Tên truyện: Shall we descend once more, my Hades.
Tác giả: megyal.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246663.
Pairing: Severus Snape (西弗勒斯‧斯內普) X Draco Malfoy (德拉科‧馬爾福) – Harry Potter. #斯德i

No one would tell Demeter the truth, so ... she wandered, grieving for her daughter. On the tenth day she was joined by Hecate who had heard Kore's cries but did not see who bore her away.... the goddesses went to Helios who knows and sees all, and he informed them that it was Zeus who gave Kore away to Hades, his own brother, to be his wife and that Hades had carried her off screaming. He went on to champion Hades' cause, claiming that the underworld god was not unworthy as a son–in–law, reminding Demeter that Hades... had received an entire kingdom under the earth when the world was originally divided into three.
- Boer, Charles (trans.), The Homeric Hymns
1. And slow your hand appears
Shades of Netherworlds
Still stained upon your skin

Darkness stuck to the corners of Draco's mind like molasses, warm and stickysweet, pouring over the painfully bright memories of the past day with soothing languor. He let his thoughts float slowly in the shadows, unwilling to shake them into any semblance of consciousness.

He kept still, undisturbed and comfortable against a suitably soft surface; there was the rustle of a page being pointedly turned and he reluctantly let his eyelids slide open. He turned his head on the pillow to gaze at the man dressed in shade, seated in night. Professor Severus Snape, who had risen from near-death with a curious lack of spectacle (indeed, there had seemed an air of practicality surrounding the whole procedure) gazed back at Draco with heavy-lidded, shadowed eyes. The crisp parchment of the book on his lap seemed to float above the lack of light that was his lap.

The long, white fingers of one hand poised over the top edge of the book, halted in the motion of turning another page; the index finger pointed out slightly, as if in accusation.

"Draco. I see you're awake," Professor Snape said in the kind of voice one would use to recite the time and temperature of the day.

Draco looked at him. "I see you continue to exist, Professor, despite all attempts to the contrary," he finally croaked in return and then let his heavy eyelids fall shut.

Vaguely, he wondered what his mother would think.

*

Narcissa wasn't thinking, per se; at least, her thoughts weren't placed in any rational order. The only thing beating through her mind, like the quick flutter of a baby's movement within the womb, was: my son my son where is he where is my son.

Her face, however, was a cool mask as she waited outside the office of the Acting Minister of Magic. The moment she was granted an audience, she would go in there and demand the exact location of her only child.

He had been snatched this morning... simply taken from the bright gardens of the Malfoy estate. The season had finally been sliding into the end of a distressing summer, full of dark trials and sentences, some of which were still ongoing; Narcissa had been trying to get the mansion into some semblance of order, setting the minor nature-based spells that would preserve her insular world of beautiful flowers right through the chill months. It would be lonely, so lonely here when Draco would return to Hogwarts, completing his last year again; Lucius was back in prison, and she had been trying her best to cope. At least her gardens would keep her busy; the plants depended on her for their survival, and her magic had not been confined that much by the Ministry.

Draco had been roaming through the rest of gardens as she had pondered the rose-beds, a habit he'd had since childhood when he wanted to think or just be alone for a few hours. She supposed he would be contemplating his return to school, to face the victors of a war in which he should not have had any place. She worried for him, even offered to send him to France or Germany for private tutoring. He had, however, turned a solemn grey gaze on her and said he would face his restricted sentencing at Hogwarts with the pride of a Malfoy.

There were times that Narcissa cursed that pride in the depths of her heart.

She had expected him back with an armful of narcissus, as was his wont, when she heard his voice rise in astonishment. Frowning, she lifted her skirts and hurried towards his voice. As she ran on the path which led to the poppies, she heard him speak again, more clearly.

"No!" Draco snapped. "That is preposterous. I refuse."

"It is not a matter of if you refuse or not, Draco," someone said in a low, harsh voice and a chill grasped at her heart. She knew that voice, laden with silk and venom. She knew it very well. "It has already been done."

A stitch was lancing in her side, but Narcissa took a deep breath and Apparated the remaining distance. She appeared in the middle of the poppies and felt a cold fear crawl into her heart. The Malfoy wards, which were now under the constant scrutiny of the Ministry, were sliced open neatly, the cut edges barely visible as they fluttered in the late afternoon sun. Draco was being pulled towards the rift, struggling furiously. At first, she thought he was being taken by a Dementor, because the form was the same: tall, thin and clad in dark robes and a large hood pulled low. Then, the figure turned its head, staring at her with black, calculating eyes. She clamped a hand over her mouth as she spotted the large nose and thin lips, barely visible.

"Mother!" Draco had cried at her, reaching out a hand in supplication. Narcissa dropped her hand from her mouth and raised her wand immediately, casting about her mind for a spell she would be able to throw. The Ministry had restricted her use of the Unforgivables and a long list of other magic deemed 'Dark-like', but Narcissa wasn't a Black for nothing. She muttered under her breath and the plants around her shifted, the blood-red heads of the poppies nodding as roots exploded out of the ground towards Draco and his captor.

A pale hand rose out of the folds of shadowed robes and the roots shriveled and died. Then, those long fingers pointed in her direction and her body became immobile.

"Narcissa," a wintry voice emanated from the depths of the hood. "You must understand. This is for the best."

She could not move; she could not turn her head to watch. It seemed as if her whole world was slowing to a halt. Out of the corner of her eye, she had strained to see Draco's bright hair, loosening from its now-long braid. A dark shadow seemed to envelope the white-blond strands, like heavy mist falling over a spring day and in the next moment, he had disappeared.

As her body had relaxed from the temporary bind under which she had been placed, she barely noticed the petals of her flowers... how they had browned, curled and then finally blew away.

*

It was not right, Narcissa fumed desperately now, barely stopping herself from wringing her hands together as she stood in a shifting block of weak light; there were skylights set in the ceiling of the Ministry and these let in a magical mimicry of the weather outside. She had already called at Hogwarts, trying to locate Severus and her son. The students that had been staying there had been unable to tell her about their whereabouts.

"Narcissa?"

