#basically a snapshot of lucius being sad but trying very hard not to show it

[sneverussape]

with friends like these

oneshot, 3300+ words. unbeta-ed because i really only wanted to write an angsty-ish brotp snucius (although technically this has minerva in it more than snape because um he’s already dead in this), and it turned out to be a character exploration type thing idek

summary: “Headmistress McGonagall, I am requesting that he be buried on my family estate.”

-- It was with newfound purpose that Lucius Malfoy found himself apparating just beyond the wards of Hogwarts, with full intent of storming the castle and not leaving without having his demands met. He stalked heavily towards the nearest entrance, cane forgotten, as he resolutely ignored the sight of the half-ruined structure that loomed at him over the craggy hilltop, the relic seemingly taunting him for his sins. Christ, Malfoy! The deep baritone that haunted his dreams and waking moments rose automatically to the forefront of his thoughts. What’s got your knickers in a twist? The sound of the heel of his boots ringing against the castle’s stone floors were loud enough to drown out the ghosts that resided in his head. It was also joined by the general cacophony taking place inside: classes were still taking place while renovations still went underway, and students, staff, as well as what seemed to be a significant percentage of Britain’s wizarding population were milling about the corridors, elbow-deep in activity. Several aurors that he recognized turned their heads as he walked past, but Lucius made no effort to acknowledge them. He came here for one purpose and one purpose alone, and by Merlin he was going to see it through no matter what it took. He regarded himself as fortunate when he saw the target of his ire just outside the Headmaster’s old office, conversing with Shacklebolt—Minister Shacklebolt, the voice in his head tutted—and with a confidence that he hadn’t felt in many months, he managed to incline his head at them in greeting as they turned towards him as he approached. “Minister,” he greeted Shacklebolt, before turning to Minerva McGonagall, who looked at him as though he were an insect that she wanted to scrape off the sole of her boot. Lucius deftly ignored the expression and instead gave her a curt nod. “Headmistress. May I have a word?” His tone brooked no request and he was sure both Shacklebolt and Minerva had noticed. The Minister looked at him impassively. “On what matters, Malfoy?” he asked, equally obstinate, and Lucius had to restrain himself in order to not sneer. “I believe anything to do with your contributions to the castle’s renovations as well as any reparations to the war victims has to go through me, not the headmistress.” “I’m afraid it’s personal, Minister.” Lucius’ jaw hurt as he forced a smile. “It’s on the topic of…family.” Family! The bark of a laugh that resounded in his head made him startle. You’re having me on! Lucius nearly growled at his lapse of control. Both Shacklebolt and Minerva were now staring at him with a critical expression, quite likely debating about the possibility of him being unsound. “Family, you say, Lord Malfoy?” Minerva echoed, and although the witch looked like she had aged a century in the handful of months that had passed since the Dark L—Voldemort had been defeated, her voice still held an undercurrent of steel, sharpened to a point like a goblin-made blade. She knew, he sensed, that what he was going to ask from her was no trivial matter. “Minerva—” Shacklebolt started protesting, but Lucius beat him to the quick. “You may keep my wand for the duration of my meeting the Headmistress, Minister, if it suits.” He unsheathed his wand, brand new and unfamiliar, and offered it to Shacklebolt, who looked at him as though he had just offered himself up to a Dementor’s Kiss. Lucius of course understood the reaction, but it also only confirmed to him how little people thought of him, and the lengths he would go to obtain what he wanted. Pitiable fools. He goaded a bit more: “You may also inspect my person to ensure I do not carry additional weapons or wands. Perhaps a little Veritaserum afterwards—” “Enough.” Shacklebolt held up his hand then took Lucius’ wand with the other, gripping it with more force than necessary. His face had darkened at the mention of Veritaserum, which was a little-known sore point between Shacklebolt and his many heavy-handed aurors, and Lucius would have known of course, from personal experience. “We’ve little time for theatrics, Malfoy, so I would be grateful if you started and concluded this matter of yours with Minerva as quickly as possible.” Lucius nodded. “Of course, Minister,” he said, before turning to meet Minerva with a purposeful stare. She inclined her head and led the way