Philana walked into the back room to fetch a large bottle off the shelf of prepared potions. As always, Severus had his face over a steaming cauldron, concentrating. She smiled to herself and shook her head as she went out front again.

“That’s three Galleons,” she told the customer.

“Three?” shrieked the woman, as if she hadn’t been fully aware of the price when she placed the order the previous morning. “I could get it for half that in Knockturn Alley.”

With a light shrug, Philana scooped the bottle up. “By all means, go to Knockturn Alley. When you grow an extra finger on each hand or develop rat warts, come on back and we’ll cure you. I might mention, though, that cures for tainted potions cost considerably more than three Galleons.” She whirled around dramatically, her long white ponytail swishing behind.

“Rat warts?” the customer repeated with an unmistakable note of dread. “Maybe I’ll go ahead and buy it here.”

Philana sauntered to the counter, completed the transaction, and waved as the woman left. Sighing, she headed once more into the back room to complete her inventory.

“Rat warts?” Severus said dryly, not looking up, though his lips curled into a smirk.

“It could happen!” she retorted, straightening her shoulders.

“So could a tsunami, but I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he said, laughing so softly it could hardly be heard. “She’s more likely to develop hives…or the occasional speech impediment.”

“Which can be very serious,” Philana contended. “You know quite well that we sell the finest potions in Britain, Severus. Don’t sell yourself short. I happen to know people who’ve started coming here because of your renown as a Potions master.”

“I’m flattered. Dubious, but flattered.” Still, his smirk had turned into a genuine smile. This wasn’t the first time he’d been told business at the shop had increased since he’d begun working there.

“Severus, I need to step out for a little while. When you’re done with that brew, let me know so I can go, alright?”

Snape stood up and looked over at her. His hair, wet from steam, clung to his cheeks. “You can go now, if you wish. This needs to simmer for exactly two hours and forty-nine minutes more. I’ll hold off on preparing anything complicated until you return.”

“You’re a doll. I’ll be back within the hour.” Almost at a skip she took off.

Occupying himself with picking up on the inventory where his employer had left off, Severus dug into the first bin, gauging the freshness of the contents, and how much he needed to order. He liked it here, the coziness of the small room, the pungent odors of various herbs, the very earthiness of it as he raked his hands through grasses to check for mold, or sifted the pollens from their flowers. He was so engrossed he didn’t hear the next customer come in, not until the man cleared his throat nervously.

“Hello. Is anyone here?”

“Coming,” Snape called out. He dropped a handful of toadstools into their bin, headed into the front of the store, and stopped cold.

Remus Lupin’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped a little. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” said Severus, automatically feeling for his wand. Always, always that damned thought in the back of his mind that where you find one Marauder, you find them all. A rapid glimpse around the room assured him they were alone. “What do you want?”

“Your customer relations could use some work,” quipped Remus, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in an attempt at a smile.

Severus merely stared back at him with cold, black eyes filled with an ancient hatred.

Remus fumbled with a paper he’d taken from his pocket. He unfolded it and set it on the counter. “I need these ingredients.”

Taking two steps forward, Severus snatched up the list. He perused it briefly, eyes narrowing. In a caustic drawl he asked, “Are you planning to brew this yourself?”

“Uh, yes.”

Snape snorted. “In case you didn’t understand the sign outside, and God knows how many of you Gryffindorks can actually read, it says Potions shop. We make potions so ‘people’ like you don’t blow yourselves up trying to follow the recipe.”

Remus flushed to the roots of his hair, the other man’s use of ‘people’ not lost on him. “I’ll be fine. I had no idea you cared.”

“I couldn’t care less if you dropped dead on the spot,” sneered Severus. “Though I’d prefer not to drag your carcass out myself.”

“Could I please have the ingredients I ordered?” repeated Lupin, growing agitated.

