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"You poor little Dobby," she purred, "my only, only friend."

"M-Mistress...Dobby must help you Dobby must help you to get well Master Malfoy insists it You is must - Dobby is must - the wedding-?"

Her lips twitched."Dobby, I need you to do something for me. I need you to go to the basement. I need you to find the woman with the glasses, and the dark curls. I need you to find her. I need you to get me more of what she has."

"Of...of what?"

"Of what she has," Narcissa growled, pushing Dobby off the purgatory of her waist to the floor. "Come on, you little cockroach, you know what I mean, you know what I want. Find the girl, Maria, Masala, whatever her name is, who works with Severus. Find her. Get me more."

"But Mistress...what about Master Malfoy, and the wedding?"

"Sod Lucius, and sod his sodding wedding. Go. Go now. Get me more." She pushed him weakly towards the door with her foot, then fell back on her elbows. With a hacking retch she lowered herself back to the floor. As she fell asleep her bowels forgot themselves, giving off an aroma heralded by a terrific blast.

Dobby stumbled away from her. Procuring more of what the Mistress demanded was out of the question, most certainly, but perhaps the potionmasters could provide him with something else; a cure of some sort. Something must be done, and done quickly. The wedding was the next afternoon, and at this rate, the bride would stroll down the aisle in a wheelbarrow.

The house elf collected himself and charged out the open parlor door to the open hall door, running at full speed down the stone floors of the Manor. He did not see Lucius Malfoy, who stood half-hidden behind the entrance to he and his fiancee's chambers, listening to the exchange. He held two fingers two his chin in thought.

The woman who works with Severus, he said, his voice so soft it was absorbed by the tapestry beside him.

***

The woman who worked with Severus was in the lab with her partner, cradling a dead hamster in the palm of her now-bejeweled hand. She flipped him over, poked at his tummy, lifted his delicate paw on the tip of her now well-manicured fingernail. "Mr. Rigsby," she said.

"Oh, get off it, lab animals die all the time," Severus said. He rummaged through the bag of goods between his feet. As reached for a tightly packed box of test-tubes a gold envelope fell from his breast pocket into the bag. He looked up quickly to see if Myra had noticed, but she was examining the dead hamster, turning him over in her hands. He buried the envelope beneath the mounds of items and turned to her.

"Are you sure you fed him?" Myra asked again.

"Yes, I'm sure. Since when are you so damn sentimental about a hamster? He wasn't even a control. You've had a good five minutes to mourn this terrible loss. Now get over it, I'm sure we have some ridiculous amount of work to do."

"It's not that, Severus, I just...this feels different, somehow."

"Feels, shmeels, we had our fun, now we had better get some work done lest we blow our cover."

Myra's face lit."Our cover?"

Severus pushed the bag underneath a lab table. "Excuse me?"

"You said 'our' cover."

Severus was still for a moment. "I suppose I did."

"So you do want to come with me?"

"I didn't say that." He opened the tube and was pummeled by rolled parchments with potions orders. "Bloody...will you look at this?"

"You as good as said it." Myra beamed.

"I said no such thing, I made no guarantees nor promises nor notorized signatures, please, now just be quiet and let us get on with things, will you? And put the infernal rodent away!"

"Fine." Myra made a great show of tossing Mr. Rigsby in the nearest trash bin. "Back to work it is, then. Today, tomorrow, the next day and the next Fine, if that's how you want to live your life.”

"I don't want that, Myra, it's just-"

The lab door flew open. They both looked with a start to Dobby, who rushed instead of to Severus, to Myra. She tried to back away but the elf had a death grip on her robes. She rasied her hands in the air and looked to Severus, who only shrugged.

"Miss, you need is must be helping me! Dobby needs your help! Mistress Vontaine she is ill from the thing which only you can give her! You must is needing helping her! She is to be married tomorrow and you is must be needing to help her! To make a potion, a cure!"

"There is no cure," Myra insisted.

"Are you sure about that?" Severus asked.

Myra glared. "Yes, I'm sure."

