The next morning, Snape and Adoxa rose late and dressed for their expedition to Diagon Alley: Snape resplendent in his typical black regalia and Adoxa in the same dress and wrap that she had worn since the cursed night in Cambridge. She was eager to be rid of it and the memories it carried.


“I shall miss the books most,” she confessed to Snape as they stood in the entry way, each donning their boots, “but losing my entire wardrobe has turned out to be rather inconvenient. I've a little Muggle currency but, unfortunately, no Wizarding gold.”


“You may purchase whatever you desire in Diagon Alley. Within reason, of course,” he amended.


“I couldn't.” She shook her head.


“I'll not take no for an answer,” he scolded. “You will have suitable attire, any books that you require, which I do not own myself, and most importantly—a wand.”


Adoxa heaved a sigh. “Yes, a wand,” she repeated.


“Come.” The Potions Master lowered his pant legs over his tall riding boots, rose to his full height and gestured toward the sitting room. “Am I correct to assume that you are familiar with the Floo Network?” he challenged, as if lecturing a room of timid first years.


She nodded with a smile.


“I shall be Flooing into Knockturn Alley as I've business to which I must attend … at a Potions Shop,” he added quickly. “You may accompany me there, if you wish, or proceed directly to Diagon Alley.”


“I would prefer travelling with you. It has been many years since I last visited those places.”


“Very well then,” he said, retrieving a small dish of Floo powder from the mantle and offering it to Adoxa.


She scooped up a handful and stepped into the barren hearth, crouching down.


“Knockturn Alley,” she enunciated clearly, casting the gritty powder to the ground and disappearing in a flash of green smoke.

---

A moment later, Snape manifested himself at Adoxa's side in a secluded corner of Borgin and Burkes, the notorious shop packed with dark artifacts.


Dusting himself off, he stated, “Please await my return. I shall not be more than a half hour. There are ample curiosities here with which to amuse yourself.” Snape turned, surveying the store, his hands clasped behind his back.


“Certainly,” Adoxa replied and when Snape turned to favour her with a rare smile, she had wandered off already toward a foreboding wall of dingy, leather-bound books.


With silent footsteps, Snape quit the room, more certain than ever about the decision he had reached in the early hours of the morning. He left confident in what he was about to do next.


The time passed quickly for Adoxa. While perusing the collection of books in the dusty, morbid shop, a youth wandered into the upstairs room. Partially concealed by the bookshelf, Adoxa watched him curiously as he admired the dark implements and fixated upon a large, black box pushed into the corner of the room. He was not more than sixteen or seventeen, of a tall, lanky build, with pale skin and a stylishly coiffed head of fair, blond hair. The youth circled the mysterious box, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.


Closing the book she had been perusing and hugging it to her chest like a school girl, Adoxa strolled out from behind the bookshelf.


“Excuse me, Miss,” the youth enquired crispy, “do you work here?”


Adoxa continued toward him. “I do not. Why do you ask?”


Sensing a sympathetic air and noting the trappings of status and wealth in her fine clothing and poise, he relaxed slightly. “Have you any idea what purpose this box serves?” he asked casually.


“Why yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” Adoxa approached the box, running a finger across the thick layer of dust accumulated upon it as she recalled a long ago class in History of Magic.


“Please, tell me,” the youth replied, more eagerly than he had anticipated.


“It is a Vanishing Cabinet. If memory serves, these devices were in vogue when,” Adoxa paused briefly for emphasis, choosing her next words carefully, “when the Dark Lord first came to power.”


The youth smiled wolfishly.


“Those who disagreed with his ideas or were the target of his wrath,” she added flippantly, “blood traitors and the like, they would disappear by means of a cabinet such as this one, hiding out at the location served by its twin.”


The youth assumed a confident pose, obviously impressed by her knowledge.


“However,” Adoxa cautioned, “I must add that these devices were notoriously temperamental and prone to breakage, as one might expect from an invention popular among such individuals. If I were you, I would not waste my time with it.”


The youth's puffed out chest deflated and he appeared crestfallen.


“Come now,” Adoxa soothed, “there are many other fascinating artifacts with which to plot your intrigues.”


“How … how do you know why I'm here?” The youth eyed her suspiciously.


“You've nothing to fear of me. We are on the same side.” She smiled convincingly.


“May I know your name then, Miss?” the youth asked in his most charming voice, flashing her a gallant smile.


“Mr. Malfoy, what an unexpected pleasure,” a low, masculine voice suddenly cut the dusty air of the room as Snape appeared at Adoxa's side. Draco's mouth gaped open as his fledgling hopes were dashed as quickly as they were born.


“I see that you and Miss Muir have become acquainted.”


“Y … yes, Professor,” Draco stammered as Snape swooped toward him, reaching for his left wrist and forcing his palm upright.


Draco winced.


“Avert your gaze, my dear, this will not be pleasant,” he warned Adoxa, who stood clutching a book, confused by the sudden turn of events.


“Show me,” Snape commanded.


Draco complied, unbuttoning his left cuff and pushing up the sleeve of his black dress shirt and suit jacket.


The fresh Dark Mark glowed an angry red, blood and pus still oozing from the deep gashes in his pale skin. As time passed, it would heal into an innocuous means of communication, indistinguishable from a Muggle tattoo. But at present, the design looked and smelled of death.


Draco cringed, Adoxa swallowed and Snape shook his head with disgust.


“Did I not inform you that a poultice of comfrey would spare you this discomfort?”


“I don't need it!” snapped Draco indignantly. “I can handle it!”


“And I suppose you also believe that you are capable of completing the task with which the Dark Lord has charged you?”


“I don't need your help!” Draco hissed. “I can do it on my own.”


Snape conceded. “Very well, then.” Narrowing his eyes at Draco, he added, “I'll not ask again.”


“Thank you, Sir,” Draco nodded, his refined manners taking over, demanding that he rein in his errant emotions.


“Come along, Miss Muir.” Snape offered his arm to Adoxa and she accepted, setting down the book she had been reading.


“Mr Malfoy.” Snape nodded as he and Adoxa walked to the circular staircase leading downstairs. “Good luck. I shall see you at school.”


An irate Draco remained behind, brimming with youthful bravado but ill-prepared for the gravity of his task.