She turned at the sound of her name and she raised her eyebrows to see Andromeda standing nearby in the wide hall, a baby resting his small head on her shoulder and peeking curiously at Narcissa. The child had some kind of soft knitted cap on his head, covering his hair; this must be her grandnephew, the one who was part-werewolf. Narcissa stared at them for a very long time; the baby had the striking grey eyes of a Black.

"Good day, Andromeda," she finally managed in a very wary tone. The war had been so recent and Andromeda had lost so much. Narcissa half-expected a hex from her sister, but Andromeda smiled a little and stepped closer.

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me what happened. I'm... I've come to help, if I can."

Narcissa's mouth twisted. When she had been demanding the poor Slytherin students of Draco's location, Dumbledore had appeared in a portrait in the Common Room, his eyes twinkling in a questioning manner. He cryptically suggested that Narcissa speak with the Acting Minister; he must have a frame in Andromeda's household, to be able to inform her of Narcissa's presence at the Ministry.

"I don't see how you'll be able to help me, Andromeda." Narcissa turned back to the intricately carved wooden door, staring at it as if she would burn it down with her gaze. "This is a matter I shall take up with the Minister right now."

Andromeda said nothing; instead, she stepped even closer and then put her arm around Narcissa's rigid shoulders. She smelled like she had been cooking and the baby's scent was soft and fresh and new; the combination was enough to unravel Narcissa's taut nerves and she slumped against the older sister she hadn't spoken to in so long, tears beginning to spill out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

"I can't find him," she moaned in desperation and Andromeda's grip tightened. "I can't find my child. He's taken him and I can't find him." The weight of the past summer, watching her husband and son being pulled through jeering crowds, was suddenly bearing down on her, joined with this fresh cruelty.

"It will be alright," Andromeda murmured. "It will be fine. Don't worry, 'Cissa."

Narcissa nodded and fumbled inside her gloves for a small handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes. The baby was staring at her; then he reached up and tugged clumsily at his little cap with both chubby hands. He was too uncoordinated to pull it off by himself, he was still quite young; but from the strands of hair that escaped from underneath the wool, Narcissa noted in astonishment that he was able to change his hair-colour already, apparently taking after his mother. He had naturally dark hair, but as he stared up at Narcissa, the shade lightened considerably.

He was trying to copy her hair; he almost got it, too, except there were a few strands at the sides that were still dark. But with his eyes and his transformed hair, his resemblance to Draco as a baby was uncanny.

Narcissa swallowed back a fresh wave of tears. Instead, she smiled in a watery manner at the child, who grinned back instantly, displaying two tiny teeth just emerging from the bottom row of his pink gums.

"His name is Teddy," Andromeda told her, bouncing the little boy in her arms. "Teddy Lupin."

"I see," Narcissa said in a fairly calm tone, but her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch the baby's platinum strands.

There was a pair of tall frames on either side of the door to the Minister's office, containing two very abstract paintings with black curving lines and dots of bright colour. Albus Dumbledore slipped into one of these, looking down at his robes with a sort of pleased delight as they took on the theme of the painting.

"How extraordinary," he said, smiling broadly as he looked up at the waiting Black sisters. "Ah, Narcissa and Andromeda. How lovely to see you both. Oh, hello Teddy!" He waggled his fingers at the baby; Teddy warbled in happy recognition.

"Have they found Draco?" Narcissa demanded, surging out of Andromeda's comforting grip. "Is he alright?"

Dumbledore's sunny expression melted into one of deep contemplation. "I'm quite sure that he is perfectly fine. He's safe where he is now."

"And where," Narcissa asked as calmly as she dared, even though she knew the answer, "would that be?"

"Where he legally belongs." Dumbledore's gaze was steady. "With Professor Severus Snape."

The door to the Minister's office opened suddenly and the tall figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt filled the doorway, looking out at the small group with tired, dark eyes.

"Mrs. Malfoy. Mrs. Tonks... if you'll both come in."

Narcissa entered swiftly; the few chairs inside the office already had occupants. Headmistress McGonagall's face was pinched; she gave Narcissa a very narrow glance.

The man in the other seat got up quickly and offered his seat to Narcissa; she looked back at Andromeda, since her sister had a squirming baby in hand; but Andromeda shook her head, for the man had already snapped his wand and summoned two more comfortable chairs.

"This is Gawain Robards, current Head of the Aurors. Your son," Minister Shacklebolt continued, "was given to Severus Snape by Lucius Malfoy as a spoil of war."

A warm sensation curdled in the depths of Narcissa's stomach, but she quelled it quickly; it would not do to explode at these people, who would be able to assist her.

"Why was my husband allowed to do that?" she asked in dangerously soft tones.

"That is something you must ask your husband," Robards said and a tortured silence filled the room for a few long moments.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Headmistress McGonagall finally interjected. "Please remember that Severus is a hero of the war--"

"He played both sides," Narcissa snapped. "I hardly call that heroic."

"He didn't play both sides," Dumbledore said firmly from a small frame on Shacklebolt's desk. "On that, Narcissa, you have my word. Remember, he did as I wished and killed--"

"We know, Albus," Headmistress McGonagall cut in quickly. The truth of Severus' involvement in the War as a spy and his pivotal role in the Dark Lord's demise had been splashed across the Prophet for the past few months, even the reason why he had to kill Dumbledore. Harry Potter had been a powerful distraction as one of Snape's potent poisons had worked stealthily through Voldemort's skin and body, killing him as surely as an Avada Kedavra in the middle of the desperate battle at the school. The Wizarding community was grateful and respectful of the man now, who had simply gone back to hiding in his home like a true serpent. There were some, of course, who did not appreciate the role he played, but one had to be immeasurably sly to catch Snape off-guard.

"In any case, Lucius invoked the A Dextris." Shacklebolt paused. "What belongs to his right hand." Shacklebolt looked extremely unhappy for a moment. "It is also one that imposes a status of 'concubine' on Draco."

"I want my son removed from his charge immediately," Narcissa snapped. "I don't care if he's a hero of the war, he has my son in an unjustifiable bond and--"

"The War Crimes Council had to accept it, even though they were not very pleased that Professor Snape was the recipient," Shacklebolt informed her gently. His face took on a very hard cast. "This is a difficult situation that we are trying to change, the constant persecution of war-criminals. They must be allowed to serve their assigned penalties, without fear of other groups piling on extra sentences."

