Reflection on the Waves | Lucius

Contagious, if only he could have played that card. It might have explained his isolation in a way that would not invite more questions. But there was a clear distinction between misdirecting and outright lying. Severus found he could not cross that line when it came to Lucius. Perjury would be a disservice to his idol; he owed him more than that. If not entirely honest, everything he had said so far had been truthful (from a certain point of view). Misrepresentation was acceptable, he justified to himself, but fraud was not. "No, not contagious."

"I just wanted to be doing something," he elaborated on Malfoy's next question. "Of course I'm always happy to be in your company, Lucius. But if I'd set up my cauldron in the Common Room, I'd never have been left in peace. You know I don't usually practice potions in there. I realize I don't normally come out this late, either, but the way I've been feeling, I haven't been able to sleep." His gaze momentarily slid out of focus and dropped to the floor. It was difficult not to dwell on just how bad he did feel. The ache in his chest threatened to devour him from the inside out. Vague though his speech was, this was the closest he had come to talking about what had happened. In attempting to pacify Lucius, he was forced to contemplate his own pathetic state of being. The experience was not a pleasant one. He gave an inadvertent shudder.

Sev's gaze was pulled back onto that of his friend, as if Lucius's green eyes were magnets to the black. He was asked the hardest question yet — a request, an affirmation of his fidelity. To hesitate in this moment would be his undoing. "I'm loyal only to you, and our Lord. I owe you everything, Lucius. You know how devoted I am to you." He spoke with candor, though the most honest answer was withheld. The truth was, he wished that he could tell him everything. Snape would never dare to suggest that his idol was imperfect, but if only he was capable of understanding his feelings. Lucius was too proud, too far removed on that higher plane, to sympathize with the wretched, heartbroken boy in his shadow. Severus was in no doubt of that, but he was also irrevocably indebted to him. That dichotomy was a hard thing to rectify. Like his feelings for Lily, his friendship with Lucius was another sticking point in his internal struggle of light against darkness.

It may have been unusual for Sev to be so reclusive from his idol, but as his heart consumed him, he felt increasingly removed from all other things. He stayed silent to Lucius' observation of that fact. There was nothing he could say to rationalize his withdrawal. He stared off at the wall and into his own inner turmoil. In the most significant and absolute terms, he was alone in the world. Lily had been made aware of his feelings, but no one else could ever know. It would be his burden to bear in silence and isolation.

Once again, Lucius dragged him back to the present. He commanded Snape to leave with him. "Of, of course. Anything you say," he replied obsequiously. Severus whisked his wand through the air. The multitudes of ingredients sorted themselves into a small trunk on the floor, while he collected a bottle of the finished potion for later study. He gave the cauldron a quick tap, and the rest of its contents vanished. As he reached down for the trunk, an idea struck him. He dragged the case into the back corner, then pointed his wand at it. The trunk slowly began to morph, until a small, shabby-looking filing cabinet stood in its place. By disguising his stock, Snape hoped Lucius might infer that he had been hoarding the supplies over years, not obtained them recently. Hopefully, that would explain things without needing to say a word. He then gathered up his cauldron and notes, and followed Lucius into the corridor.

Severus deeply appreciated how Lucius was always there for him. His protection, even in the small things like asking people to let him be in the Common Room, meant the world to the younger boy. In fact, sometimes the small things were of the greatest significance. Lucius had his own interests to think of by recommending Snape for the Death Eaters, and other big gestures, but the little acts showed that Sev mattered to him, that he was more than just a pawn. Lucius did not shelter anyone else to the same extent. It was that personal level of concern which had won him Severus' true loyalty. So what if there were a couple secrets, a few things withheld; it did not change how grateful Sev was. He would make good on that gratitude soon enough, for as Lucius asserted, plans were beginning to be set in motion.

His gaze dropped as Lucius pulled back his sleeve. The Dark Mark shone black against the porcelain skin, and Snape's eyes widened in awe. He lifted them back to his friend's face. "I knew I had you to thank for suggesting me," he simpered. Once more, he let his stare fall to the Mark on Lucius' arm, the physical emblem of power. It impressed him so much that he was halfway to raising a hand to touch it, when he realized what he was doing. His hand hovered above the ink for a moment, before he withdrew it. "I hope I get mine soon."

He trailed behind his idol as they exited the room. "I'd never repeat anything you told me, Lucius," he affirmed, and he meant it. "Least of all... something like this. I can't wait for the storm to break. It will be glorious to fight for our cause." The thought drew a dark, twisted smile from his lips. If anything on earth could ease the pain in his heart, it was the prospect of dealing out some pain of his own. He would not be a powerless craven for much longer. Soon the whole world would fear his name, and Lily would see just how strong he could be. The smile flickered, until Lucius buoyed him up with compliments. Snape's black eyes glittered as he echoed, "Yes, we will be unstoppable. I'm the wand in your hand, just point me and our enemies will fall."

"Tell me," he continued in a less fervent tone of voice, "what was it like meeting him? I mean, I know... I know who he is, but getting your Mark, seeing him in all his glory? Is he – is he everything I've heard?" He would not have spoken so hesitantly to anyone else. He knew that Lucius would not mistake his uncertainty for treachery. If anything, he'd know it was Severus' insecurity talking; that the younger boy was perpetually full of doubt, and this was just his way of convincing himself that he was on the right path.

