—————S—————

Under the pitch black of night, Severus walked out to the edge of the Black Lake and placed his wand tip on his Mark. He hissed, not particularly enjoying the burn the request caused, but knowing it was needed. With Miss Bell's transfer to St. Mungo's, it wouldn't be long before the story hits the papers, and Severus had every intention of reporting to his "Lord" before he demanded his presence.

He waited, looking out over the lake, hearing the squid skim the surface. He thought of his family in the castle, his children asleep in the dorms, his wife sitting with Min while pretending not to be nervous. They were safe, and he was bolstered by that knowledge. No matter what happened to him, his family was safe, and there were people who would care for them should the worst happen. Not that he expected it, but one could never be too sure with the way the Dark Lord was these days.

The burn of acceptance ripped through him, though now he was prepared and barely gave more than a grimace in response. He pulled up his hood, pressed his mask to his face, then placed the tip of his wand to his mark once more, Apparating to the Dark Lord.

When he landed, he immediately dropped to his knees.

"Risssse, Severussss," he said, and Severus did so, looking around the room and seeing a few other Death Eaters already there, unmasked. He took off his own, removing his hood. They were in the Malfoy ballroom, and it would seem this was the place the Dark Lord had settled on for his throne. The meeting seemed informal, a gathering of those who were supposed to be hiding from Aurors or those without family to return home to.

"My Lord," Severus bowed.

"You have assked to sssee me?" Voldemort said with intrigue, a slight tilt of his head, his posture relaxed in his grand chair. "I had not expected to hear from you so soon."

There was a quiet cackle off to the side, and Severus' eyes darted to a pleased-looking Bellatrix, who was barely keeping it together.

Severus frowned, then turned back to Voldemort.

"My Lord, there has been an incident at Hogwarts that I felt you would like to be made aware of."

"Go on," Voldemort said with a wave of his hand.

"Yesterday afternoon, a Hogwarts student came in contact with this," he said, removing the now-neutralized necklace from within his frock coat.

There was an interesting reaction among the audience: a few flinched away, a few drew closer, and Bellatrix giggle-cackled a little louder.

"Interesting," the Dark Lord said, leaning forward in his throne.

"Indeed," Severus said, rolling the opals in his fingers. "Aurors at Hogwarts sent for a Curse-Breaker, who neutralized the object."

Alastor had been called in, probably by Hermione or Minerva, and he'd asked William Weasley to leave Gringotts a moment to come and give them a hand. He had no idea if his grizzled former mentor was actually already in Hogsmeade or not, but he was grateful it was someone who didn't believe and follow Dumbledore's every whim.

"How was it that a student came in contact with such an item?" the Dark Lord asked, his red eyes piercing into Severus'.

He'd prepared for this. He wanted to keep Aurora, Potter, all of them, out of it.

So, he had gone and asked Miss McInnis.

"We went to the Three Broomsticks, and when I went to get us some drinks, Katie saw Fred Weasley. She went to say hi, chat with him for a bit. I got distracted, and she disappeared. Fred said she'd gone to the washroom, and she'd be back in a minute. Except, when she got back, she was eager to get back to the castle. I tried to convince her to stay, but she wouldn't listen. She wasn't acting like herself. So, I relented, I thought maybe she wasn't feeling good, but then she kept hold of this package. I thought she got it from Fred, but that didn't seem right. Then, when we were heading back to the castle, we were arguing and ..."

Leann McInnis broke down into tears, her speech unintelligible .

Voldemort withdrew from Severus' mind, and stared at his spy with a pondering gaze.

"How did the girl get the necklace?"

"I am uncertain, my Lord, but I do believe she acquired it when she went into the lavatory at the Three Broomsticks. She was under the influence of the Imperius Curse."

Bellatrix laughed a little too loudly that time, and Voldemort shot her a warning look that silenced her in an instant but did not tame her mad grin.

"You were able to check the corpse?" he asked Severus.

"The girl lived. A mere pop in the seam of her glove allowed her to touch the necklace, as it was carelessly bundled in a scarf. No one knows who it was intended for. I would have thought it a mediocre assassination attempt by young Mr. Nott, but he and I were in the process of making plans when I was summoned to deal with the curse."

