15. Removing Ambiguity

The deafening silence was oppressive.

Severus swallowed convulsively. His heart was racing painfully in his chest, as if it was about to burst through his ribcage and forcefully tear him upon. His throat was dry and unpleasantly tight and each breathe was a fight of its own. Blood was rushing loudly through his ears and a shrill ringing was resounding through his head.

He was about to die, his agitated mind supplied uncooperatively in the face of mortal danger. He was about to die a horrendous and painful death and yet all his mind could come up with was the unhelpful notion that he had ultimately failed.

He had failed Saphira as he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her and the disturbing plots originating around her anymore. He had failed Potter, though that didn't bother him half as much as it probably should, but still it was rather bothersome that he couldn't keep his promise of a better life for the boy. But worst of all was that he had failed Lily. Beautiful, breathtaking and lovely Lily who had only ever wanted the best for her child. And Severus, misguided and short-sighted as he was, had done everything he could possibly do to make matters worse. In his blinded need to fulfil his vow he had made to Lily, he had doomed her precious child to a loveless and dangerous life, to be nothing more than a sport of politics and of pureblood fanaticism.

Barely visibly his hands began to tremble and a soft sheen of sweat formed on the palms of his hands. Severus swallowed tightly as his gaze was firmly trained on the abrasive, grey stone floor he was kneeling on. Regret, sour and acrid, pervaded through his body. He could only hope that his mention of the marriage contract would sooner or later direct his Master to the right channels. Sooner rather than later, Severus all but prayed and his eyes almost fluttered shut as he tried to project his intent to his Master through willpower alone.

Narcissa had been planning diligently and was about to make her first, irrevocable move. His Master had to be prepared to meet her head on and see through her murky schemes and complex plotting.

"Rise, Severus." The Dark Lord's emotionless voice all of a sudden cut unexpectedly through Severus' worry and fear-filled mind. Severus blinked slowly and once his Master's words penetrated his clouded mind he hastened to comply.

Once he was standing upright, Severus came face to face his Master. The Dark Lord regarded him intently and when their eyes met, Severus didn't raise his mental shields as he normally would – though it was a reflex difficult to resist, years of having lived the life of a spy had taught him to never meet anyone's eyes without proper mental protection of his innermost thoughts, memories and wishes – and let his Master access his mind. He could feel the Dark Lord rummaging through his head. He didn't proceed as delicately as Severus would have appreciated considering the fragility of a human mind, but it was a far cry from his Master's normal destructive searches for information that had left countless of minds torn to shreds and reduced men and women to mindless living shells of their former selves.

Severus forced his eyes to remain open and meet his Master's gaze straight ahead. He couldn't estimate clearly how much time had passed and he couldn't track which thoughts or memories his Master was scanning. Whatever it was that his Master had witnessed, it caused the Dark Lord to cease his attack and to retreat from his servant's mind.

He would have loved to take a deep breath and sigh in relief, but he didn't dare to. Severus stood stock-still and unmoving as he waited for the Dark Lord's signal. When his Master took a step back, Severus finally dared to avert his gaze. His Master stood tall and proud, his purple eyes burning dangerously but his face was a mask of ominous calmness. The Dark Lord observed him keenly.

Severus tried to keep his face expressionless and emotionless as he was subjected to his Master's inquisitive stare. His heart was pounding against his ribcage and blood was thundering in his ears, but Severus tried to ignore it. Finally, after what felt like eternity if not longer, his Master moved.

"Come, Severus." His Master addressed him as he turned around and retreated into his quarters without a glance backwards. As he observed his Master's retreating back, Severus couldn't help but swallow thickly. It was one thing to be invited into the Dark Lord's personal study, but it was quite another thing to be invited into the Dark Lord's personal quarters.

It spelled a certain doom.

Severus forcefully pushed those unhelpful thoughts aside and hastened to comply his Master's order. As soon as Severus stepped through the door, a handful of floating candles inflamed, however their dim light did little to disperse the lingering darkness. His Master's back was nothing more than a dark shadow in the dimly lit corridor as Severus followed him.

The Dark Lord turned to the right and entered a room with Severus just behind him. Once more floating candles inflamed as soon as they stepped through the door, but this time they managed to illuminate the room. Severus had to blink against the sudden light.

The room was nicely furnished, Severus noted with a belated surprise as he looked around. The dark wooded floor contrasted nicely with the off-white almost beige walls. Upon closer inspection Severus detected that the wallpaper was covered in small, golden alstroemeria. It was a fleeting observation, insignificant and incidental and yet Severus stopped dead in his track when the flower's name passed his mind. With a painful swallow Severus paused and regarded the room intently. Alstroemeria had been Lady Sharina's favourite flower. She had fallen in love with their appearance and had adored their symbolic meaning of 'devotion'. There had always been a bouquet of alstroemeria in the living room she had shared with the Dark Lord.

A flare of hot, searing pain shot through Severus as he realized what the tiny alstroemeria covering the wallpaper had to mean. He felt rather stupid for not having considered the possibility before.

Lady Sharina had designed and decorated the personal quarters she had shared with her husband. And the Dark Lord, hurt, abandoned and lonesome as he was after her untimely death would never even think about changing them, not even something as minuscule as a wallpaper covered in flowers he didn't care for.

Now that he had realized it, her influence was glaringly obvious. The couch, armchairs, couch table, sideboard and shelves were made of rich, dark wood and the seats' slip covers of Slytherin green and whereas many would expect the Dark Lord's study to look like this, there were some facets that just didn't fit. Three cushions covered in green silk with small, floral golden design were positioned on the couch, an equally green carpet with floral design covered the floor of the seating accommodation and the shelves were filled with books and small trinkets alike as was the sideboard. However, the most obvious hint was the painting hanging above the sideboard.

Severus felt another sharp pain flare through his chest. The painting showed a woman dressed in formal robes. Her dark hair was done in an elaborate updo and her dark blue dress offered a nice view of her bare back. Her back was towards the room and only a part of her face was visible, but Severus didn't need to study the painting in depth to know who this woman was.