"A Dextris is almost impossible to break. There are a few who have succeeded, but most records are lost." Headmistress McGonagall sounded sympathetic and Narcissa stifled a habitual sneer with great effort; she reminded herself that these people were affiliated with Harry Potter, after all, and he had helped saved her son's life. Severus had also fulfilled his role in the Unbreakable Vow; Draco would be fairly safe, but that did not stop her from seething at Lucius' actions. It did not stop her from feeling deeply bereft... almost as if Draco had died.

"Quite literally," the Headmistress continued, cutting through Narcissa's morbid thoughts, "he belongs to Severus now. There had been others who had been petitioning for Draco as repayment for their losses, so this is quite likely the best of all possible options. I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. I truly am."

Narcissa closed her eyes and took a long, slow inhale.

"Severus is a good man," Albus Dumbledore said carefully. "He protected Draco once before. I'm sure that he will continue to do so."

"And I will ensure that this protection is supported by Hogwarts," the Headmistress put in. "And not... exploited."

Narcissa reopened her eyes and nodded. Then, she rose to her feet, holding her head high. Andromeda stood beside her and Narcissa felt a rush of gratitude for her wordless and unwavering support. She had no idea how she would repay her, not only for this, but for what had happened in the War... but Narcissa knew that Andromeda would counteract any attempts at apology or compensation with dignified refusal.

She murmured frigidly, "I trust that there will be no more obscure laws thrown against my family."

"Yes." Auror Robards got to his feet as well, his eyes fixed on her face. "We will try our best, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Thank you." Narcissa suddenly wanted to be out of this room, as quickly as possible. She felt Andromeda's hand clasp hers and nodded to the rest of the room. "I shall go visit my husband now."

She calmly ignored the concerned expression on their faces as she sailed out with her sister.

*

Severus sat in the shadow of his room and watched Draco doze. The young man had put up a surprisingly fierce struggle and Severus had been forced to place him into a magical sleep; even then, Draco would come awake now and again, stare at Severus accusingly, possibly say something sharp and then fall back to sleep.

Severus returned his attention to the book in his lap, but the words made no impression on his mind. He could see the pale hair trailing over his pillows, and wondered when it gotten so long. Severus had barely paid attention to the young man when he had been struggling to keep the school from imploding while simultaneously obeying the frantic whims of the Dark Lord and so Draco had fallen to the very back of his concerns.

Now he was at the forefront again.

Severus had received an urgent summons from Lucius a day ago and had visited him at Azkaban, waiting through three games of Wizarding chess for Lucius to get to what he needed to say. Even in his prison-cell, Lucius wanted to establish his own little games and their rules.

Severus let him. He, who had his freedom and now surprising accolades, could afford this to an imprisoned man.

"Ah," Lucius finally said with relish as he watched Severus' king lose his head. "Checkmate." He gave Severus a long, contemplative stare, completely at odds with the terse message that had been sent. "You've lost again, dear friend."

"So it seems." Severus tapped the chessboard with his forefinger; the destroyed pieces obediently reassembled themselves and went back to their places. Lucius pushed the whole board aside, apparently now ready to speak.

"You know, prison is very much like real life." His voice was low and his eyes heavy-lidded as he continued to stare at Severus. He smoothed down the collar of his prison-issue robes, dark-grey and unadorned. "You can hear things, for a price. Some might be rumours. Some might be true."

"I wouldn't know. I've never experienced the delight of being incarcerated," Severus reminded him.

"You've never been caught," Lucius hissed and then his features relaxed back into that deceptive languidness. "But back to my point: I have received... reliable information concerning myself and my family." He lifted one shoulder in a slow shrug. "The War Crimes Council. As far as I am concerned, they are little more than vigilantes."

Severus waited; Lucius had quite the flair for the dramatic.

"It seems that my heir will be claimed as a spoil of war, and I will be ordered to give him over to an approved 'war-hero' under some obscure law." Lucius lip curled and for a moment he appeared like a trapped, feral animal. "My heir will be someone's concubine."

"Your heir," Severus said slowly and the wild expression dimmed from Lucius' eyes. "Draco, you mean."

"They seek to persecute me further." Lucius' voice seemed lazy, almost uncaring, but Severus could read the tautness threading through it. "Handing him over to be taken and used... tarnished under A Dextris. Also, having Draco under the control of the Ministry would be beneficial from an economic and social standpoint." Lucius tilted his head, as thoughtful as if he was contemplating a chess-move. "The Malfoys would not be a threat to their organization at all after this. I would put nothing past them."

"And you are a threat now?" Severus asked, motioning to the small room that was Lucius' cell. Lucius bestowed the kind of smile one would use on a pretty but overwhelmingly dull child.

"When a Malfoy is around and not in power," he said with a silky smile, "there is always a threat."

"What are your plans, then?" Severus had felt exceedingly weary, because he knew the answer already.

Lucius lifted a pawn from the chessboard and gazed at its carved innocence. "Narcissa is not strong enough to protect him. Her magic is regulated," he mused, turning the pawn through his fingers. "Besides, she does not have the level of influence you can command these days. I do not trust any one else, despite your former actions." He gave Severus a biting grin.

"Very well, I will keep a weather eye on your heir. If that is all--"

"Come now, Severus," Lucius actually laughed, a little hoarsely. "I must give him to you, in a way in which they can never challenge." Lucius spoke decisively, reaching out and grabbing Severus by the wrist. Severus went still as ancient magic began to stir between them; these kinds of spells, blood-magic, didn't require a wand at all. From what Severus vaguely remembered of his readings into ancient magical warfare, all that was required was the desire of the caster, as head of a beleaguered clan or family, to agree to this forced bonding; in previous wars, this desire definitely emerged under torture. Severus supposed the Ministry was not above using extremely convincing methods to force Lucius' hand; then again, the thought of losing his heir completely might be torture enough for a man like Lucius.

"A prisoner of war he might be," Lucius continued, "But I will make sure his prison is far more advantageous than this." He gazed at Severus for a very long time, as if attempting to find some answer in his features. It must be tremendously challenging, Severus thought, to be both a father and a Malfoy.