"And who was the girl?" Voldemort asked.

"One Katherine Bell, my Lord. A pureblood."

" WHAT !" Bellatrix screeched, and Severus turned to look at her as she seethed with rage.

"Bella, what is the meaning of this?" Voldemort demanded, rising from his throne.

Bellatrix stormed toward them, her wand pointed at Severus menacingly. "It was your brat! The blood traitor spawn told the barmaid that he was hoping to see your ugly little half-blood."

"Pure-blood," Severus corrected her. "I believe my wife's status nullifies my blood's own inferiority."

"She was supposed to have the necklace! She was supposed to die!"

"Enough!" Voldemort silenced her. The room was deathly still, silent as a grave. "Are we not striving for a world of purity?" he asked the room at large, a put-upon casualness to his tone. "This is why we do not attack the school. While there are filthy, thieving Mudbloods infesting the halls of such a fine institution, we allow the children to obtain their education, however lacking it is. Children are our future." He turned to Bellatrix, caressing her cheek before grabbing her neck and squeezing. "But they can't be the future if they are dead, can they?" he asked her through clenched teeth.

"No, my Lord," Bellatrix crooned as much as she could while barely able to breathe.

"Did you truly intend to murder Severus' daughter?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Why?"

"Because he is disloyal to you, my Lord," she gasped, her face beginning to turn purple. "He is not yours."

"I have seen his mind, Bella, no one can hide anything from me, and he is mine !" He threw Bellatrix to the ground, and the witch gasped and coughed, curling in on herself.

Voldemort straightened the collar of his robes as Nagini slithered out from behind the throne and encircled Bellatrix.

"Severus, my loyal, trusted, faithful servant." The Dark Lord gave Severus a facsimile of a smile as he put his hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry, for I fear if Bellatrix had succeeded, you'd have lost your child. I trust that you are looking into a good candidate to take the place of young Lord Malfoy, now that the betrothal is over?"

"Indeed, My Lord," Severus said on the fly. "I had, actually, considered Mr. Nott for the position, should he succeed in his task."

Voldemort nodded. "A reward indeed." He glanced at Bellatrix. "Our dear Bella attempted to wrong you. In doing so, she has shown disloyalty to me, to your brothers, to the cause." He patted Severus' shoulder, turning away. "Punish her properly, Severus."

"With pleasure, my Lord," he said, turning to the sadistic bitch and drawing his wand.

He thought of what it would have been like had it actually been his daughter writhing in the hospital wing, sent to St. Mungo's indefinitely for treatment. " Crucio ," he hissed, and the way the witch flopped on the floor proved just how much he meant the spell.

He didn't hold it long, she was already weakened from the Dark Lord's grip around her neck. He used the spell just long enough to ensure she knew the consequences should she attempt it again, sanctioned or not, and he turned to Voldemort.

"Your control is always a wondrous sight to behold, Severus," the Dark Lord said with a nod. "Lesser wizards would have seen her near mad with the pain."

Severus said nothing, merely tilting his head in thanks.

"The boy. Nott, you said you spoke to him."

"I have, my Lord, but not long enough for us to plan."

"Ensure that he does, Severus," Voldemort said as he retook his place on the throne.

"Yes, my Lord," he said, and at the wave of the Dark Lord's hand, Severus took a few steps back and Apparated away.

Severus stared at the garment in his hands, a sneer curling his lip. Just touching it felt wrong, utterly and completely, yet he knew in his heart it was something he must do. He didn't want to and had paid good Galleons in the past to avoid doing it after losing a bet, but that wasn't going to get him out of it this time.

"Oh, Severus," Hermione sighed, smiling affectionately at him before she kissed him on the cheek. "It's not going to hurt you, I promise."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"It's for your daughter," she reminded him.

"Who knows I support her," he countered.

"It's her first game, Severus. And every time Slytherin plays—"

"I'm aware," he snapped, and when she raised her brow in warning, he deflated. "I'm aware," he repeated more calmly. "But this seems extreme."

