Snape awoke the next morning, alone on the floor of the sitting room. Rubbing his eyes, he hoisted his stiff form into a sitting position. The events of the previous night were fresh in his mind, filling him with an unusual combination of respect, fear and confusion. Love, too. All-consuming, intoxicating love for the strange witch who had consented to become his wife.


Rolling his shoulders and flexing his long fingers, he remembered the obvious pleasure of sliding the serpentine band onto her finger. She was delighted by it and he had forgiven himself the indulgence of such a costly little bauble because it pleased her so. The Potions Master had found it, the day before, in Borgin and Burkes, after leaving Adoxa upstairs to the dusty, old books. Assured that it bore no ill-will or curse, he had bought it on the spot, concealing it in his pocket.


How poorly the remainder of the day had gone. But in the end, he had still managed to secure what he desired most—the knowledge that Adoxa would consent to share his life, such as it was. Snape had known more joy and more sorrow since finding Adoxa's notebook and renewing their acquaintance than in the entirety of his thirty-six previous years. And now, his beloved was nowhere in sight.


After her spectacular wandless Patronus the night before, the likes of which he had never before seen, Adoxa slept next to him on the floor, exhausted by the expenditure of magical energy and overwhelmed by Snape's sudden proposal. Now, as he rose to his feet and began searching the house, he wondered where she had gone. He also meditated on the appearance of his own Patronus.


While he had never cast the spell without a wand before, he doubted that was the reason why its form had changed. It had been a doe once, his little secret. No one had ever seen him cast it but her, and she too possessed the same form. Lily. He had loved her once, or so he thought. But compared to his feelings for Adoxa, the boyhood crush paled. With both his heart and mind, he now dismissed it for what it was: an unrequited obsession, unhealthy and imbalanced.


'A terribly intelligent woman, my future bride,' Snape mused to himself, peeking into the bedroom for any sign of Adoxa. 'I shall never doubt her again.'


Entering the kitchen and stepping soundlessly across the worn tile, Snape spotted a piece of paper on the table. In Adoxa's elegant calligraphy, it read:


Utterly famished. Seeking grocers. Shall return by a quarter past nine.


With love,


Your future wife


Snape folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. Issuing an unspoken command to the kettle, he returned to the sitting room and confirmed the current time.


The charred grandfather clock showed nine on the dot. He had neglected the eyesore since his first fruitless attempts but wondered if, before Adoxa's anticipated return, he could fix it. While it kept accurate time, he had never heard it chime the hour and to his astute senses, it rippled with a powerful charm.


Drawing his wand, Snape gave the clock a tap.


“Alohomora!”


Nothing happened.


“Reveal!” he tried, staring at the clock.


Snape attempted to pry the front case open with his fingers but it was stuck. The back allowed no access either. He exhaled a frustrated burst of air through his nostrils and was tempted to blast the abominable thing apart when he heard a knock at the door.


'Curious,' he thought, wondering how Adoxa had locked the door on her way out or why she would bother to knock when she returned.


Snape reached for the brass door knob and opened the door, expecting to see his Adoxa waiting at the threshold.


“Severus!” the woman exclaimed, lowering the hood of her black coat.


“Narcissa?” he replied, surprised to find her on his door step. “Please, come in.”


She entered, removing her coat and patting at her elaborate coiffure to ensure that not a hair was out of place.


“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Snape ushered Narcissa into the sitting room and offered her a seat in his ratty, old armchair.


She perched at the edge of the cushion, her light blue eyes scanning the room. “Perhaps I am too early? Forgive me, but I was most anxious to see her.”


“Whom do you seek?” Snape enquired curiously.


“Why Adoxa, of course.” Narcissa looked at him as if he had asked the most inane question.


“I did not realize that you were acquainted.”


“Oh yes,” Narcissa babbled, “she is just lovely. We met in Madam Malkin's yesterday. She told me that she would be able to help with ...”


