To Harry's relief, Lucius was friendlier as the morning wore on. He showed Harry a blasting curse significantly more powerful than those he'd learned at Hogwarts, and seemed to take pride in how quickly the boy perfected it. Harry had already destroyed several bushes, and a sizeable rock before Lucius called the exercise to an end and summoned Minky for their lunch.

"House elves," Lucius grumbled as soon as she disapparated. "Such wretched creatures."

He didn't, however, refrain from exploiting her services and ordering two more refills of his wine glass.

Harry picked at his food for a while. His sandwich became increasingly unappealing. He didn't enjoy hearing Lucius rant about the treachery of deviant house-elves, and he felt rather ill when Lucius bragged about destroying the house-elves whose loyalty he doubted after having an 'unfortunate incident' several years back. When Lucius started in on his third glass of wine, Harry occupied himself with feeding the remains of his lunch to the ducks.

It was a good distraction. His mind drifted away from the tumultuous events of the morning, even if the physical impact still lingered; his throat was sore, and he felt shaky and feverish. He had no idea just which of the curses had left him with these symptoms, but they were making him thoroughly uncomfortable. His renewed uncertainty about Lucius had him on edge, and he found himself flinching at every sharp word. He concentrated now on the ducks, pushing his troubles behind him.

He started thinking about Draco Malfoy, wondering if he, too, was subject to Lucius's unpredictable mixture of affection and cruelty. Snape's words came back to him:

"Draco Malfoy is a sadistic little bastard. Do you know how he got that way?… It is because of that man!"

Could that depraved, twisted little entity back at Hogwarts simply be the natural outgrowth of parenting, Lucius Malfoy-style? Or was it just in Draco's genes to be a cruel bastard?

How had Lucius retaliated when Draco cast that sterilization spell upon him? Malfoy was clearly a man who valued obedience above all… What higher form of insolence could there be, than robbing one's father of his virility?

Harry thought back to Lucius's casual use of the Cruciatus, and shuddered.

Malfoy's voice tore him from his thoughts.

"You seem to enjoy those creatures."

Harry stiffened, feeling Malfoy's eyes burning into the back of his neck, but he did not turn around. "I guess."

"They must be diverting, that you're looking at them and not at me." There was a dangerous edge to Malfoy's voice, and Harry hastily turned from the ducks to face the Death Eater.

"Sorry. I'd just... sorry."

There was something unreadable in Malfoy's eyes. "Well…"

He uttered a quiet spell, and something clear and blue flickered briefly over the pond. Harry shot Malfoy a questioning glance.

"Just so they can't fly away and deprive you of their presence," Malfoy said, a benign smile stretching across his face.

The gesture seemed well-meant, but Harry was instantly uneasy

"Now," Lucius said, still calm and unaffected. "Let's resume our lesson."

Harry sighed inwardly, and returned obediently to take his place at Lucius's feet.

"Dark magic is more than a conglomerate of destructive spells," Lucius said lazily. "It's a mode of thought, a way of conducting oneself. The use of the darkest spells requires years of cultivating the proper mindset and disposition needed for the channeling of such powers. One must be prepared to destroy anything that stands in the way of acquiring greater abilities."

He stopped, and peered at Harry calculatingly through those narrowed, gray eyes.

"You enjoy feeding those ducks over there. You find it gratifying to nourish those… simple creatures."

Harry's eyes shifted from the ducks back to Lucius, suddenly not liking the direction of this lesson.

"You know what would gratify me?" Lucius's eyes glinted with vicious delight, and a smile played across his hard lips. "If you showed me just what a wonderful teacher I am."

Harry realized with a sinking feeling that Malfoy wanted him to use the blasting curse on the ducks.

"Get to it," Lucius said. "Or must I condescend to explain what I wish you to do?"

"No, you don't," Harry said coldly. "And no, I won't."

Lucius watched him coolly from over his wine-glass. "Feeling squeamish?"

"Yes!" Harry replied angrily. "I'm not going to just… blast one. I don't see how this has anything to do with--"

"Oh, but it has everything to do with your vengeance scheme," Lucius replied smoothly, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "You see, performing a malicious spell against another wizard requires a certain… inhumanity. Hatred alone will carry you only so far. You'll have to accustom yourself to the destruction you'll wreak, even come to embrace it--"

"Forget it, then," Harry replied savagely. "I am not going to use that spell on one of them. It's-- it's completely unnecessary. I thought kinship curses--"

"Let me make this simple for you," Lucius said mildly, shifting his wine glass to the other hand and drawing his wand. "Incendio."

Harry flinched reflexively, hearing from behind him a shrill squawk. He whirled around to see a burning creature, flung into the air by the force of the flames, and a crowd of ducks fluttering and squawking frantically around it, attempting to fly away but trapped due to Lucius's spell.

