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I, Too, Shall Follow by notwolf [Reviews - 0]

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(I posted two chapters this time, and noticed that I have 2 hits on this, none on the other. Please don't forget to read the previous chapter!)

“Now, Jacinta, behave yourself. No crying, no puking on people, try not to rip anyone’s hair out,” Severus advised, standing the girl on his lap to look deeply into her blue eyes as he listed all the things that might potentially alienate the Malfoys, as if he believed his admonitions would have any effect whatsoever.

His daughter met his gaze with a wide-eyed innocence; she tilted her head slightly, ostensibly listening and heeding his cautions. Then she reached over and jerked a shock of his hair so hard he howled. She shrieked with delight and her body shook with laughter.

“I said DON’T pull hair,” he growled, shaking his head free of her.

This was all he needed. Narcissa was a woman; everyone knew women automatically understood how to cope with babies. It was innate or something. She’d probably have her tresses pulled back under a kerchief and wear a barf-proof apron. It was Lucius he was worried about. Those long, silky locks might prove too tempting for the beast-child, and what self-respecting baby could resist marring a perfect appearance? Severus, of course, didn’t fit into the immaculate category, he didn’t care about baby messes. Lucius…he dreaded to think of his friend’s reaction. Then again, if all went as it should, eventually Lucius would have his own child. He may as well get used to it now, right?

He lifted the infant to his chest and got up, planted a kiss on the top of her head, draped his cloak over the child, and stepped into the fireplace. “Malfoy Manor.”

Severus was stunned to find the couple sitting in the armchairs near the fireplace, evidently awaiting his arrival. They got up immediately, smiling excitedly. The moment he tossed back his robe to reveal Jacinta, Narcissa—who surprisingly was not wearing a baby-proof suit—let out a little squeal.

“Oooh, how cute! Can I hold her?”

He hadn’t realized how tense, how nervous he’d been. All the fear of his friends not liking his baby vanished. “Sure.” With that he handed Jacinta over to her. The tiny girl stroked her fingers over Narcissa’s face, mesmerized by her hairless, pale complexion.

Lucius moved over to peer at the child, a light smirk playing on his lips. “She does take after you. Poor thing.”

“Lucius!” Narcissa gasped. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m sure Jacinta will turn out far prettier than Severus,” drawled her husband, smiling devilishly.

Returning the smile with more than a hint of mischief himself, Severus invited, “Why don’t you hold her, Lucius. She’s very affectionate.”

The other man shrugged and held out his arms, into which his wife deposited the child. He cradled her in the crook of one arm in order to get a good view of her, pleased to note the infant studying him intently. “She does seem to have inherited your intelligence. She likes me. Ow!”

Head cocked at an unseemly angle, a large clump of his hair gripped in the infant’s fist, he tried to pry Jacinta away without losing a good portion of his mane. Narcissa watched, snickering behind her hand.

“Oh, did I forget to mention she has a thing for long hair?” Severus asked, smirking.

Refusing to lose composure, Lucius took the girl in both hands and slowly moved her out to arm’s length, gently forcing her to relinquish hold. She graced him with a toothless grin as drool dripped down onto her lavender blouse.

“Niki was the same way,” he replied, as if Severus hadn’t deliberately sicked the child on him. He shook his hair back off his shoulders, then brought Jacinta in to rest on his chest. In a soothing, smooth voice Lucius said, “That’s okay, Jacinta, I don’t blame you. You’ll need to come over more often so Uncle Lucius can teach you proper manners. Your father tries, but he’s an oaf.”

At this, Narcissa lost it. Her stifled giggles became full fledged guffaws, to Severus’ astonishment. He’d never considered the cultured woman capable of behaving in anything less than a refined demeanor. Noticing Severus gawking at her, she quickly regained her bearing. “Severus, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you!”

“It’s quite alright, Narcissa,” Severus assured her. “I enjoy watching this little exhibition as much as you do.”

“Peasants,” Lucius retorted. “Come, Jacinta, I’ll introduce you to my father.” He sashayed halfway across the room before Narcissa called out to him.

“Abraxas is at my mother’s house, checking on Rodolphus,” she reminded him.