“The Dark Lord forbade you to speak of it!” Snape gasped, shocked by her indiscretion.


“Yes, but ...”


“And you thought it an appropriate topic of conversation in a public location, no less, with a woman whom you scarcely knew?”


Narcissa bit her lip.


“You, my dear, are losing your mind.”


The tea kettle whistled, summoning Snape to the kitchen. “Come.” He gestured to Narcissa.


She followed Snape, the click of her heels reverberating through the house.


“What a quaint, old clock,” she noted in passing.


“I would prefer that you see it instead for what it is: the final minutes of your life ticking slowly away before the Dark Lord learns of your recklessness. Really, Narcissa? A ladies' clothing shop, bursting with Muggle-born and friends of Dumbledore, no doubt.”


Narcissa sat down primly on the kitchen chair, which Snape held out for her. “The shop was empty.”


“Thank Merlin's Hairy Ears for that,” Snape swore under his breath as he retrieved the kettle from atop the hob, silencing its whistle and pouring the boiling water into the waiting teapot.


As a delicious aroma filled the air of his dim little kitchen, Snape set the teapot on the table and retrieved two mugs from the cupboard.


“I've no cream or sugar,” he said as he pulled out the chair facing Narcissa and sat down heavily, “unless your fellow conspirator thought to pick some up at market.”


Narcissa's expression brightened. “Adoxa will be here soon then?”


“Yes, I would expect as much,” Snape droned.


Just then, there was a loud cracking sound at the door as if someone were trying to kick it in.


Snape sprang to his feet, whipping out his wand in one smooth motion. Even Narcissa, although she remained seated, reached into her handbag and retrieved her own wand.


“Severus!” shouted a female voice on the other side of the door, followed by another sharp kick from a boot.


“Adoxa!” he exclaimed, swinging open the door to find her there, heavily laden with paper sacks, near bursting with food stuffs.


Quickly, he pocketed his wand and grabbed the sacks from Adoxa, lest they slip from her grasp and clatter to the floor. Carrying them to kitchen, he set them down. With a discreet flick of his wrist, the items began hopping out of the sacks and flying into cupboards, packets of meat and vegetables inviting themselves into the empty ice chest. Tins and boxes of dry goods lined up like soldiers. A wee bottle of cream leaped onto the table, followed by a box of sugar cubes that skipped to a halt in front of Narcissa.


She took two, dropping them into her tea, exclaiming, “Adoxa, it is so nice to see you again!”


“And you as well, Narcissa.”


“I do apologize for my timing. I ought to have sent an owl round first,” she confessed.


“Nonsense. There is no time like the present. You are most welcome to join us for breakfast,” Adoxa offered, as a frying pan clattered onto the hob, a blue flame igniting beneath it.


“I wouldn't wish to impose.” Narcissa eyed the packet of butcher paper unwrapping itself provocatively, rashers of bacon diving into the frying pan, followed by bangers and white pudding.


“There is plenty. Although I warn you, poor Severus and I are half-starved.” Adoxa reached into a paper sack, retrieving a tray filled with freshly-baked sweet buns and set them down on the table, flourishing her left hand in front of Narcissa as she did. “We have been somewhat … preoccupied.”


Narcissa's expression shifted from its default haughty scowl to the most sincere smile Snape had ever seen cross her face.


“Is it true?” Narcissa beamed.


“Adoxa is to be my bride, yes. Should the Dark Lord allow it,” he added reluctantly.


“The Dark Lord?” The two women gaped in unison.


“Need I remind you whom I serve?” Snape narrowed his eyes, shooting a scathing look at Narcissa. “Whom Lucius serves?”


Narcissa straightened in her chair. “My husband rots in Azkaban because of the Dark Lord,” she blurted. “I'll not see my son follow in his stead!”


“You've no choice in the matter,” Snape insisted. “Draco has agreed to the task.”


“He agreed, but he need not do it alone. Adoxa said she would help him.”