“Now, now, don’t go all werewolf on me,” said Snape, looking down at the list again. “Looks like you’re planning to make an anti-changing spell. Let me save you some time, money, and effort: they don’t work.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore told me this is a new potion, just invented. It allows me—werewolves—to maintain their cognizance during the full moon,” explained Remus, all the while wondering why he was bothering to explain anything to Snape, of all people. As if he cared, and why should he after the hell they’d put him through in school?

Surprisingly, Snape seemed more than interested, he appeared…eager? “Do you have this formula with you?”

“Yes,” Remus answered reluctantly. If he surrendered it, who’s to say Snape wouldn’t destroy it out of spite?

“Well, let me see it!” demanded the other impatiently.

Remus reached into his pocket again and handed over a folded parchment. Severus read it over quickly once, then began again, studying it carefully, every so often uttering a, “Hmm”. A few times he nodded to himself, tapping his finger on an ingredient or instruction as if verifying something he’d believed or hypothesized himself.

At last he said, “Come back on the late afternoon of the full moon. I’ll have it ready. I’d do it now, but it can rest no more than four hours.”

Startled and wary, Remus shook his head. “How can I trust you to brew it right? You hate me!”

“Yes, well, I value my reputation more than I despise you,” drawled Severus. “It will be done precisely according to directions. Whether it works is not my concern.”

The ball was in Remus’ court. Dare he trust a man who loathed him to the very marrow of his bones? Then again, his true malice extended to Sirius and James; Remus had always been an afterthought. And Snape was probably the most talented Potions master Hogwarts had ever produced. Sure, James went on about Lily, but she hadn’t made a potion since they’d left school, and Snape…well, this was his job! Could Remus honestly say that if he attempted the potion himself he’d be successful? His Potions grades had never been Outstanding.

“I’m waiting,” said Severus, consciously resisting the urge to tap his foot.

“Alright, make it. I’ll be back to pick it up.”

Severus only nodded in acknowledgement. The minute Lupin was gone, he carried the papers into the back room, devouring them with his eyes. Wolfsbane. Unoriginal name, but a new, stimulating challenge just the same! He couldn’t wait until the day of the full moon so he could try it out. As much as he never wanted to see Lupin again, he hoped the young man would come by to let him know if it worked.

He dug a parchment from a side drawer, along with quill and ink, and began to painstakingly copy the formula, word for word.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

“Malfoy, get your hand off me before I hex you into next week,” growled Bellatrix. Out of nowhere her wand had appeared in her hand, pointed at Lucius’ temple.

Lucius attempted to release her at the same time he snapped, “My wife requested that I bring you to dinner tonight. Why are you being so obstinate?” He yanked at his hand, which refused to budge, his pinkie wedding ring having caught on the lace of her upper sleeve. A final savage jerk ripped him free, along with half her sleeve. His eyes widened in consternation.

“Did she tell you to rip off my clothes and drag me there?” challenged the woman, lowering her wand and tucking it into a hidden pocket of her skimpy skirt, ignoring the material flapping down onto her breast, exposing one shoulder.

Lucius tugged the material off his hand, letting it fall to the floor. “I asked you nicely first. I was only leading you to the door like a gentleman,” he responded, averting his face, mortified at what he’d done.

Bella rolled her eyes. “Your father would be so proud.” A wicked smile crept over her lovely features, marring them. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Abraxas in a long time—”

“It’s Mr. Malfoy to you,” Lucius interrupted.

“—and I’ll bet he’d love to hear how his obnoxious progeny behaves when he’s away from home. Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll pound some manners into you.” A little giggle escaped.

“Dream on, troll maiden,” he muttered, throwing his hands up. “Fine, stay here, I don’t care. I’ll tell Narcissa you’re ill, which is technically true since you’re a certifiable lunatic!”

“Oh, no,” she said, still grinning broadly. “I’ll be there. Bye, Lucy-Wucy.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave. “As soon as I transfigure myself something to wear, I’ll meet you there.” With that she turned and strutted out, her spiky heels clicking along on the stone floor of the castle.

