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...After Happily Ever After	By : Lissa & snowblind12 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25739 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of these stories. This is just fun for me.

Chapter List
- 38
- 39
- 40
AN: This is the first chapter OFFICIALLY co-written with Snow. She's been a completel inspiration from almost the very beginning and it's great to be working on this as a team. Makes it all the better. Hope you enjoy. T minus nine chapters until the end. SO much love. ~Lissa
Chapter 38
April 19^th 1999
17 Weeks Gestation
“Please…have a seat,” Minerva said quietly, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk. She was beginning to understand why Dumbledore always had a jar of lemon drops on his desk and offered them at the start of every meeting. It provided another minute of reprieve before having to discuss something unpleasant.
Lizzie sat on the edge of the chair, her voice panicked. “Please, professor. My heart is pounding.” The blonde cast a glance at the imposing figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt before her pleading eyes were back on the Headmistress. “Is my family okay? That’s why you’ve called me here, isn’t it? Has something happened?”
“My dear child,” McGonagall glanced up at Shacklebolt and back at Lizzie. “Your family is alive, and they are safe. Your home was attacked in the wee hours this morning.”
All color drained from Lizzie’s face as she collapsed back in her chair in equal parts relief and horror. “Attacked? What happened?” Her trembling fingers ghosted her mouth, her eyes wide with concern.
Draco grabbed Lizzie’s hand and squeezed it. “Breathe, love.”
Shacklebolt’s deep baritone voice answered. “Well, fortunately, thanks to Draco’s insistence, we had extra Aurors monitoring your family. They intervened before the Death Eaters even knew what hit them. There was very little damage and there were no injuries. Draco was concerned that his relationship with you would make you a target.”
Tears of relief sprang to her eyes as she looked at Draco who was watching her with worried eyes. “Draco? You insisted?”
Draco swallowed heavily, his own relief palpable and his sadness over his father’s betrayal deep. He spoke despondently. “I had a feeling, love. I just couldn’t ignore it. My father, he… Well, you know.”
“Yes, and thanks to his insistence (which I will admit I was hesitant to heed), we have avoided another tragedy. Your family is now in a safe house where they will need to remain until we can find them a better alternative.” He drew his chest up and looked at Draco with gratitude. “We also apprehended two Death Eaters in the process, Antonin Dolohov and Thornfinn Rowle. They are being interrogated as we speak and with any luck, we will be making more apprehensions as the day progresses.” He shook his head. “Your instincts are good ones, young man. I hope you will consider Auror training upon graduation.”
Lizzie’s eyes welled with tears as she leapt out of her chair and landed in Draco’s lap, her arms wrapped around him tightly. “Thank you.” She peppered his face with kisses as she spoke. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You amazing, wonderful boy. I love you so much!”
“Ahem.”
Lizzie giggled, looking back over her shoulder at the Headmistress. “Sorry,” she said demurely, moving to go back to her seat. However, Draco’s arms slithered around her waist, holding her in place.
McGonagall wasn’t the least bit bothered by the display before her and her twinkling eyes and closed mouth smile let the couple know it.
Lizzie sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, concern once again etched on her face. “Can I see them? Can I talk to them?”
Shacklebolt contemplated and then looked at the Headmistress, speaking softly. “I think something can be arranged. If that is alright with you, Minerva?”
McGonagall looked back at Lizzie. “Yes, a couple hours via floo, if possible.”
“And Draco? He can come with me? My family needs to meet the boy I love whom they are indebted to.”
This time it was McGonagall who looked up at Shacklebolt, enquiringly. “I don’t see why not,” he answered simply.
Minerva turned her attention back to Draco. “I will need to obtain permission from your mother but, if she consents, I see no reason why you can’t accompany Miss Williams.”
Minerva McGonagall was an astute witch and looking at Draco Malfoy she realized with absolute clarity the young man was not anything like his father. It was something she had never really believed until this moment. “Mr. Malfoy,” her eyes softened, “Draco… the actions of your father do not define you in any way. Never forget that. You have proven yourself to be a good and fine young man and I see tremendous and great possibilities for your future.”