Severus tried to pull his wrist away, but Lucius simply tightened his fingers, continuing to stare fixedly. Severus was running through a gamut of emotions, but the greatest of these was annoyance.

"Fine. Go on," he snapped. "Do what you must." Fool, Severus berated himself. As maddening as it was that people trusted him to be some sort of protector, he was even more insane for taking up that mantle. He was probably just as addicted to it as Potter.

"A Dextris," Lucius muttered and Severus remained still as a strange sensation settled over his body, like a covering of satin. "My heir for Severus Snape, as additional payment for my past crimes against the Wizarding state." He tilted his head, widening his eyes. "Do you think that covers it, my dearest friend? And of course, my son belongs to you, to do as you wish." His voice lowered to a sultry rasp. "He is beautifully made, isn't he? I haven't forgotten your weakness for blonds."

Severus gave him a flat stare and was working his wrist from Lucius' grasp once more, when the pawn was placed in his palm, his fingers folded tightly over it.

"I am in your debt," Lucius had said, so quietly that it was almost inaudible. He released Severus and then bent his head towards his chessboard again. "And good luck. Go for him, quickly, before the War Crimes Council decides that it is still not enough. The Malfoy wards will be weak against you, now that you are a proud Master." He smiled wryly, touching the haughty White Queen on his board; the figurine turned her back to him and folded her arms, her nose in the air. "And now... I wait for my wife. Will she be furious enough to kill me before I can explain my reasons?"

"She might," Severus had replied with a quietly fervent hope, and left.

Now, Draco twisted in his bed, pale, slender and astonishingly lovely, eyelashes fluttering. Severus watched him for a moment, and then returned his gaze to his book.

*

2. You are reaching for me
I move your hand aside
And glide with regal step

Draco sat beside Professor Snape, watching the students file into the Great Hall. He kept his gaze elevated, not meeting the curious eyes settling on him. Of course, his new status as Professor Snape's pet hadn't been exposed officially to the media, but the British Wizarding world survived on gossip. Against his better judgement, he allowed his eyes to drop to the Gryffindor table.

Of course, most of them were smirking up at him, triumphant at his well-deserved fate. Even the Weasel had a satisfied expression, as if he was seeing a beloved dream finally come true. Draco lifted his lip into a slight sneer as Granger poked him in the side.

Potter, however, remained completely unreadable as their gazes caught. Draco narrowed his eyes and then inclined his head; Potter returned the move.

Draco inspected the decimated Slytherin table. Most of the upper years were missing, which would be disastrous for Quidditch this year. The rest of them were staring up at him like every other student, witness to his great humiliation.

Not that Draco should care. He was only a servant to the Professor now. His magic was a little freer, a relief from the tight constraints imposed by the Ministry, but now bound to the Professor... like a house-elf.

"Are you alright," the Professor muttered as the Headmistress went into her spiel, spouting the expected nonsense about unity and healing wounds.

"Fine, Master," Draco said flatly and Flitwick shifted uncomfortably beside them. The Professor sighed and touched Draco's closest hand, which was fisted on his thigh. Draco moved his hand away and turned his head, skewering the Professor with a brilliantly false smile. The spell on him forced his body to react favourably towards his master, as preparation for his role as a sexual servant. He felt his nerve-endings shimmer where the Professor's fingers rested and his skin became hot.

It was awful.

"I'll thank you not to touch me, sir," he hissed through his teeth. "Remember what you promised: that I would not be forced to endure any sexual relationship with you unless I wish it."

Flitwick was practically jittering in his seat.

"I'll thank you to keep a respectful tongue in your head," the Professor said evenly as he withdrew his hand. His black eyes glittered at Draco, who repressed a shiver. "I have no intention of forcing myself on such a bastion of petulant immaturity."

"My apologies, Master," Draco replied, keeping his voice as level as the Professor's.

"Do not call me that."

"Of course not, Master."

"Professor Snape," Headmistress McGonagall called and the Professor rose smoothly. She gave Draco a long, questioning stare, her usual expression when considering Draco nowadays and he returned it as blandly as he could manage, before returning his gaze to the students' faces. They were now fixed on the shadow-clad form that seemed to glide towards the Sorting Hat. Their eyes were wide with incredulity and Draco twisted his mouth. The Professor's yearly speech about putting a stopper in death would be even more potent, now that the man had raised himself from certain demise.

A veritable walking miracle, he was.

Draco barely heard the Sorting Hat's song after the first years filed in, staring at the man who his own father had given him to. He hoped his mother had managed to hex Lucius somehow. In the back of his mind, he actually grasped his father's reasoning very well; members of the War Crimes Council had already tried to contest the A Dextris, claiming that due process had not been followed and that Draco should remain under their custody, but it was irreversible. However, he also recognized that his father still thought him too weak to defend himself properly. This offended and shamed him to a level he did not know he possessed. He had been forced to subjugate himself to Lord Voldemort, and now... this.

He had given everything he had to help protect his family against the Dark Lord's insanity; and now he had to take what his father thought was best for him.

He watched the Professor grasp the crown of the hat with those capable fingers, calling the names out in a bare murmur that still managed to echo across the room. The tiny firsties skittered up and down the steps, as if afraid that the Professor was the Angel of Death himself.

The Professor returned to his seat and the Great Hall finally settled to the business of eating. Draco, however, was far from hungry. He looked at the platters of roast chicken disdainfully.

"Eat." The Professor's long fingers balanced his cutlery carefully; Draco chose to look at those and not in his face. "You didn't have breakfast this morning."

"I'm not hungry," Draco responded and gritted his teeth as his hands crept towards his knife and fork. He despised this part as well; since he had awoken in the Professor's quarters, feeling the Professor's magic knotted tightly with his like a noose, the magic of the A Dextris forced him to comply with the Professor's directives, no matter how innocuous the demand. He breathed deeply, struggling to stop himself, but his fingers curled around the cool metal of the fork and knife, cut into a chicken leg and lifted it to his lips.

"Damn it," he said loudly through another mouthful, potatoes this time. "Fuck it all."

Professor Flitwick squeaked, "I beg your pardon!" as the Headmistress glared down the table at them. The Great Hall had fallen silent.