towards the staircase, muttering a password too low for him to catch. The stairs appeared with a low grinding sound that made Lucius clench his jaw. She gestured at him wordlessly to follow. “Now,” Minerva said before they were barely within the confines of the Headmistress’ office, “Lucius Malfoy, I don’t know what game you’re playing at but I’m of the opinion that this is not about your son—” “It’s Severus.” His name tasted bitter and thick on his tongue, like blood, and Lucius’ anger that had awakened since the precise moment that morning when he had read the Prophet started to once more smolder as soon as he was face-to-face with the damnable witch. He released a pent-up breath through his nostrils as he stated the next few words: “Headmistress McGonagall, I am requesting that he be buried on my family estate.” Minerva had already gone pale at the mention of his name, but the succeeding statement leached out all the remaining color in her face. He doubted he could have elicited the same reaction even if he had held her at wandpoint, and the sight gave Lucius the familiar stirrings of satisfaction. The Headmistress, however, was able to recover swiftly, her composure returning as though it was as simple as shedding a cloak. “Professor Snape,” she began, and it was with much annoyance for Lucius to realize that her voice did not so much as shake, when his own felt like caving in whenever he even attempted to say his name, “had explicitly stated—” “That is a lie!” The thin veneer of Lucius patience cracked, and he could feel as his anger grew, enough to stoke his magic enough that it threatened to spill over despite the lack of a wand. The various glass ornaments on the shelves surrounding them trembled, the glass and metal tinkling softly in the still air. Careful, Malfoy, the soft voice now taunted, testing his limits. Careful… Lucius tried again. He would not lose control. Not for this. “Headmistress. With all due respect, I believe Severus would have more likely requested he be incinerated on the spot than be buried on Hogwarts grounds.” Minerva looked as though she wanted to hex him. “To be buried here on the grounds was a mutual decision made by the Minister and the rest of the staff, as he was the headmaster at the time of his death. He was also laid to rest beside Albus Dumbledore, who was his friend—” “I was his friend!” he thundered. The word made Lucius’ stomach turn, enough to make him want to be violently ill. His temper, carefully hidden away after so many months of questioning, of trials, of him burying his pride and family honor, all for the sake of his family’s survival, came rushing forth. He was seething, enraged at Minerva’s presumptuousness, at her utter damnable gall. “Albus Dumbledore only noticed him after he proved himself useful, but before that had seen nothing but barely a wisp of a boy. He was such a little savage that you would not care to look twice at him. But he was my…” He couldn’t bear saying the word again; it seemed to barely capture what they had had and what they had been through, and so he let the choked pause speak for itself. “I’d known him since he was eleven. I was his prefect…for Merlin’s sake, I tutored him! Think what you want of me, Minerva, but Severus….” He cleared his throat but found he was unable to say any more; his lips were trembling, and he clamped them together in a fit of desperation. Had he brought his cane he would have been gripping it by now. As it was, he had to resort to clenching his hands into fists behind his back. Across from where he stood, the Headmistress surveyed him with an odd expression, as though she was debating on the merits of having him summoned by St. Mungo’s for a thorough examination.  “We should have been consulted…Merlin, we should have been told!” Lucius concluded bitterly, not able to find it in himself to accept that no one had deigned to tell them of the memorial service that had taken place before the term had even started, and he had been left to find out through the thrice-damned Prophet a month after it had already occurred. He was insulted beyond all rational thought. “I will not leave until you grant me this request.” He would not beg. No, he would demand it. It was the least he could do, for Severus’ pride and dignity as much as his own. “I was not aware you and Severus had had any sort of…friendship.” Minerva told him, her tone flat. “He was not very forthcoming regarding such information, and had we known…” Lucius almost laughed. He would not be swayed by such platitudes, especially coming from a Gryffindor witch, no matter that she had, once upon a time, been a close colleague to his own father. “You would not have cared to inform us, at any rate, and Slytherins have long kept our circles intimate so any news of our friendship would not have