Draco was stunned. First by her use of his given name and secondly by her words. The witch had never expressed any real faith in him before, Severus being the only teacher at Hogwarts whom had ever really done so. Not sure how to respond, and not the least bit comfortable with the unfamiliar praise, he simply nodded in return.
“Well, unless you have any more questions, you are free to go. Consider yourselves excused from classes for the rest of the day.”
Lizzie looked at the Headmistress gratefully as the gravity of what had almost happened began to weigh heavily on her, once again. She realized, a bit late in her opinion, that Draco’s father had betrayed him. She had been so wrapped up in her own circumstances, she had not thought of his until the Headmistress made the point of bringing it up.
She snuggled into him, her eyes once again welling in tears. “I’m sorry, Draco. This must be very hard for you.”
“Minister?” Draco asked, his mind grasping at a small piece of hope. “My father, he wasn’t seen during the attack, was he? He wasn’t part of it, that you know of?”
Shacklebolt’s gaze fell and he let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to mention this in front of Miss Williams, but yes. Your father was there this morning. Once again, he was able to Apparate away before he could be apprehended. He’s a formidable wizard, your father.”
Draco swallowed heavily. “Yes. Yes, he is. Thank you for telling me.”
Shacklebolt hesitated for a moment before he continued, “I feel you have the right to know that we have put a bounty on your father. Dead or alive, there is a price on his head. We need to bring him to heel, Mr. Malfoy. He cannot remain at large.”
Draco froze for a brief moment, his stomach turning into a block of ice, before he gave a jerky nod. Lizzie wrapped her fingers tightly around his own as he answered, “I understand, sir.”
“Better have a damned good reason for pounding on my private suite doors at this time on a Friday evening. I have the bloody weekend off; just got fucking married,” Snape muttered blackly as he pulled his robe on over his pajama pants. Hermione was snickering loudly into her pillow. “You just wait until I get back here, Madam,” he purred, not deterred by her giggles. She had been pretty disappointed a moment ago.
“What!?” he growled, then was immediately surprised to find two teenagers when he threw his door open.
Draco and Lizzie, both exhibiting a fair amount of shock themselves, took one look at their Potions Professor and realized they had interrupted a delicate situation. Snape watched in amusement as Lizzie’s cheeks went from pale pink to a brilliant shade of red in mere seconds.
Draco, shaking himself in order to get back to an appropriate train of thought, told him, “We have news for you. About my father.”
There was a beat of a pause before Snape left the door open and walked away from it. “Sitting room through there.” He pointed. “You stay there until I return.” Neither would have dreamed of disobeying him.
Snape stalked through the bedroom door to find Hermione sitting on the edge of the bed, she had donned his white, button down dress shirt and was looking at him inquisitively. “What’s going on?”
“Get dressed – fully. I don’t want you traipsing around with no bra on in front of Malfoy,” Snape snapped without looking at her as he disappeared into the bathroom. Hermione huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.
“Damnit,” she muttered, pulling the dress shirt back off her frame. She started looking around the room and laughed when she spotted her knickers hanging from an unlit torch post. They had been more than eager to get their Friday evening started. It had been a long week, and some stress relief was sorely needed.
A few minutes later found the quartet in the sitting room, Lizzie and Draco sharing the information that had been given that afternoon, including the price on Lucius’ head.
“Do you know where my father is, Professor?” Draco asked once a bought of silence stretched uncomfortably long. “Do you have any ideas where to find him? I’ve already given the Magical Law Enforcement all our properties – even the hunting cabin in Germany. I have no idea where he is.”
Hermione had been watching her husband closely and didn’t miss the flicker of awareness in his eyes. A flicker that told her yes – he did have an idea of where Lucius might be.
“No,” Snape answered. “No idea. He must have acquired a piece of property you do not know about or is simply on the lamb.”
“If he’s simply hiding, he’s not doing it in the Wizarding World.” Draco shook his head before resting his elbows on his knees and lifting his hands to cover his mouth, his fingertips pressed together. He rubbed his lips before letting his hands slide up into his hair. “Do you think he’s in the Muggle world?”
“I doubt it,” Severus scoffed. “Maybe he went abroad?”
“If he has, he must have had a lot of cash on him,” Draco explained. “He hasn’t attempted access to any of our accounts.”