Just as suddenly, the burning creature dissolved into ashes, carried away in the wind.

Harry stared at the frantic ducks for an extended moment, before he heard Lucius's voice directly behind him.

"I can incinerate all of them, or you can kill a single one yourself." Lucius was smiling, as though he were trying to restrain laughter. "It's up to you."

"Why do you care so much if I kill a duck?"

"Because it would warm my heart to see you putting knowledge to use," Lucius replied with a cruel smile. "Now-- be a good boy and do it. Warm my heart."

Harry gritted his teeth. They were just ducks; that's all they were. He'd eaten them before at Hogwarts. And besides, he'd killed a living creature before. The basilisk, for instance, had far greater self-awareness than those birds would ever possess.

And wasn't Lucius right? How could he ever hope to hurt Bellatrix Lestrange if he couldn’t blast a simple duck?

But this felt so very different. This was not hurting a living creature in theory. This was reality. This was not vengeance with a purpose, it was completely arbitrary slaughter, entirely unnecessary except to appease a whim of Lucius Malfoy's.

Bellatrix Lestrange was a human being. He'd have to kill her eventually. For Sirius... All for Sirius... This should be easy in comparison.

He raised his wand. This meant nothing; they weren't… they couldn't think, really, could they? It wouldn’t make a huge difference. It wasn't like he could feel guilty for this, and Lucius would kill them anyway--

The curse left his wand. He flinched at the loud bang that clapped through the air, the shrill cry by the animal as it's body blew apart. He felt very numb, frozen in place, watching blood and feathers spread over the water. For a moment he thought he would retch, but he swallowed hard and looked at Lucius with an impassive expression.

Lucius's hand clapped his shoulder.

"Very good, Septimus," he said warmly. "I think, though, that you should destroy another one… Just to make sure our lesson has truly sunk in. It will be easier this time, I trust. Oh, and use incendio."

Feeling sick, Harry pointed his wand at another one-- a single duck flapping urgently against Lucius's confinement spell-- and killed that one, too.

Lucius was right; the second one was easier.

They're just ducks, he told himself harshly. If I can't kill a duck, I can't kill a woman.

It was for Sirius. All for Sirius.

Somehow, though, Harry knew Sirius would never have wanted this.

* * *

Snape hadn't lied about the growth of the Nightshade. It did occur on a single occasion each year, and it was a critical ingredient to several of his most important potions. The timing was a simple coincidence; just when he'd wanted to remove Harry from Lucius's influence, he'd received word from Professor Sprout that the critical day was upon him.

The only lie he'd spun was regarding the time required to collect it. Rather than needing a full afternoon, within two hours, he found himself clipping the final herbs from the nearby growth.

His thoughts were still fixed upon Lucius Malfoy and Harry.

The boy truly had been ill, dreadfully so. If he weren't absolutely convinced Lucius would remove whatever hex he'd placed upon the boy as soon as he was out of sight, he would have been concerned about leaving Harry in that state.

Given that thought, it was madness that he'd very nearly neglected these invaluable herbs simply due to a sick child. Due to a sick Harry Potter.

The thought troubled him almost as much as the prospect of leaving the Boy-Who-Lived alone with Lucius Malfoy for an entire day. He hated the sheer anxiety raging at the back of his thoughts, and cursed Lucius for putting it there. He'd felt no need to shelter the brat until Lucius began playing this ridiculous game.

Although he was certain Lucius was not, in fact, engaging in sordid activities with his son, it bothered him that he'd encountered the boy leaving Malfoy's room at night. There was something going on, right in front of him, and he couldn't figure out just what. It enraged him that Lucius was flaunting Severus's ignorance before him, without enlightening him as to what he was ignorant about.

Merlin's beard! The man had escaped Azkaban less than two week earlier, and already he was playing the lord of Snape's manor and claiming possession of Snape's son!

Yes, Potter was a brat and a pest, but he was his. His. Not Malfoy's, not the Dark Lord's. He'd already endured Dumbledore and the Marauders usurping from him his kin, his son, and now Lucius Malfoy hoped to do so as well?

It was just another battle in their war for mastery, and Severus was losing lamentably. It was absolutely infuriating!

He realized he'd crushed an entire handful of Nightshade with his clenched fist, and cursed himself for a fool. Their magical properties were only effective when they remained intact. He angrily cast the useless remains to the ground.

I need to stop indulging in this foolishness, Snape thought darkly. He'd been living from one raging emotion to another since his most recent, disastrous summons to the Dark Lord, and it was impeding his rationality.

So Malfoy had outwitted him and won possession of the boy and the manor for the day. Well, then… Severus needed to take advantage of this period to himself. Lucius had unintentionally given him time to plot.

