Severus Snape quickly learns that his plan to foil the Dark Lord by using Aveline against him is going to have to be put on the backburner.
Severus is a master of potions, Legilimency, and Occlumency. He likes to believe himself an unofficial master of many other things, such as the Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He knows next to nothing about parenting. All he knows is that his parents did a horrible job of it. Severus wishes to be nothing like his mother or Tobias.
Narcissa helps him navigate the uncharted territory; Draco is a month older than Aveline, so she experiences infant milestones roughly four weeks before Severus himself does, and tells him what to expect.
Being able to delve into the tiny girl's mind helps; he knows her most basic of cravings- the need to eat, the need to be rocked back and forth for hours on end (his existence is most miserable), the need to be changed or the need to roll over.
Draco has been walking for two months and talking for much longer, and yet Aveline refuses to do anything but sit and stare at him with all too knowing eyes. The small flat he procured after taking the girl has been a train wreck for a week, because as stubborn as she is about walking, the little demon can crawl. He is considering hiring a house elf. Or seven.
He hates children. He hates living.
He can't wait to get to Hogwarts for his first term as a teacher. Narcissa has agreed to let Aveline stay with their family during the day, until he can Floo to the manor and pick her up at night. Keeping his nightly absences from Dumbledore is going to be exceedingly difficult.
Severus is already doubting the decision to keep the child's existence, and his role in it, from Dumbledore. But if he were to tell the old man, then he would most definitely start reworking his Grand Design to include Aveline, and probably begin manipulating her to fit his mold right away. The Potter boy (Lily's child Lily's child Lily's child Lily's child) has already been shunned to the Muggle world because Dumbledore considered it the best for everyone. What would the old man deem fit for the daughter of the Darkest wizard known to mankind?
Feed her to the thestrals, most likely. Severus himself considered it the first time she burst into tears. Strangely, as long as that odd blanket she arrived with is wrapped around her, she sleeps peacefully through the night. He'll have to try throwing the thing at her the next time she wails. She refuses to walk or talk, but the bloody babe can already stare at her own toy block construction and critically evaluate where best to place the next piece. Perhaps her motor skills have developed enough that she could catch.
His lips curl, and he only straightens them out when Draco totters over to him and places a fat white rose on his knee. Narcissa had insisted they take the children outdoors for some fresh air, and now he is sitting in the stifling summer heat, waiting for the woman to come to her senses and go back inside where there are Cooling charms in place.
He glances over at his charge, sitting happily on Draco's pale blue blanket, surrounded by flowers. Draco has been picking them and placing them around Aveline all afternoon. Narcissa thinks it quite the delightful scene, and is debating Summoning a camera.
Severus barely resists the urge to bang his head against the expensive patio furniture. It's bad enough that Narcissa has a new outfit waiting for Aveline every day. Now she wants to take up a new activity Andromeda wrote to her about called scrap-booking.
For the love of Merlin.
"Thank you, young Master Draco." Severus doesn't bother to raise his voice, but he drawls out the title in a most obnoxious manner and waves the rose through the air. He watches with mild affection as Draco turns red from his stance over Aveline and giggles loudly.
He swears the girl rolls her eyes at him.
He blinks once, and immediately delves into her mind. There it is, the sarcastic amusement clear as day in her head. What in the world-
"Hello, darling." A snapping pop alerts Narcissa and Severus to Lucius's arrival. He's been working closely with the Ministry, securing ties after his very public trial. He bends and kisses Narcissa's cheek, and Severus turns away.
"Severus," Lucius greets jovially.
"Lucius," Severus nods. "What has you in a positively delightful mood?"
"Why must you always drip disdain, Severus?" Lucius asks with amusement. "And why in Merlin's name are you wearing a black cloak in this heat?"
"That's what I asked him," Narcissa sniffs.
"I was hoping to protect myself from the chill once your wife regained her senses and allowed myself and Aveline back inside the Manor."
Lucius blinks once. "Are you calling my home drafty?"
