He makes his way slowly into the kitchen and peeks in the freezer. There's the spicy chicken and mushroom dish she fixed for him, and while he loves it, he knows it would be too much for him right now; his stomach is in knots and he needs to calm himself down. Ah, there's her ice cream, but he won't take it; he doesn't know how she can mix mint chocolate chip with pistachio almond, but somehow, it's her favorite. He finds twice-baked potatoes, which he likes very much, and...oh, there's the broccoli and cheddar stuffed chicken breasts! He remembers that meal with particular fondness, and not only for what came after. He doesn't bother looking at the rest of the food in the freezer; he takes out a stuffed chicken breast and a potato, fixes his meal and pours himself a little blood-orange wine.

He takes his time and savors the food, though he'd enjoy it much more if she were eating with him. When he finishes he cleans up quickly, then pours another glass of wine. He wonders how much Elsbet's life will change once she learns how to make the best of her gifts, but then...why would it have to change completely? She loves to cook by hand, cooking by magic wouldn't be the same. And really, he's jumping ahead, he knows. He's not even certain what she is, but he knows Therion and Master Han were right, she's not a Muggle. Things would likely be very different now if he had just been able to make Dumbledore understand. His last swallow of wine goes down less than smoothly with that thought.

Yes, very different...perhaps, he winces, their relationship would not be what they have now. Best not to think of that, he tells himself. Having her in his life, being like this with her, has made some terrible things less unbearable, and has helped him keep himself whole. He wants to do right by her, help her be the best she can be, regardless of whatever that is. But if she is truly some sort of rare witch, so much the better; she can be trained to defend herself, perhaps even meld magic with her martial arts skill, and she could be quite a formidible fighter.

He hates to think of that, of her having to fight; she is a lover, a nurturer, but he's a fool if he thinks he will be able to keep her totally hidden through to the end of this war. And if it goes badly? If Harry fails? He thinks, if I fail? He looks back toward her bedroom and frowns. I won't fail. As he leaves the kitchen and heads over to the couch, he feels a sudden spike of need. It's not coming from Elsbet, it's...outside. He goes to the door and places his hand flat against it, and it takes him only a few moments of intense focus to determine who's outside.

It's Malfoy.

No one else is there, and the other wizard is very agitated. He prepares himself then opens the door, and is taken aback by Malfoy's appearance. He looks bad, but worse, he looks afraid. Snape pulls him into the house and shuts the door quickly, and Malfoy tells him, "seal it, spell it, do everything you have to!" Snape does, then turns and takes hold of his shoulders firmly. "Lucius, what's happened? You're nearly frantic, this isn't like you--" Malfoy shakes his head and extricates himself from Snape's grip. "Yes, well, I've never had a house full of Death Eaters before, have I?" He looks around, realizing that Elsbet isn't there, and Snape answers before he asks. "She's sleeping." He gives Malfoy a gentle push toward the couch as he goes back into the kitchen.

He brings out a shotglass and the peppermint schnapps and pours Malfoy a shot as he sits down as well. "Drink first, then tell me what's happened." Malfoy slams it down then pours another, and slams that one down too. "Breathe, Lucius," Snape says with mock sarcasm, and Malfoy runs his hands through his hair as the delightful Muggle alcohol hits his system. It's not that it's very potent to a Magical's system, it's that he really wants it. "They're all there..." he says, drawing a shaky breath, "almost all of them. Dolohov and Rowle, and Rookwood were missing, but almost everyone else is. Was. Most of them had gone home by the time I got away," he says as he pours another shot. "They were asking why you weren't there, but the Carrows said you were very busy..."

Snape straightens. "Was the Dark Lord--" Malfoy shakes his head and drinks his shot much slower this time. "No. Not even Bella knows where he is. But..." He breathes deeply, then meets Snape's gaze, "she's running her mouth. I may have to kill her before she drives me mad." Snape honestly can not tell whether Malfoy is joking or not. "Why?" Malfoy shrugs slightly at Snape's simple question. "Well, she...she's been telling Narcissa that--" Snape frowns and sighs. "Of course she is. She sees conspiricies wherever she looks." Malfoy laughs lightly. "That is exactly what I told Narcissa." Snape rubs his neck; if he were a Muggle, he'd definately have a nice tension headache right about now.

He rises and goes to the kitchen again, this time for his own drink. He takes down another shotglass and the cinnamon schnapps, then goes back to the couch. Pouring his own drink, he says, "so Narcissa asked where you were," and Malfoy nods. "Severus, what are we going to do?" He rests his elbows on his knees and rests his head in his hands. "Well," Snape says, taking a sip of his schnapps and holding it, just until his tongue burns a bit, then swallows and savors the tingle, "there are several things we are going to do." He takes another sip of his drink, then looks at Malfoy. "First, we're going to discuss something of vital importance."

Malfoy sits up and meets the Dark wizard's black eyes and asks quietly, "can it wait just a while? There's something I feel I really need to do." Snape shrugs slightly. "What is that?" Taking a deep breath Malfoy rubs his knees, then leans toward Snape. "Just this..." he catches Snape by the back of his neck, gently pulls him forward, then kisses him deeply. Snape is surprised, but quickly returns the kiss, and adds a twist with a little nibble to Malfoy's lower lip. Excited by the nibble Malfoy moves closer and kisses Snape harder, and the kiss becomes hungrier. Their passions stirred, their hands begin to wander, as does Malfoy's mouth.

From Snape's lips to his jawline, then down to his throat Malfoy kisses him roughly, hotly, then moves down to to Snape's chest. He unbuttons the buttons Elsbet didn't until the shirt's undone and Snape's upper body is bared, and Malfoy does wicked things to him with his tongue. Snape runs one hand through Malfoy's hair and the other under Malfoy's shirt. Snape's touch brings him back up to the Dark wizard's lips, and Malfoy pauses as if he's thinking of stradling Snape; grinning evilly he kisses Snape again, teasingly, wickiedly, and Snape's hands drift ever downward...

But a sound from the kitchen stops their downward momentum. They freeze for a second or two, then Malfoy moves slightly and looks back over his shoulder. The two wizards discover Elsbet standing in the kitchen, pouring herself a drink. Her eyes flit from them and back to her drink again, and she silently closes the bottle. She obediently drinks only the amount of Absinthe that Snape normally allows her, then puts the bottle away. She fixes them both with a smoldering gaze, but that's not anger they see in her eyes; she's clearly more than amused by their activities.

Her nightgown, a lovely, nearly sheer white gauzy thing, hangs open to her waist and they can't help but notice her 'interest'. As she moves from the kitchen toward the couch Malfoy moves back from Snape, unsure of what she may do.

He needn't worry though.

She looks down at Malfoy almost haughtily as she stradles Snape, meets her lover's gaze and gives him a deep, tender kiss. She then gives Malfoy an impish look and says teasingly, "this wizard is mine, but," she moves her hips just slightly, "if you ask nicely, I may share." Snape and Malfoy exchange glances, and Malfoy chuckles softly. "Well," says he, "aren't you the impertinent one?" He glances at Snape again, then, his brows arched and eyes glittering, he purrs, "perhaps I should be asking Severus if he shares."