Hearing Lucius compliment him so overtly made Severus swell with pride. All he dreamed of was to be special, set above the rest and most highly valued. How much sweeter it sounded from the lips of a friend whose opinion carried so much clout; from a friend who was instrumental to his success. Albeit in different ways, Severus and Lucius were both exceptional. Genius and charisma were a tenacious, relentless force when united. They were two stars in a rising constellation. As the Dark Lord ascended, the pair of them would shine the brightest of all his Death Eaters. Together they were certain to obtain power, prestige, and all their hearts' desires. They would stand at the head of the conquering army. The future had never seemed so bright as now, with the banners of war unfurling in his mind.  As the triumphant hero, Snape could take whatever he wished – whomever he desired. This was the first step on the black road to victory.

The Common Room was deserted, which was not entirely surprising given the hour. Still, one could never take for granted that it would be empty. Slytherins had a particular love of plotting under the dark of night. Conspiracy and betrayal were all-too-common hallmarks of their ilk. Apparently tonight was their turn to whisper secrets. Perhaps the room was not satisfied unless someone did so. The puerile idea was amusing to Snape, but there was no denying that the Common Room did host more than its fair share of confidential discussions. It was difficult to imagine Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs having much worth concealing. Gryffindors, he presumed with distaste, likely made more... rigorous use of their Common Room after hours. The point was really neither here nor there, however, so he let it slide from his mind. He and Lucius had far more interesting and important things to discuss than the nature of the four Houses.

Severus hung on his idol's words as he spoke of Voldemort. His black eyes glinted hungrily by the light of the dying coals in the hearth. He licked his lips excitedly, as if the power was a palpable taste in his mouth. Yes, he agreed silently with Lucius, the Dark Lord had to be as great as was said. He resolved to look for it the next time he set eyes on Professor Riddle. How much of that greatness showed through; could he see the darkness hidden beneath the man? It was thrilling to think such power could be contained within these walls, within the guise of a humble Professor. 'Humble' was only applicable to Riddle by comparison to his true self, of course. He was by far the most outstanding teacher here, that much has always been obvious.

Lucius poised himself with his back against a wall, looking for all the world like the fine-bred gentleman he was. He had such natural grace, something Severus had long envied. When he tried to emulate that elegance, it always came off stiff and somehow more menacing than refined. "Do you know any of his plans?" He could not prevent himself from asking, but he made sure to keep his voice low in case they were not as alone as it seemed. "Surely he must trust you, Lucius. You're everything he stands for. I will have to prove myself as worthy of his faith as yours. That's why I ask... I want to know anything that can give us an edge, to raise us even further. I want to be more than a pawn in this war."

It was a little bit of a let down, if Snape was perfectly honest. He had all the faith in the world in Lucius, but it seemed the Dark Lord was less certain. The thought that Lucius might be hiding what he knew did not even cross Sev's mind. He had complete trust in his friend. It would only be a matter of time before Voldemort recognized it too. For who but a Malfoy could lead this noble crusade? Few families could claim equal prestige, but none had individuals of equivalent worth to Lucius. The Lestranges were strong, but unreliable in Snape's assessment. The Blacks were even less dependable than the wayward Lestranges, between Sirius the blood traitor and the Bellatrix the mad. No, it was only Lucius Malfoy who was truly entitled to carry forth the banner of the new world order. Furthermore, it was in Severus' best interest to ensure exactly that. He was determined to do whatever it took to get Lucius ahead – and therefore himself by association. That was the very definition of a toady, may be, but such was his lot in life. At least he had chosen, or been chosen by a leader worthy of his loyalty and devotion. Snape nodded, to express his willingness to wait for information. The two of them were playing the long game. Their goals were nothing short of the stars, but they could not reach them in a single leap.

"Lucius? Can I ask you something? Your family is the noblest of the noble. Naturally you must be proud of that, but surely there are... expectations? I know that many families like yours make matches for their children. Arranged marriages," he clarified. It probably seemed like an odd change of topic after discussing the Dark Lord, but Severus was curious. Thinking of the advantages of such lofty birth got him wondering what obligations there might be. That, and the concept of love was woefully close to the front of his mind these last few days. He had made a fool of himself to Lily, revealed his feelings and left himself vulnerable. Somehow, the concept of arranged marriage seemed like it might be easier, but he wanted Lucius' opinion. "Is it something you have a say in, are you okay with your family dictating your life like that?"

If only his mother had not married beneath her, Severus might have found himself in a similar situation. He might have escaped not only the dreary Muggle world but poverty and obscurity, too. If Eileen Prince had wed a Malfoy or a Black, how different her son's life could have been. How much better. Severus would never understand what had driven her to his abhorrent Muggle father, a man who was neither clever nor of worth. And, if not for his lowly origins, he might not have known Lily... might never have had to feel the pain of a broken heart. A loveless, textbook Pureblood marriage sounded so much simpler than the torture of unrequited love. If he could have chosen not to feel, he would have gladly left his heart behind him.