After her untimely death the Dark Lord must have tasked a painter to draw his deceased wife. He must have known that her painting would never move and that he would never be able to speak with her again, but nonetheless he must have wanted the painting. It wasn't meant to bridge the gap between the dead and the living, it was merely meant to serve as a constant reminder of what he had lost. Looking at the painting Severus couldn't help but marvel whether his Master could have chosen a more fitting situation.

It was thanks to Lucius and his constant need to brag and flaunt that Severus could connect the painting to a certain moment in his Master's youth. Both Lucius and Severus had just started their services for the Dark Lord when Lucius had during one otherwise uneventful evening procured a vial containing a silvery, misty substance. With the vial dangling daringly between his loose, long fingers Lucius had boasted that he could prove that his family was better and stronger connected to the Dark Lord than any other pureblood family in Great Britain.

Severus would have scoffed and rolled his eyes before leaving the room with a snarl on his lips, but he didn't. He was curious. Severus had recognized the silvery substance for what it was – a memory. And so he had agreed to watch the memory, not because he had felt the urge to validate Lucius' need for superiority but because he had been curious about the memory itself.

He had ignored the tiny voice in his head that had snarled at him to leave the memory be, to turn around and go and never think about what Lucius was offering. To view a memory without the explicit of the memory's owner was a vile offense and a violation of respect and privacy. But Severus had been young and curious, oh so curious, and so he had shoved the tiny, snarling voice to the back of his conscious, had taken a deep breath and had dived into the swirling mass.

When he had opened his eyes again, he had come face to face with a carbon copy of Lucius. Blinking Severus had expurgated that thought. It was the other way around. The young man with the steel grey eyes and the long light blonde hair was the original, Lucius' father Abraxas Malfoy. Severus had watched fascinated as the then young pureblood hair prepared himself for what must have been a special event at Hogwarts.

It was during his Master's fifth year at Hogwarts that Headmaster Dippet had deemed that Hogwarts needed to celebrate the coming Yule with a lavish ball. The entire student body had been allowed to attend, although many hadn't as they hadn't packed anything suitable for a ball nor did they have the necessary funds to buy something adequate. Abraxas, it seemed, had come prepared, as had most students from Slytherin House.

The memory itself had been rather boring – watching young pureblood heirs and heiresses fret over the formal robes and dresses wasn't that interesting to observe. What had happened during the feast was what had made the memory special.

It was during this fateful Yule Ball in his Master's fifth year that the Dark Lord had fallen for the Lady Sharina Salwick.

Tearing his gaze from the lovely but painful painting Severus noticed that his Master had already sat down on one of the armchairs and he hastened to follow his lead. He could ponder the newest revelations at a later point when his continued survival and well-being weren't on the line.

Severus observed his Master discretely. The Dark Lord was reclining against the high chairback of his armchair. His purple eyes seemed unfocused and Severus waited with baited breath and wildly beating heart for his Master to break the silence.

"You shouldn't know of the contract, no one should." The Dark Lord finally broke the tense silence and regarded Severus with a cold, hard glance. "How did you find out? Tell me."

Severus felt the urge to gulp and avert his gaze, but he quelled the need and returned the look. "Lucius informed me, my Lord." Severus told his Master. For a brief moment he experienced the sudden and unwelcome notion that he might seal his friend's fate with that admission. It was a daunting thought and Severus tried to repress it as best as he could.

He wouldn't lie to his Master, especially not to save Lucius and his family. They were friends and Severus honestly valued their friendship, but the Potions Master had other priorities as of late. And unfortunate as it was, Lucius and his wife were threatening what Severus and his Master had tried to create. He could only hope that they would treat carefully in the future, for he was certain that their Master was less than pleased with them and his patience was notoriously short at best.

The Dark Lord observed him keenly, his purple eyes firmly focused on his Potions Master. His pale wooded wand was twirled between his long, thin fingers and the mere sight of it sent cold shivers down Severus' back. However, the Dark Lord didn't appear angry or enraged, his purple eyes weren't blazing with unrestrained fury and his dark magic wasn't cracking around him fuelled by his wrath. Instead he appeared thoughtful, contemplating even. Severus chose to wait, purest torture as it was.

The Dark Lord exhaled softly and looked away. He leaned back further into the armchair and folded his hands in his lap. His gaze returned to Severus and the Potions Master involuntarily swallowed at the unreadable expression in those purple eyes.

"No one should know of this contract, not even or especially not Lucius." His Master repeated levelly and cocked his head to the side. "I shall tell you of the contract's history. Informing you won't make any difference."

The Dark Lord paused and rested his head against the back of the arm chair. "Approximately twenty years ago Abraxas Malfoy approached me one afternoon in my Manor. He looked troubled and informed me of experiencing problems with his father Insidius."

Severus wasn't the least surprised that Lord Abraxas Malfoy would choose to visit the Dark Lord in a time of need. Lucius had constantly boasted about the close link his father shared with the Dark Lord. Still, it didn't explain what this had to do with the marriage contract.

"Insidius was exhibiting peculiar behaviour. He had become eccentric, his demeanour volatile and his conduct unpredictable." The Dark Lord narrated clinically as one would recount a boring and uneventful day at work. "Abraxas had witnessed his father acquiring and selling antiquities wildly, purchasing and vending properties and concluding lunatic contracts. And at that time back then he was untraceable."

Severus blinked in surprise. That wasn't something he would label so succinctly as 'acting strange'. It was more than that, it was dangerous. Lord Insidius Malfoy had been a man of great power – as were all members of the Malfoy family – and men with power and influence were dangerous when they acted without sense. And that was what Insidius had been doing. He had been losing his sense.

His incredulity about his unpleasant conclusion must have shown on his face, as his Master nodded curtly. "Abraxas had confided in the Malfoy family's personal healer. The healer presumed that Insidius was suffering from Mind Decay."