“Why can’t you be like Narcissa?” Lucius lamented to no one, then smugly noted to himself that Narcissa was uniquely perfect, unlike her beastly sister. He turned to go before the Dark Lord might encounter him and—Heaven forbid—invite himself to the occasion.

He met Rodolphus coming in, limping ever so slightly. “Hey, Lucius! Why are you here? Does the Master have a mission?”

“No, I came to see Bella. You and she are invited tonight for dinner. She’s getting ready now.” His eyes drifted down to the werewolf-mangled ankle, covered by Rodolphus’ pantleg. “Good to see you up and about. I thought for a while you might lose that foot.”

“Me, too,” admitted Rodolphus, flexing the ankle. “Your dad did an amazing job.”

Lucius nodded, smiling wryly. “He’s had plenty of practice with me and Severus, though I can’t say he enjoys fixing us up all the time. We’ll see you in bit.” He walked out and Disapparated. He needed to get ready himself.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius abhorred dinner parties almost as much as he detested full-blown parties. Being a Malfoy—being proper and articulate and flawless at all times—was wearing enough without having people around to gauge any lapse in perfection. At least today it was only family, so he could relax a little. He sipped at a goblet of wine as he mingled with the relatively few guests: Severus, Druella, Orion and his wife and son, and Rodolphus…and Bellatrix. It surprised him how attractive she looked in her transfigured indigo gown, her hair done up. The witch had a knack for being able to pretend she was a normal lady when she wanted to.

When had he started hating Bella? He laughed inwardly, wondering when he hadn’t hated Bella. As children, she’d been a bully due to her age and larger size, though mostly she’d left him alone so she could flirt with his older brother, who’d had no interest whatsoever in the younger brat. He shuddered to think that if his brother had lived, the poor boy might have been forced to marry Bellatrix! At Hogwarts she’d been four years ahead of Lucius, so they rarely saw each other. Those were good times.

“What are you grinning about?” asked Severus, following Lucius’ line of sight over to Bella.

“Just remembering old times.”

“Was she nicer then?” asked Severus doubtfully.

Lucius laughed out loud, drawing the attention of the entire room. “No, she was a wretched child, too. I thought perhaps when she married Roddy she’d change. I was obviously wrong.”

“Son,” came the voice from behind him.

He whirled around. “Yes, sir?”

“Bellatrix spun me an interesting tale. She claims you made a pass at her and ripped her blouse.” Abraxas took a swallow of Firewhisky, his eyes steady on his son. “Any comment?”

Aside from the fact that she’s a lying slut? He truly didn’t appreciate the horrified, disgusted looks coming his way from Severus, nor the accusing ones from his father. “It was an accident.”

“And exactly how do you accidentally rip a lady’s blouse?”

“Lady?” Lucius snorted, before realizing he’d said it out loud. Abraxas’ glare held him glued to the spot. “She wasn’t cooperating. I took her by the shoulder to escort her here and my ring got caught in the lace of her blouse. I couldn’t get it free and…it ripped. It was a rag anyway,” he finished sullenly.

“Why were you endeavoring to force her along?” Abraxas queried smoothly. “Did I raise my son to push around the fairer sex? No, I did not,” he answered himself.

“It wasn’t like that,” Lucius protested, though in retrospect he thought he should have let it go when she appeared unwilling. “It’s just that this is so important to Narcissa, she wanted her sister here. I’ll apologize, Father.”

“Good. You can do that right after the announcement.” He gestured toward Narcissa, who was beaming in their direction.

Lucius strode over to his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist. “May I have your attention, please?” The room quieted quickly. “Before we sit down to supper, Narcissa and I have an important announcement. Honey?”

Narcissa’s smile encompassed her whole face, shining upon the guests waiting expectantly. Tempting as it had been, they’d managed not to tell anyone the news yet. “Mother, my wonderful family and friends, Lucius and I called you here to share in our joy. We’re going to have a baby—I’m pregnant!”

“Oh, Narcissa!” cried Druella, running forward to hug her daughter, tears running down both their faces.