Adoxa felt her mouth go dry as Snape rose to his feet and walked behind her. She stood at the hob, intently watching the pan of frying eggs sizzle.


Snape leaned closer, his tea-scented breath steamy against her ear. “You play a dangerous game, my love.”


“I'll not see you act as a slave to that … man,” Adoxa whispered.


“You're twenty years too late for that,” he hissed. Turning away from her and surveying the two women, he stated, “This is the life I have chosen, Adoxa, the life chosen also by Lucius.” He stared at Narcissa. “Should you have any hope of your foolish intrigues succeeding, you had best learn how to think quickly.”


The two women stared at each other and then at Snape as he pushed back his left sleeve and drew his wand. Closing his black eyes, he mouthed an incantation, pressing the tip of his wand deep into the centre of the Dark Mark.


Narcissa's hand shook, her mug of tea rattling against the wooden table top. Adoxa walked over to steady her, a reassuring expression on her face betrayed by deathly white skin.


Snape pocketed his wand and rolled down his sleeve, adjusting the row of buttons at his wrist.


A sharp knock emanated from the front door. Glancing at the two frightened women as he passed by them to the front door, Snape shot Adoxa a sadistic grin, clearly relishing her terror, taunting her.


The front door slammed shut and, a moment later, Lord Voldemort strode into the kitchen, wearing a well-tailored, black Muggle suit with matching black silk tie and shirt. Around his shoulders, Nagini coiled restlessly. Following behind, Snape entered the kitchen.


“Welcome to Spinner's End, my Lord.” He made a sweeping gesture of the kitchen and dropped into an elegant bow.


Narcissa rose slowly to her feet, lowering her gaze and uttering a quiet, “Greetings, my Lord,” accompanied by a slight curtsey before returning to her seat and clutching her mug.


All eyes were on Adoxa as she approached Voldemort, her black eyes narrowed, her pink lips slightly parted. Stopping directly in front of the most fearsome dark wizard alive, she dropped into a deep, graceful curtsey and rose again, staring into his red-tinged eyes.


“You must be Adoxa,” Voldemort hissed.


She nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”


Voldemort stepped closer and took her hand, grazing his dry lips over it with a faint kiss.


She felt his long, sharp nails pressed against her palm and suppressed a shudder.


Releasing her hand, he stared into her eyes and said, “Severus summoned me here with the assurance that you had some very important news. Is that true?”


“Yes, my Lord.”


“Tell me then.” He stared her down, unblinking.


She licked her top lip slowly with the tip of her tongue and hissed, “I would be honoured if you would join us for breakfast first. You too,” she addressed Nagini. “I've some lovely bangers.”


Voldemort cackled wildly and sat himself down at an empty place at the table while Snape and Narcissa stared at each other in disbelief.


Adoxa began filling a plate with hearty food: a full breakfast fry-up with eggs, rashers, white pudding, beans, tomatoes and thickly buttered toast. She picked up an uncooked banger in her other hand.


Voldemort gripped his utensils in his fists, like a hungry schoolboy, as Adoxa set the laden plate down in front of him. He tucked in, devouring mouthful after mouthful of steaming food. In her left hand, Adoxa dangled the raw banger in front of Nagini, who gulped it down as eagerly as her master inhaled his meal.


A bewildered Snape retrieved two extra mugs, one for Adoxa and the other for Voldemort, filling both. Adoxa loaded three more plates and presented them to Snape and Narcissa, reserving one for herself.


The kitchen was silent, save for the sounds of chewing and the clink of utensils. Adoxa had just taken a bite of toast when there was another knock at the door.


Snape made to get up but Adoxa was on her feet first. She went to the front door and peered through the window. Waiting on the doorstep was the scared young man she had met the day before, accompanied by a dishevelled, insane-looking woman who gripped him tightly by the upper arm.


Adoxa took a fortifying breath and opened the door.


“Draco!” she exclaimed. “How nice to see you again. Your mother stopped by for a visit this morning. She's in the kitchen.”