The Professor gave him a severe glare and said, "Draco. Do not curse."

"Oh, forgive me." Draco suddenly fell quite smug, despite the fact that he was still eating against his will. He swallowed. "Master."

There was a long silence beside him, even as the sounds of the eating and chattering rose again. "Eat when and what you wish, Draco," Professor finally drawled, his eyes fixed on his own plate as if he didn't care at all.

"Thank you," Draco replied in surprise and looked at the side of Professor Snape's face. The Professor was looking at him out of the corner of his eye; there was a tiny tilt to the corner of that bare slit of a mouth.

*

3 Shall we wander once more
The labyrinth time
Of undergrounded doubts

Severus sat at his desk, going through past examination papers to update them; well, that was the overall pretence. He was actually watching Draco out of the corner of his eye as the young man monitored the afternoon session of first-year Slytherin and Ravenclaw students, walking up and down between the rows of bubbling cauldrons.

"No, don't be daft," Draco told one small Ravenclaw student and held out a hand to the girl, who handed over her stirring-rod. "Look at the Professor's notes. What does that say?"

"Counter-clockwise, four times," the student read in a squeaky little voice and then wrinkled her nose. "Oh."

"Right, oh. The major part of Potions is following instructions. There is an actual reason why this concoction should be stirred in a particular direction, believe it or not. Do you understand? Or, if you don't understand, can I trust you to actually follow instructions?"

Draco was frowning down at the first-year, who was blinking in return. She nodded slowly, taking back her stirring-rod and staring at Draco's back as he walked off to berate another student. If it had been Snape who had said that to her (and he would have probably used the same phrasing, with a lot more bite) instead of his capable Assistant Professor, she would have burst into tears; but Draco was suave and almost chillingly calm, with his hair falling in a neat braid down his back. He was dressed in high-necked dark robes, like Severus himself and the students, but his pale skin seemed to glow in the damp depths of the class-laboratory. He got as much stares as Harry Potter and Severus Snape, and Severus suspected that it had little to do with his current ignoble position.

Draco caught him watching and he inclined his head, his face expressionless. He was probably still irate with Severus over what happened this morning.

They had had an argument, sparked over Potter, of all persons.

The seventh-year class, made of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, had been in attendance earlier and Draco had been decanting the results of their work as the rest of the students filed out. Harry Potter had said something to his hangers-on, and had approached Draco on his own, touching Draco's arm and saying something as his glance had flickered green in Severus' direction.

Severus had said nothing; a strangely hot sensation had filled his chest and he had noted that while Draco had sneered once or twice at Potter, there was a practiced air to it, as if he really didn't have the heart. As a matter of fact, they spoke civilly for a few more minutes and then Potter had touched his arm again, nodded stiffly at Severus and walked out of the classroom.

"I wasn't aware that you and Potter were on speaking terms," Severus had noted about fifteen minutes later, when they were recording the results of the students' work.

"Oh," Draco said carelessly. "I suppose Potter is family now. Did you know he's the godfather to my cousin?"

Severus moved his eyebrows in a concise motion that indicated that he had indeed been aware of this fact, but if there was a manner in which he could care less, he hadn't discovered it as yet. He could feel Draco's heavy regard settling on the side of his face.

"Professor," Draco began, and Severus took a moment to reflect that since the A Dextris had bound them together, he had not called Severus by his first name. "Potter said I could visit the child whenever I could. And my... my mother visits him every Saturday, I hear."

Severus thought about leaving the comforting dark depths of their rooms to the undoubtedly vivid world in which Harry Potter orbited, bright spaces that would suit Draco and light him up like a diamond; he simply snapped, "Absolutely not."

"I see." Draco's hopeful expression had frozen, but there was a twitch at the corner of one eye which indicated that the A Dextris was knotting itself securely around him. Severus felt regret and then pushed it away. "I'm to just stick by your side in the darkness of the dungeons, is that it?" His eyes were chips of ice, boring into Severus.

"I'm sure you'd rather cavort with Potter," Severus told him crisply, because he had managed to circumvent death once; a frigid Malfoy glare was nothing. "But I feel I must decline on that spectacle." And if I say you must stay, you stay was left unsaid, but Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Hmm." Draco seemed calm, but Severus knew he was casting about for the most hurtful thing to say. "Sometimes, Professor, I wish you were really had died."

Ah yes, Severus thought sourly, just as expected. Surprisingly, however, the jab had actually pierced.

"Again, my deepest apologies for not expiring at your convenience," he said in a monotone.

"Because, if you had, then my father would have chosen Harry Potter as my guardian, don't you think? And your petty jealousy would not be an issue right now, that would be sure."

He had tried to march past Severus, who had grabbed his arm and hauled him back; Draco stumbled against him, scowling up in his face.

"Remember who you are talking to," Severus had hissed at him. "There is nothing about me that is petty, Draco."

Draco blinked at him, his eyes going softly unfocused; he leaned even more into Severus, licking his lips. Severus had released him instantly and stepped away, quashing the sudden and powerful urge to taste Draco's mouth. He had stalked over to the storage closet, plucking out bottles of ingredients quickly in preparation for the next class. After a moment, Draco had followed, working with him silently to set up for the following class with the first years.

Now, Draco was searching through his own pile of books and parchment, ready to make his way to Arithmancy. He stood in front of Severus expectantly.

"Go to class and return when you are finished," Severus said wearily. Draco opened his mouth as if to speak and then turned on his heel, striding quickly out of sight.

*

Pansy was sitting by herself in Arithmancy, looking up at Draco as he entered the classroom. He sat beside her and held his head straight, ignoring the whispers of the few Slytherins behind him. He could see Granger out of the corner of his eye, sitting at the other side of the class and peering at him just as curiously; she was probably wondering why Potter had been speaking to him earlier.

Potter hadn't said much, really. All he had said was, "Is everything alright, Malfoy?" and placed his hand on Draco's arm. Draco had given the hand a disdainful glance as if it was something foul that had landed on his sleeve, and Potter moved it with a sigh.

"I don't need another hero," he stated and Potter had actually smiled slightly.