Soon the entire company surrounded the couple, hugging and kissing Narcissa, shaking Lucius’ hand, everyone truly happy for them. Not the least of those excited for them was Severus, who waited until the rest had cleared off a bit before extending congratulations. It had worked, his potion had worked! If he never made another brew that was successful, he’d always be proud and grateful for this one.

Lucius quieted the small crowd once more with a simple, “Attention, please! My friends, we cannot neglect to give credit for this miracle to my dear friend Severus, who created the potion that Narcissa has been taking for infertility. Severus, we owe you an enormous debt. Thank you.” He raised his glass; all the guests raised theirs as well, and Severus blushed while, for the first time in his life, a toast was drunk in his honor.

Narcissa pulled him forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you so much, Severus,” she whispered in his ear.

“You’re very welcome,” he said softly, embarrassed and elated by the attention.

“You will, of course, be the baby’s godfather,” Lucius chimed in.

Stunned, Severus gaped at them. “When I gave you the potion and said to make me godfather, I didn’t believe you took me at my word. You can choose whoever you want,” he gushed, embarrassed again, this time feeling like a fool.

“We talked it over. We want you,” Narcissa insisted. Lucius nodded along.

Severus’ face erupted in a huge grin. “Okay. Thanks. I’m really honored.”

Regulus came strolling up and nudged Severus in the side. “Congratulations, you get to be godfather!” He smirked and looked over at the couple. “Which means you need to name the kid after me. It’s only fair, since I’m your favorite cousin.”

“What if it’s a girl?” asked Lucius dryly.

“Um…Regula?” he said hopefully, raising his eyebrows and bobbing his head.

“Nice try, cousin,” Narcissa smiled, patting his hair as if he were ten. “We haven’t even thought of names yet. But you are my favorite cousin.” She clutched him in a hard embrace. “I hope you always stay this sweet.”

From the dining area, a bell rang to announce dinner was served, and they all moved along. Abraxas hung back, taking hold of Severus’ arm. When the others had gone, he said, “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in front of everybody, Severus. I can’t express how much it means to me what you’ve done for Lucius and Narcissa. And for myself—it’s my grandchild. If you need or want anything—anything at all—let me know and it’s yours.”

“Mr. Malfoy, I didn’t do it because I wanted something. I did it because Lucius is my friend,” replied Severus.

“I know that. I’ve come to see why Lucius considers you his closest, truest friend. But you deserve a reward. I only wish you’d let me.”

“You’ve already done so much. You helped me get visitation of my daughter, which means the world to me.” He paused, debating in his mind whether to go on, then plunging ahead in a subdued voice. “Help me watch over Jacinta and my brother and sister. When my mother is gone, it’ll be a lot harder.” He clenched his jaw, the very notion of her passing tearing at him.

Abraxas laid a hand on his shoulder, then unexpectedly pulled him into an embrace. After a few moments he moved back. “I’d be privileged to help your family in any way I can. Come on, this is a celebration. Let’s go eat.”

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

“Yadiro?” Mateo wandered through the main room and ducked his head into the sitting room. Not there. He ambled on down to the vampire’s bedroom, to find him sitting at a small table, poring over a stack of old papers by candlelight. “Diro, I think everyone who’s coming is here.”

Buitrago turned his head to look at the younger vampire. “How many?”

“Ninety or so.”

The leader nodded to himself, pleased. It was a phenomenal turnout; he hadn’t really anticipated so many, and these would carry word back to those few remaining in and around the villages and cities deemed part of his territory.

“You did a good job of getting them here, Mateo,” said Yadiro, rising from his chair. “I commend you.”

“Thank you,” his friend answered, feeling somewhat strange. Yadiro wasn’t one for complimenting; praise wasn’t often found on his lips.

Mateo followed him out and through the main room, up the stone staircase, and into the cool night air. In silence they covered the distance through the woods and up to the old demolished manor where sangristas, male and female, sat or stood all over and around the rubble, waiting for the leader to appear. As with Yadiro and Mateo, physical ages ranged greatly from mere teenagers to those in their fifties, the bulk of them aged between twenty and forty. Clothing and hair styles, too, ran the gamut from seventeenth century to modern times, depending on the individual vampire’s preference more than the time period into which he or she had been born.