Severus suppresses a snort. "You expect me to call the Manor drafty, when just a couple of weeks ago it was the stuffiest place in all of the United Kingdom?"
Draco's second birthday party had been held at the Manor. It was the event of the season in child-terms; the society section of the Prophet was still going on about it. The Zabini boy had attended, along with the Crabbe and Goyle boys. Draco had taken an instant liking to Zabini. Aveline eyed the Parkinson girl with something like suspicion and had cried every time Draco left her side. To Severus's immense surprise, Draco's little brow had furrowed in a manner eerily similar to his father's, and he had insisted everyone sit and play near Aveline instead of running wild.
Aveline refused to even look at the Greengrass girl.
The most prominent of adults had been invited- crooked politicians loyal to Lucius, Pureblood supremacists, business owners. Severus had sat in a corner and tried his hardest to look formidable in a silly party hat and with blue icing in his teeth.
Narcissa sits straight up in her lounge chair. "Severus! That reminds me! When is Aveline's birthday?"
Severus thinks for a moment. Then he gives half a shrug. "Tomorrow."
Narcissa shrieks and stands up. Lucius winces. "Tomorrow? Tomorrow, Severus Snape?! Have you lost your mind? I thought we still had at least a week to prepare-"
"Narcissa-" Severus tries, and sighs when he is interrupted.
"And that poor little girl, basically an orphan, with only the likes of you to take care of her on a regular basis, won't even have a proper birthday party. You know as well as I do that we have to introduce her into society for her to have a secure station in the fu-"
"Narcissa!" Severus barks. Lucius jumps, and Narcissa instantly falls quiet. Good. He'd been practicing that tone in the mirror before the start of term this September. He will not have any hooligans disrupting his peaceful dungeons. He will not have it.
"Narcissa," he starts again, softer this time, "no one knows I am the caretaker of Aveline. They do not know who her father is, or the power she likely possesses. I assure you, her…station… in life is quite secure. As for a party, I say absolutely not. It will do no one any good, and it is not as though that girl will care for the memories."
Narcissa had been steadily deflating, her anger abating quite quickly. But Severus knows when Lucius makes a small noise in the back of his throat that he just said something very wrong.
"Not care… not… Severus Tobias Snape! She is a little girl. A little girl, Snape. She-I-I don't even- I cannot fathom-" Narcissa's voice promptly reaches a pitch only werewolves can hear. People assume Narcissa Malfoy is a cool, calm, collected woman, and she is. Until children are involved. Then the claws and the spit appear.
In an instant, Narcissa has her wand out. This is not the first time Severus has watched her crack in anger and whip it out, but it is the first time it has been aimed at him. It is something she is notorious for; the way her anger will melt off her face and turn into an icy mask, the way the stinging jinx or hex will be cast out in the blink of an eye.
Severus has the time to sigh a bit. He doesn't fancy a trip to St. Mungo's today. Perhaps Lucius has something in his stores…
The flash and the bite of pain he is expecting never come. Instead, there is something akin to a terrified scream coming from the garden behind Narcissa, and instantly, a ripple of unadulterated magic flows from some strange source. It comes in waves and waves, and Narcissa is thrown ten feet through the air, into a hedge of thorns.
Somehow, clouds form in the sky where there had been none before, and energy crackles all around them.
Draco glances at his mother, then back at Aveline. His gaze rests on Severus for a moment, and then Lucius swears the child smirks a bit.
He watches as Narcissa catches her breath, and Lucius bolts toward her, intent on helping her out of the bush. Lucius carefully detangles the thorns from his wife's sundress. Somehow, none have managed to pierce her skin.
In the next instant, Aveline stands quite calmly and takes several deep breaths. She walks to Severus as though she is twelve instead of two. The lace dress Narcissa bought for her last week swirls around her little kneecaps.
Severus thinks absently that perhaps he should schedule her a haircut. Her deep brown locks have grown into long straight pieces that she keeps pushing out of her eyes.
