus, Mulciber, and Nott. The three gawked around at the carnage, the four Marauders reduced to bloody heaps on the floor of the Slytherin locker room. For an awkward moment, everything was still.

“Sweet,” said Nott, grinning.

“Brilliant job, mates,” added Jack. “Too bad you didn’t leave any for us.”

Severus, his black eyes shining, said simply, “Justice at last.”

Regulus moved away from the wall, his eyes drawn to his brother’s prone form, though he forced himself to look away. “Hey, Snape, what’re you doing here?”

“We came to congratulate you on putting the Gryffindork scum in their place,” Severus answered. “If we’d known about this, we’d have taken up a collection to show our gratitude.” Taking in every detail, he committed the scene to memory. It would undoubtedly bring him joy for years to come. “Also, the girls of our House invite you to a party in your honor, so they ask that you clean up and hurry back to the dungeons.”

Several of the boys hooted with delight. Slytherin wins were rare, what with the prejudice against them; no telling what the girls might have in store.

Regulus motioned around at the mess. “Get them out of here. Dump them outside the Gryffindork changing room. I’ll clean up the blood in here.”

With two strong young men on each Marauder, they dragged the boys by their heels across the bumpy stone floor, out into the corridor, and down to the entrance of their own locker room. On the way, the Marauders’ heads banged against the unforgiving stones numerous times, enough to cause quite painful bruising. Inside his own changing room, Regulus and the other boys easily Scourgified the bloodstains.

“Snape, they were up to something. They were poking around in our lockers, but they wouldn’t tell us what they did. Can you check to see if they booby-trapped them or something?” asked Regulus.

“Sure, Reg.” Severus walked over to the first locker, waving his wand in a silent revealing spell. Twisting his face and shaking his head, he said, “How pathetic. The best they could come up with was an itching spell on your clothes.” He waved the wand twice more to be sure. “And they shrank your shoes.”

“That’s it?” exclaimed Nott. “I could’ve done better than that!”

A demented warthog could have done better, Severus mused. No point in hurting Nott’s feelings; it wasn’t his fault he wasn’t clever. “Mulciber, you and Reg help me reverse the spells. Ontdoen jucken and Finite incantatem should do the trick. If not, try Grouwan skua.

“What about me?” asked Nott.

“You can help Mulciber,” said Severus with an apologetic shrug at Jack.

Regulus came over to the locker adjacent to Severus and lowered his voice to speak. “Can we talk about You-Know-Who in front of Mulciber?”

“I can hear you, Black, I’m not deaf,” Jack responded more loudly than necessary, more from frustration than anything. “I know you’re all Death Eaters. My dad is a Death Eater, too, and even though I hope he gets captured and sent to Azkaban, I wouldn’t tell anybody about you.”

“You can appreciate that I was under the impression you and Snape weren’t friends any longer,” said Regulus.

“In the past month we’ve decided to let bygones be bygones. As long as I respect the boundaries, there’s no problem.”

When Regulus looked to Snape for confirmation, Snape nodded briefly. “We’ve come to an understanding.”

“Oh. Well, good. Anyway, Snape, I was wondering if you know why the Dark Lord hasn’t called for me. I finally passed that blasted test, with L—a friend’s help, and I thought sure he’d give me an assignment.”

“No idea. When he has something up your alley, he’ll let you know.”

“He never called me,” added Nott.

“You just joined,” Regulus reminded him. “Did he make you take the test?”

At that moment the rest of the Slytherin team came tumbling back into the room, laughing and jeering about the stupid Gryffindorks. With scarcely a glance at the boys reversing the curses, they headed for the showers.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Late afternoon, the party was in full swing, and Severus Snape had been summoned to Dumbledore’s office. Again. He wanted to scream to high heaven how unfair it was that a dozen boys had been involved in the locker room brawl, and he wasn’t one of them! Why was he the one singled out every time something happened? Because those damned vindictive Marauders would name him, that’s why, and the Headmaster would take their lies as gospel until proven false.

He went on up to Dumbledore’s office and slumped into a chair to await the accusations. To his dismay, Dumbledore came around his desk, put a hand on his shoulder, and spoke gently.

“Severus, I’ve got bad news from home.”

The boy’s insides froze. His eyes widened, his breathing sped up.

“There’s been a death in the family. I’m very sorry, son.”

“My mum,” Severus whispered, swallowing hard. “She’s been ill.”

Albus looked taken aback by the statement. “I didn’t know that, Severus. But…it’s not your mother.”












I, Too, Shall Follow by notwolf [Reviews - 2]

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