"You don't need to know the way home?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Muggle song, never mind," Potter sighed and then bit his lip. "Look, I... your Aunt Andromeda, that's Tonks' mum, she's taking care of Teddy and your mum is allowed to visit. Sometimes she goes every Saturday. You know," Potter had finished with an awkward shrug. "If you'd like to visit as well, that is, I'm sure it'll be alright."

Draco had blinked at him, hardly daring to breathe. His mother; it would be wonderful to see her, to cling to her brittle strength for even a little while. It would be like holding onto a sunbeam and that warmth would definitely carry him through more months of the dark dungeons with the Professor. Funny, that; he had lived in the Slytherin dorms for so long, but there had been light coming into the rooms from high, narrow windows set near the stone ceilings. The darkness of the Professor's quarters, however, was almost total. No wonder the man was so pale.

He had spoken to his mother once or twice over the Floo, but she had been busy glaring at the Professor and asking pointed questions. She appeared indifferent when he asked her about things she loved, such as her gardens, waving away his attempts to distract her. She was worried; he could see it in her eyes. She wasn't allowed to come and see him at Hogwarts, due to the terms of her house-arrest... but obviously her sister's house was within the parameters of the punishment.

"I'll see if my master will allow me," Draco had simply said tightly and Potter had looked in the Professor's direction, a quick glance that probably nowhere as furtive as Potter thought it was.

"I don't think he likes when you call him that." Potter's voice was low, but there was a dryness in it that was surprisingly companionable.

"Do I look like I care, Potter?" Draco could see the Professor out of the corner of his eye, that tall, imposing form that seemed to be dressed in gloom. The man seemed to be the very embodiment of all that was murky and sinister.

"He might not be the best of men," Potter mused. "But he is better than most men."

Draco had stared at him. "I know," he said, just as carefully. "I know that very well, Potter."

Now, he spoke to Pansy evenly, considering that she and the entire House of Slytherin had avoided any deep conversation with him since his change of position: "Possibly you might do a quick sketch of my face? Then you wouldn't need to stare so much."

"Draco," Pansy muttered in exasperation, sounding so normal, as if a War and trials and downfalls hadn't occurred at all. "Still a prat, aren't you."

"Being someone's property hasn't changed me too drastically," Draco quipped and then turned his head to look at her as the Arithmancy professor made quick jabs at the board with her wand. Pansy was regarding him with a narrowed gaze, the way someone would stare at a confusing work of art, considering his face for a long moment before they returned to their work.

"What's it like?" She whispered as they went through columns of runes, balancing the power of the symbols carefully.

"What's what like?"

"Don't be dense," she scolded. "Being with him." She bit her lip as she carried a naudiz and dropped a jēraz, making quick notes in the margin of her parchment. "To be near all that power," she murmured and Draco clenched his quill.

"The desire for power is what led to all this mess in the first place," he said tightly, but he wasn't really disturbed over what she had said. Pansy would never change her opportunistic outlook; it was what made her who she was. It was typical and normal for a Slytherin, in any case. No, it was the fact that she was obviously thinking about the Professor in a manner that displeased Draco. He frowned at the depth of the emotion.

"He treats me well," he hedged and Pansy made a very unladylike sound through pursed lips.

"Well. Draco, you're so bloody fortunate. By his side, you can have everything."

"I see," Draco hissed in disbelief, "which explains why all my house-mates have completely abandoned me." He sounded petulant, but he didn't care. "I do have everything, sure, if everything includes being trapped in the depths of the earth with a man who's supposed to be dead."

"Mr. Malfoy," the Professor Vector called warningly and they fell silent for a few minutes.

"Is that what you think?" Pansy asked in the lowest tone of voice she could manage and rolled her eyes again when Draco sent her a withering glare. "You've always been so incredibly self-involved. It's completely dull, you should have grown out of that by now." She twisted her lips before she spoke again. "The reason we don't talk to you, or the rest of them, I'm obviously talking to you now, is that... well, the Professor is imposing. Very imposing."

"You're all... afraid of the Professor?" Draco asked in flat disbelief.

"I wouldn't say afraid," Pansy mumbled unconvincingly. "But the man did come back from the dead, so I doubt anyone is going to cross him right now, don't you think? Not even the Ministry. And then there's you. You should hear the stories the lower years tell about you. You're like... well, it's like the Professor is the king of the night and you're his bloody consort of darkness, it's all quite amusing, really. The Ice Prince façade finally works in your favour, dear."

"Does it." Draco allowed himself to show no emotion, but there was an almost childish glee boiling up in him, a very distinct Malfoy delight in being the source of apprehensive awe. This was where every Malfoy should be: respected, revered... feared.

Because he was with the Professor, because he belonged to... to Severus. Draco suddenly wanted to laugh.

*
4. I kiss your blood black eye
And cry my own
Deliverance

Severus sat with a bottle and a glass tumbler of Scotch on a small round table by his massive armchair and brooded at the fire; it wasn't a small fire, but did nothing to dispel the shadows roaming in the corners of his living-quarters. He barely saw the snapping flames, only spotting within them the long delicate strands of Draco's fair hair, the dancing grey of his eyes and the way he had focused his complete attention on Potter, who was young and handsome and made of the brightness that Draco deserved.

Severus scoffed internally and then took a taste of his drink, letting the mellow taste flow over his palate, echoing the way his maudlin thoughts soaked into his mind. There might be some way to circumvent the A Dextris, to possibly work within the technicalities so that they could lead separate lives. He refused to admit that he hadn't done more research into the ancient spell simply because he didn't want to.

He was turning over the aspect of the spell that involved Draco's reaction to his touch, when Draco entered silently, placing his books on the long table beside the door. He seemed to pull the light to himself, Severus noted, his eyes fixed on the young man as he pulled off his cloak and scarf, hanging them on the polished rack. Draco started as he finally spotted Severus seated in his armchair.

"Must you lurk so?" he asked in exasperation, and to Severus' wonder, there was a small smile curving at the edges of those pink lips. "I suppose it's just a part of your overall charm."

"I thought you had preferred me dead," Severus said coolly, not wanting to show his surprise at Draco's equanimity.

"Dead? Oh, I would never really want that," Draco purred. "Castrated, maybe. Maimed, of course. But dead? Far from it, Professor."

"Comforting," was all Severus said, very tightly, and Draco shook his head.