Severus crossed his arms. "Something pallative, then? Enough to get her through that travesty of a wedding?"

"Yes!" Dobby cried. "A pal - a palla - palla- acapella, yes!"

"Since when are you so concerned with Narcissa's well being?"

He shrugged. "Isn't it in all our interests to keep things running smoothly?"

She looked aghast. "Would you stop with the mixed signals?"

"Mixed nothing, Malfoy was on my back about this yesterday. As you can see I have enough to attend to," he said, gesturing to the piles of parchment orders. "Your Stunner, your tweaked out bride, you deal with it. I would strongly suggest taking a stroll up to Knockturn and seeing what you can see."

Dobby yanked at her robes. Please, miss, I is begging you please, please, you must is help

"Fine, fine." Myra said, kicking the elf aside. "I'll see what I can do."

***

Myra, irritated, threw on her cloak and portkeyed to Knockturn alley, where she was greeted by the familiar smells and sounds; rare soured vegetables, sickly sweet sex brews, body odor, outraged yelling, shattering glass. Parts of the alley were roofed by rotting wood boards, so light came through in bands that cast off some wench's warted nose, another's pallet of shining potion bottles. Myra had materialized in the small space between two shops and behind a tall barrel, her usual stop-off. She tested the air for anything to be found for Narcissa. She figured she'd use ReAnimator, a strong reviver used to animate the terminally ill for one last family function, or failing that, the Imperius curse performed by a sympathetic puppeteer. She threw the hood of her cloak over her head, walking quickly and with purpose, senses attuned to anything that might be of use.

Rounding a dark corner she stepped on something soft yet resistant. She lifted her boot to reveal a human hand, connected to an arm, presumably connected to a body hidden by the darkness. She gasped and stepped away, only to have her other boot scrape against something. She had stepped on a tooth.

She stared for a moment, but only a moment; she had a mission. Just one more stupid chore and this would all be taken care of. She stepped in and out of slates of light, looking for the shop.

"Excuse me," she asked a hooded man sitting on a stump, smoking a pipe. His face was turned toward the ground, so all visible to Myra was a bit of chubby chin and a bowl of, presumably, tobacco. "Can you tell me where I can find a bottle of ReAnimator?"

"Second left, half down the alley," he replied. "Morgaine's Closet.”

Myra paused for a moment, waiting for the man to extend a hand for payment. He didn't. She thanked him and went on her way. As she melded into the darkness the man lifted his head slightly to reveal a round face with darting beady eyes, pitted skin, a singed wizard’s cap, and a shock of dark, wild hair. He rose, drew his cloak around him, and continued silently down the alley after her.

The second left was quite a walk. She tried to pass through the sweaty masses quickly. She noticed an edge of panic to today's crowd, a tension that wasn't usual even for this dark place. People gathered in huddles. Faces looked strained, frightened. There were screams, not of anger, but of shock.

Out of the crowd someone recognized her, waved her down. Upon second look Myra realized it was someone she had sold Stunner to yesterday or the day before. Too late to get out of it now. The young man slapped a heavy hand on her shoulder. His face was sallow and yellowed, his front teeth missing and an insicor threatening to fall out. He exhaled heavily, his breath smelling of rot. "Hey...you....I need some more Stunner. I need some more now. She needs more."

"I don't have-" Myra looked around.

"We can pay you," he breathed, turning out his pocket to reveal a galleon and some knuts. "We can pay you anything you want."

Myra struggled under his grip. "You've got the wrong person."

"No," he breathed. "It was you. It was....please...I need...." His hand loosed on her shoulder, moving down her collarbone to her breast. He crumpled to the ground at her knees. Myra pulled her cloak out of his grip and tried to get away; as she turned she saw a woman sitting against the wall behind him. Her legs were splayed, a petticoat splashed around her knees and one shoe missing. Her eyes, completely yellow and nearly popped out of her skull, pointed in different directions. Her jaw hung open revealing dark gaps where teeth should have been, teeth that were now neatly on her lap. Her chest didn't move.