“Hm,” was Snape’s only reply.
There was another stretch of silence in which Hermione yawned loudly. Severus glanced at the clock to see it was just about nine, their guest had been there for almost two hours. “It’s almost curfew,” he told them, pushing himself to stand. “Hermione tires easily and it’s been a long day at the end of a long week. We should call it a night.”
“Yes,” Draco and Lizzie said together, also standing. All three watching with some amusement as Hermione shifted in her seat, her ever growing bump making everyday tasks a bit awkward.
“Thanks for the help,” she stated facetiously, glaring at Severus as she pushed herself up.
“I can’t seem to win, wife,” he teased, his eyes glittering. “You’re either perturbed I didn’t help you or annoyed that I did. You must pick one.”
Draco snorted before Lizzie elbowed him in the side. “Be nice,” she hissed at the blond wizard, causing Draco to snicker all the more loudly
If Severus had thought Hermione would be annoyed with his observation, he was wrong. She gave him an indulgent smile and saw her friends to the door. When she returned to the study, Severus was taking small sips from a glass of brandy.
“What do you know?” There was no point in preamble, she had seen it in his eyes. He knew where Lucius was.
“Nothing,” he insisted, looking straight into her face. “I know nothing.”
“You’re lying,” she returned calmly. “You at least have an idea.”
“Nothing for you to be concerned about,” he told her brusquely. She tried to be stern, but the impatient wife look was completely undone by a huge yawn and she raised the back of one hand to her mouth to cover it. “Come, let’s bathe and then put you to bed. You look like you might drop.”
“But what about – ?” Her question was broken off by another deep inhale as her fatigue from the week started to overtake everything, even her ability to speak. “Okay, a bath. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”
“If you insist,” Severus answered indulgently. “Come.” He grasped one of her hands in his and led her back to the bedroom and into their ensuite bathroom. Within moments, Hermione was lost to her husband’s tender and non-sexual ministrations. He cast a charm on her hair to pile it on top of her head in an unruly bun while the tub filled with deliciously warm water. They crawled in together, relaxing her back to his front as he rested against the porcelain of the basin.
While gently washing his wife, Snape couldn’t help but run over in his mind all the haunts he and Lucius spent time getting up to shenanigans as young adults. Over and over he kept returning to only one place that Draco couldn’t have checked, as he wasn’t even sure the young man knew the place existed.
If Lucius was there, he was waiting for Severus to find him. If he were there, it would be obvious to Severus that Lucius was hoping to be found – and to be found by his one-time best friend. Only Snape would be able to figure it out. Rightly so, as the property belonged to him – even if he didn’t use it. He had only even mentioned it in passing to his wife.
The more he though about it, as he and Hermione dried themselves and made their way into their bed, the more he realized it was the only place the Malfoy patriarch could be. He wrapped Hermione in his arms and relaxed as her head rested in the hallow between his chest and shoulder and the slight swell of his daughter within her body pressed against his hip.
He waited, pretending to be on his way to dreamland himself, while she shifted and made herself comfortable before finally – finally – falling asleep. He then waited an additional thirty-minutes to make sure she was out completely before carefully sliding away from her.
He knew what he had to do.
It was almost as if Lucius was calling to him personally.
It would be an actual fight to the death this time –
One of them would not leave Prince Manor alive.
Snape stood in the doorway of the study. The sheets covering the furniture and bookshelves were thick with many years of accumulated dust. It had been some time since he had stepped foot in this God-forsaken place. Narrow rays of light filtered around the edges of the dark-plum, velvet window coverings, bringing to life the dust motes floating lightly through the air, likely stirred by his arrival and wanderings.
A subtle flash of light and then a shadow, coming from the far corner of the vast room, and Snape’s hawk-like gaze shifted, his pupils dilated, and his posture became primed for attack. He had been right. The seventeenth century Louis XVI Bergere chair was facing the window, it’s sheet disregarded in a heap on the floor to the left of it. To the right of antique chair’s armrest, a pale hand rested on the familiar handle of Lucius Malfoy’s signature cane. A hint of white-blond hair peeked over the high back of it while an accompanied lazy drawl echoed, “I never understood why you abandoned this place, Severus. Your ancestral home? Your legacy?”