Draco shook free of the crazy woman's clutches and followed Adoxa's gesture toward the kitchen.


“And you are?” Adoxa enquired, raising an eyebrow.


The woman burst through the doorway, rapidly drawing her bent wand and pointing it at Adoxa's throat.


“Where is he?” she demanded.


“You've not answered my question,” Adoxa replied coolly.


“I'm Bellatrix Lestrange! Who the bloody hell are you? Why are you here? And where is he?!” she shouted.


“My name is Adoxa Muir, I live here and if by “he” you are referring to the Dark Lord himself, you'll find him in the kitchen.”


Bellatrix pushed past her, storming toward the kitchen. Adoxa trailed behind, watching the woman drop to her knees beside Voldemort and launch into an animated conversation, all the while favouring him with looks so lascivious that Adoxa felt a mouthful of toast rise up her throat. She went to the hob and made up a plate for Bellatrix, which she set down unceremoniously at the spot next to Voldemort.


Scanning the kitchen for Draco, she spotted him leaning against the counter, mug of tea in one hand and a sticky bun in the other, engaged in conversation with Snape. The Potions Master had turned his chair to talk to the youth while continuing to fork in mouthfuls of hot, greasy food.


Narcissa stared blankly into her tea, ignoring everything on her plate save for a few bites of toast.


In the meantime, Nagini had slithered onto the floor and was exploring the paper grocery sacks.


Adoxa was just about to sit down to her own meal when, once again, there was a knock at the door. Rolling her eyes, she got to her feet and stomped to the front door, throwing it open.


“He's in the kitchen!” she shrieked.


“Uh ...” The errand boy trembled. “Letter for you, Miss.”


“Sorry, lad.” She bent down and smiled at him. “Wrong sort of people around the neighbourhood this morning. Can't get a moment's peace.”


“'Tis alright.” He shrugged, handing her a thick envelope.


Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, Adoxa felt around for some Muggle currency with which to tip the boy. Finding none, she pulled out a golden galleon, left over from the trip to Diagon Alley.


The boy's eyes lit up at the sight of the shiny coin and he extended an open palm.


Adoxa dropped the coin into his hand and he made a tight fist around it.


“Gee, thanks!” The boy grinned. “This will buy loads of chocolate frogs when I head back on the Express next week!” He pocketed the coin and tipped his cap, skipping off down the uneven walkway to his rickety, old bicycle and rode off down the street.


Adoxa stole a glance at the envelope and her breath caught. It was addressed to Professor Snape, postmarked Diagon Alley, with a return address of Flourish and Blotts. She slipped the letter into the neckline of her dress and adjusted her shawl, concealing it. Smoothing her hair and tucking a loose strand back into her chignon, she returned to the kitchen.


The assembly of Death Eaters and associates had finally ceased gorging themselves and looked up expectantly when Adoxa glided into the room.


“Just a lad looking for odd jobs.” She shrugged. The group looked disappointed that another of their ilk had not manifested themselves on Snape's doorstep.


Snape rose from his chair and strode toward Adoxa, taking her hand.


“My friends,” he began, “my Lord.” He nodded, scanning the table of black-clad individuals staring anxiously back at him. “I have an announcement to make. After careful consideration, I have asked this woman to be my wife. As you can see from the ring she now wears,” he held out her hand to the table, “she agreed. With your consent,” he turned to Voldemort, “so shall it be.”


Voldemort eyed Snape curiously, then turned his gaze to Adoxa. “Answer me this.” His red eyes assaulted her. “Do you love him?”


The assembly of servants watched Adoxa. She risked a quick glance at Snape and he stood rigidly by her side.


“No,” she hissed in response. “I do not believe in such foolish sentiments. But he is a powerful dark wizard and I am a healthy, pure-blood witch. Such a union will serve both of our interests.”