been spoken about outside of it,” he said coolly. “However, as it stands, Professor Snape was…very dear to Narcissa and Draco and myself, and I would rather he be…laid to rest…where he would be safe, rather than have his grave be vandalized by hooligans—” Minerva gave him a pointed look. “And I suppose the Malfoy estate where Voldemort had resided for months would be a haven for him?” The voice in his head cackled, a rich carefree sound that Lucius had not heard in decades. “The Dark—Voldemort did not have full use of the grounds,” he found himself retorting, his face suddenly hot at having been so easily outwitted, and the fact that Minerva did not even flinch at saying his former master’s name. Damn it all to Hades. “Severus can be laid to rest in Narcissa’s garden, near the greenhouse where he planted his potions ingredients to his heart’s content.” This bit of information seemed to interest the Headmistress. “Severus had…what? He planted potions ingredients on Malfoy grounds?” “He had control of an entire greenhouse.” Lucius could not help keeping the haughty tone from his voice, her curiosity having given him an opportunity to gain leverage over the conversation. If he had to prove his claim over Severus, then so be it. “It’s been overrun by his vegetation since before Draco was barely a twinkle in his mother’s eye. No one but him was allowed inside. One of the bedrooms in the Manor is also his. He used to spend the summer holidays there, and on occasion, the Yule holidays as well. He used to play Quidditch with Narcissa on the pitch, then eventually it was the three of them with Draco. That little whelp had read nearly the entire Malfoy library. For Merlin’s sake, he has a personal house elf at the Manor—” Had. The voice was quiet now. Not that I never appreciated it, Malfoy, but then you were always a showy git… Lucius blinked rapidly as his eyes burned. He suspected dust…the entire office must not have been cleaned in months. He was surprised that when he next glanced at Minerva, her expression had changed completely. It had closed off, as though she was attempting very hard to not let her true feelings come to the surface. “If you need proof, I would be willing to…share my memories,” Lucius offered as a final attempt, although it rankled him to do so. He had had enough aurors and members of the Wizengamot poking around in his mind and memories to last five lifetimes, but it was a small price to pay in exchange for what he was asking for. “That would not be necessary,” the Headmistress said curtly. “Inasmuch as we have never really seen eye to eye, Lord Malfoy, I would be glad to take you at your word, especially when it comes to a man whom we both had seen as a friend. After all, you have absolutely nothing to gain from this unexpected demand, except perhaps the assuaging of your apparent guilt.” Her words made him feel as though she had physically struck him, and his ire increased tenfold. Once more, the shelves surrounding them tinkled and trembled. “We did not bury him here, however.” The shuddering that had been starting to build up in the room ceased and the room plunged into a filled silence. “What?” Lucius croaked. He wondered if he had gotten it all wrong then. Perhaps Severus was alive…? He would not put it past the whelp to figure out some way to cheat death… “He is very much gone, Lord Mal—Lucius.” Minerva’s tone had changed, and Lucius realized that he had spoken aloud. His face colored at the realization. “I am quite aware!” he snapped, although he could not deny the horrible emptiness that came with the snuffing out of that latest hope. Severus was gone. He had seen the body for all of twenty seconds before the aurors had taken him away. Since that moment, he had barely slept and had taken to eating only a necessary amount to not collapse during the long hours of questioning he had had to endure. It had almost been automatic, the steps to ensure his and his family’s survival, but it did nothing to quell the voice in his head. That was, until he’d seen the headline stating SEVERUS SNAPE GIVEN HERO’S BURIAL that morning, which he’d promptly reduced to ashes into his half-empty teacup. Hogwarts did not deserve Severus. Albus Dumbledore certainly had not. Severus had owed them nothing but had given them everything, had gone out of his way to put himself in the line of fire even when Lucius had told him repeatedly to be a face in the crowd, you must protect yourself first and foremost and the insufferable boy had gone and done the exact opposite. “Do you regret it?” Minerva asked him, and Lucius knew that if he had had his wand the witch would have wished she had never opened her accursed mouth. Just what more did these people want from him? He had told the Ministry, the aurors, even the Potter boy everything! He had contributed