STEPHEN FRY

With thanks to Karin for her translation of my story from Dutch.

Lucius’ Choice

There he was. Severus would recognise Lucius anywhere, even now, lying among dozens of fellow prisoners in the Dark Lord’s dungeons, ashen-faced and swathed in rags. Severus observed him for a while, noticing the way he looked, his facial expression, did he show signs of humility or grief? No, of course no humility, never that. Lucius was never humble, not even in here. His look was intent like always, but also tired and empty. He had done what he was supposed to do: to save his son and heir, even if it meant his own downfall. Even if Lucius had brought it all on himself, Severus still admired him for his courage, when he had had to make a choice. Draco had failed, he had not been able to kill Dumbledore and after that had ruined his chance to redeem himself, when the Dark Lord had ordered him to destroy Potter. All Death Eaters had gathered around the table in Malfoy Manor and Voldemort had announced that Draco did not do anymore and had to die. His mother broke out in uncontrollable sobs and if anyone had ever looked terrified, it had been Draco. Lucius, who always looked calm and controlled, had instinctively hugged Draco and had whispered that he need not be afraid. Draco had forgotten to look sullen and to resist, as he usually did if one of his parents gave him advice or were affectionate towards him.

‘What a nauseating sight’, Lord Voldemort had said with a voice that betrayed his irritation. ‘Lucius, I would think that you would have taken the honourable way out and acknowledged that your offspring has proved to be a hopeless failure. It would be better if you started producing new offspring, because this one is a poor excuse. And now you’re almost sobbing. You’re as weak as a new-born lamb, man.’ Out of the thin slits that represented his nose, a drop of moisture had trickled. Severus remembered the hate that had suddenly surged within him. Everyone hated Voldemort now, but Severus even more, because he had been playing along against his wishes for such a long time now. He had seen people die, but could no longer go back without betraying himself as Dumbledore’s spy. And again, he had to watch how people were going to die and he did not know what to do.

‘I know, I’ve disappointed you’, Lucius had admitted. ‘I also know that Draco has been anything but brave. But, please, don’t kill him, I…’

He had not finished his sentence. Severus could only guess as to what Lucius had been about to say. There was no other possibility than that he had been about to say he loved his son. But it would have been no use to speak of love to the Dark Lord. It was something that was completely incomprehensible to him. He made other people ashamed to speak of it, because Lucius had looked at the floor, red-faced and silent. But it moved Severus anyway that it had been on the tip of Lucius’ tongue, the man who never spoke about his emotions and never showed them. It was why, as a student, he had been attracted to the boy with the long, blond hair. He could not fathom him. As thoughtful as he had looked at Lucius on that first school day at Hogwarts, so he looked at him again, lying on the filthy floor amongst coughing and moaning fellow prisoners. Many of them showed signs of torture. Lucius’ body was hidden under a dirty blanket, his long, blond hair had lost its shine and looked tangled. Severus’ eyes followed the shape of his body under the blanket.

Once, they had swum together in the lake in the Forbidden Forest. There, he had explored this body, when it was still young and supple. Now, both of them were not that young anymore and at the end of their strength.

Lucius’ arrogance had never changed. As a student he was already haughty and cold, but had never been abusive towards Severus. He had never taken part in the harassment Severus had had to endure from James Potter and his cronies. Lucius seemed to keep everyone at arm’s length and had few real friends. Girls, especially, swarmed around him. He knew that he was
good-looking and basked in all the admiration. To the boys, he liked to brag and he was held in high esteem, but he never showed his weaknesses and never got involved in quarrels. He was cold, but had never looked down his nose at Snape, who regarded himself as repulsive and felt unhappy. Even though it felt like he was talking to a tree, he spoke to Lucius of his difficulties with Lily, how they were forever arguing and how he did not know why she got angry with him so very quickly. How he loved her, but that she never spoke of her feelings for him. How he was afraid to lose her, but did not have a clue how to prevent it. Lucius listened to it all and then usually made a joke to contain Severus’ predilection for melancholia a little bit. Lucius did not care for moping. Snape had soon found that out. Lucius wanted to have fun and no whining. Funnily enough, it did not deter Severus. He found out it did him well to have fun with Lucius. He could not exactly remember the moment when his desire for Lily had transferred to Lucius.

