THE PRISONER FROM AZKABAN
By Lady Bastet and Your Cruise Director

The Rescue

The wind blew bitterly through the small man's cloak. He tried to hunch his shoulders to protect his face from the chill, but it was to no avail. The cold found him everywhere. It was inside him, burning into his body from the point where the silver of his artificial hand met his arm.

"I'm freezing," he said plaintively.

"Silence," hissed the dark-haired wizard in the prow of the boat. "Perhaps you would be warmer if you were rowing...oh, but you can't do that, can you." Snape glared at Peter Pettigrew, who clutched his silver hand closer to his chest and cowered. It was true that he could have managed an oar if he had wanted to, and the journey might have gone more quickly if he did so, but it was not fair that Snape had made him accompany himself and Draco Malfoy on this miserable journey in the bitter waters where they would probably drown...

The boy who was propelling himself and the two grown men across the sea paused momentarily to give his aching arms a rest. In the moonlight he looked very young, more like the Hogwarts student he should have been than a Death Eater. Yet Draco had not uttered a word of complaint, nodding and saying "Yes, sir" whenever Snape demanded anything of him. Whether this stemmed from loyalty to his teacher or an overwhelming desire to see his father again, Peter could not guess, but there was no doubt that Draco was completely committed to Snape's course of action.

"Not much further," Snape told the boy, his features seeming to soften a fraction, though it might have been a trick of the light. Draco had been rowing since Snape insisted upon turning off the Muggle motor miles from the rocky shore of the island that was their destination. Though Snape claimed that Draco had done well for them all at Hogwarts, standing his ground the night Dumbledore died until the Death Eaters could reach the castle, Peter privately suspected that the younger Malfoy was a coward. He had wondered at first whether Snape was using Draco for his own very private purposes, but now he knew better. They were both too devoted to Lucius Malfoy -- the man they were going to force Peter to rescue.

"I don't understand why the Dark Lord would keep this plan a secret," he complained. "Why wouldn't he tell Bellatrix? She's been in Azkaban, she knows the layout. And why wouldn't he want us to rescue Macnair and the others?"

"Silence!" growled Snape again. His dark eyes glittered in the moonlight. "If the Dark Lord had wanted your input, he would have asked for it. Since he did not, you will do exactly as I say."

"Yes, sir," said Draco dutifully although the statement had not been directed at him. Peter was surprised at the son's willingness to take such risks to rescue his father when he might have been positioning himself to take Lucius' place among the Death Eaters. Competition and distrust between parents and children were the rule in many pureblood families, yet Draco seemed sincerely attached to his parents.

And what of Snape? Why had he agreed to go to such lengths to rescue a servant who had failed their master on more than one occasion? Even sharing a house with him, Peter had learned very little about the man. Yet he was certain that Snape had some personal interest in this mission; he was not merely following the Dark Lord's orders. "I want to be absolutely certain that you understand," he was saying for the third or fourth time, "that you are not to approach Malfoy. You are not to be seen by anyone. You are to enter the prison as a rat, discover the location of Malfoy's chamber and remove the wards on that cell only. Then you are to return to the boat, removing the wards behind you and leaving the nearest entrance unlocked."

"I suppose you're going to tell him that you rescued him all by yourself," whimpered Peter, gathering his cloak even more tightly around himself. He had been terrified of Lucius Malfoy in school, and the man had made it clear that he had very little use for Wormtail once Voldemort brought the Death Eaters together again, even though it had been Wormtail who had made that possible.

"Certainly not," Snape objected smoothly. "We wouldn't be here without Draco, would we?"

There was nothing to be done but to wait, shivering in the bottom of the miserable boat, while the boy rowed and Snape stared out in the darkness with his hawklike eyes until he could pick out the island and the shape of the fortress. Then Pettigrew was forced to dive into icy water, swimming frantically for the high, rocky shore, transforming as he reached the stones and scrabbled desperately for a foothold. Snape had been right: there were crevices through which a rat could easily slip, hollows and spaces that allowed him to climb to the plateau upon which stood Azkaban Prison.

He did not look up; he did not want to look at the building where he might have spent all those years rotting instead of Sirius, and where he might be confined still had he not hidden himself among the Weasleys to keep an eye on wizarding society. It had been his great good fortune that Percy had handed him down to his brother Ron just when Ron was leaving for Hogwarts and that Harry Potter had befriended the youngest Weasley boy so quickly. Pettigrew knew many secrets from having shared Harry's dormitory, unnoticed and unseen. He had even offered to share them with the Dark Lord, but Snape had insisted that Pettigrew should allow him to decide what the Dark Lord did or did not need to hear.

Though the prison was a miserable, forbidding place, it could not hold the terrors that it had when it was guarded by Dementors instead of minor Ministry officers, none of whom was a match for a wizard who had spent time with James Potter and Sirius Black, who had had unique talents for unfastening locks and creating maps. After crawling in between the rusted bars of a corner window, he worked his way to the warden's office. Although the numbers above the keys were not labeled with the names of prisoners, it was easy to guess which cell would hold Lucius: the upper room far away from nearly all other prisoners. The Ministry had always believed that no one could escape from the island unaided -- the officials had not counted on an animagus swimming through the North Sea -- and Lucius would be considered the most likely inmate to engineer a breakout.

Because he could not see how it could possibly benefit him otherwise, Pettigrew followed Snape's instructions. After determining that the isolated chamber did, in fact, hold Lucius Malfoy, he removed the charms on the door so that it would unlock with a simple "Alohamora." Then he crept down an unguarded stairway in the rear of the fortress, nullified the spells to detect motion, unlatched the giant iron door from the inside and uttered the incantations so that it, too, would open with verbal commands.

Although he cast a spell to keep himself from freezing before plunging back into the sea, the water was so cold that he did not understand how Black could have survived all the way across. Of course, it had been summer when he escaped, but the distance was so very great and he could not have been very strong. How could a will so remarkable have been brought down so easily by Bellatrix Lestrange? She was Malfoy's wife's sister; perhaps she would be pleased with Peter and offer him her protection for his role in this rescue. Yet the nagging sense remained that Snape did not mean for any of the others to know...not even the Dark Lord.

Snape and the boy were sitting very close together in the boat when he returned, huddled together for warmth. "Did you see him?" Draco whispered eagerly. "How did he look?"

"Not now," Snape hissed sharply. "Well, Wormtail, where is he?"

Pettigrew told them. Draco's eyes grew wide and he fidgeted, trying to ease the blisters the oars had rubbed onto his hands. "Let me go," he begged Snape. "He's my father. Even the Dark Lord might understand if..."

"No," said Snape brusquely. "If for any reason I do not return, you must go back without me. Your mother will lie for you if need be and claim that I had put you under the Imperius curse. But I do not believe it will be necessary to involve her, and it would be safer if she did not know anything that happened this night." With a sharp glance at Pettigrew, he added, "The Ministry is already suspicious of her, since her sister's escape." Was it the Ministry or Voldemort from whom Snape was trying to protect Narcissa? Or did Snape simply want Lucius all to himself for awhile?