Severus couldn't help but shudder. Muggles knew Mind Decay under the name of dementia. It was a horrible diagnosis and fortunately rather rare in the wizarding world. However, once suffering from dementia, there was no cure and no hope; not even for witches or wizards.

The Dark Lord hummed softly in agreement. "Abraxas had approached me that afternoon with an appeal for help." His Master resumed the tale. "He feared that Insidius might do something thoughtless and endanger the family. He was exceptionally worried for Lucius. With his father's current deranged state of mind, he feared that Insidius might conclude a marriage agreement for Lucius."

It was a valid misgiving. If Insidius had no qualms about vending properties, there was the certain possibility that he would go so far and offer his grandson to the highest bidder. The interest would have been enormous.

The Dark Lord's gaze became distant as he remembered what had happened that fateful afternoon. "I agreed to help. But there wasn't much we could do. Insidius was the Malfoy Patriarch and it was well within his rights to arrange a marriage for his grandson. The only possible way to prevent this was to conclude a marriage contract before Insidius could."

Severus nodded lost deep in thought. It was true, as Lucius' father Abraxas could easily arrange a marriage for his son. And whereas it was still possible that Insidius might decide to refute the contract, it was rather unlikely that he would manage to overthrow the agreement.

"I agreed to draw a marriage agreement between our families. Once the contract had been signed, Abraxas left to search for his father as I resumed my tasks." The Dark Lord continued. "It took Abraxas quite some time to locate his father and when he finally had, he was fortunate to have secured his son's future for Insidius had already entered into negations with a wizard of low blood and standing concerning Lucius' future wife."

The Dark Lord shrugged dispassionately, as if he couldn't have cared less, even though Severus knew this to be a farce. The Dark Lord didn't care for much, but he certainly cared for the purity of blood. "Abraxas restrained his father's power. It took him some time but finally he accomplished his father's incapacitation. As Insidius was considered incapacitated, Abraxas could undo most of the damage inflicted upon the family due to his father's Mind Decay."

It sounded reasonable and was exactly what Severus would have done had he been in Abraxas' position and yet something irked him. "I never knew that Lucius' grandfather had been ill enough to be incapacitated." Severus confessed blandly.

"You wouldn't." The Dark Lord readily agreed. "And you couldn't as I am rather certain that not even Lucius knows about this."

That caused Severus to blink. "My Lord?"

The Dark Lord shrugged dispassionately yet again. "The Malfoy family cherishes an antiquated custom, one to be considered extinct in most pureblood families." The Dark Lord paused and regarded Severus intently. "To spare the Malfoy family name further shame and humiliation, the Head of Malfoy Family can deny the culprit's magic."

Severus sucked in a sharp breath. "That would leave the person as squib!" He exclaimed.

"Indeed." The Dark Lord nodded. He didn't appear half as bothered as Severus felt. "It is an ancient custom and meant to preserve the honour of a family. Most pureblood families wouldn't choose this form of punishment nowadays, but the Malfoys always felt that rendering someone as a squib and as such powerless and without influence was better than having to publically renounce someone of the family."

Severus still felt numb from shock but he couldn't deny that his Master was right. It would have been an utter scandal should Abraxas have publically declared his father's illness.

"Anyways," The Dark Lord resumed his tale. "Once Insidius was taken care off, the marriage contract was destroyed." The Dark Lord leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. "As you can see there was a marriage contract once, but it is obsolete as the contract is no longer in existence."

Purple eyes blazed with dangerous interest as they narrowed. "How did you find out about the contract, Severus?" The Dark Lord's voice was dangerously calm.

"Lucius informed me, my Lord." Severus responded equally calm.

"Lucius shouldn't know either." The Dark Lord retorted slickly, his purple eyes glittering dangerously in the candles' light.

Severus barely refrained from shuffling in his seat. "I don't know exactly when he found out, my Lord." Severus confessed honestly. "All I know is that Lucius had pursued investigations at the Ministry of Magic concerning a personal matter and came across the marriage contract."

The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully as he rested his chin on his palm. "Lucretia must have come upon the contract during Abraxas' search for his father. I could care to imagine that she would send the contract to the Ministry for safekeeping." A sharp grin stretched his Master's lips and it alarmed Severus more than his Master's insane laughter ever could. It was a disturbing sight.

"Ambitious Black women." The Dark Lord muttered lowly under his breath and shook his head as if to get rid of an irritating thought. He leaned back and regarded Severus with a clouded gaze. "This piece of information finally explains why Lucretia was so determined to see Lucius married to Narcissa."

The Dark Lord quirked an unpleasant smirk and shook his head in exasperation. "Abraxas has always been a proud man with excellent character attributes. But saying no to his wife had never been one of them." He huffed airily and a strange cross between fond exasperation and light discontent graced his features. "He would never have denied her anything, not even the choice of their son's future wife."

Severus remained silent as he observed his Master seemingly reminiscing about a past of days long gone by. While he appeared calm and composed on the outside, however, his mind was spinning helplessly.

Startling as those revelations were, they explained so much.

It had never made much sense to Severus in the first place, but it wasn't his place to ask questions or bring into question the pureblood approach of choosing a suitable partner for the Heir or Heiress of a family. Nonetheless he had to admit that he had been quite surprised when Lucius had informed him that he would marry the Lady Narcissa Black.

It wasn't that Severus thought her to be an unsuitable choice, she was a pureblood heiress, after all. He hadn't interacted much with her, even though they were year and house mates. His status of half-blood prevented most of those descending from pureblood families from initiating any form of interaction with him. However, Severus could definitely say thanks to observing from afar that Narcissa Black wasn't the kind of woman he would have chosen as a wife. She was conceited, narrow-minded, presumptuous and shallow; everything that Lily wasn't.

Irrespective of Narcissa Black's weaknesses of character her choice as future Malfoy Matriarch surprised Severus greatly for he was sure that Lucius had actually been courting another. Lady Imogen Selwyn had been a year and house mate of Lucius. The young woman with the long, blonde hair and the steel grey eyes was the embodiment of a perfect pureblood Heiress. Her beauty as well as her intelligence and her strength of character had soon captivated Lucius' interest and after a handful of overseen dates Severus was sure that Lucius had planned to continue his courting and to ask for her hand in marriage. It had made no sense to Severus that Lucius would change his mind all of a sudden to break off the courtship and marry a woman he had barely interacted with during their time at Hogwarts.