Now, standing in this stinking, dusky dungeon that moment seemed a distant memory. He took a couple of steps towards Lucius, without him noticing it. He had approached him very closely, holding his breath, as if he wanted to hear Lucius breathe. But the body beneath the blanket did not move. Severus felt the urge to take away the blanket and clean the body with a spell. His breath quickened when he saw a leg sticking out from under the blanket, naked and riddled with welts. Who would Lucius Malfoy be thinking of at this moment? Not of Severus. He had never had any illusions about that. To Lucius he was merely a welcome distraction, maybe he even felt more superior for not rejecting a wretch like him. One could not call it friendship, let alone love. When Severus had been appointed as a professor at Hogwarts, Lucius had had a lot more respect for him. Or maybe he had been imagining it and Severus had had a lot more respect for himself. Even after Lucius had married Narcissa, they had continued to meet in the Forbidden Forest. He did not love her, it was noticeable in everything he did, but he had also said it out loud. ‘A good wife to take care of offspring, no more’, he had said. And he had said it in such earnestness, Severus did not know whether he was offended by it or sad about it. They swam, naked, and afterwards made love on the banks of the lake. Sometimes they ran through the trees and had a mock fight, which always ended in a passionate embrace or heavy petting. Severus never found out whether he also did this with other men. He did not want to know, actually. He had cherished his memories through the years. Whenever he taught Draco, seeing that blond hair often made him think of his father.

When Draco got older, he went swimming with his father and the fun ended for Severus. He closed his heart and he shrouded himself in a harshness and cold-heartedness that protected him like a cocoon. Only very seldom, when sleep threatened to overcome him or when he was snoozing on the riverbank, he felt Lucius’ hand stroking his thighs and remembered the provocative slaps on Malfoy’s behind. Now, he felt himself growing hard at the memory and he knelt down beside Lucius, who was startled and in a reflex threw up his hands in front of his face. The blanket partially fell away from his body and Severus noticed he was naked. There were few marks of violence on his body, but the panic-stricken reaction was suggestive of abuse. When Lucius saw it was Snape, he lowered his arms.

‘Severus, it is you’, he said resignedly. ‘Is it time already?’

Severus knew what that meant. Voldemort had felt the despair of the Malfoys and had thought of a cruel solution.

‘The urge to protect one’s offspring is great, even if that offspring has proved to be a travesty’, Voldemort had observed. ‘I shall reward you for the fact that you’ve always remained faithful to me.’

Severus had seen a slight look of relief on the faces of the Malfoy clan.

But that soon changed when Voldemort made his intentions clear.

‘I’m giving you the chance to sacrifice yourself instead of your son. And Severus will take care of matters. What do you think, Severus? I think you’ve been very passive lately. Sometimes it seems as if you don’t agree with my decisions. Am I wrong?’

For a while now, Snape had had the feeling that Voldemort wanted to put him to the test, but this had been unexpectedly painful.

‘I don’t like to kill, Lord Voldemort. I’ve never kept that a secret.’

‘But sometimes things can’t be done differently. What do you think: will Lucius sacrifice himself for his son?’

‘That’s not necessary. I suggest that we use our energy for other things and kill no one who supports our cause.’

‘And the cause, as you name it, is…? I sometimes have my doubts about your cause, Snape.’

‘Restoring power to where it belongs… with you, of course, Lord Voldemort.’

Voldemort had approached him and had looked deep into his eyes. Snape had mastered the art of Occlumency like no one else and Voldemort could not catch him displaying any emotion. Voldemort had snorted through his nasal slits and, revolted, Snape had felt drops of moisture on his face.

‘Always a poker face, Snape’, Voldemort had said, in thought. ‘I never know whether you’re taking me for a ride or not. Maybe your last remark was meant to be cynical and you’re trying to ridicule me?’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’

Voldemort had whirled around and had pointed to Lucius and Draco.

‘Choose, now! Draco or Lucius? One of them will be killed by Snape. I’m through with this.’

Severus had looked at Lucius and he had nodded, as if he had wanted to say: if it can no longer be avoided, I would rather you do it. I’m ready.

Until now, that moment had not arrived, even though, Lucius was afraid it had now. In fact, Severus was supposed to take care of Potter. Dumbledore expected him to save Potter, who was also incarcerated somewhere around here. However, Snape always felt an aversion to immediately following orders concerning Potter. Always Potter. Potter would have to wait. He could take some rough handling. Now, he wanted to be with Lucius.

‘No, not yet. We’ve still got some time left’, he whispered to Lucius.

‘How’s Draco, is he safe?’ Lucius asked and for a moment, there was fear in his eyes. ‘I would like to know that this sacrifice hasn’t been for nothing.’

‘You never have that guarantee with Voldemort’, Snape said. ‘But indeed, the last I’ve heard is that he and Narcissa went to Ireland and no one followed them.