Myra held her breath and turned in another direction, any direction that would get her away. She ran full-force into an old man. "Others?" he asked, panicked.

"What?"

"Others? More dead?"

"More?"

"More dead!" he cried out. "More dead, over this way!"

The panicked faces of the crowd turned towards the dead couple as Myra made her getaway. She recognized some of the faces. Straight wizards. Aurors. Healers. Struggling to get to the bodies in this dense and panicked space. Cries of people asking for Stunner from someone, anyone.

Blindly she ran down the alley. Crowds of people were gathered around splayed, toothless, yellowed, stinking bodies, littering Knockturn like nutshells; bodies Myra began to recognize. She ran, finally making that second left. She almost fell over a man curled dead in a corner, wearing the same pants she'd complimented him on at Bob's Big Boomshanka.

She rushed into Morgaine's Closet and slammed the door behind her, causing the bell to fall off its hinges. The counterperson laid her copy of the Daily Prophet down neatly on the counter. "Can I help you?"

"I...I...." Myra gasped, looking from the woman out the window and back again. "I need ReAnimator."

She clucked her tongue. "I'm afraid that's not going to help your friends, my dear."

Myra shook. "ReAnimator. Please."

The woman shook her head. "Whatever you want, dearie, if you got the money. Afraid nothing's going to bring all those poor souls back to life. A week you take that drug and dead you are. Pandemic, they're calling it." She creeped, humpbacked, towards a locked cabinet in the back of the store. "ReAnimator won't be re-animating any of them," she chuckled. Poor fools."

She looked back at Myra's ghostly face.

"What?" the woman asked. "Haven't you read the news? See for yourself." She gestured towards the Prophet on the counter, and turned to slowly unlock the cabinet. Myra moved toward the counter, each step an anvil. She picked up the paper, able only to read phrases: death by pleasure, lethal dose, Death Eater plot suspected, hundreds confirmed dead, nicknamed Super Stunner.

Myra could not breath. She blankly pocketed the ReAnimator, unaware of the darting beady eyes watching from outside.

***

"Severus," Myra gasped, materializing back in the Lab.

He gave her a cross look over his shoulder. He was running six cauldrons and the lab was, once again, an awful mess of humidity and stink. He was late on half his orders, hung over, and had cast hexes on both the lab door and the order pipe to keep anyone from disturbing him. He had too much on his mind to deal with intruding house elves, Barties, or Luciuses.

His brow furrowed. That didn't sound right. "Myra. Luciuses or Lucuii?"

"Severus!"

"No, Lucius. Plural. How does one say that? But then, why does one care. Bastard." Severus slammed two mixtures together. "I take it you found something for Narcissa? Took you long enough, I could have used your bloody help in here. You must learn to - what are you doing?"

Myra dug in the waste bin. She lifted the stiff little body of Mr. Rigsby, holding him by the foot between her thumb and forefinger for Severus to see. Her face was white, her body vibrating.

Severus blinked. "Your point being...?"

"They're all dead."

"No," Severus said. "Not every hamster is dead. Just that one. I understand that was hard on you, but you'll have to find some way to cope."

"Everyone that kept taking Stunner, Severus, all of them, they're all dead!" She shook Mr. Rigsby at him.

"What are you talking about?"

Myra took a copy of the Daily Prophet from her robes and pushed it into Severus's chest. She stumbled about the lab, gathering her belongings together.

His lips moved silently as he read the paper, then looked up at Myra.

"We have to go," she said flatly. "We have to go, now, before they find us. We'll portkey to the Platform, grab the next train out of Britain, we can be in Nebraska by tomorrow afternoon." Her hands shook as she filled her dragonhide potions bag with her favorite bottles. She looked up at him. "Get your things. Why aren't you getting your things? We have to go."

"Who said anything about we?"

Whatever color was left in Myra's face drained.

"Who said anything about we? he yelled. This is you, This is your mess God damn it Myra what the hell have you gotten yourself into!"

