The rain in Wiltshire seemed never to stop.
Cold rain washed over the meticulously trimmed yet sinister fir hedges of Malfoy Manor, producing a monotonous, irritating rustle.
The corridor was not much warmer than outside.
It was filled with the musty smell of centuries-old tapestries, along with the strong odor of sweat coming from Lucius Malfoy at that moment.
"Severus..."
Lucius's voice was dry. Trembling, he took a silk handkerchief embroidered with his family crest from inside his robes and wiped his forehead without a shred of decorum.
His face, usually adorned with an arrogant, false smile, now sagged in disarray, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes filled with terror of the future.
"You saw it. This is where we stand..."
Snape coldly took up the conversation.
He had not lost his composure as Lucius had. Or rather, as a master who had reached the pinnacle of Occlumency, he had long since learned to lock every raging storm deep within those hollow black eyes.
Snape straightened the hem of his robes, which had become creased when he knelt earlier, his movements elegant and rigid.
It was as though he had just attended a tedious academic seminar rather than an audience with a Dark Lord whose very name inspired terror.
"This is quite consistent with the Dark Lord we know, is it not? Always studying and learning, even the things he despises most. That is how he can lead us beyond death."
Snape strode forward, his black cloak billowing behind him in a sharp arc, his leather shoes striking the marble floor with crisp, rhythmic clicks.
"If you stay at Hogwarts long enough, Lucius, you will discover that this is merely one of the more... logical of the countless absurd dreams Douglas Holmes has created."
Lucius had to