Invictus

I hope you all had a wonderful time over the holidays.




For a moment, Severus could only blink stupidly in surprise. How on earth had Narcissa talked her way into the Potions Lab? She’d never taken the Dark Mark and, despite her marriage to Lucius, her rank was nowhere near the top echelons of those who supported the Dark Lord.

Recovering himself, he stepped onto the floor of the lab and crossed the room to her. "Narcissa, this is a pleasant surprise." He clasped her small, dainty hand in his and smiled.

"Severus." She smiled back, tilting her head to the side, the candlelight reflecting off the small gems decorating her upswept hair. "I hope I'm not intruding. Mr Mulciber led me here. I've been asked by the Dark Lord to deliver your weekly essentials. As I wasn't certain what you preferred, I brought what I consider to be necessary to run a small household." Reaching into the silken handbag hanging off her arm, she removed a small drawstring pouch that fit neatly in her palm. "Your food." She handed it to Severus and fetched another, slightly smaller, pouch. "Your toiletries." Her smile twitched. "I know, of course, that you will be requesting such items for yourself, and may have already done so, but you must be incredibly busy."

Impressive. She had probably gone to the Dark Lord and planted the idea in his mind -- she was that type of witch. What did she want? Too Slytherin to volunteer for such a generous assignment out of the goodness of her heart, she had to harbour some ulterior motive.

Tucking the items away, he said, "Thank you. You are quite right in that my brewing doesn't leave me much time to properly manage household duties."

"Has Harry woken?"

Was that genuine concern on her face? She was always so difficult to read... "He's woken. He's healing well. He ate lunch on his own."

"That's a relief." She gave a slight sigh. "I feared he might never wake."

It was a strange thing for a loyal supporter of the Dark Lord to say to another of his followers, unless she had somehow heard or guessed the Dark Lord's plans for Potter. She didn't give him any time to reflect or think on the matter, but continued on, "I suppose that you are entirely responsible for healing him now that the two of you are alone. Have you need of any medical books?"

What was she after? This was odd. The only other time she'd approached him in private was when she came to his home to plead for help with Draco. He hadn't slept in thirty-two hours and his mind lacked its normal edge, not to mention he had to get back to brewing. Time to cut the visit short and get to the heart of the matter. "They would indeed be very helpful. What can I do for you?"

Her smile widened. Of course she had been waiting for that moment. "You're too considerate, Severus. I can see you are swamped with the Dark Lord's work and have no time at all for insignificant personal matters."

She wanted the potions that he usually brewed for her family: the sleep aid, the moisturising cream, and the stimulant. That she was here, and not her husband, suggested Lucius had further severed their friendship, but he couldn't be certain. Lucius could've sent his wife to patch up the matter or to ask favours so he wouldn't have to humble himself. No matter the reason, Narcissa's involvement boded ill for Severus's relationship with Lucius. Still, if Narcissa could be sent to a location that few Death Eaters had access to, she would be a powerful ally. If he could just convince her that the Dark Lord could still harm her son...

"Much less time than before, to be sure, although that should improve considerably now that I can focus more on my work." He gave a nod to her in recognition. "Please, let me repay your efforts."

"Oh, you mustn't trouble yourself," she said with perfect outward sincerity.

"I insist." Sweeping over to the other side of the lab, he fetched a bottle of his own personal sleep aid, which was a bit stronger than the one he normally gave her husband. It would have to do, as he had no time to prepare a new brew. Multiple bottles of the stimulant resided in the stores (it was a popular gift), but he hadn't made the moisturiser. Grabbing a vial of the stimulant, he returned to her. "It is a rather difficult time and with all the added work it can be hard to clear one's mind in order to sleep. This-" He placed the sleep aid in her hand. "-should help. Take a capful half an hour before you wish to fall asleep. It will last for eight hours and any dreams had will be pleasant. Should you need to wake up, take a capful of this." She eagerly held out her other hand for the stimulant and he placed it on her palm. "The effects will last ten hours, but a few drops at about four hours in will extend the life to fourteen hours. Never take it more often than twice a week." He took it nearly every day himself, but it would be foolish to give possible enemies the same advantages as himself.

"Thank you so much, Severus." She tucked away the potions and glanced around his lab as if seeing it for the first time. "I've taken up too much of your time. I hope to see you again soon."

"I look forward to any visit," he said honestly, watching as she gracefully climbed the stairs, then Apparated away.