She stumbled against a table. "Please, just get your things, if we leave now we can make it. We still have so much money, we can go to Nebraska and we'll be safe, we'll be safe from all this."

"Why should I put my neck out on the line for you? For your big bloody mistake? How do I know if I go anywhere with you you won't end up killing another small town of people? What then, Myra?" He walked up to her, slamming the paper on the counter. "Was this your great escape from the Death Eaters you so longed to join? In by killing hordes, out by killing hordes?"

"You want out too! You want out of this awful fucking stupid life! I know you do, Severus, goddamn you, you try and act superior, you try to act like you don't hate every waking moment of this slavery, that you don't hate being under Lucuis's thumb, but I know you do. I know you. All I wanted to do was to make that possible. To make another life possible for us."

"Why us?" he said softly. "You can leave, Myra, right now if you wish. Why are you so damn intent on taking me with you?"

"I can't just leave you here."

"Can't you?"

She straightened. "No."

Severus hit the table. "What business is it of yours how I choose to live my life? Who gave you the right to judge? So maybe this is not my ideal position, not where I saw myself, not how I wanted things, but this is how things are ”"

Myra seemed about to yell back, but the resolve left her. She looked at Severus, exhaling a long sigh of admission. Her eyes were a mixture of pity and warmth. "I can't just leave you here, Severus, because you are my friend and I love you. You're the only friend I've ever had and the only person I've ever loved, and you are too good for this. You are far, far too good for this."

He was silent. She looked at the floor.

I never meant to hurt anyone, she whispered. “I never meant for it to turn out like this. I just...I never...oh. I can’t even....” She held her clawed hands to her face. “Sev...can you...can you forgive me?”

He hesitated. “Who am I to forgive you?”

"You're who I have."

"Myra, I...."

He could sense the tension in her body. She didn't breathe. He saw in his mind's eye Myra hanging from a chain, limp, above a cold, windy, bottomless chasm. The image chilled him, a chill that reverberated to bone and back again. His friend was about to break. Keeping her together became more important than condemnation. He calmed himself.

“Is there anything in Stunner that could trace it back here?" he asked softly.

"No chemical markers, no."

"Is there anyone who you sold it to who can identify you?"

"“I don't know. Before they died they were asking anyone in sight for it. Except-"

"Narcissa," Severus murmurred.

"Oh, my god. Is she alive?"

Severus senses pricked. The hex he'd cast on the lab door was being tampered with. There was a blast and a squeal, following by a muffled yell.

"Dobby and Lucius," Severus said. "Dry your face. Be still. Let me handle this. Hold on a second!" he yelled at the door. He took out his wand and removed the hex. The door opened to reveal a googly-eyed Dobby and and frustrated Lucius.

"Severus, why in the world would you put a hex on the goddamn door?" He glanced from Severus to Myra. "Ah, I trust your little field mouse is back with something that will revitalize that thing I'm to wed tomorrow. Come now, let's have it. No time to bloody waste, with hexes on the damn door and whatnot."

Myra went to her robes and dug the bottle out. She handed it to Severus.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"ReAnimator."

"Kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"It'll do the job."

"It'll have to." He held to bottle up to Lucius. "Yes, we have it right here. This should sort her right out."

"Good. Come along, Severus, let's get this over with. We've not a minute to waste."

Severus hesistated. "It's quite easily administered, really, you and Dobby can do it, as you see I've got a full sextet of cauldrons on the boil here and-"

"Let her take care of those," Lucuis said, gesturing to Myra. "She's proven to be quite adept at such things. Come with me. I want you there in case anything should go awry. Hurry!"

Severus closed his eyes, sighed, and squeezed Myra's hand out of Lucius's sight. "All right. But make it quick."

"Hasn't that been my point all along?"

Severus glared, walking past Lucius with the bottle of ReAnimator. Lucius closed the door behind them, pausing to look at Myra with a knowing, cold smirk.

***

"Here now," Lucius said, opening the chamber doors.

Severus stepped back at the stench. "That's Narcissa?"

"I'm afraid so."

"You're sure you didn't soak a ham in vinegar and leave it in the sun?"