Hermione stared at him for the longest time in utter disbelief. "It's a bloody scarf, you git. Wear it for your daughter. You know damn well that if Leo had any interest in Quidditch and had managed to join the team in his later years, you would be wearing blue and bronze as proudly as you would green and silver."

"Ravenclaw is not a house rival," he retorted.

"Oh please, every house outside our own is a rival," she countered before there was a knock on the door to their rooms.

Severus frowned. "Enter," he called, wondering which of his children felt the need to knock.

When it opened, the answer should have been obvious: the blond non-biological one.

"Uncle," Draco greeted.

"What do you need, Draco?" he asked, a smirk lightly playing at the corner of his lips as he pretended to sound annoyed.

"A favor, if I could," he replied, hands behind his back, posture straight.

"Oh, and what would that be? If you're asking for me to somehow rig the match in Hufflepuff's favor..."

Draco scoffed. "Hardly. When I go up against my boyfriend, I want that match to be one that matters. As close to our own score, or leading would be preferable when I inevitably win."

"Boyfriend?" Hermione smiled. "Is it official, then?"

"I suppose as official as any relationship between us could be," he replied, turning his attention to his aunt. "Sirius knows and approves. My mother is aware. At least, I've written her about it..."

"Much as I adore hearing about the intricacies of teenage relationships, you didn't come here to sing Mr. Potter praises, despite how short the song would be. You want something and the game will start soon. Speak."

Draco glanced at the scarf still in Severus' hands and had the audacity to smirk. "It's my understanding that Horace Slughorn made his sixth years brew a complicated potion for the chance to win a vial of Felix—"

"No," Severus said flatly.

"You don't even know my question."

"If it involves Liquid Luck, then no."

"Not in the way you think it does."

"Explain."

"I want to trick Weasley into thinking he drank it."

"Why?"

"That's sweet of you, Draco," Hermione said, and Severus turned toward her, confused. She smirked. "I've seen a couple practices with Minerva. All of them have moments, of course, it's natural. But Ronald has been utterly atrocious. Honestly, it's almost as if the reason he even made it on the team to begin with is because Cormac McLaggen was jinxed or something."

He smirked. "Anything you wish to confess, wife?"

She snorted inelegantly. "Please. I like Ronald enough, I suppose, but certainly not to the degree that I would Confund a boy to get him on a team. He was much better at tryouts."

"Weasley has always been better than he's been," Draco said. "I'm beginning to wonder if the incident at the Ministry took more out of him than we thought."

It hadn't really occurred to Severus that the boy could be carrying scars beyond what was visible. He glanced at his wife, seeing her chewing her lip. She hadn't considered it either.

"We'll have Madam Pomfrey look over him again. But... I suppose in the meantime," - he extended his hand, silently accioing a vial from the depths of their sleeping chambers. The shatter-proof container landed with a smack against his hand - "do not actually put a single drop of this in his drink," Severus said, handing him the half-empty vial of Liquid Luck. "It's nearly twenty years old, he'd be poisoned if he actually drank it."

Draco smirked as he took the potion. "I knew you won it back in the day, but I didn't think you would still have it. I never thought I would get the real thing, albeit too old to use. Why is it only half empty?"

"I used it for silly, frivolous things in my youth. Getting your aunt to fly with me." He gestured to Hermione with a slight smirk. "Gambling against Karkaroff when we were apprentices together. But I never liked the idea of boosting my chances of survival or success with the Dark Lord with a potion. So, it went bad. It retains its consistency and color, of course, but the ingredients are more likely to cause pain and discomfort than luck. It might lead to death. Which, I suppose, depending on whose drink you were to put it in, it could still be considered lucky."

Draco snorted. "Indeed. Thank you, Uncle," he said with a bow of his head, smiling at Hermione with a wave, and left.

As Severus watched Draco leave with what he once thought was his golden ticket to life, a thought occurred to him: why couldn't he, they, use it as a means of boosting their chances of survival? There was a terrible, horrible future ahead of them, and Albus seemed to have little interest in changing that. So why couldn't he brew a small batch? Give a small amount to each of the children with the strict warning not to use it for idiotic things like Quidditch or dating? A vial each to the sub-Order, in hopes that when Albus passed, the entire thing didn't fall apart.