Aveline totters all the way to his feet, and then she wraps both skinny arms around his leg. "My Sev-rust. Mine. Good Sev-rust. No ouchie." Her announcement is loud and met with astonishment by all except Draco.
Draco stares at her a moment, and then smiles crookedly. He holds out a pink peony for her inspection. She narrows her eyes, then nods. He places it in the growing pile on their blanket.
Severus cannot resist looking into her mind. What he finds astounds him. All throughout her mind are images of him; him holding her, him tucking her blanket around her at night, him sitting and staring broodingly out the window of their flat while it rains, him chuckling at something Narcissa had said.
There is blind trust there. Recognition. Pride. Protectiveness. More than that, there is infinite amounts of love.
LOVE.
The creature that until now Severus has assumed to be nothing but a killing machine hell-bent on the destruction of the entire Wizarding World, biding its time until it is fully grown, is in fact human. Can in fact feel the emotion that crippled her father.
And she feels it for him.
Severus instantly drops to his knees. She is still staring up at him, her eyes glittering. And underneath her skin, faint black marks swirl. He watches with wide eyes as they slither under and around her eyes, her cheekbones. One begins on the pulse point of her throat, and spans downwards, over her shoulders and collarbones, the tops of her tiny arms, the insides of her wrists, her legs. They look just like Muggle tattoos, except they move and react to her moving.
"Severus?" Narcissa has scooped up Draco and is holding him tightly against her chest. Lucius stands in front of them. For the first time, they seem wary of Aveline. Of what she is.
But now Severus knows. There is not only a chance to save the Light. There is a chance to save Aveline.
No one has trusted him this purely since his childhood with Lily. He will not betray the girl. Not now.
"It is alright, Narcissa," Severus says slowly, and scoops Aveline into his arms. She is pliant against him, and rests her head against his shoulder.
"Cissie ouchie?" Aveline asks with some concern. The sun is starting to peak through the random cover of clouds.
Narcissa smiles hesitantly. "No, I'm alright."
Aveline regards her, and Severus keeps a careful watch on her mind. This time, images of Narcissa flit through her head; Narcissa patting her shoulder, Narcissa smothering not only Draco in kisses, but Aveline too; Narcissa putting dress after dress over Aveline's head, pretty dresses that Aveline adores, and styling her long hair for hours on end. Narcissa charming the toys to move. Narcissa sitting Aveline and Draco down for lunch.
Intense affection accompanies these images. But there is no remorse for what Aveline did to the woman mere minutes ago. There is only an intense satisfaction that the power that had been sleeping in her soul has finally awakened. The marks on her do not appear to surprise her at all, though she does find them interesting.
"I will not lie and say that she is sorry for what she has done, or that she feels it was…undeserved," Severus smirks at the Malfoys. Draco is squirming, his eyes on the black marks. "But she didn't mean you any harm, Narcissa."
Lucius raises his eyebrows. "You mean to say the girl had enough control over a bout of accidental magic to make sure the thorns didn't harm my wife?"
Severus shakes his head. "No. I mean that the magic was not harmful in its intent. The magic itself protected Narcissa from the thorns."
Narcissa gasps and allows Draco to wiggle from her grasp. She covers her mouth in a dainty way, her bright blonde hair a tangled heap. "You mean she isn't…?"
"She feels love, Narcissa."
Severus knows Lucius will not understand the significance of this. But Narcissa has always been Severus's partner in crime. Her eyebrows raise to her hairline, and then her coolness is back.
"Well then. It is incredibly early, isn't it, Lucius dear, for our little Aveline to be exhibiting signs of magic? And such a strong cast!"
Lucius frowns in confusion, then seems to shake it off. "It's ludicrously early, my dear. Almost unnaturally. But it isn't entirely unheard of. And considering the child's lineage-"
"Yes of course." Narcissa smiles tightly.
Draco tugs on Severus's pant leg, and he places Aveline down beside him. She stands tall and strong, even while Draco wobbles.
At least his charge is competent.