Lucius grunted.

Severus paused. "You're sure she's...alive?"

"Oh, she's alive." Lucius rolled his eyes. "She took the same stuff that's been killing all those idiots, but from what I understand, I got her off it before it could finish the job. Pity, really. I do wonder if this isn't love's true form." He gestured to his fiancee, lying on her side on the floor. Fluids had seeped from her into the carpet, forming a greenish stain around her. Her breath sounded like cellophane sucked through a bottle.

Lucius cocked his head. "A little color's returned to her face, and she's sweating...one sweats when a fever breaks, am I right?"

Severus ignored him and knelt down next to Narcissa, hoping his nose would numb itself to the smell. He pushed her shoulder, rolling her onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open, now a milkish yellow as opposed to egg-yolk. She moaned. "Dobby," she said.

The house elf stepped forward. "Yes, Mistress?"

Narcissa looked up into Severus's face but there was no recognition. "Dobby," she said again. "Dobby, did you get me...more...?"

The house elf looked to Lucuis, who gestured to Severus. Severus produced the bottle of ReAnimator and handed it to Dobby. "Give her this," he said. "This is what she wants."

She reached out. "Dobby."

"Yes, I is here, Mistress." The elf sat cross-legged next to her, and put her head in his lap. "I have what you is needing." He uncorked the bottle of ReAnimator. A burst of sparkling purple smoke rose from it. Narcissa sighed. Dobby held the bottle to her lips. "Drink this."

He poured the potion down her throat, which she accepted eagerly. She smacked her lips, made a small cat noise, and seemed to fall asleep. Dobby looked questioningly at Lucius, who looked angrily at Severus. For minutes nothing happened, and Severus, oddly, felt no fear. Under usual circumstances, had he been unable to save Lucius's fiancee he would have been retarded with panic. As he looked down at Narcissa's motionless face he realized he didn't care whether she lived or died, what that meant for the Death Eaters, or what Lucius might do or have done to him.

Narcissa's back arched, her eyes flew wide as dinner plates. Her arms and legs spasmed and she hacked, hacked, hacked until a great green glob of slime erupted from her mouth. She sat up, emptying the rest of the contents of her stomach onto her lap. Sweat began to pour off her, torrents out every pore, her eyes draining in a steady flow. She looked up at her audience in horror, her face coloured, her eyes back to their sharp cold blue, but cheeks still gaunt.

"Oh..oh my god. Oh my god." She looked down at herself, arms dripping. "Oh my god, what happened? Lucius - Lucius-?"

"Your own fault, cow," he sneered. "You'll pay for this."

"No, no, it wasn't, it was that wom -" She paused, choking. "Oh god. Water. Water. I need water." She tried to get up towards the bathroom, stumbled and fell, leaving a trail of sweat. She crawled on hands and knees to the bathtub, choking. Dobby hopped ahead of her, turning on the faucets. She plunged into the tub facefirst, bum and legs hanging from the edge, till she managed to drag herself into it entirely, submerging herself as Dobby fretted over her.

Severus jabbed a thumb in her direction. "Side effect," he told Lucius. "She'll need to soak a while. Re-absorb the fluids she's losing."

"How long?"

"A few hours."

"Will she come up for air?"

"Let's hope not." Severus lit a cigarette.

"Cheers to that," Lucius muttered. "Stupid, stupid harpy cunt. To get in such a state right before our wedding. Such fucking disrespect." He sighed. "I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude, seeing as you fixed her."

Severus didn't respond, only smoked. He wasn't much in the mood to discuss debts or gratitude with Lucius. He wanted to leave that room of stink as soon as he possibly could, but he was exhausted, wanted to finish his cigarette, and, he realized, glancing at the bathtub, he had further business to attend.

Lucius lowered himself to the floor beside him. "Could I bother you for a fag?"

Severus wordlessly gave him the pack.

Lucius lit a cigarette and inhaled. "Quite some stuff, that Stunner, isn't it? Or rather, wasn't it? Had me worried for a bit there. Was cutting into our bottom line something awful."