The request for extra potions reminded him of all that he still needed to brew for Potter. How to keep the boy under his control? He could always take away memories when needed, but the more he cut away, the more unstable Potter’s mind would become. Potions were the answer, but they would be difficult to administer to an unwilling patient. He could no longer cut open Potter's stomach to feed him potions that way, and it was difficult to compel an unconscious individual to properly swallow fluids without using magic, which he was supposed to limit around the boy. He refused to consider suppositories. No, he would dose Potter's food.

After checking on all his cauldrons, he headed over to the stores to examine what he already had. What would he need to keep the boy under his thumb? Calming Draughts. Dreamless Sleep. No, Potter would suspect that. Severus couldn't just let him dream on his own, either. Nightmares might cause Potter to jerk about and potentially damage himself. Severus needed something to guide the dreams, to make them harmless, but it would be harder than calming Narcissa's dreams. Perhaps a Calming Draught that could work throughout sleep? A valerian base would allow a stronger dosage before bed without much interference with the regular dosages of hypnotic sedatives.

A yawn escaped him despite himself and he paused for a moment to rub his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he’d had more than three hours of sleep in a row. He needed to rest.

After preparing the potions which required long periods of constant temperature, he retired to his new accommodations, casting wards and privacy spells on the snow-brushed walkway. Inside, he re-warded all the doors that led outside to ensure that he could not be surprised by anyone. Although the Healers had said that the cellar door that led outside was entirely sealed off, he reinforced the wards. If Potter were to escape now, he would be entirely at fault.

Finally, after he'd set all the wards, after he’d unpacked all the food and toiletries, after he’d written out a new list of what he still needed, after he’d checked on Potter one last time, he retired to his bedroom.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd bathed, and cleaning spells just weren't enough, so he stripped off his clothing in the locked and warded bathroom, and stepped into the icy cold water of the shower. Had they forgotten to turn on the water heater? Too tired to bother tracking it down, he ignored the goose pimples all over his flesh, and scrubbed himself down with the soap Narcissa had thoughtfully provided. The water gradually warmed, at a slow rate which suggested that the property was high in the mountains. Could altitude be calculated based on the air oxygen level? He'd already rigged a needle compass to determine north, but that didn't tell him much. The food Narcissa had given him had been standard British fare, probably brought from London. Strix flew in and out of the property in every direction and couldn't be used to determine which way was what, much less the general location of the house. Maybe writing to different associates would be the best way to figure out the prison's location?

One thing at a time. He hadn't fully explored the house. If, as he suspected, the house was built as a Death Eater safe house, then hidden compartments would have been incorporated. Of course, the Dark Lord had presumably searched it from top to bottom, but something could have been missed.

Clean at last, he squeezed the water out of his hair before exiting the shower. He'd brought in his nightshirt and an extra pair of pants, and he put them on, tucking Albus's wand into a hidden compartment on his nightshirt. It was rather handy having two fully functional wands and, for the first time in Merlin knew how many years, he set his wand fully down on the sink to take his nightly potions and brush his teeth.

He emptied his pockets, transferring the contents to a fresh set of robes which he draped over his desk chair. He wore the same style of outfit over and over again to avoid misplacing any potion. A second's hesitation over which pocket contained the healing potion could mean the difference between life and death. Thinking of potions reminded him of the ones planted throughout his body, and he made a mental note to replace both poison capsules, as it had been a while since he'd put them in.

Finally, everything set away and prepared, he propped the mirror on the chair facing the desk, and enlarged Albus's portrait.

"Good evening, Severus," said Albus brightly. "Miss Granger and Mr Weasley are currently safe and that is all I shall tell you for now."

It was all he needed to know. "They have the mirror shard?"

"Yes. I'm afraid Dobby passed away. Harry will be terribly upset, so it's probably best if you don't mention it."

Like he would ever say such a thing. "I shall refrain from speaking on the subject." He was tired and not in the mood for conversation, so he said, "I'd like you to watch Potter whilst I sleep. I'll need at least three hours-"

"Take eight," insisted Albus. "More if you need."

Eight did sound good, but he wasn't sure if he could spare the time. "Seven," he relented. Too much and he might grow soft. "You can keep an eye on Potter for seven hours?"

Albus smiled. "I have all the time in the world now."

"Very well." Severus propped up Albus's portrait so that he could watch Potter in the mirror, and retired to bed, placing his wand under his pillow.