That this decision had been forced upon him and the marriage had been arranged between his and Narcissa's parents finally explained what had left Severus lost and confused for years.

Severus sucked in a sharp breath and his dark eyes widened as an inconvenient thought crossed his mind all of a sudden. "My Lord," He addressed his Master cautiously. "Wouldn't the marriage contract still be existing due to having been stored at the Ministry of Magic?" He gulped thickly as purple eyes suddenly focused on him. "Wouldn't the contract still be valid and binding?"

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed and his forehead furrowed deeply in thought. Long, thin fingers tapped his chin in thought and he hummed absentmindedly. Finally, he shrugged. "A valid question, Severus. It might well be." He admitted softly, although he didn't appear that alarmed by the possibility. "I shall have to research its efficacy. However, regardless of whether the contract might still be valid and binding, it won't affect the outcome."

Severus blinked in astonishment. How couldn't the contract's validity influence the contract's impact and as such Saphira's future? "My Lord?" He inquired cautiously.

The Dark Lord tapped his chin seemingly lost in thought. When his eyes focused on Severus, he shrugged. "It would be inconsequential." He reiterated mildly. "The marriage contract Abraxas and I signed all those years ago was a mere standard contract. It contained the generic stipulation that a marriage between two people too closely related is proscribed."

His purple eyes focused on Severus with startling poignancy. "The contract might be valid and binding, Severus." The Dark Lord declared detachedly. "But it won't affect my daughter. Saphira and the Malfoy Heir are too closely related for the contract to take full effect."

Severus swallowed painfully, his ears ringing with the unexpected and implicit implication. "How closely, my Lord?" He risked to query although hesitantly.

Purple eyes became steely sharp. "They are cousins." The Dark Lord remarked icily, his voice nothing more than a deadly hiss in Parseltongue.

For the shortest moment Severus felt as if someone had hit him with the Avada Kedavra curse. It couldn't feel that different when one's heart suddenly stopped beating. His wildly spinning mind ground to a sudden, violent halt and Severus all but blinked at its force. His ears were ringing with his Master's words. It couldn't be. His Master wouldn't.

He wouldn't, would he?

But there were no other blood relations on Lucius' family and the fleeting notion of Andromeda was cut short. The Dark Lord wouldn't select a woman who had abandoned her family's honour and disgraced her entire line by annulling an arranged betrothal, marrying a muggleborn wizard of low social standing and bringing a half-blood into the world, as the mother of his daughter. That only left one person.

Severus felt like groaning in despair and rolling his eyes in exasperation. He should have known to expect that turn of events. For one thing there was only one woman who his Master would fully trust and who could be considered worthy of being his daughter's mother. Then again, Potter had always had the worst luck and while Saphira wasn't a Potter anymore, Severus considered it a reasonable assumption that some of Potter's bad luck might have got stuck.

He swallowed heavily. The poor girl. He didn't envy her this parentage.

Severus schooled his face into an emotionless mask and hid all of his unflattering thoughts behind a firm, protective wall as he returned his Master's cold look. "I shall protect this information with an unbreakable vow, my Lord." He pledged genuinely.

"See that you do, Severus."

Severus acknowledged his Master's implicit threat with an incline of his head. Unexpected and worrisome as the revelation was – the hereditary Black Madness was something he would have to look out for; rare as it was, its onset compensated in intensity – Severus couldn't help but worry. "Will their blood relation as cousins be enough to render the contract inefficient?"

The Dark Lord regarded him intent, as if he was pondering whether to reveal another piece of vital information or not and Severus waited with baited breath. Finally, his Master shrugged. "My daughter's and the Malfoy Heir's relation won't be the only obstacle. The Malfoy Family and the Black Family are too closely related for a marriage between those families to be considered sensible."

Severus blinked. He was unsure what he should do with that information. As far as he had known both families were solely related due to Lucius' and Narcissa's marriage and their son Draco. There might be another marriage or two from long ago, but this shouldn't have any impact on the current contract.

His Master must have noticed his confusion, as his eyes glittered with barely hidden amusement and a dark grin graced his lips. "Lucius' mother, Lucretia, was born a Black. Her parents were cousins." The Dark Lord revealed suavely and he made a show of inspecting his fingernails in perfectly embodied nonchalance. "Lucius has Black blood running through his veins. But that is merely another impediment. The final hindrance would be that Lucius and Narcissa are second cousins."

The dark smirk intensified as the Dark Lord observed his Potions Master's eyes growing staggeringly wide. "Cygnus is Lucretia's first cousin." The Dark Lord clandestinely exposed the heretofore concealed blood relation. "Thus both their great-grandparents and Draco Malfoy's parents are closely related. It would be fatal if my daughter and the Malfoy Heir would continue this ill-advised trend of marrying someone closely related to them."

The Dark Lord leaned back and folded his hands neatly in his lap. "Magic can perform countless of miracles, but I fear that not even magic can guarantee healthy lives after generations of inbreeding." He sighed softly and shook his head in disillusionment. "It is a tragedy that the Black family still keep to the old tradition of marrying off cousins when they feel there isn't any better blood available."

Severus blinked owlishly. His mind was spinning with all the information he had received this evening. It would take him days to sort through the mess that was his mind and to find his bearings. And yet, there was one thing that burned on his tongue.

"I didn't know anything about this." Severus uttered weakly, still reeling from the shock.

The Dark Lord made a dismissive motion of his hand and looked at him with a strange cross of boredom and pity. "You wouldn't." His Master corroborated plainly. "I am not surprised that Lucius didn't share his ancestry in detail with you. Those incestuous marriages aren't anything that Lucius would be proud of. He would try his hardest to keep these blemishes a secret."