One would think that with the number of those gathered, the noise level would be significantly increased, unless one considered that survival often entailed stealth…silence. It was, in fact, almost eerily quiet. When they noticed Buitrago approaching, all eyes turned his way, glowing markedly in the moonlight.

Buitrago gave a light push off from the earth, bounding upward five meters to land lightly atop one of the brick chimneys, the only part of the estate to remain standing. His cult followed his movement with their eyes, turning to face him. “My friends, thank you for coming. I’ll get right to the point. As you’ve been told, we sangristas have been presented with an offer, and because the circumstances are unprecedented, I’ve decided to call for a vote rather than make the ruling myself. Once this collective decision has been reached, all will adhere to it. I will tolerate no violation of it.”

He motioned Mateo over, and the younger vampire flew over to land at the base of the chimney, then he continued. “I was approached by an extremely powerful dark wizard named Lord Voldemort.” There were a few stirs of recognition. “He is gathering forces in Britain—men, giants, whoever he can get—with plans to overthrow their Ministry of Magic. In doing so, he would wrench control of the wizarding world into his own hands. The non-wizard population would be subjugated to the wizards.”

“How does this affect us?” asked a young woman with spiked purple hair.

“Lord Voldemort intends to increase his boundaries; once he has Britain, he’ll try to capture the rest of Europe piece by piece. If he’s successful in conquering Britain, he’ll be in Spain in short order. To get to the crux of the matter, Lord Voldemort has asked me to form an alliance with him, to help him overthrow Britain’s Ministry.”

“Why would you help him if he plans to take us over next?” said a man from the middle of the crowd. Numerous vampires voiced similar concern.

“If we aid him, he promises to make our lives easier, safer, to prohibit people from slaying us. He says we’ll have access to all the human blood we want, as long as we don’t create more sangristas.”

“Can he deliver on his promises?” interjected a woman in a long fancy dress, her hair in ringlets around her ghostly face.

“I don’t know,” admitted Yadiro with a shrug. “It seems he expects us to take a lot on faith. Mateo tells me there exists in Britain a resistance against Lord Voldemort, yet the only wizard powerful enough to conquer him refuses to do battle. I fear that regardless of any resistance, Voldemort may eventually prevail, and if we shun an alliance with him now, he’ll turn his minions on us later.”

“Then you’ve already decided,” said a man near the front of the assembly. “You wish us to help him.”

“No, I don’t particularly wish to help him. A human, especially a wizard, with unlimited power can be a precious ally or a terrorizing foe.” He smiled down at Mateo, who stood motionless below. “Mateo believes that if Voldemort threatens us, we are more than capable of defeating his army, especially if we join forces with other cults in Portugal and France. Nevertheless, I wish you to discuss it among yourselves. I’ll return shortly for your response. Mateo will stay here to answer any questions you may have.”

“Why don’t you stay, Yadiro?” asked the purple-haired woman.

“My presence acts as a hindrance to debate. You see me as the decision maker; tonight I am the decision keeper.” Placing a hand to his chest, he bowed to the group, then flew straight up into the air and out of sight.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Yadiro stood once more atop the chimney. The vote was taken, the verdict rendered. “So be it. The cult has spoken.”

Once again the man in front raised his voice. “What happens if a sangrista goes against this ruling? Don’t we have the right to follow our own beliefs?”

Yadiro’s dark eyes seemed to pierce right through him. “Any action taken by one member of our community has repercussions felt by all.” He reached down into the chimney hole and pulled out a bat that squeaked and shrieked at him. “If I find any members of my cult betraying us, causing opinion to turn against us…” In one swift motion he bared his fangs and bit the head off the bat. Its limp body hung in his hand as he spat the head at the man, then tipped his face back and sucked the blood from the tiny animal. He tossed the carcass aside. “Their fate will be less pleasant.”