"That was a joke. I was actually trying to be friendly, Professor," he snapped. Malfoys, Severus mused, Masters of the Mood-swing. Draco took a deep breath, seeming to push his annoyance down and then approached Severus' chair. "May I sit?" he asked and then settled into the matching armchair across from Severus' without waiting for an answer.

"I suppose you'll demand a drink as well," Severus murmured and summoned an extra glass from the cabinet. He retrieved his wand from within his robes, tapped the glass and intoned, "Glacio," so that cubes of ice tinkled inside the tumbler and then poured amber liquid from his bottle. Draco took it in his graceful fingers and sipped, staring at him over the rim of his glass.

"I spoke with your Aunt Andromeda," Severus told him and those grey eyes widened slightly. "Your mother will be pleased to see you this weekend, I wager. You may go tomorrow, if you wish."

"Thank you. That would be nice," Draco agreed evenly but his face was alit with a bright joy. "You... will you accompany me?"

"I don't think it would be wise to face your mother at this point in time," Severus said wryly and rubbed at his temple with the fingers of one hand. "I'm under the impression that currently, Narcissa's greatest desire is to see me and your father burnt to a crisp."

"Yes," Draco agreed and he laughed a little. "If her magic wasn't hampered, she would probably set some very nasty hexes on you both." He sobered suddenly, obviously mulling over the reason for his mother's lack of strong magic.

"Soon, she will be completely free," Severus said brusquely. "No need to make faces over it."

"I wasn't making faces. I'm a Malfoy. We have carefully controlled expressions."

"Or mirrors that lie," Severus ventured and Draco laughed right out loud, causing the side of Severus' mouth to twitch up. He gazed at Draco as he finished his drink and rose.

"Well. Good night," he said, hesitantly.

Severus nodded, bemused by this uncertain tone of voice. "Good night, Draco."

Draco remained standing, looking down intently; suddenly, he bent forward, loose strands of hair tickling Severus' cheek as he pressed their lips together.

Severus went still and then placed his own glass carefully on the table. Draco moaned a little and the sound of it travelled right to Severus' prick, causing it to thicken and throb. He was about to take him by his shoulders and push him gently but firmly away, when Draco clambered right into his lap and kissed him soundly.

"Severus," he muttered and held Severus' face in his hands, pressing his mouth against that hooked nose, his sallow cheeks.

"It's just the spell," Severus tried to remind him through the increasingly frantic kisses. "It makes you feel as if you need my touch."

"It feels very good," Draco groaned and rocked against him, hard and wanting. "Why didn't I want this again?"

"No." Severus tore his face away and stood up. Draco tumbled out of his lap, but Severus grabbed him by the forearm to steady him. "We will not do this."

"But it feels good," Draco insistent and looked up at him with wide eyes and flushed lips, sultry and almost innocent at the same time. "Don't you want to make me feel good?"

"Without a doubt," Severus bit out and Draco's eyes went even wider, before his eyelids drooped into a seductive gaze. Severus ignored this heroically. "But like most people, I prefer that my lover is with me because they want to be."

"I would have never pegged you as the romantic type. You've always been so practical." Draco smiled like a cat that had cream all over its whiskers. "But we both haven't been very logical. It feels good when you touch me because of the spell. And you just said you wanted me to feel good. Ergo, we should touch more."

Severus let his arms drop slowly, watching with a wary expression as Draco stepped closer to him. "You were not so keen to have me touch you quite recently."

"That was then. This is now."

"You're up to something." Severus narrowed his eyes as Draco slid his arms around his neck.

"I'm a Malfoy. I'm always up to something."

"Leave me alone," Severus dragged out in his most commanding tone. Draco froze; in a moment, Severus was sure, the A Dextris would force him back so that Severus would go to his own room and get off by himself.

"No," Draco breathed, his eyes echoing Severus' own shock. "I... I won't."

"What?"

"I won't," Draco repeated in a rapturous whisper. "I won't."

Severus tried to grab for his wand to do a quick diagnostic spell but Draco pulled his face down and kissed him.

"The spell is nigh unbreakable," Severus mumbled against his lips, feeling Draco's hands roam hungrily over his shoulders and back. "And yet... its core purpose must have been centred on you. Damn it, I should have--"

"Mmm," Draco agreed, pulling at his robes.

"--the more you resisted, the stronger it was. The less you resisted--"

"Oh yes, quite right." Draco tugged at his own clothing impatiently. "I still feel it, though, inside my chest. It was always demanding consummation and I hated it."

"I see."

"So we'll just have to consummate it," Draco said reasonably, even though his colour was high and his eyes were bright. "Possibly... that's how I'll be released from the spell. I need to give in to it, willingly."

"And you're willing now?"

"Oh, quite."

Severus tried to escape with his dignity one final time. "Draco. You are young and fairly... attractive. We won't be completely sure of the effects of the spell if you give into it freely. I'm sure it will be best if--"

"I'm tired of people doing what they think is best for me," Draco hissed up at him, his grey eyes ablaze. His arms were tight around Severus' neck, pulling their chests flush against each other; Severus could feel the quick pace of his heartbeat. "I want this now and, so help me, you'd better give me what I want."

*

Severus took him right there on the floor, in front of the fireplace.

*

5. Husband of my deep awakening
In your touch of death
I am reborn

Draco knew that the fireplace was screened for Floo-calls, which was good thing. Anyone trying to ring up Severus or himself right now would only see a green wall of flames until one of them allowed any visual contact. However, they would be able to hear his hitched moans as Severus' tongue circled around one of his crinkled nipples; the thought of that was far more arousing that he thought it would be. His robes were folded neatly apart, as if Severus had been carefully unwrapping a gift before getting distracted by something else.

Draco moaned softly as he felt Severus' tongue dip into the indent of his navel; his trousers were quickly loosened and slid down his hips, pulled right off with his underwear and tossed out of their way. He trembled when lips pressed against the throbbing shaft of his cock and a warm tongue lapped at the liquid beading at the slit. He went up on one elbow, reaching out with his other hand to rest in Severus' hair. The black strands seemed to cling to his pale skin and he fixed his gaze on that contrast even as he pulled up his knees, breathing hard when he felt a slickened finger pet around his hole.