Although he hated using sleeping potions, lying in bed was the moment when the ghosts of the past crowded around him, filling his head and chasing away rest. It was hard not to think of her, to remember her, and remember every single little mistake he'd ever made. After so many large ones, the smaller ones ought not to bother him, but they did.

"It's stupid," he said.

"It isn't," she insisted, her face darkened with a scowl. She always looked cute, even when she scowled. "What's wrong with it?"

"It has no point," he pointed out, noting which freckles vanished when she wrinkled her face. "What is the point of reading stories of people who never existed, doing things that we can't ever do? Wizards don't need stories, we make them."

Her scowl deepened. "Wizards don't write fiction?"

Mother hadn’t had any fiction books, but that didn't mean anything. He gave a shrug and answered, "I don't see why they would bother with it. What does fiction do?"

"It makes you think," she said as she swept her hair back. It always amazed him. One moment sheets of red gold framed her face, the next she pinned them up in a pony tail or a bun that was always neat and, if messy, it was perfect in its messiness. The strands that fell out of her ponytail and framed her face always added to her beauty. He sometimes tied back his hair and it never looked right, no matter how many times he tried it. Pulling back his hair only reminded him that he had the ugliest nose in the world, while she looked more beautiful when her hair was swept up. He was studying how the light coming through her bedroom window illuminated the flush in her cheeks and almost didn’t hear her say, "It makes you feel and consider things that you might not have considered before."

"I'd rather learn new spells."

She tucked a stray strand behind her ear and looked at him critically, "You've hated every single summer reading book?"

"I've never had to do summer reading," he answered, quite glad for once that he didn't attend her school.

She threw him that hated look of pity and said, "I don't think you will enjoy any of my summer reading books straight away, but I'll give you a book you might like. If you like it, I'll share my other books with you. I'm really curious to know what you'd think of some of them."

His stomach seemed to inflate like a balloon at the news that his opinion was important to her, but he pretended to not be interested. Instead of expressing the delight bubbling through him, he suspiciously asked, "Is there homework involved?" He loved helping her with her homework. It was generally far more fascinating than his own.

She laughed, showing a line of adorably imperfect teeth. "I won't ask for help with my homework. Promise."

"Give me the book," he said. "I want to read a good one before I read the bad ones and I suppose I ought to help you with your Muggle homework anyway. If you have to spend time on your homework, we'll never be prepared for Hogwarts." The more time they had together, the happier he would be.

She asked, "Will we have summer homework at Hogwarts?" as she stood and walked to the bookshelf, the sunlight catching on the tiny blonde hairs that covered her legs.

"Loads," he said with false authority. "But we can study together since we'll most likely be taking the same classes."

She glanced over at him from where she knelt down in front of her bookcase. "I won't be really behind, will I? I mean, you're loads ahead of me when it comes to magic."

"No," he assured her, although it was his own greatest worry. How could he compete against classmates that had been taught magic when they discovered how to walk? "Hogwarts teaches everyone in the UK, so there will be plenty of Muggleborns. Most Muggleborns probably have no idea they're wizards until they get the Hogwarts letter, so you'll probably be a step ahead of most of them."

"Oh," she said with relief as she turned back towards her bookshelf. "What sort of classes will we take?"

He thought back to the books under mother's bed. "Transfiguration. Magical theory. Potions. Runes. Herbology . . . You know, general stuff."

She pulled a thick, heavy book off the lower shelf and returned to him, hugging it in her arms.

She'd never given him a gift before - even a temporary one - and the room seemed to grow hotter by the second and he tugged lightly on his frock to try to cool himself. She sat down before him, her beetle-green eyes examining him.

"Your father won't destroy it, will he?"

He shook his head savagely, his eyes fixed on a strand of hair that brushed against her right cheek. He’d never been able to look at her eyes while she looked back for long without feeling an ugly blush spread over his body. "I won't let him near it," he swore, and he hadn't. Tobias never even saw it.

She handed it over and he took it greedily, realising that for the first time in his life, he actually wanted this gift. Heavy as mother's spell books, Lily's book wasn't nearly as old. Across the front cover, in large, shiny letters, it read, 'World Mythologies.'

"Be careful with it," she said, her teeth worrying her lip and an expression almost akin to regret dancing across her face.

He clung to it tightly, lest she change her mind. "I won't disappoint you."

And he didn't. Not then.




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