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Summary
The half-blood Prince knew his fate was set since the night his roommates finally allowed him to join their hushed conversation. Their parents were already followers, their futures were set, and Severus felt hopeless. He knew nothing of their secrets, and yet knew too much to run and hide. There was a war on the horizon, and he didn’t need to ask to know he wasn’t welcome on the other team. If he were to ever have a chance, he would need to serve the Dark Lord.
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Narcissa Malfoy, the most tolerable Black, ushers Severus quickly through her manor’s foyer, silver and forest green, as obnoxious as her husband.
“He is expecting you, and must not keep him waiting.” Narcissa glides down the hallway to the right, keeping her grace even in her state of panic. “You will refer to him as ‘My Lord’ always, do you understand? Bow at his feet, kiss the hem of his robes, and only rise when he allows you to. You would be wise to avoid eye contact. He will easily enter your mind.” Reaching the end of the hall, in front of monstrous double doors, Narcissa turns to the quiet, title-less, moneyless half-blood behind her and silently prays that Voldemort will not kill them all for bringing such a man before him.