Peter was still agonized with cold, yet Draco would not let him sit beside him for warmth as he had done with Snape, who wrapped his heavy cloak around the boy's shoulders. The two watched as the dark figure dove into the sea, swimming toward the prison and what might be a death sentence for them all.

Security at Azkaban Prison was certainly not what it had been when Dementors patrolled the island upon which it stood, yet despite the lack of guards, it was a long and difficult climb over the black rocks to reach the rear gate of the fortress. The irony of his journey was not lost on Snape: he had been sentenced in absentia for the murder of Albus Dumbledore to rot inside this very prison until he was dead, despite a lack of material evidence, based on the testimony given by a boy the Ministry of Magic had portrayed as insane for more than a year. If he were caught inside the stronghold, he would not be permitted to leave.

And if he managed to escape after such an escapade became known, he would be hunted not only by the Ministry but by the Dark Lord. Not for the first time, Snape wondered whether Lucius Malfoy was worth the risk. For all that they had shared, he could not be certain that Lucius would turn. He did not believe the convictions that had brought Lucius to the Death Eaters remained unassailable, but he suspected that Lucius was as frightened for his son as Draco was for his parents. If the Malfoys insisted upon loyalty to Voldemort, if Snape had misjudged their resentment or simply their wish to follow the safest path, he had put himself in mortal peril and endangered everything for which he had sacrificed.

The only weapon he had, thought Snape grimly, was one that the Dark Lord would not have anticipated or perhaps understood. Draco loved his father, and Lucius was deeply attached to his son. Furious as the child might have been with Harry Potter for getting his father put in Azkaban, a part of him was equally furious that the Dark Lord had not set Lucius free. Draco had taken the Dark Mark in the hope of protecting his family and gaining power, and instead he had discovered that not only his own life but those of his parents were hostage unless he completed a seemingly impossible task.

As for Lucius, Snape suspected that he had hoped Voldemort would never return. Unlike Bellatrix, he had been swift to renounce his allegiance to the Death Eaters, consolidating his own power in the Ministry, protecting the interests of purebloods and Slytherins by controlling the Hogwarts Board of Governors. His affection for Draco was apparent in his meddling...he had bought the boy's way onto his House Quidditch team, argued furiously for the execution of a hippogriff that had injured Draco. Snape wondered whether he would die for the boy; after her hysterical visit the previous summer, he thought it likely that Narcissa Malfoy would, just as Lily Potter had done for her own son.

News of Dumbledore's death would have reached Lucius by now. He must have had suspicions about what had been widely reported, that Severus Snape had killed the Headmaster when Draco Malfoy hesitated. And he must have known, too, that no sixteen year old boy could do away with Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort had put Draco in a position where he was bound to fail, and die. Lucius was not likely to forgive that of all things.

Pettigrew's directions were surprisingly accurate, and his charms on the gates and locks had not been discovered. It was little wonder the Lestranges had been able to escape along with Dolohov and the others. If Voldemort had wished to free Lucius, he could have sent any of his followers to accomplish the task; apparently he had been content to leave him to die slowly inside.

Down the corridor past two more wall sconces. The door to Lucius' cell was unremarkable, unlocking just as Pettigrew had said it would with a single whispered command. It seemed that Wormtail had finally been good for something. Pressing on the metal bars crisscrossing the heavy wood, Snape silenced the creaking hinges and slipped inside.

Lucius was sitting in a stiff wooden chair that did not look very comfortable, eyes focused on the tiny window in the uppermost corner of the room. His head turned at the movement and for a moment Snape had the impression that he was bracing himself for an attack. Then his eyes widened, and he pushed his long hair back as he stood, looking at Severus with a combination of anticipation and distrust.

"This is more creative than your usual efforts."

Lucius' voice was hoarse, as if unaccustomed to speech. Was it possible, thought Severus, that Lucius didn't recognize him, that he had lost his mind during the time he'd been incarcerated, even without the presence of Dementors? "Lucius," he said urgently.

"Ah, so you call me 'Lucius.' You must have asked a Death Eater for advice. But Severus Snape could not simply walk into Azkaban unaided. Who are you? And why do you disturb me?"

"Lucius, I am the same person you met as a boy in Slytherin when you were a prefect and I couldn't mount a broom," said Severus, carefully stepping closer. The pale wizard looked like a shadow of his former self, gaunt and tired; his hair had grown even longer, but it had lost its shine and there were tangles in it, something that Severus had never seen before. Lucius' eyes had a hard edge. There was still pride in them, though tempered, held back, and Snape was greatly relieved to see that Azkaban had not been enough to break him.

"How did you get here?" the rusty voice scoffed. "Did you become an Animagus so that you could swim or fly undetected?"

"I came in a Muggle boat. It would be best not to speak about the details. But I did not come here at the behest of the Ministry, nor the Dark Lord. I came for you."

"What did I give you for your seventeenth birthday, Severus?" Lucius asked, still looking suspicious.

His seventeenth birthday. Severus thought back and even though their present situation was grim, a small smile threatened to surface. "You gave me a jar of imported aphrodisiac ointment and insisted we make good use of it all night." It was something very personal to them both, of course, something neither of them would have shared with anyone else. They had been young and carefree for the most part then, unsuspecting of the cards life would deal them.

"Severus." Lucius rose to his feet and closed the distance between them. There was a quick embrace, and then he smiled, his eyes warming and his hands resting on Severus' arms. "I have a feeling this is more than a simple visit?"

"Indeed. You're walking out of here, unbeknownst to the Ministry." Snape reached into his robes, pulling out a wand and presenting it, handle first, to Lucius. "I know it's not your own wand, but it will have to do for now."

Lucius took it and seemed to weigh it in his hand, getting a feel for it. "Thank you, Severus. It feels good to have a wand, any wand, in my hand again." Then he looked up. "Although I suppose that we should try to avoid casting any spells if we want to leave undetected."

Snape nodded, knowing it was imperative that they leave as quickly as possible, before the watch changed and someone noticed anything untoward. "Yes...we need to leave, now." Lucius' eyes lost their reflective look and he gave Severus a nod in return. He didn't grace the cell with one last look before leaving it, following Severus out and down the stairs. Lucius was alert, and there was a restless energy in him as they silently crept steadily downward from the tower and further down to the unlocked back door.

The chill and damp of the stones were clinging to their hands as they steadied themselves against the wall from time to time. Once, they had to stop and hide in the shadows, bodies pressed close together, as a guard crossed the corridor before them. They stayed silent and unmoving until they were certain that the man wouldn't come back. Severus noticed that Lucius' steps grew slower, and he tried to hurry him on, wishing some of his own strength into the man's straining limbs. It was as if the fire that had fuelled his strength was failing despite the force of his will.