"Severus." Hermione caught his attention, suspicion in her eyes. "Are you really considering it?"

"I think I am," he said, not even questioning how she knew what was on his mind. He wrapped the scarf around his neck absently, his mind still processing his plans. "It's not the solution, of course. But it might be the edge we need to make sure the children can get through this."

"Perhaps it is," Hermione said as they left their rooms and passed through his office. "It would make me feel better to think that they'll be okay if they had to leave us for a time, and well, I wouldn't worry so much."

"You, Molly, Sirius, Cissy, all you mother hens," he teased.

"Oh stop, you would worry yourself sick as well, and don't say you wouldn't," she said, pausing at the door. "Leo may be your tiny duplicate, but Rory has always been the one who has you wrapped around her finger. It's why you let Fred Weasley court her. It's why you gave Neville permission to do the same, despite how much I know you wanted to torment him. You would do anything to make Aurora happy, and if she left—"

"Hush, witch," he said with a fake scowl. "I will not have these erroneous accusations of me having a heart and caring spread around. I have a reputation to maintain." He opened the door, setting his spine rigidly and swinging his arms in such a way that his robes billowed.

When he saw the group of Slytherins on the stairs, ready to head out to the pitch, had stopped and stared, he scowled. When he realized they were staring at his neck, he glanced down at the garish red and gold.

"If I hear one word, you'll all be in a detention so long and so detestable, it will be legend to your children should you be released from it in time to have any."

A chorus of "yes, sir," was mumbled as their eyes immediately averted.

"Quite the reputation, husband," Hermione taunted, her hand on his shoulder, a light grin playing on her lips as her eyes crinkled with mirth.

He grumbled, taking his wife's hand and tucking it into his arm so he could escort her to the pitch to watch their daughter's first game.

—————A—————

Aurora was nauseated. She was pretty sure the entire team was, but since no one had said anything outright, so she supposed she could be the only one. No, that was a lie, because Ron looked like Death. They'd gone up to the pitch early for one more round, one more practice, but like all the other times this week, Ron had been lousy. She supposed she should consider themselves lucky that Slytherin wasn't their first match, as was tradition. No, they were too busy trying to break in their new Chasers and had asked to have the Hufflepuffs play first. At least they didn't have to face Draco first go. He and Harry hadn't been together long enough yet to have to contend with Quidditch competitiveness.

"Well, you lot look like you're just eager to get out there," Draco said as he strode into the locker room.

"Not now, Draco," Harry sighed.

"I'm not here to torment you," he replied. "In fact,"- he snapped his fingers, and Dobby appeared, eagerly hopping from foot to foot, a tray of pumpkin juice in his hands- "I propose we drink to you all and wish you the best of luck today."

"I don't think I can drink anything," Ron said glumly.

"You especially need a drink, Weasel. Come on, drink up," he encouraged, grabbing the eighth goblet off the tray after Dobby had given everyone one. While the majority of the team took a sip or a gulp, Aurora's fellow Beater Ritchie looked at Draco suspiciously over his drink.

"Why should we trust you aren't poisoning us or something? How do we know we're not just going to forget how to fly or something?"

"I'm not going to poison my boyfriend," Draco sneered. "I'm merely offering you a bit of luck."

"Wait," Aurora said, looking down at her drink, seeing the glimmer of gold in the pumpkin juice. She looked back at Draco. "Did you spike this with what I think you did?"

"Did I?" Draco said, removing something from the inner pocket of his blazer. He smirked at the half-empty vial of golden liquid. "I suppose that depends on what you think this is."

"What is it?" Ritchie asked.

"Liquid Luck," Draco said, looking from him to Dean, who was taking over for Katie. "Won it in Professor Snape's potion's class by brewing Draught of the Living Dead."

"Right," Dean said, nodding while still frowning. "Suppose I'll see you all out there in a min?"

"Is... is it safe?" Demelza asked, she and Ritchie both unsure.

"It's safe," Aurora said, drinking back the rest of her goblet while maintaining eye contact with Draco. "Just makes it taste a bit like ginger."

The pair gulped it back and hurried out with Dean.