Narcissa Malfoy was dressed in a perfectly tailored Muggle outfit, her blonde hair neatly pinned up, blending seamlessly into the dim light.
As Snape prepared to approach, a man in a garish shirt, his hair slicked back with too much gel, sidled up to her table with a glass in hand, flashing what he thought was a charming smile.
Snape moved closer, his footsteps nearly silent.
"I'm waiting for someone," Narcissa's voice cut through, icy with disdain. "Please leave."
The man, clearly a bit tipsy and oblivious, pressed on. "Come on, don't be so cold, beautiful. Drinking alone's no fun."
Before he could finish, Snape pulled out the chair across from Narcissa and sat down boldly. Disguised as a plump, unremarkable Muggle with dull eyes, he stared at the glass on the table.
"Need any help?" he asked.
The man, interrupted, froze, then bristled. He turned, sizing up this plain, chubby stranger, and jutted out his chin. "Hey, mate, I was here fir—"
His words cut off as Narcissa, clearly fed up with the audacity of this pudgy intruder, shot both men a look of unmasked contempt, her ice-blue eyes flashing.
Her hand, hidden beneath the table, made a subtle movement. A faint flicker of light passed, and Snape felt a faint ripple of magic brush past both him and the man.
The man's annoyance vanished, his eyes glazing over in confusion. He shook his head, as if forgetting why he was there. Glancing at Narcissa's cold expression and Snape's harmless yet irritatingly bland face, he looked puzzled, almost retreating. Without a word, he turned, dazed, and stumbled out into the noisy street.
Snape felt a slight fog in his mind but shook it off quickly.
"What's this?" he said, turning to Narcissa with a mocking tone. "Is this how you greet an old friend? One might think the Malfoys are desperate to let Tom know they've lost that precious diary."
Narcissa, about to flick her wand again, froze at the familiar tone. Her eyes widened, studying the unfamiliar face.
"Severus?" she whispered, frowning. "Why on earth have you made yourself look so… hideous?"
"I'm not here for a date, Narcissa," Snape replied, unfazed by her jab, his face expressionless.
He drew his wand and lightly tapped the table, casting an invisible magical barrier that shielded their corner from the pub's noise.
"So," he said, leaning forward slightly, "why did you ask me to meet here? What's so important?"
"Severus," Narcissa said, her voice dropping to a hushed urgency, ignoring his question, "where's the diary now?"
"The diary?" Snape leaned back, relaxed, picking up the ashtray on the table and inspecting it casually. "Oh, that? It's gone. We've taken care of it."
He watched Narcissa's face shift—a mix of fear, relief, and deeper worry.
"Destroyed?" Her voice was dry. It took her a few seconds to regain her composure, though her knuckles, gripping the glass, remained white. "You've found a way to destroy those things?"
"Of course," Snape said nonchalantly. "Plenty of ways." He slowly pulled a gleaming silver dagger from inside his coat, placing it gently on the table. Even in the dim light, its blade glinted coldly.
"This works wonders," he said pointedly.
Narcissa's gaze lingered on the dagger. After a moment, she looked up, her eyes intense.
"How many of those things have you found?" she asked. "Are they all dealt with?"
"Narcissa," Snape's casual demeanor faded, replaced by a hint of impatience, "stop fishing for answers. Why did you risk meeting me today? Let's get to the point."
Narcissa took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, then spoke with a more solemn tone. "I need a favor."
Snape said nothing, just watched her, waiting.
"I want you to take Regulus," she said, leaning closer to the table. "Take him to your side, keep him safe."
Snape's eyebrow twitched, a mocking smile creeping onto his disguised face.
"Did I hear that right, Narcissa?" he asked, feigning exaggerated surprise. "You're asking me"—he gestured to his bulky form—"to take a loyal Death Eater and hide him among a bunch of Muggle-born students on our safe little boat? Maybe you've had one too many drinks."
Though he suspected something major had happened with Regulus, granting the Malfoys' requests without a price wasn't wise.
A flash of anger crossed Narcissa's face, but she quickly suppressed it. Glancing around cautiously, she lowered her voice further. "Regulus… he's changed his mind."
"Changed his mind?" Snape played dumb. "Shouldn't he still be at Hogwarts, happily playing the perfect Slytherin pure-blood?"
"Since the Dark Lord"—Narcissa's body tensed at the name—"took over the castle, older students, especially from pure-blood families, have been encouraged, or rather required, to join the Death Eaters in… practical activities."
"Regulus signed up eagerly," she continued, her face clouding with worry. "But he's too young, Severus. The real world of Death Eater missions—the raw cruelty, the torture, the killing—it's nothing like the glorious pure-blood cause he imagined."