When they stepped onto the shore, pushing the thick door to the prison shut behind them, Lucius saw the boat in the distance with the waiting boy huddled against the chill. He paused for a short moment, taking a deep breath of salty, moist sea-air, and his shoulders lowered another fraction. Standing so close to him, Severus could almost feel the tremble inside him. Freedom must have tasted overwhelming, but they were not clear of danger yet. As he nudged Lucius in the direction of the boat, Severus murmured, "I'm sorry, but we will have to swim out."

Lucius looked at him and there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "I dare say that I could do with a bath -- although a hot one would have been preferable."

Severus shook his head. Over a year in Azkaban; at least the man still had a sense of humor. "I promise you will have one when we reach our destination."

By the time the two men had pulled themselves into the boat, Lucius was shivering, his long hair plastered to his cheeks and back. The robe he was wearing had become threadbare and wasn't giving him much protection from the chill night air, especially not when soaked. Draco pulled off the cloak that Snape had wrapped him in earlier and carefully stood up to put it over his father's shoulders. Lucius looked up at him and, when the boy's arms were around him, arranging the folds, reached up to hold him close.

Draco's heart was beating hard, and he gave his father a squeeze back. The moment didn't last long, but to Draco it was worth everything that he had been through. He sat back, slightly damp from sea water, with a happy smile on his face. All of his fears that the elder Malfoy might reject him for his failure to kill Dumbledore had vanished. As he rowed, his shoulders knotted painfully and his fingers grew raw and freezing on the oars, yet Draco did not care. His father was sitting directly in front of him, hair whipping in the icy North Sea wind.

"Can't we use a spell to keep out the chill?" asked Pettigrew in his nasal whine, teeth chattering, but Lucius ignored him entirely while Snape shot him a glare:

"Use a spell? Send the Ministry of Magic a signal with our exact location? What a brilliant suggestion, Wormtail. Perhaps you'd like to do it, and we'll cast a floating charm around you and leave you here with your wand."

"Are you cold, Draco?" His father spoke in a dispassionate voice, but when he turned to look at Draco there was approval on his face -- even appreciation. "How tall you've grown. And Severus tells me you've become a fine Occlumens." At that Draco chanced a look at Snape before meeting his father's eyes again. Had Snape tried to stir up trouble? Or had he meant the words as a compliment?

In either case, Draco did not dare ask here, with Pettigrew listening to every word. Snape had not specifically told him that Wormtail was not to be trusted but his entire demeanor when talking to the man made his feelings evident. It was odd, because Wormtail had apparently been sent to Spinner's End to help Snape in any manner the Potions master deemed necessary, yet all the others kept a respectful distance from the Animagus who had Voldemort's protection for being the one to help him return to power. Pettigrew did not seem particularly grateful for this distinction; in fact, Pettigrew did not seem to care about anything at all, save that he remain alive and free from suffering.

"How very resourceful of you to have brought him," said Lucius with a jerk of his head at the shivering wizard, as if he had been reading Draco's thoughts about Pettigrew, though his words were directed at Snape. "There are many rats in Azkaban. One more wouldn't have been noticed." "Perhaps he would have liked to stay," murmured Snape. "Would you like to go back, Wormtail? Neither Potter nor the Dark Lord can kill you in Azkaban." Draco choked back a snort of strained laughter, fighting with the oars. Snape must have heard it, because he turned his head and studied Draco. "Would you like me to row for a while?"

"No, I'm fine," Draco started to object when his father cut in.

"Let Severus row for a few minutes. Come here and let me have a proper look at you." Greatly relieved, for his back and shoulders and hands were in agony, Draco let Snape slide beside him and take the oars from his hands before he carefully crawled to the seat beside his father, who raised an arm to welcome Draco under the warm cloak. "You've taken the Dark Mark?" Lucius asked as if they were discussing Draco's schedule at Hogwarts.

"I did." Draco hesitated, unsure whether his father expected him to pull up his sleeve here in the middle of the icy sea to show him. "I thought..." And what could he say? I thought that I could take your place? It was nonsense: Lucius Malfoy's son did not have his experience, nor his connections, and moreover Draco had never wished to supplant his father. "I thought that if I joined him, if I did a good job, he would forgive you," he explained in a quiet rush.

Lucius said nothing; his eyes darted to where Pettigrew sat huddled but hearing every word. "I'm sure that you worked very hard. And you must have done well on your OWLs to have continued with Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts -- some news did reach me inside."

Draco smiled faintly as he looked into his father's face. "I did." He didn't mention how Potter had suddenly and quite unexplainable become the top of the class in Potions, thwarting his every attempt to impress Slughorn and regain his family's status; what had happened at school seemed very unimportant now. He let his gaze wander over Lucius' features. The man looked so drawn, tired, dirty...and thin. Draco felt a twinge at that. "How did they treat you, Father?"

The elder Malfoy's eyes darted once again toward Pettigrew before he spoke, and Draco understood that anything said on the boat would not fully answer his questions. "Well enough," announced Lucius, turning his head ever so slightly toward Snape. "They left me almost completely alone. I expect they were terrified about what would happen when I was freed and could testify before the Ministry about my treatment."

"The Ministry! They wouldn't even set a date for a trial!" snarled Draco. How furious he had been when Dolores Umbridge and all his father's friends had suddenly accepted the word of Potter and Dumbledore over that of someone who had done favors for so many of them.

"Perhaps they believed that it was safest to leave me in prison," said Lucius smoothly.

"Safer for who -- the Ministry, or you?" asked Pettigrew sullenly. And Draco abruptly understood something Dumbledore had been trying to explain the night he had died. It was not only safer for the Ministry if Lucius Malfoy was locked away; it might have been safer for the Malfoys as well.

Draco watched his father and Snape exchange a look and his sense increased that this was not a rescue planned by the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters. Something else entirely was going on, which should perhaps have made him uneasy, yet he felt safer than he had since the night his father went to prison, when the world had learned that Potter was not crazy and that Voldemort was back. "What are you implying, Wormtail?" he asked contemptuously, knowing that the older wizard would not dare make explicit any suggestion that the Malfoys and the Dark Lord might no longer be on the same side.

"I suggest that you stop rocking the boat -- it would be a pity if you fell overboard," added Snape. With a little squeak, the pasty-faced wizard curled up in his cloak and went back to shivering miserably. Snape glanced at Wormtail, then at Lucius. "He is correct that this rescue has put you in danger. You realize that the Dark Lord gave me no orders to remove you from captivity." From the prow of the boat Peter gave another squeak. "An oversight, I must assume."

"Perhaps," agreed Lucius, squeezing Draco's shoulder as if to suggest that he remain still. "Although -- let us speak frankly, Severus -- I couldn't help but have the impression that the Dark Lord had sent my son to perform a task no teenage wizard could accomplish on his own. It was as if, with me out of his grasp, he planned to send my only child to his death."