Severus nodded slightly and watched absentmindedly as the candles created jerky shadows on the ornate wallpaper. His mind was racing and agitated thoughts bounced through his head and yet Severus felt faint.

It was a lot to take in.

He didn't know how long they had been sitting in companionable silence, when his Master sighed softly and prepared to move. Silently Severus complied with his Master's unspoken request to follow him to the entrance hall. When they stood in front of the door leading to the rest of the Manor, his Master stopped, turned around and regarded Severus intently.

"Thank you for voicing your worries, Severus." His Master addressed him and Severus inclined his head in acceptance. Severus felt that he should be the one to thank his Master for his patience and for having refrained from cursing him on the spot for daring to disturb him at such a late hour but he wisely kept quiet. "Now that I have been notified of the state of affairs, I will know how to proceed."

He stepped towards the door and grabbed the door knob. Long fingers wrapped around cold metal, but they didn't move to open the door. Purple eyes focused on black ones, their intensity almost causing Severus to shiver in fear. "You can rest assured, Severus. I shall keep my daughter safe and out of harm's reach."

In a separate wing furthest from the main part of Slytherin Manor, where the Dark Lord and his daughter had their personal living quarters and where the Death Eater meetings took place, a dark haired man sat in the solitude of the spacious office of the lavish accommodation that had been liberally provided for him and his small family by the Dark Lord.

It was a blessing that their Lord had approached him and offered these quarters for the time being, as Rodolphus Lestrange wouldn't have known where they should have found shelter elsewhere. It wasn't as if they didn't have any connections and favours they could have exploited, but with the war still raging most of their family members and acquaintances were under observation of the Ministry of Magic and the trice damned Order of the Phoenix. And even though Rodolphus had utmost faith that their Lord would ultimately win the war and change the wizarding world to their favour, he didn't feel like playing with fire. That was rather something his wife would do.

A few months ago, mere days after they had successfully captured Potter, the Dark Lord had proclaimed a change in plans. For the time being there weren't any raids or attacks planned. Bellatrix had been besides herself with pent up rage, bloodthirsty and mad woman that she was, but Rodolphus could see the advantage of laying low. While the Dark Side regrouped, rallied its strength, gathered vital information and planned their next steps and phases diligently, the Light Side was running itself ragged in an attempt to figure out what was going on and wasting their valuable resources.

After Dumbledore's death and Potter's capture there wasn't any strategy in the Light Side's actions. They were operating blindly in their mindless need to find and rescue Potter. At first, Rodolphus had wondered why their Lord didn't demonstrate his superiority by providing evidence of Potter's brutal murder. Now, however, he could comprehend his Master's course of action. With evidence of Potter's death missing the Light Side foolishly clung to the belief that Potter might still be alive and could be rescued.

They were rendered incapable of acting.

In the meantime, Lucius had ventured to circulating rumours about possible planned attacks. Rodolphus had considered it thoughtless and extremely dangerous to do so – the chances that one of the rumours might be feed back to Lucius was too risky in his opinion – although he had to admit that it was extremely pleasing to observe how the Order and the Ministry wasted their strength with excessive but unnecessary protection details.

As they were currently laying low and there wasn't that much he could do, Rodolphus had decided to finally order his family's affairs. He didn't know what had happened to the family during their stay in Azkaban – a prisoner for life was in no need to be informed of his family's affairs, after all – and he was rather anxious to find out. All he knew was that their father had passed away during their time in prison.

He didn't know who was the current Head of Family, he didn't even know whether their family name was still worth something at all. For all he knew the Ministry could have decided to confiscate the Lestrange Vaults, properties and belongings and use the money for their own nefarious purposes. It was a daunting thought but unfortunately rather likely and the pure possibility that they might be moneyless and homeless was gnawing away at him.

Visiting Gringotts was a tremendous risk, but he had to take it.

Rodolphus had prepared conscientiously. He had glamoured his appearance to appear like an ordinary wizard with short brown hair and brown eyes and had changed his robes into medium quality dark wizarding robes – something that didn't scream muggleborn but didn't scream pureblood, either. An emergency portkey was hanging on a thing silver chain around his neck and an emergency wand was resting in the wand holder on his upper thigh. He was as prepared as he could be.

Once he had finished his preparations, Rodolphus informed his Master of his plan of action, apparated to London and made his way swiftly through the unusually deserted streets of Diagon Alley. The handful of people who crossed his path all had their eyes trained on the floor and hasted by without so much as sparing him a glance.

When he finally reached Gringotts, Rodolphus felt his heart beat speeding up and tension spreading through his muscles. Approaching the goblin felt like walking into his personal doom.

No one else was there beside him when Rodolphus stated his name and voiced his desire to speak with his accountant. The goblin merely glanced at him in a bored manner, not at all least fazed that a wanted Death Eater had just approached him and ringed for Ironclaw. With a sharp motion of his clawed hand Rodolphus was led to the personal office of the Lestrange family's accountant.

Ironclaw was awaiting him, when Rodolphus entered the office and took his seat. Without missing a beat Ironclaw motioned towards several folders. "The Lestrange family's statements and accounts currents sorted and stored by year." He gnarled and motioned sharply towards the folders. "This is a list of the Lestrange properties, their current conditions and worth, the employed house-elves and furnishing." Several sheets of parchment were thrusted into Rodolphus' hands, catching him off guard. "A synopsis of the contents of the Lestrange family's vaults regarding furnishings, jewellery and clothing as well as artefacts can be found in this folder." Ironclaw indicated towards the folder laying in front of him. "Copies of all contracts as well as any correspondence from your late father and other family members regarding the Lestrange family have been placed in those boxes." Ironclaw snarled and motioned towards a dozen boxes standing next to the folders with a malicious glint in his dark eyes. "Now give be your hand, so that I can draw a drop of blood and so that you may receive your title of Lord and Head of Lestrange family."