Severus touched Lucius’ foot. He withdrew his leg slightly, but then relaxed. Snape slid his hand under the blanket, which partially covered Lucius’ lower body and felt that his skin was hot and feverish.

‘Long time ago, Severus… that you did that to me…’ Lucius said hoarsely and he looked at Snape with an expression that was a cross between fear and desire. Snape lay down next to Lucius and caressed him, his hands ruffling his dirty blond hair.

‘You’ve got a nerve, you b a s t a r d, just before you are the cause of me drawing my last breath’, Malfoy panted.

He grabbed Severus’ neck and kissed him for a few seconds, wild and moist. Then he pushed Severus’ face away again.

Expectantly, Severus looked at him for a moment and said: ‘I don’t want to kill you, of course. We’ve got to think of something.’

‘No, I can’t take the risk that Voldemort will still seek his revenge on Draco.’

‘As I said before: you never have that guarantee with Voldemort. We have to chance it.’ Cautiously, Snape looked around him. The guards took no notice of them. As far as they were concerned, Snape was a faithful disciple of Voldemort and they assumed that he knew what he was doing. Snape had his wand with him and could disarm everyone if he wanted to do so.

‘Come, we’ll bluff our way out’, Snape said and pulled Lucius up.

‘You won’t survive, both of us won’t’, Malfoy said. His blanket fell to the ground, but he made no move to cover up his nakedness. Snape let his glance travel over his body, a body that aroused his desire and even under these circumstances Lucius seemed to enjoy playing a game. His eyes became slits and he looked defiantly at Severus.

‘Why are you doing this, Severus? You can still save your own skin, if you wanted to.’

For a moment, Severus was in doubt. Why did he do this? It was entirely different from Potter. That was an order by Dumbledore and his bond with the old man was more important than anything else, even if he hated Potter. It was the one purpose left in his miserable life: to do good.

But Lucius was not a part of Dumbledore’s plan. He did not have to risk his life for him. Lucius had pulled a few strings on behalf of Voldemort and he had made many wrong choices. He had ruined many people and had killed personally, before he seemed to repent. Why should he help him? He looked at the other prisoners. Some he knew, some he did not. A few of them were unrecognisable because they were so far in the shadow. He could not save them all. Therefore, why Lucius?

‘Did you love me, back then?’ Severus asked suddenly. He heard how pathetic it sounded, but he had to know. ‘I know that you don’t love me now, but then… when we were young…?’ Snape looked almost imploring. Actually, no one had really ever loved him, loved his body and soul. As a father, such as Dumbledore, but not his body. He wanted to save Lucius because their bodies had found each other. He noticed he could not control his emotions that they could be read like a book. And to his horror, he felt a strange power, from the darkness of the dungeon, reading his thoughts, as if he was making a confession.

He did not get the chance to wait for Lucius’ answer, because suddenly, out of nowhere, there appeared a dagger, which stabbed Severus. For a moment, Snape looked amazed, then crumpled slowly, blood gushing from his mouth. When he had fallen to the floor and no longer moved, a figure rose from the dark. Voldemort had been amongst the prisoners, disguised, waiting for the right moment. He threw off his hood and cloak and everybody recoiled. Lucius dropped the dagger and stood in front of his Master, naked and besmirched with Snape’s blood. He did not seem proud of what he had done, but looked at the floor, ashamedly.

‘I’m glad you’ve decided to accept my new proposal, Lucius’, the Dark Lord said. ‘Understanding Snape’s true loyalties is worth more to me than your worthless son getting his just deserts. You’ve made the right choice and you’ll be rewarded.’

Voldemort pointed to the blanket Lucius had dropped.

‘Bit chilly, Malfoy, to be standing there like that. Cover yourself with that and follow me.’

Like a zombie, Lucius pulled the blanket around him and followed his Master. His bare feet left red marks because of the blood he would rather not have shed. His first choice, the one he had made in the presence of all the Death Eaters, had not been difficult: he would have given his own life for his son. But then, Voldemort had once more changed the rules and had secretly given him the choice: Draco or Snape, if he turned out to be a spy. Unfortunately, Snape himself had made the wrong choice, by letting his emotions get the better of him. His heart could be read like a book.

When he emerged into daylight, his wife was waiting for him, ecstatic, relieved that she and Draco had been able to return from Ireland safely. But Lucius could not feel relieved. He wished he had never had to choose between the love for his son and the only person he had ever truly, secretly, loved. He would have loved to have told him. Now, Severus would never know.