“Well said,” Voldemort stated, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. Nagini slithered back onto his shoulders and Bellatrix rose as well, clinging to his side. They made for the front door, Draco rushing to catch up when Bellatrix waved him over with a jerk of her head. The front door slammed behind them and they Disapparated from the doorstep.


Back at the kitchen table, Narcissa swallowed the last drop of her cold tea and Adoxa sat down heavily beside her, elbows on the table, propping up her head in her hands.


Snape leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and blowing out an exhausted breath, some of the tension releasing from his thin, wiry frame.


The three remained in silence for a few moments before Narcissa spoke. “I'd best be going, I think,” she sighed. “You've troubles a plenty of your own.”


“I meant what I said, Narcissa. I shall aid you. But I need more time,” Adoxa pleaded.


“I believe you but little time remains. Draco must return to Hogwarts soon,” she replied nervously, smoothing her blonde coif.


“And I with him, do not forget,” Snape interjected. “I remain Head of House Slytherin. I've ample opportunity to watch over the boy.”


“He refused your help, Severus,” Adoxa reminded.


“Then I shall attempt a different approach,” Snape uttered, already considering the possibilities.


“I'll be going then.” Narcissa stood, slipping her handbag over the crook of her elbow. “Thank you for the tea and sympathy.”


“Expect a letter from me once I've had a chance to contemplate this matter fully. The message will appear innocuous should prying eyes intercept it, but the meaning will be clear.” Adoxa headed to the front door to see Narcissa out.


“Farewell.” Narcissa smiled, stepping through the doorway and Disapparating.


Adoxa stared into the nothingness and then closed the door. Snape appeared behind her, locking the door and warding it thoroughly with powerful charms, a Sound Dampening spell and a latent jinx or three for good measure. He made a sweep through the kitchen, opening his mind to traces of malicious magical intent. Finding none, he returned to the entryway and led Adoxa to the sitting room.


Removing his coat and waist coat, Snape dropped into his chair and sat back heavily, his legs stretched out before him. He patted his lap and Adoxa sat down on him, sideways, crossing her legs over the arm of the chair and leaning back against his chest. He wrapped both of his arms around her and held her tightly.


“Adoxa...”


“Yes, Severus?”


“What did you tell the Dark Lord when he asked...” He held his breath, unable to finish.


“What do you mean 'what did I say'?”


“All morning, you were switching in and out of Parseltongue when you spoke to the Dark Lord.”


“I know,” she responded nonchalantly. “Do you not understand it?”


“No,” he stated. “The ability is exceedingly rare.”


“The others?”


“Doubtful.”


Adoxa snuggled closer, pressing her face to the soft, pale flesh exposed at the top of Snape's smock.


“What did you say?” he asked again, more urgently.


“Please,” she whispered, chills running through her body as she recalled the words, “do not make me repeat it.”


“I may not be a Parselmouth, but I expect that I know what you said. You made the correct decision.”


Adoxa nodded mutely.


“I believe,” he traced a hand down her side, “that you've aptitude for Occlumency.”


“Perhaps.”


“Yet curiously enough, I did not sense the Dark Lord using Legilimency on you.”


“I'd expect not.”


“Why?”


“People generally see what they want to see, even an accomplished Legilimens such as the Dark Lord or,” she gazed up at him through dark lashes, “yourself, for that matter.”


“Have you deceived me?” Snape smirked. “Are you not truly what you seem?”


“To you, Severus, I am an open book.”


“And I would offer you the same in return,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.


Adoxa inhaled sharply, shocked by his statement. She had contended herself with a future in which she would forever remain outside the impervious mental defences of her beloved.


“Anything you wish to know, I shall reveal.” He flashed her a rare smile. “But consider yourself forewarned: I am not a terribly interesting fellow.”


“I beg to differ.”


“Shh,” he hushed, pulling her closer. “Rest a spell with me.”


Adoxa sighed, closing her eyes and sinking into Snape's warm embrace as she purged from her mind the revolting experience of breakfast with the Dark Lord.