Snape didn’t respond, he simply watched and waited.
“But then again, you were never loyal, were you? Not to your friends. Not to Slytherin. Certainly not to your true master. It should come as no surprise you would abandon your home, as well.”
“I think it’s quite clear you were never my friend, Lucius.”
The light shifted as Lucius stood, the dust motes dancing about frantically. His tall form turned, and steel eyes met obsidian. “What’s most disappointing,” a condescending sneer now matched the voice, “is where your loyalty has finally landed.” A hint of a smile ghosted his lips. “Well, hardly landed; more like rushed in with all the glory of a knighted soldier – to avenge the honor of a Mudblood.” He stepped around the chair. “To challenge the Nabul Dehul,” Lucius now chuckled as he chided, “at your own wedding! How very…precipitous of you…how very…Gryffindor. Honestly, Severus. I’ve sampled the pussy, it’s average at best.”
Lucius was prepared when the curse approached, a flick of his wand and the diverged spell splattered the priceless antique chair to pieces. Lucius’ grin grew wide. “Pity. You must learn to take better care of your things, Severus.”
The return spell flashed a yellow beam of light. Severus recognized the blood boiling curse instantly, and with a whispered incantation, the approaching tentacles turned to chattering sparrows and dispersed about the room.
Lucius continued his taunt. “After all, you didn’t take very good care of your witch that day in Diagon Alley, now did you?” He stepped to the left, casting a shield charm as the next spell almost hit him. “Don’t worry. I took extra special care of her in your stead.”
Snape dropped and rolled to his right, firing off the Sectumsempra, the movement catching Lucius off guard.
It was Severus’ turn to taunt. He watched as Lucius cursed, tearing off his sleeve and fastening it tightly around his bicep to staunch the bleeding from his elbow where the curse had landed. “You must be very proud of your son, Lucius. He spoke to Shacklebolt personally to request the extra guarding of the Williams’ home. He took such initiative, knowing you would betray him and the girl he loves.”
Lucius made a face of disgust. “Draco knows his place, he’ll use the little wench until he bores of her charms and then he’ll come to heel. Ultimately, he would never blemish the name of Malfoy with such an atrocious act as to marry the chit. I’ll look forward to fucking her after he’s done with her… or maybe before.” His smile grew lecherous. “At least Draco went after an attractive Mudblood and not a plain jane little bookworm.”
“Lucius, your arrogance and naivety surprise me. You will never be a free wizard again. Should you survive this day, which is highly improbable, you will be hunted until the moment you are brought to justice.”
“Now who’s the naive one? You know as well as I do how the tides of favor and what’s acceptable can turn so abruptly.”
Severus was barely listening, instead his focus was pulled to the garter on Lucius’ now exposed forearm; a garter holding a particular knife in place. A knife Severus knew very well, having had seen its original master use it countless times on unwilling subjects at the debauched revels and gatherings of years past. Bellatrix Lestrange had been known for many talents of cruelty, but that knife had been every bit as much her signature to her work, as Lucius’ cane was to his. A cane which the man had used to violate and then brand his victims most depravedly.
Severus’ thoughts had left him vulnerable, as he discovered too late, when suddenly, black, tar-like darts flew at him. A quick Protego blocked a few, but several were unhindered by the poorly cast shield. Those that got through landed on his feet, adhering his shoes to the wood floor. The tar-like substance slowly began creeping up his legs, leaving him unable to move them. Lucius began to laugh.
Severus did not panic. He was well-aware Lucius liked to play with his food before he consumed it. The loquacious blond loved to hear the tenor of his own voice and thus was the poster child for monologuing.
Severus cast another Protego before flicking his wand at the ceiling chandelier, whispering Finestra. Shards of glass flew in all directions.