"He's scared of what they're making him do. He wants out. When I saw him last at Grimmauld Place," her eyes darkened, "he was different. Worn, frail, terrified of the next summons."
She sighed heavily. "You and I both know, once you're a Death Eater, you don't just hand the Dark Lord a resignation letter. There's only two paths: lifelong servitude or death."
"Oh, I know," Snape said. "What about Orion and Walburga Black? What do they think?"
"My aunt and uncle are worried about Regulus too," Narcissa said softly, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her glass. "They're starting to waver. The Dark Lord's methods are becoming… too much."
Her eyes suddenly lit up with hope as she looked at Snape. "They could 'disappear' with Regulus, if you'd take them in."
"Hold on!" Snape raised a hand, cutting her off. "I haven't even agreed to take Regulus, let alone his parents."
"Narcissa," he said, shaking his head as if picturing a nightmare, "I don't fancy the idea of our entire ship waking up to Walburga Black's soul-piercing shrieks. 'Mudbloods, filth, scum, half-breeds, freaks'—trust me, after she spews that venom, she'd be bound and tossed overboard."
Narcissa choked on his biting words, her face flushing. She gave a dry laugh, annoyance flickering in her eyes, then frowned. "Severus, how do you know exactly what she'd say?"
"Do I need to see it with my own eyes?" Snape smirked, shooting her a look. "Your kind doesn't exactly surprise me. It's the same tired blood-purity nonsense. I could recite it blindfolded."
Narcissa's face darkened, her anger barely contained. But, mindful of needing his help, she forced it down.
"Severus," she said, biting her lip and softening her tone, "what would it take for you to protect Regulus? Name your terms."
Snape leaned back, studying her.
"Aren't you afraid, Narcissa?" he asked quietly. "What if our little fugitive ship gets sunk by your master, and your precious brother goes down with it?"
"The Ministry incident that night has spread like wildfire," Narcissa replied, meeting his gaze, clearly prepared. "Arthur Weasley, on duty that night, was so shaken he's still recovering at home."
"And," she added, giving him a knowing look, "those in the know have quietly stopped calling you 'rebellious monsters' or 'lawless thugs.' Now, it's 'Hogwarts' Exiles.' The tide's turning, Severus."
Snape let out a dry laugh. "Narcissa, the Malfoys came from France, didn't they?"
"Yes," she replied, puzzled. "In the 11th century, Armand Malfoy, the first of our line, arrived in Britain with William the Conqueror's Norman army."
"Enough of that," Narcissa said, brushing off the tangent. She bit her lip, then dropped a heavier card. "You'll want to hear this. Recently, the Lestranges fell out of the Dark Lord's favor—something about failing a critical task, though I don't know the details."
She paused, watching Snape's reaction, then continued. "After that, Lucius, my husband, was 'honored' with nearly all of the Dark Lord's trust and assignments."
Her face showed no pride, only deep worry.
"The Dark Lord wants to use our family's Gringotts vault," she said. "He didn't say for what, but we're to be ready to receive whatever he wants to store." She locked eyes with Snape. "I think that's valuable information for you, isn't it?"
Snape sat up straighter.
Voldemort using the Malfoy vault? His mind raced. Tom must still plan to hide a Horcrux in Gringotts, "the safest place in the world."
"If that's true," Snape said slowly, "with the diary already entrusted to Lucius, that's two Horcruxes. Quite the honor for the Malfoys, Narcissa."
Narcissa caught his implication.
"If we still had the diary," she said, forcing a smile, "but…" She trailed off, but Snape understood: without the diary, and with the vault now requisitioned for another key item, the Malfoys were on a ticking time bomb.
"Pity," Snape finished for her. "If the diary hadn't been destroyed, you'd probably be trying to pry its whereabouts from me to grovel for your master's forgiveness."
Narcissa fell silent, her long lashes hiding her emotions.
Silence was answer enough.
"Fine," Snape said, tapping the table lightly to break the quiet. "Your information's good enough. Now, how do we get young Master Regulus to come with me? And when can I take a tour of the Malfoy vault?"
"Nothing's been stored yet," Narcissa said, her eyes flashing with caution and hesitation. "The Dark Lord only told us to prepare. We don't know when or what. Maybe… we wait until it's actually there, and we're sure it's the last one?"
"For now," Snape said after a moment's thought, nodding.
"Alright," Narcissa exhaled, relieved. "Then, tomorrow at this time, meet me in the alley beside this pub. I'll bring Regulus."
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