Addressing the child in a loud voice, Lucius sighed heavily and said, “I suppose we’re stuck with them for now. Shall we?” He whirled around gracefully and headed back the way he’d come. “This is your first lesson: being gracious to people you’d rather hex.”

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

“Kreacher, what are you doing?” asked Regulus.

The elf nearly leapt out of his skin, his immense eyes popping as he thrust a wad of paper into his cupboard, slammed the door, and turned to face the youth. “Nothing, Master Regulus, only cleaning up garbage. Kreacher cleans the Black home. Kreacher is being good house-elf.”

“Why did you shove a newspaper into your cupboard?”

Kreacher grimaced, did a little sidestep as he snapped his fingers, then looked up at Regulus. “There’s not being a newspaper in Kreacher’s cupboard, good Master Regulus.”

“You just made it disappear, didn’t you?”

With a grunt, Kreacher threw himself headfirst against the wall, then rapped his skull repeatedly on the hard wood. “Kreacher is sorry, Master Regulus—”

“Stop punishing yourself!” Regulus ordered, truly concerned. The elf froze in place. “Give me that newspaper now.”

“No, is evil!” bawled the poor creature, resuming his head banging.

“Now, Kreacher.”

Wailing piteously, Kreacher snapped his fingers again and the paper appeared, hovering in the air in front of Regulus. He plucked it up to look at the front page…Ministry business, scandal at Borgin and Burkes. Page by page he scanned the rag, unable to discern why this particular paper was ‘evil’. Then he got to the society page. There, as bold as you please, was a large photo of a wedding between two people he didn’t particularly care for: James Potter and Lily Evans. Beside Potter, smiling broadly at the traitorous union, stood his brother, Sirius. The caption read, A Perfect July Day for a Perfect Wedding.

For a moment he couldn’t move. If his parents saw this they’d go ballistic! No wonder Kreacher was trying to hide it, to ‘protect’ his family. He skimmed the article—not that he had any interest in it, but in case the Dark Lord asked for any information. He didn’t remember having read anything about this wedding up to now, which made sense since publicizing it would have been simply asking for Death Eaters to come and crash the party. How many Order members had been there? The article gave no list of guests save Sirius as best man, and Alice Longbottom as matron of honor, both of whom he knew to be in Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix.

He lowered the paper to see the elf cringing and wringing his hands. “It’s alright, Kreacher. You did the right thing.”

“Mistress Black would be crushed,” Kreacher added, sniffling and nodding sadly. “Wicked Master Sirius-blood-traitor breaks Mistress’s heart. Kreacher not wanting Mistress to see this.”

Handing the paper back to the elf, Regulus said quietly, “Get rid of it.”

Kreacher happily disposed of it as ordered in a flash of flame, before trotting off to some duty or other. Regulus, feeling quite troubled, went on up to his room. Hopefully no one would be cruel enough or foolhardy enough to inform his parents that Sirius had made it into the Daily Prophet, and hopefully they wouldn’t miss reading the silly rag. But he wouldn’t be that lucky, he never was. They’d find out and they’d pitch a horrific fit, culminating in forcing him to choose sides again; for obvious reasons he’d choose his parents’ side, even if he thought they were wrong, which in this case he didn’t. A Mudblood was not on a par with purebloods, they had no right to pretend otherwise, and Sirius had no right to throw it in his family’s face this way. He wouldn’t put it past his brother to have paid a reporter to include the picture!

As he stretched out on his bed, he wondered if Severus had heard about this news. Pathetic as it was, he’d carried a torch for the Mudblood for as long as Regulus had known him, probably part of the reason—or even the whole reason—he and Glenna had broken up. He shook his head gloomily. What was it about that Evans girl that caused such a stranglehold on Snape?

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus calmly folded the newspaper and set it on his grandparents’ coffee table. The one day he came to visit and happened to read the Daily Prophet, it carried news like this. He’d expected Lily to marry the Potter puke; he’d heard at the Millennium Ball that they were engaged. Even so, he couldn’t quite reconcile how he felt about it.