Lucius rolled his eyes as though bored and flicked his own wand, causing a great gust of wind to blow the glass away from him. He did not realize that Snape had merely cast the glass shattering spell as a distraction and, as Snape expected, the words began to spill out of the haughty wizard’s mouth. “You’ve lost your instincts, my friend. You’ve lost your touch. I could have never cast such a simple spell upon you so easily in the past. She’s made you weak. Soft. An easy target. You would have been so much better off with a real witch.” His eyes glanced down at Severus, his forehead crinkling and his nose in the air as though something smelled bad. “You wreak of filth; of stale, used cunt.” As Lucius spoke, Severus cast a non-verbal spell which caused a petroleum like substance to drip from his wand, dissolving the tar instantly.
Severus went for more distraction. “Ah, I’m confused Lucius. Haven’t you been sleeping with your wife for over twenty years? Isn’t that the epitome of stale?”
Lines of anger crossed Lucius face. “Cissa does not bear mentioning in a conversation such as this. She is perfection. A doting, submissive, and faithful wife with drippings between her legs like honey from the finest clover.”
Severus shrugged and smacked his mouth like he tasted something bad. “Well, I found her flavor to be rather tart and tangy, not really to my liking – but her lips and mouth? Now there lies her talent. That witch can suck …” Severus didn’t get to finish his sentence. An uncharacteristic and hasty “Avada Kedavra!” spilled from the enraged blond wizard’s wand. Severus once again dropped and rolled, the spell missing him entirely while shocking its caster, whom had believed Severus to still be tethered by the tar.
“How dare you speak of my wife in such a manner. As if she would ever touch you!”
“Not just me, Lucius. Did you truly believe she sat idly by while you dipped your wick in every passing fancy? Half the Death Eaters have sampled her charms.”
“I don’t believe you. I’m going to enjoy killing you and sending your bits back to your little Mudblood in a shoe box.”
“Perhaps the most endearing physical attribute of your dear wife, Lucy, is that delicious little birth mark, right at the top of her inner left thigh.”
In truth, Severus had never touched Narcissa and as far as he knew, she had never been unfaithful to Lucius. The birth mark had been spotted quite by accident, many years ago. Narcissa and Severus had been alone, walking along the Malfoy Manor grounds when she slipped on wet grass and rolled down a small hill. Her skirt had risen above her waist and in his haste to help her, he had spotted a view of the creamy pale skin and the delicate little mark. For some reason, the memory had always stuck. That intimate detail popped into his thoughts at the most inopportune moments. It was worth remembering now, however, as it offered proof to his little lie and the torment on Lucius’ face was a great reward.
Deciding his moment was upon him, Severus cast a non-verbal “relashio” followed by an “accio” and the knife that had distracted him earlier was now flying through the air in haste, the ivory handle landing perfectly in his left palm.
The surprise on Lucius’ face at the impressive bit of deception added to Severus’ thrill of battle.
He was ready to kill the man before him.
He was ready to avenge the woman he loved.
Knife in hand, he lunged at Lucius who was standing a mere few feet away from him.
Lucius regained his composure and side stepped the assault. “Resorting to Muggle combat, I see. Your slip into mundanity knows no bounds.” Lucius’ face became one of panic when he stepped into a glob of tar that had missed it’s mark earlier and had been innocently waiting for a victim to consume.
Severus had known the substance was there and had purposely jumped at Lucius, knowing the wizard would step right into it, none the wiser. “Incarcerous,” Severus shouted with fervor. Binds suddenly wrapped around Lucius, pinning his arms to his sides and entwining his wrists and hands, leaving him without use of his wand.
Little did Severus Snape know that the moment he Apparated away from the front gates of Hogwarts, his wife sat up in bed with a bolt of fear unlike any she had ever felt before. Her heart was racing in her chest and, instinctively, she covered the slight swell of her abdomen with trembling hands and she attempted to peer through the dark.
Severus was gone and automatically she knew that this fact was the cause of her fears. Fruitlessly, she called his name, hoping beyond hope that perhaps he had just left to use the loo or make a floo call. Only silence answered her. The rest of her body started trembling to match her fingers – he had gone after Lucius Malfoy. He had to have. There was no other reason he would leave their rooms without waking her.
She sat quaking for a few moments, trying to collect her thoughts – to figure out where he may have gone. Places kept erupting in her mind, but she pushed them away as fast as they came. The Forbidden Forest – no. Spinner’s End – no. Malfoy Manor – no. They’d have Aurors watching there for sure. Shrieking Shack – no. Hogsmeade – no.