"I believe it quite likely that you are correct." Snape nodded and Draco felt his cheeks burning, though his father did not sound ashamed that his son had not been equal to the task. Draco had told himself that if he succeeded, he would be the most celebrated of the Death Eaters and his family would be forgiven, but it seemed that Snape had been right to try to protect him. Pausing to glance at the boy, the black-haired wizard went on, "It was of great importance to Albus Dumbledore that Draco not become a murderer. The Headmaster made me promise that, should it become necessary, I would kill him to prevent the boy from doing so."

Snape had never told him that! As Draco stared, Snape raised his eyes to look at the horizon, then glanced back at Draco with his sternest expression. "Help me pull in the oars. I believe we have come far enough to use this Muggle device." Turning, he poked at the outboard motor and his face twisted into a sneer. "Wormtail, get back here and I'll show you how to operate this filthy thing."

"I don't want to..." Pettigrew started to protest.

"None of us cares what you want. It should be nothing to you to get your hands dirty -- you betrayed your friend Potter to his death, then let your defender Black go to this very prison for your crime. You are a coward as well as a traitor. However were you sorted into Gryffindor?"

"He isn't clever enough to be a Ravenclaw, he isn't amiable enough to be a Hufflepuff, and he's too weak-minded to be a Slytherin," Lucius answered for Pettigrew, smiling at Snape as he put out his hands to keep his balance while the little boat rocked. "Perhaps the Sorting Hat thought he might grow a backbone among the lions." Draco did not speak, slipping the oars to the damp bottom of the boat as he watched the three men. It was as hard to imagine Pettigrew among arrogant do-gooders like Granger and Weasley as it was to think of him as a Death Eater or an equal.

"There is some appeal to the idea of tossing him overboard. But I suppose that the Headmaster would have wanted even him spared," said Snape contemptuously. "Nevertheless, he has proven that he is a loathsome, vile miscreant incapable of thinking for himself, so stronger wizards must do it for him."

"What are you going to do to me?" asked Pettigrew in his squeaky, frantic voice.

"I am certain it will be in everyone's best interests to Obliviate Wormtail there, including his own," announced Lucius smoothly. Pettigrew squealed a much louder objection, but Lucius only lifted an eyebrow and cast an amused glance in his direction. "Not until we reach shore, of course. In a few hours you won't even remember that you were freezing on this boat. Be content -- the Dark Lord can't take your life for a plot he will never discover from your undependable tongue."

Snape glanced at Draco. "I trust that you are with us?" he asked lightly.

"Of course I am," said Draco, feeling as if a greater weight had been lifted from him than when Snape took over the oars. If only he had understood, that awful night on the ramparts. Dumbledore had promised to keep his father safe, and Snape had been working for the same thing...

"You do realize that he may kill all of us." His father was looking at him as if Draco were an adult instead of a child, perhaps for the first time. "It would be safer if you remembered none of this as well. If the Dark Lord believes that Severus is conspiring against him, he would likely see you as your teacher's pawn rather than his collaborator."

"No. If he finds out, I want him to know I was part of it. He can't treat the Malfoys this way -- any of us." The smile on Lucius' face emphasized its gauntness, but Draco could see his pride. To Snape, Draco said, "I didn't ask any questions when you asked me to come tonight. If my father is with you, then I am too."

The motor sputtered loudly, then roared to life. Draco clung to the side of the boat as they skimmed across the freezing water, watching his father's hair stream out behind his head, free in the wind. Lucius Malfoy was smiling.

The Safe House

The small group walked up the garden path to a house, the two men, one blond and one dark-haired, in the front and the teenager bringing up the rear. They were oddly clothed for this area, certainly for most British areas, and the blond man and the boy were darting glances around them, as if they had never been there before. Mrs. Johnson in the nearest house had certainly never seen them before, and she was pushing the net curtain to the side -- very discreetly, of course -- to get a better look at them.

"There are people next door." She watched the dark-haired man pull something out of his pocket and unlock the door. The thin, blond man looked tired, she thought, as he leaned against the wall with one hand. The boy instantly moved forward to support him. Her husband simply gruffed in response, not looking up from the paper.

"Perhaps they're the new owners... but there are two men." They looked close, all of them, and the boy carried a resemblance to the long-haired man even from this distance. Could it be his father? Mrs. Johnson continued watching the house even after the figures had gone inside and she couldn't actually see anything, apart from the lights coming on.

~*~

When they were within the house, the front door closed and locked behind them, Lucius let his eyes glide over the walls of the hallway where they stood. They told him things: that the house was worn and run-down, that it had been empty for a while, that the previous owners hadn't had much money nor taste. But he was free, and Severus had said that they would be safe in this house, in this place. He shrugged out of the travel cloak that he had been given and stepped into the small living room.

It amazed him slightly, but he found that he didn't much mind the state of the house and the furniture. No bare stone walls for him anymore; no cold stones under his feet, he thought as he walked over the threadbare carpet, so wonderfully soft to his chilled soles and his stiff and frozen toes.

"That box on the wall controls the temperature," Snape was telling Draco. "Lucius, you must have a bath."

Lucius gratefully accepted the blanket that Severus wrapped around his shoulders and watched Draco hurry through a door, ordered to run a bath for him. After a few moments, he could hear the sound of running water splashing into a tub. It was like music to his ears, a sound once so familiar and now so alien, but no less welcome because of it. There had been the occasional Scourgify charm cast on him by the Azkaban guards -- probably because they didn't dare let him suffer too much, or they could well suffer consequences later, if or when he was released. But what was a cleaning charm compared to the very real experience of hot water against his skin, of soap and a flannel? He shivered delightfully at the thought and gave Severus a small smile.

"Do you know how many times I have dreamt about having a bath?"

"More than once, I would think, during this time," Severus replied, moving a little closer. Lucius thought it looked as if he wasn't quite sure if he should get even closer, reach out to him, or...and then Severus glanced towards the door through which Draco had disappeared.

Lucius nodded. "Yes, it is the simple pleasures that one generally takes for granted that I found that I felt the most deprived of. Baths, coffee, company... The comfort of a sofa, a soft mattress." He felt worn, tired after the amount of physical exertion that surpassed the sum of energy spent for the whole year previously. His body was aching, his mind overwhelmed by the sudden freedom, and the prospect of a real bed was incredibly tempting.

Severus nodded as he steered Lucius towards the door. "Well, you will have all of that now, and more if I can arrange it." They entered a small bedroom and were met by Draco who announced that the bath was ready. Lucius left the blanket in Severus' hands and closed the door to the bathroom behind him. This was something he felt that he needed to do in private, an almost ritual cleansing of the grime and dirt from Azkaban, a first release of tensions and lowering of defenses, a first experience of privacy -- real privacy -- without isolation.

As Lucius stepped into the bath, he knew that he finally had a chance to act upon the conclusions he had drawn while incarcerated. With that certainty, he allowed himself to fully enjoy the first bath he had had in a very long time.