"Fuck," he groaned out as it slide slowly inside him.

"As you wish," Severus muttered against his inner thigh and used two fingers to tease him further open. He kissed his way back to Draco's aching cock as he moved his fingers and Draco's hips twisted to the tempo of unheard music, as if he was a fine instrument that Severus was playing.

He let his hand drop from the Severus' hair as the man loomed up over him; fine-boned fingers perched on one of Draco's knees, his other hand still slowly occupied behind Draco's balls, beetle-black eyes fixed on Draco's flushed face. His robes and undershirt were discarded over the arm of the nearest chair, revealing his wiry build, the fine smattering of dark hair on his chest.

Draco licked his lips, glancing down to where more curly black hair started around and underneath Severus' navel, marching down towards his groin. He still had on his trousers, but the placket was unbuttoned; Draco could see the reddened head of his erection peeking out through the cloth. He reached down between them and held onto it a little awkwardly, lifting his gaze to watch Severus' eyes go half-lidded as his fingers trailed over the hard, silky flesh.

"Are you planning to do something with that?" Severus husked, the ghost of a smirk haunting his mouth as he pulled his fingers out.

Draco simply matched his smirk and shrugged his robes from his shoulders, grinning outright as Severus discarded his trousers with dignified haste. He grabbed onto the older man as soon as he was fully nude and pulled him close, kissing him roughly, panting against his mouth as he felt the blunt head of Severus' large erection press against his stretched opening.

"Breathe, Draco," Severus advised as he began to slide in. "I can numb the--"

"No," Draco moaned, tears gathered at the corners of his eyes in response to that knife-edge of pain. "I want to feel you."

Severus said nothing in response to this; he moved carefully, giving Draco a chance to adjust to his girth until he was seated completely.

"Mmm, move," Draco finally commanded, haughty and breathless and full. Severus didn't move for a moment, however, just staring down at Draco. Without warning, he rolled them over and Draco found himself on top, staring down as Severus adjusted them comfortably.

"There," Severus told him with a crooked smile. "Now you are in control."

Draco blinked and then arched experimentally; frowning, he braced his hands on Severus' chest to writhe and twist until he found what he was looking for.

"There," he breathed as he got Severus' cock to drag over that spot which made his entire body flush warm and shiver at the same time. "Ah, yes, there."

"Good to know," Severus said in a strained voice. "Now if I can convince you to, ah, how shall I say, get on with it."

Draco moved on top of him, strands of his hair trailing over his shoulder as he rode Severus' cock. Severus' hands were clamped over his hips, helping him to move for a moment, before sliding up his slender torso to press his thumbs over pale, keenly crinkled nipples. Draco bent at the waist for a kiss, murmuring in amused, half-pained complaint when Severus slid out of him by accident; there was hurried fumbling to slip inside again.

He felt Severus' hand close over his cock, stroking it as Severus murmured at him, that silky voice enticing him further and further until Draco had to clench his eyes shut, losing himself to the darkness as his body stuttered in its release; he was barely catching his breath when Severus rolled them again and began to thrust quickly; Draco, over-sensitive and clutching at Severus' shoulders, cried out as warm come flooded inside him.

"We shall do that again," he stipulated sleepily as he slid his hands down to press against Severus' stomach, feeling the sticky traces of his own come.

"Are you going to be this insatiable all the time?" A blanket was summoned and the fire banked low under the command of Severus' low voice. Draco was going to answer, but he was far too busy curling himself against a lean side.

*

He woke up alone in Severus' bed, sitting up quickly and spotting Severus in his usual corner, fully dressed and watching him with an impenetrable expression.

"I was just about to wake you." Severus tilted his head, his gaze gaining a curious glint. "Get out of bed."

"I'd rather you get back in-- wait," Draco grimaced at the pull of the A Dextris. "The spell. It's still on."

"And yet you haven't moved," Severus pointed out. "Your willingness hasn't quite broken it, but it's definitely bent."

"Bent is right," Draco muttered and hissed as he tried to slip out of bed; he could feel the effects of last night in his back and arse. Severus was by his side in a moment, handing him a small vial of potion before making his way out of the room.

"Severus," Draco called and the tall form went still, his pale face turned slightly. "I--"

"I assume that it can be broken completely one day," Severus cut in evenly. "But we shall work at it until then, I suppose." His mouth quirked slightly at the innuendo before smoothing out again. "In any case, I would suggest you prepare to meet with your mother. I'm sure she is eagerly waiting."

"Thank you," Draco muttered but Severus had already closed his bedroom door.

*

The baby in his Aunt Andromeda's arms was waving at him, reaching out chubby hands to the fire. Draco stood in front of the Floo in Severus' living-area, smiling slightly as the little boy yelled out a garbled baby-demand.

"Just wait, Teddy," Andromeda said and sighed as she hitched the wriggly little body in her arms. "He's going to come through soon, just wait."

Draco saw a door open behind her and his mother stepped into the room, her hair bright in the sunlight that was streaming in through the wide windows. She had a basket of fragile-appearing rose-buds hung over one slender arm, apparently a gift to her sister's house. She folded her lips in and her eyes became watery, but she gave him a brave, hopeful smile.

Draco felt his own smile brighten fully upon seeing her; he looked over his shoulder at Severus, who was almost completely consumed by the gloom in a corner. His hands were folded into the voluminous sleeves of his black robes, long dark hair almost obscuring his pale face.

"I will return," Draco told him firmly and Severus' eyebrows lifted.

"You sound as if you have a choice." Severus' voice was low, but there was teasing edge to it.

"I do. And I will." He considered for a moment. "Yes, I'm very sure I will." Draco smiled slightly, and returned to the light for awhile.

In the darkness, Severus waited for his return.

fin

OTHER NOTES:
-The title and section quotes are from a poem called "Persephone's Return" by Ann Mortifee. The website it was on seems to have expired recently, but if you'd like to read it, it's here (Google cache).

-Helpful Sources:
Wikipedia article: Persephone
"Like Wheat that Springeth Green": Death and Return in the Myth of Demeter and Persephone, by Kathie Carlson.
-The idea of the A Dextris invocation is based on the Ma malakat aymanukum.