Disguised Affections

A/N: It strikes me that I've forgotten the disclaimer for the last couple of chapters. Sorry! I've gotten caught up in the story, and I'm afraid it quite slipped my mind. SHAME on me!!

So, let it be known that despite a doppelganger-esque similarity in our appearance, I am in no way JK Rowling. The world of Harry Potter is her playground. She just lets me swing on her swingset if I promise to be nice.

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

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Chapter Twenty-One


“Shit,” Severus said as he saw Harry returning with a Levicorpused Ron.

“We’ve got to get him to St. Mungos!” the Boy-Who-Lived cried, lowering his friend carefully to the floor. The Potions master knelt next to him, and hissed when he saw the red head’s chest.

“Dolohov, right? Always was handy with this curse.” He looked at Harry compassionately. “We can’t leave Hermione. She’ll die.”

“I know!” he cried. “But Ron will die, too! I thought one of us could take Ron to St. Mungos and the other two could save Hermione.” His hands were stretched wide in supplication, and the fading light from the windows caught on the scars on his hand - I must not tell lies.

Severus ran his hand over his face. “This operation needs at least three of us: Draco, myself, and whoever was Polyjuiced to look like the Death Eater. If any of us leave, our chances of rescuing Hermione drop significantly.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was forestalled by the Potions master’s raised hand. “However, I am familiar with this curse, and I may be able to put him in a stasis that will hold for… twenty to thirty minutes. Before you make up your mind whether or not you are going to leave us to take him to St. Mungos, let me at least try, Potter. Please,” he whispered, his voice begging Harry not to make a premature decision.

At his hesitant nod, Severus relaxed slightly and reached out to feel the red head’s pulse. It was thready and extremely weak. The boy would surely expire in moments if nothing was done to keep him from bleeding out.

He touched his wand gently to the four corners of the cut and unbound the magic inherent in the Sectum Sempra curse that caused the cuts to spread. It was extremely advanced wordless magic with no wand movements other than pressing the tip to the wound. It was a spell done entirely with will and concentration and was extremely draining to the caster. Severus delved in with his mind, sensing the luminescent blue strands of malevolent magic working to split the bone and tissue ever more deeply. Tugging gently, he unraveled the skeins bit by bit, being careful not to tear them and risk leaving little bits of burrowing spell to drill holes through his body. When he believed he had removed them all, he snuffed them out of existence.

When the cuts stopped spreading and deepening, he sighed in relief. It had worked.

Severus wobbled.

“Draco,” he said, his words slurring ever so slightly. “Cast a level five Healer’s stasis charm on the Weasel. That’s the one I taught you to use on your mum for when Lucius goes out of control.”

The blond nodded and cast the charm. The blood stopped seeping and slowly, Ron’s chest ceased to rise and fall as the stasis took over and held his body in suspended animation.

“There. We’ve given him as much time as we can.” Severus turned to look at Harry. “Potter, will you stay and help us?”

The Boy-Who-Lived raised his wand and cast a Disillusionment charm on his friend. “Yes. Let’s save Hermione.”

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Lucius sat on a chair, staring at the girl held upright on the rack. Her head was flopped over onto her shoulder and her sweet little mouth was open slightly. His beauty had passed out from blood loss, and he was waiting for her to wake up. Some part of him admitted that he was a sexual deviant, but even he derived no pleasure from fucking an unconscious woman. No, he liked them squirming and bloody. There was nothing like spending himself in a woman whose eyes were darkening from her impending death. He shuddered in pleasure.

Someone knocked on the door, and Lucius looked down at himself. He was hardly dressed for receiving company. He pulled on his pants, but decided not to remove the blood. He’d worked awfully hard to smear it all over himself, and he didn’t think the mudblood had enough left in her to survive another round of bloodletting. Besides, it wasn’t anything the remaining Death Eaters hadn’t seen before.

He frowned when he saw Yaxley at the door. “What?” he said curtly.

“Young Draco has a present for you.” Yaxley’s voice was smug, and Lucius saw the man’s eyes dance across his bloody chest.

“I don’t have time for this foolishness. What do you want?”

“Your son came home for some quality bonding time with his dear old dad, and who should he happen to catch sneaking in via the Elf’s Quarters?”

Malfoy’s eyes snapped into focus suddenly and he smiled, a feral gleam of perfect white teeth.

“Knew you’d like that. He’s got Prince at wand point in the foyer if you want to come out and… take him of our hands.” He waggled an eyebrow at the other pureblood.

Lucius shifted his weight and his hand slid into his trouser pockets. “I’m sorry. Whom did he catch?”

Yaxley waved his arms, and Malfoy saw a gleam of dark wood up his sleeve. “Constantine Prince. I imagine he’s come for the little tart you’ve got racked up in there.” He leaned around Lucius to peer into the library, but Malfoy narrowed his eyes and held up his hand to stop him.

“Of course. How could I not be pleased with my son, bringing such a prize to me. Go ahead! I’ll follow you.”

The dirty blond Death Eater nodded and turned to head back to the foyer. Soundlessly, Malfoy pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the man whom he knew to be an impostor.

“Oh, Yaxley,” he murmured.

“Yeah, Malfoy?”

“Whenever did you find time to switch wands between now and two hours ago?” He cast a powerful Stupefy at the charlatan’s back and watched as he fell bonelessly. Lucius kicked him viciously in the ribs. “And no Death Eater would call Severus Snape by his ridiculous nom de guerre, idiot.” He kicked him once more for good measure, and was pleased when he felt something crack beneath his foot.