considerable sums for war repairs and reparations. He had given them names of other Death Eaters, none of whom he had particularly cared for anyway, and if they had been imbecilic enough to get caught and deny all of their known involvement, then that would hardly be on his conscience. He cared for little and for few. You sad bastard. The voice sounded amused. All that money and nothing to show for it, apart from a small family made from glass and a filthy half-blood brat with a filthy mouth… “I have never felt a loss this deep,” Lucius replied with much difficulty, which was the most he would allow. His pride may have been shattered, but he would not admit any of his true feelings in detail, especially not to the Gryffindor Head of House. A former version of himself would have gone apoplectic with rage had he known this would have taken place at any point in the distant future, but now…so many had been lost, Severus included, and the blood on his hands stained everything he touched. The Headmistress regarded him for a long moment, as though deciding on what to say next. “We did not bury him here,” she finally stated, and this time her voice was tight. “I regarded Severus as a friend, and occasionally we would have private conversations about…matters. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he had once expressed to me his wishes…should he not see the end of the war.” Lucius felt all at once enraged and betrayed. “And?” he asked, attempting to put on a mask of indifference, although he couldn’t help his lips from curling in distaste. He needed to know what they had done. Had they thrown him into the sea? Had they given him an unmarked grave somewhere in the Hebrides? “We did not bury him at all.” Minerva said, looking all at once despairing and yet triumphant. Her eyes glistened, pinning Lucius where he stood. “He had wished not to, because he was afraid…of people desecrating his grave, or not letting him rest. He stated that he wanted to be burned, for practicality’s sake.” This time Lucius laughed. Trust the little bastard to have proven one of his rare jokes right! “You cast Incendio on him then?” he asked, his tone sharper than expected. He felt ill and hollow. “That must have been a laugh since he had never been liked by your crowd…” Minerva looked at him heatedly. “We performed the Liberi ritual, of course. Two weeks after the battle, but we had told no one else. The staff had attended. The Minister and Mr. Potter had also been there, of course, but if I had known…” Something that looked like regret flashed in her eyes. “Forgive me, Lucius. I would have had you there, had I known. I would have ensured it.” “Liberi…” Lucius’ knees felt weak and as if all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. It was what they had done as well for his father, and what he would have done for Severus himself, had he been granted the opportunity. “You built a pyre? You followed the preparation rituals? Did you cast it properly?” “Horace was the only pureblood in attendance and ensured we did everything correctly. Hagrid built the pyre. I prepared the body myself. It helped we were all feeling no small amount of guilt for…everything.” Minerva said, and Lucius was momentarily curious but allowed her her privacy. They all had their ghosts. He knew about that most of all. “But the burial…?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. “It was a ruse.” “Yes. And we decided that we also still needed a physical memorial at any rate, but that the safest place would be on Hogwarts grounds. There is a frightening amount of wards on both the graves, especially after Voldemort saw to desecrating one himself.” This time, the name barely registered. Lucius gave a definitive nod. “I apologise I would not be able to acquiesce to your request, Lord Malfoy.” Minerva reverted to formality, signaling their conversation to be at an end. No matter. He had gotten what he had come for. He had gotten more than what he could have asked for. He gave the Headmistress a small formal bow. “You have my gratitude.” Minerva seemed to stiffen. “He was my dear friend as he was yours. I am…deeply sorry for your loss.” Lucius pondered for a moment if he should return the sentiment, for he knew the Headmistress had lost dozens of others apart from Severus, but he decided he could not bring himself to care. He nodded again and Minerva accepted, leading him back towards the door out of the offices. If you were still considering a plot for my grave at the estate, I would prefer it to be in the greenhouse rather than out of it. It should be great fun for you and Cissa, entangling the wards. I can’t assure your ridiculous hair will be safe from it, however... For the first time in many months, Lucius found it in him to smirk in amusement as the voice rambled on.