"I told you, I'm not in the business anymore."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. Yet still, let's discuss this Stunner, shall we? You've heard the news, I expect, and you realize the Ministry is quite anxious to get their hands on whoever was responsible for this. I can only imagine what would happen to those people. Terrible, terrible things. And of course they think we're behind it. The Death Eaters, that is." Lucius leaned in close to Severus. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"About what?"

"About any Death Eaters involved in Stunner?"

Severus sighed dramatically, even as his chest went cold. "What are you getting at?"

Lucius stared hard at him. "Did you have anything to do with this, Severus? Were you trying, in your ninny little passive aggressive way, to put us out of business?"

"I'd never produce anything that clumsy and unprofessional. Don't insult-"

"Because," Lucius said, "in the interest of said debts of gratitude, if you were to have been involved, well...I could see to it that you are never implicated. I have connections in the Ministry. A word from me and-"

"I wasn't bloody involved."

"Ah. Very well then." Lucius took a long drag off his cigarette and stared at Severus. "Do you have any idea who was?"

"Not a clue." Severus said, flat, but unable to meet Lucius's eyes. "Probably some kid who thought he was onto something. The whole production was too...unplanned, obvious, accidental. We're smarter than that. It was just some teenager with a potions kit in his mum's basement, I suspect."

Lucius looked at Severus, puzzled, for a few long moments. He sighed and took another drag off his cigarette. "Well. Let's just hope this kid doesn't come up with something just as addictive and a lot less lethal, shall we? We wouldn't be able to compete with that."

Severus smoked.

"Oh, and...I need a favor. I need you to speak at the reception tomorrow."

Severus choked. "W-what? Why me?"

"My other best man died from Stunner. Just make something up, you know, about love and chains and whatnot. You're literate enough. Oh, and make sure that Myra of yours is in attendance, will you, in case Narcissa has...difficulties?"

"Of course."

There was a splash and a flail from the bathroom. Severus leaned forward, looking a lot more interested than he actually was. Narcissa's wet blonde head popped above the rim of the tub, gasped, and went under again. Severus stood up, pretending to be alarmed, grabbing for his wand.

"What?" Lucius said.

"You may want to leave the room," Severus said solemnly. "I need a moment alone with her."

"Whatever for?”"

"I have to do a supplemental curative spell and your presence may cause it to backfire."

"Surely-"

"Do you want a bride tomorrow or not?"

Lucius paused, looking from Severus to Narcissa and back again. "Fine." He put out his cigarette on the Persian rug. "I have things to do anyway. Just fix it." He stalked out of their chambers, slamming the door behind him. Severus waited till he heard his footsteps fade down the hall. He went to the bathtub, where Narcissa was peacefully submerged.

He thrust his hand into the cold water and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head out of the tub. She spat and fought, but before she could scream he aimed his wand at her and commanded "Obliviate!"

Her eyes went soft. Severus pulled her face close to his. "You don't remember anything. You have no idea who sold you Super Stunner. It was passed to you by a perfect stranger in a club, you have no memory of his name or face. You know nothing. You'll be married tomorrow well, healthy, with all your faculties intact, but you will have no memory of where you obtained that drug. And you-" he aimed his wand at Dobby, "I order you, from now till your death, never to reveal where Narcissa got Stunner. Should you break this order you will wrap yourself in tin-foil, throw yourself into the nearest oven and broil yourself. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Master Snape."

He yanked on Narcissa's hair. "Do you understand?"

She nodded, what little she could.

He released her and she fell back into the bath.

"Soak," he spat,and stormed out of the room.

****

Barty was completely embraced. He'd never felt such a sensation before, as though he were a newborn kitten curled within the warm circumfrence of its mother. He was sleepish yet his body hummed with satisfaction. It was so pleasureable to lie still, so pleasureable that he had to move, then to lie still again. He accidentally cracked a knuckle against the firm, warm body next to him, all around him, and it felt so good it was as though a demon was exorsized from the joint.

