A/N: Ican't seem to write a MMAD story without throwing Tom Riddle into the triangle, I apologize if that gets rather boring. I shamelessly stole the lyrics in the beginning from Othello (yay, Maggie Smith as Desdemona!). This is dedicated to my friend Webbgirl, who came up with the idea for this story:D
Ember
Chapter 1: Prologue (July 1951)
"The poor soul sat sighing
By a sycamore tree
Sing all a green willow
Her hand on her bosom
Her head on her knee
The fresh streams ran by her
And murmured her moans
Sing all a green willow
Her salt tears fell from her
And softened the stones…"
The little voice was captivating, sweetly warbling the words: mournful, yet childishly innocent of their meaning. An old song, an ancient tune few would know, and yet he recognized it instantly, had had to stop himself from joining the child—from singing along. Many would find it odd that a girl this young would know such a ballad, but not him. For she—the child's mother, had sang it often, hummed it quietly to herself as she worked.
He watched her twisting in circles upon her swing, first this way, then that, her little legs stretched rigidly out in front of her, toes pointed inward to increase her speed. He watched her in fascination—she unaware of his presence in the shadow of the forest. How had he not known about her? How in heaven's name? She had to be about five years old, from the looks of her. Right here, all this time—right under his nose.
He might have missed her today if he hadn't decided to walk off his anger along the path to Hogsmeade gate instead of heading back to Knock Turn Alley by way of the floo network. Might have missed her still, had he not heard her singing—hidden as she was behind the hut that the half-giant Hagrid called home. Curiously he had sought out the songstress, and the sight of her took his breath away. There was no doubt to whom she belonged. Her long black hair tied neatly back with a ribbon, the sharp, fine features of her face chiseled from the same porcelain as another he remembered only too well. She wore a simple yet well-made dress; black with a white collar, dark stockings, shiny black shoes. It was as if he were looking into a picture; a window to the past. A smaller, younger version of another woman he had known when she was just a few years older. This was her daughter, of that he had no doubt. He had known just by looking at her, but the song—that song had solidified it. Proof positive.
He shook his head softly, smiling to himself at his good fortune. He hadn't known she'd had a daughter—he hadn't known about this child. He wasn't meant to know, he was certain of that. The girl was too like her mother to give away who a possible father might be. But the age was right. Could it be?
She ceased turning in circles and slowly spun to a stop, leaning forward on the wooden board that served as a seat to pat a large black dog upon its head. She was speaking affectionate, unintelligible words to the animal when suddenly she paused looking right at him through the hole in the foliage where he stood watching her. He stepped from the shadows, flashing her a friendly smile. He ambled closer; and the dog raised its head curiously, but made no move to rise.
"Hello," he said. She did not answer, but rather watched him guardedly. "I was walking to the gate and heard your singing. What a lovely tune."
"Thank you." She answered politely.
"What's your dog's name?"
"Bear. He isn't mine, he belongs to Hagrid," she explained. "He is supposed to be an attack dog, but he's afraid of everything, even bunny rabbits."
Her voice had dropped to a whisper so as not to hurt the dog's feelings lest he overhear, he presumed. He lowered his tone to match. "Sometimes bunny rabbits can be frightfully scary things." He winked at her, and she smiled.
"No they aren't, Bear's just a fraidy-cat." She scratched the big black beast behind his ears. "Are you here to see Hagrid?" she asked. "He's inside taking his nap." She cast a worried glance towards the hut, and said, "I'm supposed to be taking a nap too."
"No, I'm not here to see Hagrid. I was just passing along, when I happened upon your lovely singing. I'm not much for naps, either," he added conspiratorially.
The child looked relieved. "Mummy says I'm to take one every afternoon, but I'm never tired. Hagrid reads me a story and then he always falls asleep, so Bear and I come out and play so we don't wake him."
"That's very thoughtful of you. Do you live here with Hagrid?" he asked, phrasing the words as though they were merely an afterthought.
"No, I stay here with Hagrid while Mummy is at work. He needs me to look after him," she said very seriously.
This caused him to chuckle. "Does he?"
Her voice lowered once again to a whisper, "He thinks he is looking after me, but I don't say anything because it makes him happy to think so."
"And how is it that he needs looking after?" he asked, wanting to hear her answer, he was finding this little girl very amusing.
"I tidy up after him, and make him proper cups of tea. I even learned a spell that darns the holes in his socks." She stopped and peered down at his feet. "Do you have any holes in your socks?"
"No, my socks are hole-free, although I would like to see that spell of yours sometime."
She beamed at him proudly. "I can do lots of spells." Then suddenly she frowned, backing away with her swing a few feet. "I'm sorry," she said, "Mummy says I am not to speak with strangers."
"Your Mummy is quite right. You should never speak to strangers." Her expression relaxed somewhat, and he continued, "I suppose we could be friends; then it would be okay to speak with one another."
She thought about this for a moment, and smiled. "Yes, that would be all right."
"I think that it would be best however, if you didn't tell your mum about me. It could be our secret."
Instantly the guarded look overtook her features, and he feared he had made a mistake. "I am not to have any secrets from Mummy or Uncle Albus. It's a rule," she added very seriously.
Oh yes, he thought, this was definitely Minerva's child. "You are quite right about that, also. But if they don't ask you, then you don't have to tell—then it isn't really a secret." Her little brow was furrowed in thought and she did not look at all convinced. "You see, if you told her, then she'd want to know how we met, and you would have to tell her that you aren't taking your naps like you're supposed to."
Her eyes widened at that realization. "I suppose it isn't a secret if no one asks you," she said slowly. "She'd be awfully mad at Hagrid if she found out he didn't make me take my naps, and he cries so dreadfully when people are mad with him. She might not let me stay with him anymore, and then who would see to his tea?" That seemed to settle the matter for her, and she smiled at him, offering her little hand. He took it in his big one and gave it a gentle shake.
"My name is Ember."
"Glad to meet you, Ember. My name is Tom."