~*~

"Let me," said Severus, taking the comb from his hand and pulling a bottle of potion seemingly out of midair, though Lucius supposed he must have had it in a pocket. Severus poured a few drops into his palms, rubbed them together, then slid his hands over and through Lucius' hair, which untangled and softened around the fingers as they massaged his scalp and brushed over the back of his neck.

By the time the hair lay smooth and straight over his shoulders, Lucius was growing hard beneath the warm robe, his cheeks flushed. Severus pulled out another bottle, spilled some of the contents into his hand and came around in front of Lucius, kneeling on the bed as he brushed his fingers over every bruise and blemish he found on Lucius' skin, which tingled as they faded. There were sounds of dishes clinking and occasional cursing from the kitchen; apparently Draco was finding the Muggle stove difficult to operate. Glancing up, his breath coming quickly, Lucius murmured a quiet, "Thank you."

For a moment they simply sat, gazes locked; then Severus stood and moved silently to the door, pushing it shut and bolting it while Lucius bit his lip. His son was just across the hallway...but no one had touched him for more than a year. He had scarcely even dared touch himself, with all the magical scrutiny inside his cell, and here was Severus coming back to the bed, urging him to lean back against the pillows, pushing his legs apart so that he could crawl between them.

A groan exploded from Lucius' throat merely from the feeling of the hands on his thighs. Deft fingers unfastened the tie he had painstakingly made in the sash on the robe before leaving the bathroom. It fell open, revealing Lucius' swollen cock to Severus' eyes.

"Something must be done about that," murmured Severus as he leaned over, breath hot on Lucius' already inflamed skin before lips brushed reverently over the head, touching a kiss to the glistening hole. Lucius cried out so loudly that for a moment he was paralyzed with terror, expecting Draco to come barging in to see what was the matter, but there were no interruptions while Severus took the cock into his mouth and began to suck it as if he had been starved for it.

The shaft was so sensitive that the pressure was almost painful, and the thumb that circled softly over his balls was too much. Closing his eyes, Lucius moaned again, feeling Severus angle his head to look at him, unable to return the glance because he was sure that if he saw Severus' mouth engulfing his cock, he would burst and fill that mouth the same instant. Even without looking, he knew he could not last long anyway. He had no energy to hold back, no focus to help him withstand the strain -- they did not have much time, so much to plan -- Severus' tongue was swirling over the tip urging him on, the neighbors as well as Draco must have been able to hear Lucius' last howl...

He hung on the edge for a moment, forever. Then it was as if his body intended to make up for a year of abstinence all at once, spurting long hard jets into Severus' throat, feeling him swallow, feeling the suction lessen, and still he was coming, fingers massaging behind his balls to ease the aching spasms, his throat burning from his shouts.

"Are you quite finished?" whispered Severus in a voice filled with amusement. "I'm going to have to claim that I removed your appendix with my fingernails." Lucius could not even manage an apology, grunting softly and sliding down against the pillows. All the strength that had held him upright had been drained; his face was flushed, his prick tingling, and Severus' hands were still on his thighs, reminding him that he was no longer alone. His lover stretched and moved, kissing his cheek, and Lucius turned in his stupor to try to find his mouth.

"Shh. Sleep," Severus told him, running fingers once more through his hair, then straightening his robe. And though Lucius wanted to resist -- they had so much to discuss, so much to plan! -- his eyes fell shut and would not open, not even when he felt Severus pull blankets over his body and reach to shut the artificial light.

~*~

The first time he heard his father cry out, Draco reminded himself that Snape knew what he was doing; Lucius Malfoy was in good hands, and if Snape needed any help he would summon Draco. The second time he heard his father cry out, it was quite apparent from the sound that Snape needed no help whatsoever, and Draco really did not want to know what his Potions teacher had done to earn that kind of shameless moan. Draco knew that his father and Snape had been close for many years -- since before his father had married his mother -- just how close, he had never spent much time considering, but it must have been very intimate indeed for Snape to have risked a rescue from Azkaban.

Ignoring the sounds, Draco set to work resolutely trying to make the ridiculous Muggle stove light without blowing the thing up. How could anyone stand it, having to risk one's life for a cup of tea? This room was filthy -- the house was filthy, the entire neighborhood was filthy. Yet Snape had said his father would be safe here, and that was what mattered.

Draco kept himself busy trying to clean the stovetop with water and a faded towel he found on a rack beneath the sink. He did not look up when the sounds from the bedroom ceased and, eventually, Snape stepped into the kitchen. "He's asleep," he said without coming near Draco. "There were a few injuries -- fortunately I had brought some salve with me."

Privately, Draco suspected that the cure Snape had given the elder Malfoy had come someplace other than a jar -- very likely his mouth, he added to himself with an inward snicker as Snape accepted a teacup from him and drank deeply. Snape too must have been exhausted and frozen after the swim through the icy waters of the North Sea, yet he had remained alert and focused. "Did you want something to eat?" asked Draco. "There's not much here, just some bread, cheese in the icebox..."

From someplace in his robes Snape pulled a small bottle. "Two swallows of this and you will not be hungry for a day," he told Draco, uncorking the potion. Apparently he had an apothecary hidden in his robes, all in service to Lucius Malfoy. There was an awkward silence between them. Never again would Draco and Snape be teacher and student; they were co-conspirators now, partners in what might prove to be a deadly crime. Draco wondered whether Snape wanted to go in and sleep with his father, and was trying to find words to suggest that he do just that when Snape looked at him. "You should stay with him. It is you he will want to see when he wakes."

Perhaps it would have been polite to decline, but Draco had no reserve for politeness. "Thank you, sir," he said with a humbleness that was heartfelt, rose and walked into the room where his father lay sleeping in the center of a bed that was half the size of the one where he slept in the Malfoy mansion. The man appeared to be wearing a robe, for which Draco was thankful. Pushing him to one side as if Lucius were the child and himself the adult, Draco lay beside him and listened to the deep, steady breathing that never quite became a snore. He would keep watch, he told himself, even though it was probably not necessary with Snape in the room beyond. He would be certain...

When Draco opened his eyes again, light was creeping through the spaces between the flimsy slats of window blinds. For a moment he remembered nothing. What was he doing in this disgusting flat? Then he glanced to the side to see his father watching him with a trace of a smile on his face.

"Good morning," said Lucius.

"Father." Draco's throat threatened to close over. It would not do to cry; he could not crawl into his father's arms as if he were still a little boy. Looking away, he stared at a yellowish spot on the ceiling and willed calm.

"You look so much older than I remembered." His father's fingers touched his face. "I have some idea what the past year has been like. Have you been very unhappy?" Nodding, for he did not trust his voice, Draco reached up to touch his father's hand. "You're a talented wizard, Draco. From what I understand, you managed to hide your plans even from Severus. You mustn't blame yourself for what happened with that meddling old fool of a headmaster -- the Dark Lord sent you to kill him because he knew he could not accomplish it himself."