It wouldn’t be anywhere obvious. It wouldn’t be somewhere that the Ministry or Draco would not have already thought of. It would be somewhere obscure, remote. She shoved the blankets back on the bed and snatched her wand from the nightstand. Flicking it to raise the torch light, she hastily pulled on leggings and an oversized Gryffindor Quidditch jersey that had belonged to one of the Weasley boys. She stepped into shoes and pulled her cloak off the hook as she pulled open the door that led to Snape’s office, then made her way out through his classroom.
She wasn’t even sure where she was going – her body was running on pure instinct. Ideas kept popping into her head. Ideas she kept dismissing as too obvious or too obscure.
Before Hermione even knew it, she was standing at the gates of the castle. She tapped them, which undid the lock, and slipped out, turning again to snap the lock back into place. (Being married to the staff had its benefits.) She turned back to the path that led to Hogsmeade and froze. What now…? What now, you silly girl? Oh, this was so foolish, Severus would be so mad at you! What were you th – oh! Quite suddenly, she knew. Or was at least hit with a plausible idea – one that made sense.

With a twist and spin on her heel, she Apparated to Severus’ estate – Prince Manor. She really wasn’t expecting to find him, he had only ever mentioned this place in a fleeting conversation. What he had told her, however, resurfaced and gave her pause. Pause enough to realize he – they – could be here.
He had been bequeathed the property in his late teens, a time when he was completely immersed in the Death Eater campaign. At the beginnings of his friendship with Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy would have been someone Snape would have trusted to look at the property with him – as it was an old Pureblood estate.

She was quite surprised when the wards at the gates let her through, but figured it had to do with her marriage bond to Severus. Then there, in the not so far away distance, she saw the front door open – her heart leapt.
Pausing in the entryway, Hermione took a moment to catch her breath and slow her heart rate, all the while listening intently. It was then she heard the voices of the two men down the vast hallway. She silenced her shoes and cast a rebound spell around her, so she couldn’t be caught off guard. Then she began trotting lightly through the foyer and into the manor.
After a minute or so of walking, the unmistakable drone of the man she hated above all others came from a room a couple of doors up and to her left. It made her skin crawl with revulsion even as it sounded panicked and desperate. “Go ahead and kill me, you worthless piece of filth.” She raced the final meter and paused in the doorway. “You are pathet – ” Lucius paused his words at the sight of the young witch’s entrance, causing Severus to give a sideways glance at the door.
Hermione was greeted with polar opposite reactions from each man. Adoration on the face of the one she loved and utter horror on the face of the other.
“And there she is! The little Mudblood whore herself. Come back for more? Perhaps a little two on one action? You had quite a taste for…” Taking stock of the situation, which her husband had under complete control, Hermione swished her wand with flair at the blond abomination as she whispered, “Muffliato.”
Severus actually laughed with a combination of surprise and relief when she shrugged apologetically and playfully said, “I’m sorry for the ‘foolish wand waving’. I know how you abhor it, but I couldn’t resist.”
Severus held his arm out for her and she rushed into his side. “You scared me! Why did you run off without telling me where you were going? I woke up and you were gone! I was terrified!”
Severus didn’t respond. His arm held her close, but he kept his wand and his eyes on Lucius. The monster would not escape this time. He kissed the top of her head. “Love, you shouldn’t be here. Trust me. You don’t want to see this.”
“Yes I do, Severus. I’m not leaving, any more than he is.” She glanced back at the brick-red face of the wizard who was now trapped and at their mercy. “I want to watch him die.” Hermione had never imagined such words would escape her lips, much less that they would be true, but this man had almost destroyed her. Godric only knew how many others he had raped and killed. She was not so naïve to believe he should be left to the care of the Aurors. Not again.
“In that case, stand back. I don’t want you close.” She hesitated but Severus’ patience was slipping. “Now! Witch!”
Hermione swallowed heavily, slowly stepping away and back towards the doorway. She knew Severus was on edge. Killing a man did not come easy, she imagined there was a part of Severus that regretted having to kill this man especially. One who had once been his friend.