He’d loved Lily since he was a small boy, had loved her in a desperate, obsessive way he didn’t even understand; they’d parted on bad terms after years of yearning for her. Glenna had been a soothing balm to make the pain of Lily go away, and he’d learned to love her more than he thought himself capable. Then Glenna had torn his heart apart and married Jack, but finally he was starting to heal. Yes, it hurt like hell to see her, yet knowing she still cared for him even a little made it more bearable. To have Jacinta as a living, breathing embodiment of their love was more than he could have asked for. Now Lily was worming her way back into his life without even trying…without Glenna to save him, he felt himself succumbing to the pull. It was insane, the whole affair! After so long, why should it bother him to know Lily had gotten married—even to Potter, the most hateful, despicable man alive?

“Severus, are you upset about something?” asked his grandmother.

“I’m fine,” he answered, blanking the emotion from his face. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

When Lucius received the call from Lord Voldemort, he responded right away, as always. He didn’t expect, however, to end up at a seashore with the Dark Lord standing on a stack of boulders surveying the waters. He glanced around quickly at the desolate area, then removed his mask and lowered his hood. The stiff, cold wind whipped at his bound hair. For August, it should feel warmer, he thought while prostrating himself.

“Lucius, prompt as usual,” said the Dark Lord, whose voice was barely audible over the wind and crashing waves. He descended from the rocks and approached to within a meter.

“My Lord, where are we?”

“Get up, Lucius. We’re on the British coast.” He pointed across the water. “Over there is Spain.”

Spain? This couldn’t be good. Since he certainly wasn’t summoned for a geography lesson, the Master must have something else in mind. “Yes, my Lord,” was all he could think to say. Where was Bella, who never left her Master’s side unless absolutely necessary? Why were they meeting here instead of at the castle? What in bloody hell was going on?

Voldemort allowed his thin lips to curl upward. How desperately Malfoy wished to ask the reason for being here, yet he dared not. He could almost see the young man’s mind working behind the placid façade, didn’t need Legilimency to determine his thoughts. It tickled him to hold such control over even the most mundane activities of his followers.

“We’re going on a trip, Lucius, you and I. We need to plan, do we not?”

“Absolutely, Master,” choked out Malfoy. A trip? Like a vacation? Was he bloody, f-king kidding? And was he to go alone with the Master? No one else seemed invited. “Where, may I ask, are we going?”

“To Spain,” said Voldemort, rolling his eyes like he believed the other to be a moron.

“And how long will we be gone?”

“I don’t know. These things are delicate situations. A few days, a week, maybe more. That all depends on how quickly I attain my ends, and how satisfied I am with the outcome.”

For a long moment Lucius didn’t reply. What ends? He’d not mentioned any objectives at all. If it were some important mission, would he not have brought along more of his followers? Had the Dark Lord’s tenuous grip on sanity finally snapped? If he wanted to go on holiday, why on Earth would he force Lucius to go with him instead of Bellatrix? No doubt she could be a royal pain in the arse, but she was his…squeeze. His stomach did a sickening leap. What if the Master had grown tired of Bella and decided to explore the, ah, other side of sexuality? His breathing sped up to match his racing heart.

“M-my Lord, are you sure you don’t want Bellatrix to accompany you?”

Voldemort waved a dismissive hand, his face grim. “Admittedly she’s an excellent servant, and she’ll be rather peeved to find out you’re usurping her position to be my escort, but she can be…too exuberant at times, shall we say.”

Too much information, too much information, Lucius’ mind screamed, while simultaneously struggling to come up with a plausible excuse to refuse the Dark Lord’s ‘offer’. “Exuberant is good,” he squeaked, momentarily brain dead.

“She draws too much attention, Malfoy!” Voldemort shot back, no longer making an effort to sugarcoat it. “She screams like a banshee, she has a marked tendency for unrestrained killing at will, and I’m not taking her!”

“Yes, my Lord, forgive me,” Lucius murmured. He suppressed the idea of suggesting another replacement, lest the man Crucio him on the spot for his insolence. “When are we to leave?”

“Tomorrow. Go home, gather whatever you might need for a week, and we’ll meet here at this time tomorrow. No one is to know of this, is that clear?”