"I feel like I don't know Lucius anymore," Barty said.

"Nor do I," Voldemort replied softly.

"I don't think he's mine anymore," Barty said, not afraid of offending his new lover with mention of the old; the Dark Lord had emphasized that Barty could tell him anything.

"Nor mine. Well, he'll always be mine, you're all mine, but in that way...no. I've no interest any longer." Voldemort's soft, comfortably elongated, satifyingly firmed, shapeshifted body moved to accomodate Barty. Barty purred and snuggled.

"Oh no," Barty sighed. "Not anymore. Not if...I mean, not if....."

Something of Voldemort's, a finger, a tentacle, a probiscus of some sort lifted Barty's chin. "Not if what, dear boy?"

Barty's watery blue eyes met his master's inhuman red ones.

"Not if I can have you," Barty said.

"You can have me, whenever you want if you wish, if you swear fealty to me," Voldemort said.

Barty giggled. "I did already, silly," and tapped Voldemort's no-nose. The Dark Lord blinked at the tap, like a cat. Barty giggled and tapped his no-nose again, and the Dark Lord blinked again. This little love-game went on for a few more moments, until Voldemort moved so his pale upper body hovered over Barty's and he looked directly into the boy's eyes.

"Say what's on your mind," he said.

"I...I swear to you that I'll love you and only you, forever," Barty said, somehow sensing this was what he was to say.

"And...?"

"I'll do your bidding, yours and only yours, forever and ever."

"And?"

"I'll...I'll do everything I can to see that your wishes are carried out, forever and ever."

"Even if...?"

"Even if...even if it means death or torture, I'll be yours and love you only, and be your faithful servant, forever and ever. Even if I have to break out of Azkaban, disguise myself as an Auror I've really locked in a trunk and pretend to be him for a year straight in order to perform a not-very-well-thought-out killing, I'll do your bidding, again and again and again, forever and ever."

Voldemort smiled. "Very good, my boy."

And then he slid and vibrated and adjusted his form to whatever he knew would please Barty at that moment, and in that way put another Dark Mark on him, in a very different place.

***

The sun was up and the cauldrons had been covered with wooden lids and left to simmer. For a half hour there had been calm and silence in the lab, and the whole Manor seemed to be at rest; only Myra and Severus remained awake, sure to give whichever potion that clockwise or counterclockwise left-hand stir whenever which timer went off. Severus was calmer than Myra but only by a small increment. He'd spent a great deal of the past night trying to convince Myra that he'd diffused the situation for the moment, that they were safe for one more day, that if they didn't show at the wedding someone would be sent after them with a lot less restraint than an officer of the Ministry.

"If we'd left last night we could have been halfway to Nebraska by now, Myra said, her face white. She was on the green couch with her knees pressed together and shoulders hunched.

"If we had some beans we could make beans and toast. If we had some toast."

"Thanks for that."

"Anytime." Severus lit a cigarette.

"Will you come sit with me?" Myra asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Oh, don't start with the needy-"

"If you were going through what I'm going through you'd have shat yourself long ago, so get over here and sit with me, will you?"

He shook his head and plopped down on the couch next to her. "Would you like me to materialize a cup of chamomile tea while I'm at it?"

"Would you?"

"Honey and lemon?"

"Please."

Severus waved his wand. A steaming mug appeared in his hand.

"I didn't you'd actually do it," Myra said, taking the mug.

"It's just a damn cup of tea. It's not like I killed thousands of people."

Myra froze.

Severus hunched his shoulders. "Uncalled for. I apologize. I am a loaf."

"No," was all Myra could manage as she scryed her tea. "No, there's no way to make light of it. I wish there were."

"Don't give up hope. Anything can be mocked. Anything and everything. That's how we'd get through life together. Constant hilarity. You and I can make anything laughable. And I imagine there'd be plenty to laugh at in the states. Good god."

Myra cracked the barest hint of a smile. "You'd adore the politics. And the awful crap excuse they have for television. The BBC makes American television look like twenty-four hour children’s programming."