If Severus had been reading her thoughts he would have laughed. He held no more regard or concern for the man before him than he had held for Voldemort himself. There was no remnant of Lucius that Severus found redeemable enough to be mourned. He merely didn’t want his witch in any way tainted with blood on her hands or harbor any guilt to flood her conscience at a later time. She was bloodthirsty right now, sure, but she was still an innocent. Being that it was up to him, he was determined she would remain that way.
Snape was completely aware that Lucius knew he was going to die. It was written in the quiet resignation on his pointed face. It disturbed Severus that the man wasn’t panicked and wasn’t groveling for his life. As he released the Muffliato, Severus studied the wizard before him. An evil tug played at the corners of his mouth as ideas for true retribution spun through his imagination. He was rewarded with a barely discernable dulling of Lucius’ eyes.
“Well, you didn’t think that your death would come easy, did you?” Severus taunted quietly.
Lucius didn’t answer, he merely watched the dark-haired wizard as his mind tried to conjure a way out of this mess. He had never been very proficient with nonverbals, but it didn’t stop him from trying all the same. However, the inability to move his wand left him impotent.
Severus tucked his own wand into his pocket and passed the knife from his left to his right hand.
Lucius’ gaze moved to the blade and his heart began to thrum quickly. He knew what that knife could do. He knew the curses that were ingrained into its blade. He had been perfecting it. Where it had always left scars that were difficult to heal, it now also contained a poison that, once they entered the blood stream, caused a slow and gradual thickening of the blood. It would take weeks to be deadly, but it could not be cured. Even a small cut on the finger with this new and improved blade would lead to certain death. The irony was not lost on Lucius that its first time being used since the enhancements would be on his own person. He would prefer a quick death, so he began his quest to obtain one.
“Just do it already, you poor excuse for a wizard. Pussy whipped, emasculated, weak…”
“Tell me, Lucius. What does this blade do? What has you so afraid that you are goading me rather than appealing to my humility?”
Lucius didn’t answer. He didn’t want to give credit to Severus for seeing through him so easily. “You don’t have it in you anymore, Severus. Best leave the killing to the better equipped. Perhaps your Mudblood wife?”
Severus stepped close and pressed the knife against Lucius’ pale and long neck, without breaking the skin. Lucius’ breath hitched. He didn’t dare move.
Severus was finally rewarded with the panic he had been seeking. “Ahh, there is the yellow-bellied man I’ve known most of my life.” He smiled wickedly as he flicked Lucius’ throat with the blade, inflicting a shallow cut.
Lucius’ eyes closed, and he slumped. It was now official – his life was forfeit. He did not open them again. He merely stood, wrapped frozen in his bindings; his eyes shut and his life over.
“No, you will open your eyes and be present. You will pay for what you have done.”
“Severus.”
Snape ignored the soft voice of his wife.
“Severus,” she said more loudly. “Just be done with it. Please.”
Lucius’ lids fluttered open as he taunted the dark-haired wizard. “You heard your wife. Just do – ”
But Lucius Malfoy was not allowed his final sentence. Instead, his grey eyes grew wide with obvious surprise as Severus suddenly wrapped an arm around him while at the same time pressing the blade through his ribcage and into his heart like a hot knife through soft butter.
Severus’ eyes were locked to Lucius surprised grey orbs. He wanted to make sure his words were heard. “Is that quick enough for you…sweetheart?” Loathing overtook to Potion Master’s face as the purposeful words left his lips. He twisted the knife, causing Lucius to cough, droplets of blood escaping his mouth and peppering his lips and chin.
A loud thud and cracking sound followed as Severus released his grip, allowing the body to fall to the floor. The blond head had the unfortunate circumstance of meeting the corner of a table on the way down. Severus tossed the knife into the enormous, stone framed fireplace before casting Fiendfyre. Hermione practically flew to his side, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his side. She looked towards the raging hearth and was about to ask how to stop it, when the flames were suddenly doused with a flick of Severus’ wand.
“I have no idea what Lucius did to that knife, but whatever it was it scared him. Best to destroy it.”
Hermione looked down at the body on the floor, it’s dull and lifeless eyes open and staring. She swallowed thickly. “Take me home, Severus. Take me home.”
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...After Happily Ever After