He might not have removed the boy from Malfoy's influence, but at least he'd removed himself. From the first time he'd met Lucius Malfoy at Hogwarts, the smooth and collected prefect who had guided Severus down his current path had held one thing or another over his head. Lucius was polished, charismatic, refined, handsome, everything Severus could never be. He had always taken for granted that Malfoy would triumph.

He's nothing now, Snape thought viciously, comparing the elegant Head Boy of his younger years to the emaciated fugitive of today. He has no name, no wealth, no power. Nothing.

And then he found himself smiling darkly, because it was true. Lucius Malfoy was nothing.

He could contribute little to the Dark Lord's cause without his power and his influence. All he added now were his formidable wizarding abilities and some inborn cunning… Nothing unique in the Dark Lord's ranks.

Severus, on the other hand, was the spy. He was the only one of the Dark Lord's followers who could get close to Dumbledore, the only one who consistently fed his Master reliable and accurate information about the Order of Phoenix. Unlike Lucius, Severus could activate his mark to request a summons at will.

Malfoy was no longer second-in-command. The man had nothing on him. In fact, as a hunted fugitive, he was more of a liability than anything else.

Perhaps Lucius's escape from Azkaban was a weakness in more ways than one.

Lucius Malfoy's jailbreak had been kept quiet. Fudge, in a desperate bid to regain public approval after a rash of Death Eater atrocities, arbitrarily sentenced the imprisoned Death Eaters to the Dementor's Kiss. In a laughably pathetic turn of events, Malfoy appealed to Fudge's high-handed notions of their mutual ancient dignity to request a final audience. In their meeting, he overpowered the single guard, wrested Fudge's own wand from his hand, banished the Dementors, and made his triumphant escape, all while Fudge sputtered about the man's horrendous treachery.

The entire debacle was a showcase of gross incompetence, and Fudge was well-aware that it would end him. Details, consequently, remained vague; only Lucius's account of the events to the Dark Lord served as an illustrator of what had happened that day.

And it was weak. There were holes, avenues of attack. All it would take was one off-handed comment--

"I find myself continually amazed by the Headmaster's reluctance to confide in me the details of Malfoy's escape…" Severus could say, tone heavy with implication. His Master would do the rest.

All the plots and fears brewing in that paranoid, degenerated mind, perpetually on the cusp of madness… The Dark Lord would remember Snape's words and mull on them, turn them over and over in that fevered brain of his; he would see Dumbledore flavoring every one of Lucius's actions, he would believe the escape itself proof of Malfoy's treachery.

The power to condemn Lucius Malfoy was in Snape's hands

And perhaps, just perhaps, Lucius had realized that all along.

Severus shook his head, marveling at the past few days. He'd been thrown, both by Malfoy's sudden presence imposed upon him, and the man's first blow; perhaps he should even thank Lucius for this brief respite from the situation, because it allowed Snape to see exactly what he should have realized all along-- the games the man had been playing, fighting for mastery over Snape's person, lordship of Snape's manor, influence over Snape's ward…

It was all to hide his position of total weakness. And so accustomed was Severus to being on the other side of their relationship, that he had allowed himself to be lulled back into their customary dynamic of master and reluctant servant.

Malfoy would rue the day he thought to master Severus Snape.

After a careful application of his magic to the Dark Mark, Snape at last felt the answering burn. A moment later, he was gone.

* * *

"Is this the reason you told me to feed them?" Harry asked later, feeling rather cold and detached. "You wanted it to mean more when I killed them?"

"It was always a possibility," Lucius admitted, summoning the house-elf for another glass of wine. "But I had another target in mind when I planned this lesson last night. I simply wasn't certain we'd get Severus out of the way long enough to do it."

"What?" Harry sniped, feeling a vicious stab of anger towards both Lucius and himself. "I suppose Voldemort's supplied you with a Muggle for me to kill, too?"

Lucius slowly turned to look at him, and Harry instantly realized two mistakes he'd made. For all he knew, Malfoy would ask him to kill a human before this was done. And… he had called Voldemort by name.

For the former, he swore instantly that he would not do that, no matter what Malfoy threatened. He'd turn the curse on Malfoy himself, and damn the consequences, before hurting another person. Never. Never never never.

As for the second problem… He stiffened, reading Lucius's expression intently, just waiting for the man to rain punishment down on his head. He was mildly surprised when the man smiled with something that resembled respect.

"Brave boy," Lucius whispered.

It wasn't the reaction he expected. After a moment of fear, Harry almost relaxed.

"But I can't condone insolence," Malfoy added with regret, and the next thing Harry knew, he was writhing with the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.

* * *

It was long, and far more brutal than the previous occasion. Malfoy evidently worried about the intensity of it, for when it was all over, he disappeared into the house and returned with the calming draught Harry himself had brewed.