Lucius smoothed his features out and walked through the Green Parlor, noting that Travers was missing. He, the very pinnacle of pureblooded perfection, knew without a doubt that he was walking into a trap. However, they had lost the element of surprise, and by tipping their hand too obviously, surprise had now joined his ranks. He was disappointed that his son was involved, of course, but Lucius was still a young wizard by most counts. He could sire another child on that bloodless cunt of a wife.

It was, however, a waste of the fine training he and the Dark Lord both had lavished on Draco. The boy had a lamentably soft heart. As a Death Eater, he had constantly tried to shirk his duties. Lucius had been forced to take quite a firm hand with Narcissa in order to keep the boy in line. But he didn’t consider himself a cruel taskmaster by any means. Yes, there were unpleasant duties associated with being a Death Eater – the meeting schedule alone had been quite exhausting. But Draco had even tried to eschew the pleasures inherent in it, too. He’d brought the snot-nosed brat down into his dungeons to enjoy a piece of Potter’s little red-headed slut, and the boy had turned white as a sheet and refused to participate.

Yes, Draco was a complete disappointment. Maybe it was just as well he’d turned traitor and had to be put down. Another child would be an improvement. He smiled, suddenly brightening. Maybe it’d be a girl and she’d take after her Auntie Bella. Now, that had been a fine woman.

Lucius entered the foyer with his wand dangling loosely from his hand. He threw his arms wide, and shouted, “Draco! My boy!”

The seventh-year’s eyes widened suddenly in alarm. He had just enough time to push Severus out of the way and roll behind a bench himself before the expensive Italian marble upon which he’d been standing exploded at Lucius’s nonverbal Reducto.

“Well, aren’t you a clever little shite? However did you know?” The elder Malfoy’s voice was curious.

“You’ve never welcomed me with open arms and a smile before in my life, old man,” Draco sneered.

“Good point,” Lucius murmured before he aimed a Slicing hex at the bench behind which his son was hiding. It cracked in half, sending sharp, arm-length splinters of wood in all directions. The blond boy cursed as his non-wand hand was impaled by a slender piece half a meter in size. He Diffindoed the edges so that although his hand was still pierced, the trailing bits of wood were too short to catch on anything.

“Stupefy!” Draco shouted. His father batted it away negligently.

“Good lord, boy. It’s a good thing I’ve decided to kill you. Malfoy’s never prance around announcing their spells. It lacks dignity, and moreover, gives your opponent an advantage.”

The elder Malfoy deflected a wordless spell from Snape. He could tell that the spell was lacking its usual vigor, and astutely guessed that the traitor’s magical reserves were already running low. He threw up a lower level shield to protect himself from Snape’s weak attempts, and concentrated instead on destroying his only child.

Spells poured from his wand in every color of the rainbow. It was almost beautiful, really. Malfoys always appreciate things of beauty. He watched dispassionately as his son desperately tried to counter the various hexes and jinxes thrown at him. Small cuts began to appear on his arms and legs, the blood dripping sluggishly. His non-wand arm suddenly dropped lifeless to his side, all of the bones removed. Draco deflected a Frigeo spell almost too late, and the edges of his hair froze and shattered. Lucius saw the boy’s Malfoy grey eyes widen suddenly in the knowledge that he couldn’t win.

“I alerted Potter,” the boy hissed.

“What on earth are you talking about? Potter’s not here.”

“That you had Ginny and Hermione. I gave him a portkey that took them almost directly to their cells.” Draco grinned, and his bloodied smile was in sharp contrast to his father’s. “I betrayed you, Father.”

The elder Malfoy’s eyes sparked furiously, but Lucius maintained a grip on his temper. “Then you did a piss poor job of it like usual. I still got to kill one of them, and the other’s trussed up in my library half-flayed. Yes, what a fine son you are. What a good friend.”

“I went to Dumbledore after Ginny’s death. I offered to spy on you and Voldemort. Snape was the one who saved innocent lives – spiriting muggleborns and their families away at the last possible moment.” He laughed. “But Father, I’m the one who told Harry Potter and Dumbledore the location of the last Dark Revel. I set the stage for the Final Battle where the Boy-Who-Lived became the Boy-Who-Lived-Again!”

Lucius felt rage tear up from his toes, through his abdomen and chest, before pouring out of his mouth in an incoherent roar of rage. Spittle frothed at his mouth as he began screaming spells and hexes.

“Diffindo!”

Draco fell back with a slash running diagonally across his face. It had just barely missed his eyes.

“Flipendo!”

He flew through the air and crashed into the banister, keening as his back cracked into the wood.

“Incendio!

The boy cried out as robes caught fire, and he dropped to the ground sobbing. His screams built as the fire did, and Severus could smell the stench of cooked flesh. He cast a nonverbal Aguamenti over the younger Malfoy before he could be burned too badly.

“Crucio,” Lucius hissed and watched his son writhe on the ground. The pain was so great that the seventh-year couldn’t scream. His breath escaped from him in tight, hissing noises that brought Nagini vividly to mind.

Severus recognized what the boy was doing.

How could he not? Draco made no attempt to fight back. He had made himself a living sacrifice to his father’s wrath, trying to give Severus enough time to take Lucius down.

It was the same ploy Severus had used to distract the Dark Lord so that a young Harry Potter could kill him from behind. The horror of it astonished him and the boy’s sacrifice humbled him. On silent cat feet, the spy stepped up behind Malfoy.

“Avada Kedavra,” he said simply, fearfully, angrily.

And Lucius crumpled to the ground, the light of insanity finally extinguished from his eyes.

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