“Yes, my Lord,” he mumbled. As if I’d tell anybody I’d become your boy toy.

Voldemort’s red eyes bored into the top of Lucius’ head, for he’d lowered his face in mortification and dread. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask why we’re going to Spain, Lucius. Are you so apathetic you don’t even care to know?”

“I do as you wish, Master. I don’t need to question.” The tremble in his tone reached the other’s ears.

With one bony hand the Dark Lord lifted the young man’s chin to stare into his eyes, and while Lucius dearly wanted to look away, he dared not. Instantly his Occlumency barriers shielded any thoughts of disloyalty, leaving the rest open to be ravaged at will. After only a minute, Voldemort began to laugh, a high, frightening cackle. He let go of Lucius and backed off, practically doubling over with mirth, and convincing the younger man even more strongly that the Master had gone completely batty.

When at last he regained control of himself, he wiped the laughter tears from the corners of his eyes. “Ah, Malfoy, you never cease to amaze me! You sincerely thought I chose you to go with me to be my sex toy?” Another round of ear-splitting laughter prevented him from speaking until he again caught his breath, then he heaved an exhausted sigh. “I haven’t laughed like that since—ever. I must say, you think quite highly of yourself, don’t you? If I’d wanted you, I’d have taken you when you were still a boy.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” Lucius responded, blushing furiously. “It just sounded—there was no one else—the ambiguity—please forgive my idiocy.”

He would have submitted to me. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact in Voldemort’s mind. He’d read the fear in the young man’s thoughts, but also the obedience; even though the thought repulsed him, he would obey. Voldemort could hardly ask for more in a follower. He had indeed chosen the right man to accompany him. “I forgive because I am merciful.” And greatly entertained.

“Thank you, my Lord. May I ask why we’re going to Spain?”

“Have you ever thought of what it would be like to be a vampire?” asked the Dark Lord, gazing out at the rolling waves of the sea. “Uncanny strength, immortality—and for you, eternal youth.”

“I can’t say that I have, Master,” answered Lucius with the slightest catch in his voice. It was going from one horror to another. Was this why they were going—to make him a vampire?

Voldemort wheeled round in time to see dismay on Lucius’ face, sending him yet again into a fit of laughter. “Honestly, Malfoy, I need to keep you around! You amuse me no end. Get a grip on yourself. I’m not planning to create a vampire, nor to become one.”

Lucius thought it wise to say nothing.

“You have heard of Yadiro Buitrago, I assume?”

The name was vaguely familiar from somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind. “Yes, I believe I have. Isn’t he a cult leader?”

“Yes, a very prominent leader, very highly respected by his underlings. I have contacted him, and we are to meet tomorrow at his estate. He requested I bring only one servant, which would be you, and I expect you to keep your eyes open and watch my back.”

“Of course, my Lord.” He’d be carefully watching his own as well.

“If all goes according to plan, we will form an alliance with his cult.” Voldemort seemed to be waiting for a reaction.

“An alliance with vampires, Master? Already you’ve sent Macnair to form a coalition with the giants…”

“And?”

Slight hesitation. “And I’m not convinced we can trust giants. They’re not very smart.”

“What has this to do with vampires?” challenged Voldemort. “They’re known for being clever.”

“And treacherous,” Lucius added softly. “Their powers of persuasion and hypnosis are frequently misused.”

Voldemort raised what was left of his eyebrows in consternation. “You think the greatest dark wizard of all time, the greatest Legilimens of all time, can be taken in by their parlor tricks?” His voice rose to a miffed crescendo as he stared down the other man.

“No, of course not, my Lord! I meant myself, the rest of your followers!” Lucius hurried to reply.

“Hmm,” said the other, pacified enough to forego the Cruciatus. “I suppose that might pose a risk, yet if we’re working to the same end, there would be no need for betrayal or manipulation.”

“Except to suck our blood,” muttered Lucius under his breath.

“I heard that. Go home, prepare what you need—and don’t bother with garlic, that’s a load of rubbish!” commanded Voldemort.

How about a crucifix and holy water? he thought subversively, then bowed low before Disapparating for home.


I, Too, Shall Follow by notwolf [Reviews - 0]

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