"It was awful," whispered Draco, squeezing his eyes shut. There was something that he knew he needed to say. "I'm not trying that again. Killing someone like that. I'll do it if I have to, to protect myself, but I'm not an assassin. We're Purebloods -- we shouldn't have to do the dirty work."

He expected his father to chastise him for questioning the Dark Lord's orders, but when Lucius spoke, there was anger in his voice that was not directed at Draco. "You should never have been put in that position." He set his jaw. "The punishment was meant for me."

"Then you forgive me, Father?"

Lucius Malfoy looked at him, and now there was exasperated disdain in his eyes. "You're my son," he said, as if this should have made the answer apparent. "Something no foundling could understand, not even one descended from Salazar Slytherin. You said so yourself -- he can't treat the Malfoys this way." He looked at Draco for a long moment with the same prideful gaze he had worn when Draco had received his Hogwarts letter. "Come here."

Then Draco did embrace his father like a little boy, but he could not regret it.

The door opened, and Snape entered the room. He looked tired, thought Draco, as if he hadn't slept well. Then again, this was the first morning in a long time that Draco had woken up and felt refreshed. Perhaps it was because Lucius Malfoy was free -- the feeling that they were on their way to set things right -- or just the simple fact that he had been sleeping snuggled up to his father.

Draco wondered briefly if Snape would think less of him for showing his love for his father so openly, seeking comfort like a small child, but he refused to feel ashamed; that would belittle it. However, Snape gave him a weak smile. "Draco," he said. "I would like to speak with your father in private."

Speak, or something else? But Draco nodded, and after another look at his father's face, he got out of the bed. "Yes sir. Shall I make breakfast? Tea?" He remembered that they didn't actually need to cook, at least as long as they had that potion, but he thought that perhaps Lucius would appreciate the taste of real food. Something to seduce his taste buds...

"Coffee would be nice, Draco." Lucius smiled at him. "I have not had coffee in much too long."

"I'll have to go buy some then, because there wasn't any that I could find last night." Draco looked at Snape for guidance, like he had so many times since they had fled in haste from Hogwarts. Snape reached into a pocket and produced a few slips of colored paper and gave them to him. Money. Muggle money. Draco took them and smiled. He would try to find something suitable for his father's first breakfast in freedom.

"There is a shop a few streets down," Snape said. "We passed it last night." Draco remembered it. It had looked odd, strangely stripped and cold, with large windows that displayed none of the goods, but colorful posters that declared prices. Were prices the only thing Muggles cared about? What about quality? But the posters had said nothing like "top quality lamb chops" or "Ogden's finest Firewhisky." Just the product and a price, occasionally "buy one, get one free" as well.

Draco straightened his clothes, wishing he could cast a cleaning charm on himself. The shirt was slightly rumpled after him having been slept in, but he hadn't got the hang of the Muggle iron. Who would have thought, a year ago, that Draco Malfoy would be doing household chores? But he was Slytherin, he did what he had to do, and when this was finally over, he swore that he would never again cook or clean. With a last look at his father and Snape, who was now sitting on the bed, Draco left the bedroom, and then the house, setting out for the Muggle shop. He suspected that he needn't hurry.

~*~

"How did you sleep?"

Lucius smiled lazily at Snape. "Never better."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Snape studied him in the light coming through the uneven slats of the blinds. Lucius still looked very thin. "I know the accommodations are somewhat poorer than you are accustomed."

Lucius snorted slightly. "Severus, I know you didn't spend that long in the cell they held me in Azkaban, but you can't already have forgotten what it looked like?"

"I had hoped you never considered yourself accustomed to that." The blankets and pillows on the bed were of very fine quality, but Snape did not dare replace the bed itself with anything like the grand wooden frame that dominated Lucius' room at home, and the fresh paint on the walls was already peeling from the rotted layers beneath. He thought that being in such surroundings, and in such a state of neglect, might have lessened Lucius' physical presence. He ought to have known better.

"Not accustomed, no. But because the comforts of the manor have been unavailable for so long, this," Lucius made a small gesture, elegant as always, "does feel like a big step in the right direction." He smirked. "I don't intend to stay here forever."

"No. We have plans to make." Snape had told himself that he had sent the boy away to shield him, and had insisted to himself that he needed to see Lucius as quickly as possible in the morning to begin to set events in motion. Now, looking at the man, he could not even remember where he had planned to begin. He had managed to rest on the lumpy sofa despite his excitement after the way Lucius had let him touch him the night before, but not enough to erase it from his mind...nothing would ever erase those moans from his mind.

"We do indeed have plans." Lucius smiled, warmly even, as he looked at Snape. He reached out a hand and placed it on Snape's leg. "Some of them can be executed immediately; others will need longer before they can be launched. I think we can combine them."

Now that was surely an invitation, which it would be unreasonable, even unkind, to fail to accept. Leaning in, Snape returned the smile. "Slytherin did warn against the separation of necessity and ambition in the quest for power," he recalled, and bent his head to find Lucius' mouth.

"He was a wise man," Lucius mumbled before their lips engaged in a slow, exploring kiss. He wrapped an arm around Snape and sighed into the kiss as he began stroking his back, gradually moving his hand up towards the back of Snape's head.

Stretching out across the mattress, settling partway on top of Lucius, Snape slid a hand over the soft material of the robe in which he had sent his lover to bed. He had refastened the sash with a loose knot that came apart in his fingers, giving him access to the skin beneath. It was warm and smooth before it pebbled from the teasing of his fingertips. The swollen bites from bedbugs and rashes from the unclean cell at Azkaban had faded completely, though the ribs still felt very close to the surface. "We need to get some food into you," he murmured.

Lucius moaned softly at the light touches, his eyes closed and a look of enjoyment on his face. "Mm, later. Now, I want something else into me..." A small smile played on his lips before he kissed Snape again, pushing his tongue between slightly parted lips to continue his exploration of the mouth he had not tasted for so long.

Snape groaned into the kiss, pressing his swollen cock against Lucius' thigh beneath his own confining clothing. Imagining this had been his only consolation during the months after Dumbledore's death, when there had been no one to whom he dared unburden himself, not even physically. Reaching into a pocket, he dropped a vial of lubricating potion on the bed before he began to struggle to undress, made difficult by the fact that he did not want to release Lucius to do so.

"You came prepared, I see." There was no mockery in Lucius' voice; on the contrary, he sounded very pleased. Slightly awkward kisses were exchanged while they both tried to unbutton Snape's clothes, and Lucius lost more of his composure as more of Snape's skin was revealed and made available to his hands. "I longed for this," he murmured. "Didn't want them to know how much I missed this."

"So did I." Snape had indeed brought a little bit of everything he could think of in the large pockets of his modified robes, chosen to look uninteresting to Muggle eyes; his focus had been remedies in case Lucius had been mistreated, but he had not overlooked the need for pleasure that he had feared -- and hoped -- would have been as great in Lucius as it had been in himself. "We haven't much time -- Draco will be back, and the walls are very thin. Tell me what you want."