Dumbly Rodolphus extended his hand and watched with a detached gaze as Ironclaw pinched his finger drawing blood and letting it drop on an old and withered parchment. The parchment glowed and small, illegible words appeared on it, line for line. Before Rodolphus could try to decipher what was written on the yellowish parchment, the glowing receded and Ironclaw snatched the parchment away to store it.

Not half an hour after he had entered Gringotts Rodolphus left it with several shrunken folders and boxes in his pocket, his signet ring on his right ring finger and the title of Lord Lestrange and Head of Lestrange family buzzing through his overwhelmed mind. He had expected to be thrown out of Gringotts for wasting the goblins time; this was so much better than he had ever dared to hope for.

As he prepared to apparate to Slytherin Manor, he couldn't wait to find out what had happened to the family in their absence.

Now, though, he cursed his over-eager self. He had worked his way through the accounts currents covering the space next the desk and the contents of the Lestrange family vaults stacked on the other side of desk. It wasn't what he had found in the folders that caused him to frown in worry, but rather the content of the family correspondences caused his eyes to shine with concern and uneasiness.

The sound of silent feet approaching brought Rodolphus out of his troubled contemplation and he looked up in time to witness his brother entering the office, a small knife in one hand and a bright green apple in the other.

As he observed his brother Rodolphus had to admit that Rabastan looked much better than he had for a long time. His dark hair was freshly washed and perfectly cut, his skin was lightly tanned and his cheeks had filled out a little. He had gained a bit of much needed weight and dressed in those dark, high-quality robes he almost looked as he had before their unfortunate time in Azkaban.

His eyes, though, spoke of the biggest changes and improvements. Instead of the dull, lifeless grey orbs he had sported in prison, Rabastan's eyes were glowing with life.

And mirth.

"I have to admit that I express my heartfelt thanks to Lady Magic regularly for being born the second son." An easy, teasing smile flitted over his lips and his eyes almost twinkled as he regarded Rodolphus in his sea of letters, folders and contracts. "I wouldn't want to be in your shoes for all the money of the world."

Rodolphus barely refrained from rolling his eyes and he snorted, though it wasn't as mirthful as Rabastan must have expected. "You can be happy and grateful that it is I who is tasked with taking care of the family and not some total stranger." He countered darkly with a sombre look in his eyes. "After father's death the titles of Lord Lestrange and Head of Lestrange family should have gone to someone else, seeing as I would have been deemed unfit to lead the family during my stay in prison."

Rabastan halted and cocked his head to the side in surprise. "Why didn't that happen?"

Rodolphus sighed lowly and raked a hand through his short hair. "Uncle Kelian sacrificed a lot to receive the titles temporarily." Rodolphus explained wearily. "He signed a clause that should we ever leave Azkaban alive that the titles would be transferred to the elder of us."

Rabastan hummed thoughtfully and cut the apple. "That's nice of him." He recognized absentmindedly and ate a slice of apple. His grey eyes focused on Rodolphus and he leaned against the bookcase. "How is the family?"

Rodolphus frowned. "It's a mess." He muttered softly.

At Rabastan's inquiring expression Rodolphus sighed deeply and raked another hand through his hair. "I should probably start with Uncle Kelian's family. Cousin Medea married Aegidius Carrow." Rodolphus began his tale. "They had twin daughters, Flora and Hestia Carrow. When the twins were four years old, their home was attacked."

Rodolphus paused regarding his brother's startled expression. "It was probably a mix-up, seeing as neither Medea nor Aegidius had ever taken part in any Death Eater activities." Rodolphus mused and shook his head absentmindedly. "Medea and Aegidius were killed during the attack. Their daughters have been left in the hands of Alecto and Amycus."

Rabastan winced and shuddered visibly. Rodolphus could share the notion; it was a cruel fate.

"Cousin Aylin married Chandler Selwyn. They had twin daughters as well, Ambre and Adrienne Selwyn." He ignored his brother's muttering of runs in the family, but couldn't help but smile a little. "When the twins were nine their parents were on their way back home from the opera. They had chosen to travel by car. You know how Aylin loved to indulge in such things." Rodolphus remarked with soft, sad smile. "They were almost at home when they were hit by a truck."

He sighed and shook his head in sorrow. "It happened too suddenly for either of them to react. They were dead the moment the truck hit their car."

Rabastan gulped audibly. "The girls?" He asked softly, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Their cousin, Valanice Selwyn, from Chandler's side of the family is taking care of them. She decided to home-school the girls. As far as I know, they are doing rather well."

Rabastan nodded. "And cousin Keylam?" He asked, his eyes sharp and focused on his brother.

"Is still alive." Rodolphus assuaged his brother's worry. "He married Cerea Max. They have a son, Kian,"

Rabastan's shoulders slumped and he exhaled loudly. "At least the Fawley name hasn't died out." He muttered barely audibly under his breath. Sharp grey eyes frowned at his brother. "It's truly a mess."

Rodolphus snorted darkly. "It gets even messier." He remarked ominously. "Father wanted to arrange a marriage for you as well. He was in the middle of the negotiations when we were arrested."

Rabastan's eyes were wide. "I didn't know about this." He muttered weakly. "You couldn't." Rodolphus assured him. "Father would have presented you with a fait accompli." As he had done with me, went unspoken but yet heard by either of them. "As the marriage contract wasn't concluded, Father would have seen no reason to inform you."

Rabastan was visibly reeling with shock. Rodolphus couldn't blame his brother. He could still remember it as if it had been yesterday that their father proclaimed he had to marry the Lady Bellatrix Black. He dreamed about it still – and those weren't pleasant dreams.

It took Rabastan some moments to regain control over his emotions. "Is she fine?" He finally asked, his voice still trembling with emotions. "She is married, if that is what you wanted to know." Rodolphus countered. "She doesn't live in disgrace."

Rabastan took a shaky breath and closed his eyes briefly. "Good." He muttered weakly. He would have felt horrible and responsible if she had to live in disgrace because of actions she couldn't influence or control. His eyes refocused on his brother. "Who was she?"

Rodolphus hesitated for a moment. "Thalia Yaxley." He finally disclosed watching his brother intently. "She now goes by the name of Thalia Travers."