Severus shook his head. "Afraid I haven't much basis for comparison there, but I'll take your word for it."

"You honestly think you'd be comfortable in Muggle society?"

"I'm not comfortable in society, why should it matter which one?"

"Good point." She was silent for a moment. "We could live in one of the huge abandoned manses right on the Falls. We could have a lab, make new potions, perhaps even ship them from there to Salem for a little income. We could have a library and a sitting room, a nice big kitchen...oh, I miss cooking."

"You cook?"

"Used to. I can bake bread that'll make you come."

Severus rolled his eyes. "That’s easy."

"Without magic."

"Ah! Well. I look forward to that."

She chuckled. "Coming?"

"Always."

Myra smiled. "I'm glad you've decided to come with me," she said softly.

Severus considered this. "It'll take some practice but I’m sure we can make it happen."

She hit him on the arm. "That's not what I meant, you ass." She sighed. "Running off with a fugitive isn't. I mean. It probably isn't the best way to get out. It wasn't what I planned. I mean I never planned on being a fugitive or all...all those people...this wasn't how I wanted it, Sev, I screwed up. I screwed up bad."

"Badly."

"Badly. Are you sure you want to come? Because I...I don’t want you to get hurt. Not on my behalf."

Severus took a long drag off his cigarette, ashed it. "How very gallant of you. And the truth is, no, I'm not sure. I'm not sure in the least."

Myra flinched like he'd blown a dart in her neck.

"What you said before is true. I hate the utter lack of respect here. I feel like I made a deal and that deal was reneged. I’m not getting what I was promised, but then, I think, I was so starry-eyed at the time, maybe I misunderstood...then again, what does one expect when one makes a deal with the Dark Lord?"

"You expect what you're promised?"

Severus shrugged. "I can't remember what I was promised. Not really. Not in any concrete way. What solid thing did I think was going to come of this?"

"I don't know what he promised you, but my blood isn't any more pure than the day I was born."

Severus leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Maybe that's they key. This whole Death Eater thing is a bait-and-switch operation."

Myra nodded. "And you’re not sure you want to come with me?"

He was silent for a few long moments. "When the choice, Myra, is to rot or to run...half of me says run, and the other half says hang yourself." He looked at her. "Running is the less painful proposition. So if I'm going to run, I may as well run with you."

He put his hand on her knee.

"Well. That's probably the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

Severus averted his eyes. Swallowed. "Earlier you said that you..." He trailed off. "That I was too good for this. I believe that's the only sweet thing that's ever been said to me. And perhaps the only true thing as well."

Myra gave him a sideways smile. "Leave it to you to self-aggrandize."

"You know me."

"That I do. So," she said, "can the man who just gave me a cup of tea give me a hug?"

He rolled his eyes. "You sappy thing."

"Come here." Myra wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. He sighed with more impatience than he actually felt, yet let his arms drape around her and his chin rest on her head.

"We need to start getting ready for the wedding," Severus said softly.

"Just like those sadists to hold the ceremony at nine in the morning."

"I'm sure the whole affair will be painful as possible," he replied.

"Bloody bastards." She raised her face to his.

He kissed her.

"What was that for?" Myra whispered.

"You started it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

She kissed him, a long, soft kiss. "I started that."

"Whatever, let's finish it," Severus replied. Their lips met and there sounded throughout the manor an earsplitting chime, as though a five story alarm clock had gone off in the front lawn. They jerked apart.

A voice boomed, "Residents of the Manor, please rise to meet a new day, the day of the Malfoy / Vontaine wedding It is now eight fifteen in the morning. This notice is to all those who may still be in bed - don't you think it would be a good idea to get up? It would be such a shame to be late. A deadly shame. Please remember that during the ceremony and reception there will be no apparating on or off the Manor, so if your robes are at the dry cleaners, you have a long walk ahead of you. Thank you, enjoy your respective breakfasts, and see you at the ceremony!"

"I told you they'd make it painful as possible," Severus said.

"We heard that," the voice boomed.

|  part two  

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