Lucius nodded and gave the issue a few moments thought. "I want to feel you, I want the release of being taken...but Severus, a little slower and less forceful than usual." He pulled Snape close again, eager to touch him. "At least for now." Sex between them had always been passionate, a way to find pleasure and sometimes catharsis, never dull or overly considerate. There had always been communication between them, and the words "tell me what you want" were commonly spoken.

"I am not certain this bed would remain upright without any restraint," Snape replied wryly, moving to the side and reaching to adjust the pillows. It would probably be easiest to have Lucius on his belly but that would deprive them of the sight of one another's faces. Rubbing his prick against Lucius' as he kissed him, he thought that he needed to have him on edge before he dared to fuck him; he did not expect to be able to last long himself.

Lucius moaned and bucked up against Snape, rocking his hips to get more friction. It was more than just the simple lust of their bodies; in a way, sex was also a way to reconnect, to find a way back to the closeness of minds that they had once had and now needed again. "Severus," Lucius said breathlessly, "don't wait on my account." His hands had found their way to Snape's arse and he pulled him closer, squeezing his buttocks, then changed the grip to grab his lover's hips. "Take me on my side?"

Snape's hands were trembling enough that he spilled oil on the sheets trying to get a sufficient quantity onto his fingers. "Up," he said just as breathlessly, urging Lucius' leg to bend and lift as he slid his slippery hand between Lucius' thighs, finding the spot he sought and stroking it gently. The entrance was tight, very nearly closed to him at first, but that was vastly preferable to the alternative: there had been rumors of assault and rape within Azkaban, with the most corrupt and despicable of Ministry officials supervising the prison. The hands on his hips were urging him to keep rubbing, thrusting against Lucius' groin, and Snape was afraid that the tight heat clenching around his fingers would drive all sense from him though he had promised to be gentle.

As the fingers slid into him, Lucius gasped. At first his body tensed up, unused to the touch, but through force of will he seemed to relax, concentrating on the pleasure instead. He let go of Snape after a little while, even pushing him away slightly, and pulled one leg up more, rolling his lower body over to the side while letting his shoulders lie flat against the mattress.

Watching Lucius, seeing his hair fanned over a pillow, Snape could wait no longer; he reached for the oil again, covering his prick with it as best he could without actually stroking it, for he knew how easily he could bring himself off on Lucius' thigh just looking at the man. "Stop me if it's too painful," he said hoarsely and pulled Lucius' leg around his body, pushing up against him.

When Snape pushed into him, Lucius gave a loud groan. He grabbed Snape's shoulders tightly at first, and took a deep breath, and as he relaxed again, the clenching around the hard cock inside him eased up, so did Lucius' hands. "More," he moaned. "I want all of you."

Snape, who had gone completely still, trying not to come just from the spasms, moved hesitantly. Lucius felt tighter than he ever remembered, and he felt so thin -- of the two of them, Snape had always been the bony one. Yet the sound of Lucius' groans and the feel of the prick in his hand were so familiar, so eagerly anticipated at a time when Snape had not been certain he could manage to free Lucius. He shuddered as he slid in deeper, unable to speak.

"Yes!" Lucius pulled Snape down over him and raised his head to kiss him. "Yes," he murmured again, all other words superfluous. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and despite being unaccustomed to these pleasures, his body had no regard for the need to be careful. Hips rose slightly to get Snape deeper, then moved down and forward to slide his cock into Snape's hand...Lucius tried to keep his eyes open, to look at his lover, but the sensations were too intense and they closed.

Snape could not look at Lucius, either; he had gone from reciting potions ingredients in his head to simply trying to conjure the deep cold of the sea only a day before, when he had thought his bones would never be free from the chill. He was sweating from the friction of their bodies sliding together, and the heat inside Lucius made him want to move harder, faster, until the inevitable climax. Focusing on the erection in his hand instead of his own, Snape tried to steady his rhythm, chancing a glance at Lucius' face.

Lucius was lost in bliss, and it was reflected on his pale features. He was moaning continuously, disregarding any trace of discomfort. He'd always been rather free with his expressions and voicing of his pleasure, but being isolated for so long had apparently made him louder. Snape didn't complain; he found it immensely exciting to hear these sounds of which he was the cause, though right now, they were almost too much, and he wondered how Lucius was able to hold back... He didn't have to wonder long, because only a few seconds later, Lucius arched up, craning his neck, and came hard with a passionate cry.

The hot spurts over his hand and across his belly were more than Snape could withstand. Shoving Lucius down quite forcefully, he let his hips thrust as they had been straining to do, propelling him deep inside Lucius. Yes, oh, that was perfect, with Lucius still calling out, and it took only seconds for Snape to realize he couldn't last. Ramming himself into the slippery heat, he clutched at Lucius' hip as he pumped out his seed.

When Snape was finished, Lucius gave a content sigh and reached up to kiss him again. He didn't say anything, his eyes showing all that he couldn't put into words. But Snape could feel him struggle not to put shields and obstacles up when he felt the light brush of Snape's mind in his own. Being closed and private had been a necessity inside Azkaban with all the Aurors and Ministry people around. Lucius had maintained his innocence the whole time and hadn't dared relax too much, Snape knew, or someone could find out that the claimed Imperius Curse was nonexistent.

He had not meant to intrude upon Lucius' privacy; it simply felt as natural to him to touch his lover in that way as it had felt to give him pleasure the night before or to come into his bed that morning. At the sudden tension in the body beneath his own, he frowned, unsure whether he had hurt Lucius in that final burst of desire or whether Lucius resented having his mind invaded without permission. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Lucius shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No need to be sorry. I'm just not used to this anymore, which is all the more reason to do it." He reached up and brushed Snape's hair back with his hand. "We need to trust each other, more now than ever, if we want to succeed."

The sound of the front door opening made them both start. Reaching quickly for his clothes, Snape said, "There are some things in the wardrobe -- not much. I had little warning and could not allow Pettigrew to find me hoarding Muggle clothing. I hope they will serve for now."

"I'm sure they'll be fine, Severus." Swinging his legs from the bed as Snape struggled into his own clothing, Lucius walked naked to the wardrobe and tugged open the sticking door. He hesitated, eyes widening at the sight of the clothing within, and then, with a cocked eyebrow, he withdrew a hanger holding a dull blue shirt that needed ironing. With a very slight shake of his head, he pulled it from the hanger and shrugged into it. The long hair and bright blue eyes seemed almost extravagant by comparison.

"I will go help Draco," Snape said, lowering his eyes. "There are brushes in the bathroom, and soap, Muggle toothpaste -- try not to swallow any, it's toxic." With a glance back he left Lucius his privacy, pondering and then rejecting the notion that perhaps he should advise Lucius to cut his hair.