Rabastan swallowed audibly. His grey eyes were unreadable. "Good for her." He mumbled.

Rodolphus took a deep, calming breath and regarded his brother sharply. "That leads us to the next problem." He commented neutrally. "You are still unmarried. We have to search for a potential bride for you."

Rabastan's expression turned repellent. "Do we really have to? You are married, after all." He remarked shrewdly. Rodolphus barely refrained from sighing and rolling his eyes. "It's not about wanting, Rabastan." He reminded his brother softly but unyieldingly. "You have a duty to the family name."

Rabastan regarded him with a neutral gaze that bordered on defiant. "If this is about duty, shouldn't you lead by example?" He paused and narrowed his eyes. "At least, you are already married. Fathering a child with your wife would be easier and less time-consuming than finding a suitable wife for me."

Rodolphus glared dangerously at his brother. "My wife is the very reason why I have to make you discharge your duties." He conceded through clenched teeth and with an air of perdition.

Rabastan looked startled and suddenly more than a little worried. "What do you mean?"

Rodolphus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He had hoped he wouldn't have to reveal everything to his brother to make him see reason. But he should have known better; Rabastan had always been notoriously curious.

He was about to answer his brother's query, when the door leading to their quarters flew open and connected with the wall with a resounding bang. Before either of them could do so much as blink, Bellatrix stormed into the living room in a flurry of black. His brother caught his gaze and with a small shake of his head Rabastan decamped in direction of the small kitchen. Rodolphus couldn't blame him, this wasn't a battle Rabastan had to wage.

It was all Rodolphus'.

With an inaudible sigh Rodolphus rose from his chair and made his way to the living room. Crossing his arms over his chest Rodolphus regarded his wife intently. "Where have you been?" He asked coldly.

Bellatrix didn't halt in her frantic pacing. "None of your business." She snarled sharply at him and raked an agitated hand through the mess she called hair.

Rodolphus' eyes narrowed as he observed his wife. "Where have you-" He stopped mid-sentence as a sudden thought occurred him. Fury ignited his chest and almost threatened to overwhelm him. "You stalked her again!" He hissed dangerously low. Bellatrix didn't pause in her pacing as she chewed agitatedly on her fingernails. "Are you crazy?" Rodolphus raged at his wife. "The Dark Lord explicitly banned you from approaching his daughter!"

Bellatrix wasn't fazed by her husband's outburst. Shaking her head, she mumbled lowly under her breath. "She's planning something."

"Who?" Rodolphus asked incredulously. "The Dark Lord's daughter?"

Spinning around Bellatrix glared at him with wild, mad eyes. "No!" She exclaimed throwing her hands in the air. "Cissa is!"

Rodolphus blinked. "Your sister?"

"Yes!" Bellatrix burst out. "She is planning something. I know it." She chewed on her nails as she shook her head jerkily. "I have to keep her safe." She mumbled between chewing on her nails.

Rodolphus still felt caught off guard as he watched his wife. Bellatrix looked positively deranged. Later on he wouldn't be able to denominate what it had been, perhaps it was the influence of carrying the titles of Lord Lestrange and Head of Lestrange family and all the responsibilities those titles contained. Whatever it was, witnessing his wife in her current deranged state caused him to snap.

He finally had enough.

"Bellatrix, this has to stop." He declared emotionlessly.

"What?" She spun around and bawled him out.

Rodolphus watched her with dispassionate eyes. "This." He intoned flatly. "Your behaviour." He paused and gathered his thoughts. "I endured a lot during the last years and I was overly lenient and understanding. But enough is enough."

Completely missing the dangerous bland intonation Bellatrix barked out a derisive laugh. "Lenient?" She sneered uglily. "When have you ever been lenient?"

Rodolphus ignored the obvious taunt. He had been married to her long enough to know how she played her games. "I tolerated your behaviour with grace." He repeated unemotionally. "I always knew that you didn't love me, that you always only had eyes and ears for our Lord. I condoned this and accepted it."

At the beginning of their marriage her frank dismissal of him had hurt. Though he hadn't loved her either, it was insulting and degrading that she didn't even consider trying to make their marriage work. But this was years ago, he had come to terms with her disinterest. She couldn't hurt him anymore.

She didn't have any control over him anymore.

"But this ends now." Rodolphus declared resolutely. "I can't and won't accept your behaviour anymore. You look like a raving lunatic." Disdain coloured his voice and disgust marred his features. "You disparage yourself, your birth family's name and the Lestrange family name."

Taking a deep breath Rodolphus eyes became hard like steel. "I can't and won't accept this anymore." He repeated coldly. "I am Head of the Lestrange family. It is my duty to see to this family name being associated with greatness, as it always was and always shall be. I won't allow you to ruin centuries of hard work." He took a menacing step towards his wife. "Your behaviour will cease now!"

Bellatrix, though, merely laughed contemptuously. "Why should I?" Her voice was sickly sweet and her eyes glittered maniacally as they did when she was allowed to torture someone. "I don't love you!" She suddenly roared and in her fury a sumptuous ancient vase shattered under the force of her destructive magic. "I never wanted to marry you!"

Rodolphus laughed sharply as he kept in mind to apologize for his wife destroying their Master's property. "I know that, Bella." He taunted her equally coldly, though his voice was laced with bitterness, and shook his head. "During moments such as this I am glad that we don't have any children. They would be ashamed of you."

Bellatrix flinched visibly and all of a sudden her eyes grew wide and misty. Any other day Rodolphus would have felt bad for his actions or would have at least questioned why his words caused her such distress when meaner insults had never done so before. But this day he was done. He couldn't care less.

Taking a deep breath Rodolphus tried to relax, though it didn't work and his headache was only increasing. As he regarded his wife, Rodolphus felt disgust overwhelm him.

His eyes were cold and unforgiving as he contemplated his trembling wife. "You don't care for me and I don't care for you." He intoned blandly. "This is okay. But, Bella, remember what we signed all those years ago. I have kept my marriage promises; I provided for you and gave you my family's name and protection."