"Easy does it," Malfoy whispered as Harry finished the last of it. With a wave of his wand, the older wizard vanished the vial.

Harry closed his eyes as Malfoy pulled him, swaying, to his feet. It was rather different from the last time he'd experienced this calming draught; the opiate was less a pleasure than a barrier separating him from the pain that lingered in both his memory and his muscles. It didn't entirely ease the pain of the curse; he still felt quite wretched.

He was, however, growing as disoriented as the previous time.

"Easy does it, boy," Malfoy repeated, supporting his unsteady balance. "You understand why I had to do that to you, don't you?"

Harry nodded his head numbly, the world whirling unsteadily around him.

Just like you'll understand when I cast that blood-boiling curse on you, Malfoy.

Malfoy knelt before him, supporting him by his elbows, gray eyes boring into Harry's. "You've done very well today, Septimus. There's one more thing you must do before I will permit your departure."

"Hmm?"

He really was starting to feel tired; he remembered this from the last time he'd consumed this draught.

Malfoy smiled at him through the haze, and somehow Harry didn't feel threatened by the sinister gleam in the man's gray eyes.

"You see, we have the slightest bit of a problem on our hands. I believe Severus set that accursed house-elf upon us to observe our activities. I've noticed it lurking in the bushes several times already today; there's a concealment spell around us now, but I'm uncertain just how much it witnessed."

"Oh," Harry mumbled. His mind was growing fuzzy, but he understood somehow that this wasn't good news.

"Now, Severus apparently cast some protection spell against my harming it," Lucius continued softly. "I tried a simple killing curse earlier, but it died on my wand. I can't destroy the little monster."

Harry began thinking of Dobby, throwing Malfoy to the floor in the corridor of Hogwarts. "You probably couldn't have hurt her anyway," he mumbled. "They're-- the house-elves are pretty strong."

"Of course they are," Malfoy said sourly. "But I made a point of acquainting myself with the extent of their powers after an incident several years back. There will be no hassle involved. Are we agreed then?" Without waiting for Harry's response: "House-elf!"

Minky apparated into the clearing before them, just as Malfoy's binding spell lashed out at her; she squealed, her large eyes widening as she found herself magically and physically bound.

Harry blinked at her, his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton.

"The thing is," Malfoy continued coldly, his grip on Harry growing firmer, "I doubt your dear uncle has set up a spell to shield it from you."

Terror filled the house-elf's eyes, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Master H--"

"Silencio!" Lucius bellowed, cutting off the house-elf's voice. His vicious eyes were still locked upon Harry. "Do it. Kill it." He smiled suddenly. "Just like the ducks, Septimus."

Harry stared at the helpless house-elf.

No, he wouldn't do this. His thoughts were sluggish, his mind increasingly hazy both from the physically tasking events of the day and the drug in his system, yet he knew this much. He wouldn't harm her.

She's just like Dobby, he thought absently. She thinks, she feels…

But evidently he'd taken too long to reply.

"Imperio," Lucius snapped impatiently.

When Lucius's spell slipped over his mind, Harry found himself in a world of confusion, wondering just what blissful, hazy cloud was the spell, and what was the drug. He mentally retreated from the foreign command…

Kill the house-elf…

… only to find himself wrapped in a strangely similar fog in some other part of his mind. The draught felt so very like the bliss of the Unforgivable, the detachment just as tempting, that he weaved in and out of the curse's influence, uncertain if Lucius was still gripping onto his will, or if he controlled his own mind.

Kill her… the voice insisted.

Instinctively, he recognized which voice was his own, and which voice he needed to disregard. But then… His muddled mind played back to the night before, that other Imperius Curse. It hadn't been his voice the night before, yet he'd still listened to it. There had been some urgent reason to listen to it then…

What was wrong with him? His brain wasn't working right. Why couldn't he remember the reason? Was this the same situation-- did he still have to pretend--

KILL HER.

The haze never quite lifted from his mind, but somehow he knew just when the spell ended, when the fog no longer tasted of the Imperius curse and instead was entirely the calming cloud of the draught.

Harry blinked several times, though the world never quite cleared around him.

It was funny… Even with such a high dose of the Calming Draught in his system, he still felt a profound shock upon seeing Minky's dead body.

"Well done, Septimus," came Lucius's voice from above him. He was no longer supporting Harry's weight, and the boy had dropped to his knees. "I should tell you now-- I lied when I told you she'd been watching us. Motivation, you understand." He leaned closer to Harry, gray eyes glittering into the boy's stunned green ones. "But you certainly rose to the occasion, didn't you?" He smiled, but there was something very cold and hard in his expression. "We'll make a fine killer of you, yet."