~*~

By the time Lucius had arrived in the kitchen, Severus had coffee brewing in a contraption unlike any that Lucius had ever seen and Draco was peeling the shell off an egg, cursing as bits caught beneath his fingernail. "I know you prefer them soft-boiled, but these were already cooked," he explained when Lucius came over to see what he was doing. "How do Muggles do any of this without magic? There are sausages -- 'bangers' they called them -- but I couldn't figure out how they were supposed to be cooked, so I bought ham and a few small pies. That's already cooked too."

"I will teach you to use the stove," Severus said grudgingly, as if he were embarrassed to know so much about the Muggle world they now inhabited. "I have been thinking that it may simplify matters to claim that you are suffering from a Muggle illness, Lucius; it will prevent unwanted visitors and explain why someone living in such conditions is able to employ a part-time housekeeper." Lucius felt some small relief that Snape intended to provide him with a servant; in a place such as this, even a stranger's cleaning skills would be welcome. He said so, only to receive an odd look from Snape. "You understand that it will be a Muggle?"

"As I presume my neighbors to be?"

"Yes. Though I believe that they will ignore you if they suspect you to have the Muggle plague. It is not contagious, but I'm sure you've heard how fearful and superstitious Muggles can be." There was something Snape wasn't telling him about the illness, Lucius could tell, but then Snape glanced at Draco and Lucius decided to save the question for later. The kettle made a horrible, screeching noise and Snape quickly turned down the fire beneath it. "If people believe you are ill, they will also not wonder why you never leave the house. I don't believe any Death Eater would imagine that you might live under such circumstances, which will buy us time."

"You're planning to keep him shut up in this place?" Draco asked in a tone of disbelief. Lucius answered the question before Snape could:

"I believe that Severus' motivation is to keep me alive and hidden from both the Ministry and the Dark Lord's spies." Nodding, Severus took down a chipped mug from a cabinet and poured a cup of coffee. "Please believe me, Draco, I would rather be shut in this place than Azkaban."

Draco nodded, looking slightly chastised. "Yes, Father. I just...I'd like you to be free." He lowered his eyes to the floor.

Lucius stepped over to him and pulled him close. "I know, Draco... But I am free now, thanks to you and Severus. You didn't see the inside of Azkaban, and I'm glad you didn't, but this is a great improvement." He slowly stroked Draco's hair, a tender gesture to show Draco how much Lucius had missed his son. Severus kept his eyes politely averted, taking down another mug and pouring a second cup of coffee, though Lucius knew that he hated the stuff and he had never seen Draco drink it. Belatedly he realized that Snape might need the coffee to stay upright. "Severus, didn't you sleep at all?"

"I slept on that couch." Snape jerked his head toward the small living room. "It was not the best night's sleep I have ever had, but until I have faced the Dark Lord and professed to have no knowledge whatsoever of your whereabouts, I will not rest well."

"If you are going to face him, you need some rest first. He will do more than politely ask you if you had anything to do with my escape." Lucius frowned. He wasn't only thinking of himself, but of the danger to Snape as well as Draco. If the Dark Lord glimpsed anything of the previous day...

"I will be fine," Snape said stiffly. "I'll take a potion later to regain some energy. Draco, I will ask you again: are you absolutely certain you wish to carry these memories of your father's rescue? I have made it impossible for you to travel here without my presence or a Portkey, but if the Dark Lord manages to break you, and discovers that you have seen your father, he will kill you as soon as he determines that you cannot lead him here."

"He won't learn anything from me," Draco said defiantly, and after a moment of gazing into his eyes, Snape nodded.

Lucius' own eyes widened; he had been told that his son had studied Occlumency with Bellatrix Lestrange, but the boy must have a great deal of natural ability if he could block Severus Snape. "You can't trust her," he said, and when both of the others turned, he took a sip of bitter coffee before he continued, "Your Aunt Bellatrix. She will not turn on you unless she feels she must, but if she believes you have betrayed the Dark Lord, she will leave you dead or what might be worse than dead." Lucius had seen Frank and Alice Longbottom at St. Mungo's. "The Occlumency lessons must cease."

"Tell her that you are studying with me now," interjected Snape. Both Lucius and Draco looked at Snape, then they nodded almost at the same time.

"She will not like it, I think." Lucius smirked slightly. "The last time I saw her, she had few words of praise for you, Severus. But she will accept it. Does our master trust you still?" Lucius let go of Draco and sat down at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee again, and Draco continued his attempts to prepare breakfast, clearly pleased to be included in these talks.

"I killed the Headmaster. His faith in me is nearly absolute." Snape's voice was clipped and angry; Lucius understood that there was a great deal yet unsaid. "I fulfilled the terms of the Unbreakable Vow I made with Narcissa, witnessed by Bellatrix, so she dares not question me, either. But because Draco did not kill Dumbledore, I believe the Dark Lord has doubts about him." Lucius could see Draco's shoulders slumping, but he needed to hear this if he was to face Voldemort. "We do have one thing working in our favor: few of the Death Eaters will believe that Draco has either the audacity or the wherewithal to have freed you. And some of them will not understand why he might wish to have done so. I don't believe he will be under greater suspicion than several others."

"My aunt thinks I'm ashamed of you." With an apologetic glance at Lucius, Draco set a plate of cold eggs, unappetizing ham and one of the small strange pies in front of him. "She said things to me, when she was teaching me Occlumency...she thinks I must consider you a failure. I didn't say anything because Mother is afraid of her; Bellatrix doesn't understand why she won't join the Death Eaters herself. She thinks having me die for the Dark Lord would be an honor."

Lucius gave a small snort. "Bellatrix is a fanatic. It sometimes surprises me that a woman of her intelligence can be so blind to facts and logic. From what I have found out, the Dark Lord was once a mortal man, with a different name, and that name was not one of the ancient and noble houses." He ignored Snape's glance at him. His lover's bloodline did not matter to Lucius; his loyalty, however, did, and it had been proven beyond doubt.

"After the battle at the Ministry, Bellatrix was upset about something she claimed Potter had taunted her with -- a lie, she said." Snape joined the others at the table.

"A lie?" Lucius began eating, his fork shuffling ham and eggs into his mouth.

"Potter had told her that the Dark Lord is nothing but a half-blood like himself," Snape said and drank his coffee, with no visible sign of what he really thought of it.

"Bellatrix is a fool. She claims it's a lie only because she didn't know about it."

"So we're following a master who says that anyone who's not a Pureblood is not pure enough to be taught magic or to be alive, but he's not a Pureblood himself?" Draco sounded astounded. "That's insane. He presumes to rule over us...who does he think he is?"

Snape curled his lips, though his eyes were on Lucius rather than Draco. "He is the Dark Lord. The Heir of Slytherin. That is the face he shows to the world."

Swallowing his food, Lucius glanced at his son. It was time for Draco to know the truth. "His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. And his father was a Muggle."

The smile on Lucius' face was not kind.