He took another step forward. "You, on the other hand, have done everything in your might to violate your marriage promises." His dark magic cracked dangerously around him. "And I have enough of you shaming my family name."

Bellatrix, though still visibly shaken from his earlier insult, was far from done. With her blue eyes ablaze she lifted her chin and snarled viciously at him. "If you have enough of me, why don't you just divorce me?"

Rodolphus barked a cutting laugh and smirked darkly at his enraged wife. "Oh, how I long to divorce you." He vowed with barely contained emotions. "But I won't divorce, for that is exactly what you want me to do." He shook his head and deliberately ignored his wife's vile cursing. "Divorcing you would make your life so much easier."

Cocking his head to the side Rodolphus regarded his wife. "No, I won't divorce you." He pledged confidently. "You will continue to be my wife and you will start to act and comport yourself as I can expect from a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Bellatrix flushed brightly in barely contained anger, rage and humiliation, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. There was nothing she could do if she wanted to keep her magic. With her husband at the sudden end of his patience she had reached an unexpected impasse.

Rodolphus' eyes were cold and uncaring as they observed her. "Go take a shower, do something with your hair and dress into something adequate." He ordered harshly. "And when you are done cleaning up, I expect you to treat me with the respect I deserve."

When Saphira's eyes fluttered open at the rising of the sun, the young woman blinked owlishly at the ceiling of her bedroom covered in soft pink and bright orange, only to close her eyes again with a heavy groan.

Last night as she had been about to fall asleep she had breathed a wish to Lady Magic. She had hoped with all her might that Magic would look benevolently upon her and grant her favour but it seemed it wasn't meant to be.

Running a hand over her closed eyes Saphira shifted around awkwardly. The last few days she had been feeling strange. Her back had been aching as if she had been weeding Harry's late Aunt Petunia's garden for days. It left her in a constant feeling of discomfort that wouldn't cease no matter how Saphira twisted and turned.

It would have been bearable and probably wasn't any reason to worry, if a pounding headache hadn't joined her aching muscles. The pain in her head had rendered her incapable of doing much more than lounging in her comfortable armchair, buried under a big, heavy and heavenly soft cover, her long fingers wrapped around a steaming hot mug of tea – something herbal that she couldn't depict – as she took careful sips.

And she was constantly tired – as if someone or something was draining her energy – and no matter what she did, drinking green tea and coffee, doing exercises or taking a nap, she just wouldn't feel refreshed and energized.

Last night she had all but crawled into her comfortable bed and snuggled into the soft duvet and cushions. She had hoped that a long night of good and restful sleep would help her body to get over whatever seemed to be ailing it, however, her body seemed to have lost that fight.

Her sleep had been fitful. Sweat had covered her body and caused her mild discomfort as the clammy duvet clung to her body. All night long she had been plagued by feeling overly hot.

She probably had caught the cold.

It was ludicrous that something as banal as a common cold could cause her so much trouble. It wasn't as if she was in serious danger just in grave discomfort. There wasn't much she could do besides enduring the time her body needed to combat the sickness. If she wasn't improving by the end of the week, then she would consult with Professor Snape. As a Potions Master he was bound to have some potions that might facilitate her recovery.

She could summon a house elf and ask for the potions at the moment, but she decided against this course of action. She would feel stupid bothering the Professor with such a mundane problem. She would ask for help when she couldn't endure it anymore. For the time being it was nothing that she couldn't handle on her own.

Irrespective of whether she would consult with the Professor, Saphira needed to get out of bed. Her body was covered in cold sweat and her hair felt like a mess. She needed a shower dearly.

When she sat up, the room started to spin and a queasy feeling spread through her middle. Saphira groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deeply through her open mouth as she tried to will the nausea away.

Once the sickness had receded slightly, Saphira slowly opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when the bedroom didn't start to spin yet again. She rose to her feet clumsily and made her way to the bathroom with unsteady steps.

She didn't spare the mirror a single glance – she felt awful, she didn't need to observe how horrible she had to look – and headed straight for the shower. Her nightgown landed on the floor in a crumbled heap, but she spared it no mind.

Stepping into the shower, Saphira turned the water on and stepped under the spray. Her eyes were closed as she let the hot water stream over her tense body. It took some time, but finally she could feel some of the tension leaving her body and the soreness and aches of her muscles were improving slightly.

It felt heavenly just standing under the shower's spray. She blindly reached for the hair wash, squeezed some of the liquid onto her open hand and worked the shampoo into her hair. Once she was done with her hair, she took the shower gel, squeezed a generous amount onto the palm of her hand and began to soap herself.

She would count it as a definite improvement that touching her body had ceased to evoke feelings of disgust and shock and that making contact with her breasts didn't traumatize her anymore. It had taken some time but she had learned to familiarize herself with her body and grow used to it.

Taking her time to attending to her body, Saphira finally felt she had been standing long enough under the hot water when she noticed her fingers starting to wrinkle up. With a sigh she turned the faucet causing the spray to cease.

The bathroom was filled with steam when she opened her eyes again. Her long fingers twisted into her wet hair and worked to wring some of the water out of her black mane. When she couldn't wring anymore excess water out of her hair, she moved to wipe the water from her arms and torso. She was about to move to wipe her legs when she caught sight of the floor.

Saphira blinked.

There was a moment of utter silence, then a high-pitched scream tore through the swirling wafts of mist.

The pure white marble tiles under her feet were stained with blood.

Author's note:

I am sorry for the late update. Real life is tricky and I miscalculated the free time I would have to write. Rest assured this story is not abandoned. I will try my best to update regularly and finish this story line.

As you can see, the first of the original characters have arrived. Be warned that more and more of them will appear with the increasing number of chapters.

And there shall be more dialogues. Even though I feel entirely untalented writing anything similar to human interactions, I will try to write more dialogues and try to add more 'action' to the plot.

As always, constructive criticism is most welcome.

Thanks for reading and not giving up on the story!