Draco trails his small fingers across one of the marks on Aveline's face. The girl doesn't flinch or try to remove his hand. She almost seems to lean into his touch.
"Oo pretty." Draco says, and grins. He has trouble saying the word you, but he's getting there.
Severus rolls his eyes, and Lucius smirks. "That's right, my little ladies' man."
Narcissa clears her throat. "My son is nothing less than a gentleman, Lucius Malfoy."
"Right, dear."
They watch as the clouds above them dissipate into nothingness. The sun shines with glaring heat once more, and the marks on Aveline's skin fade mysteriously away.
Severus can't help but notice the one on her right thigh takes the form of a snake.
Aveline has several more instances of accidental magic. Whenever she is upset, or angry, or in pain, the marks appear and her magical ability makes itself known.
It is not until both she and Draco turn three that Severus begins to notice the odder talents she possesses.
He walks into the dining room of the Manor on Christmas Eve, exhausted from his long day of dodging Dumbledore's invitations for a late-night mead in his office and assisting Narcissa with last minute gift shopping. Aveline is supposed to be already fast asleep in her bed, but instead he finds her sitting with her back to him. She is so still he wonders for a split second if she is still breathing.
He instantly goes to dive into her mind, and finds it blocked. He has known grown wizards who have made Occlumency their life's work that could not form blocks that strong. He panics, and darts to the other side of the long table.
In front of her is a small candle. Her long eyelashes are cast downward, and her shoulders hunch under the strain of the effort. She clutches the candle with both hands, and takes long, shallow breaths. Hot wax drips down her fingers and oozes down her palms. The girl doesn't even flinch.
"Aveline?" Severus says quietly.
She doesn't as much as blink.
"Aveline." Severus tries again.
Her response is to take a slightly deeper breath. In turn, the fire on the wick of the candle burns an inch higher.
Severus makes an uncharacteristic noise in the back of his throat. Aveline is practicing magic; old, Elemental magic. None but the ancient Druids could do magic like this.
Now this Severus wouldn't mind having a camera for.
"Aveline," Severus says very quietly. He places one hand in the middle of her back. At the contact, she startles and releases the candle. The dried wax tears itself in half as it drops to the ground, the flame instantly extinguished.
Her wide eyes look up at him, shimmering gold in the dim light. It takes her a moment to recognize her surroundings, and then she frowns at him. "That was rude."
He snorts and picks her up. "What was rude was getting out of your bed after Narcissa put you into it. Father Christmas probably walked right through this dining room and saw you."
"If he did, I didn't see him," Aveline shrugs carelessly. She nestles into the crook of his neck, her eyelids fluttering closed.
She is asleep by the time Severus wipes her fingers clean of the wax and tucks her back between the sheets.
The next morning, Draco's favorite present is the small broomstick Lucius bought without Narcissa's knowledge. ("Three is a perfectly acceptable age to begin flying, Narcissa! He could have been riding a broom before he walked if you'd have allowed it.") Aveline's is a stuffed unicorn that prances around her in circles when she smiles.
Severus's is the cup of coffee mixed with firewhiskey that Lucius hands him. Why children wake at such an ungodly hour on Christmas Day he will never understand.
Severus is trying to decide between witch hazel and gillyweed when Aveline bumps into the man further down the aisle.
He decided to try this new apothecary today; Narcissa recommended it, and so far he has been very pleased. Everything is organized, well labeled, and fairly priced. The aisles are wide, there isn't too much light, and the store itself is large.
Narcissa left a six-year-old Draco with him for the hour so that she could run some errands. He doesn't mind; Draco is a Malfoy, and therefore an exceptionally well-behaved child. Even when they are together, he and Aveline are both golden.
Aveline accidentally knocks against the man on the opposite side of the store, and the contents of his basket go spilling across the hardwood floor. One of the glass vials breaks, and Severus hears Aveline gasp.
"I didn't mean to! I'm sorry, sir!" Aveline's apology is barely a squeak. She is usually extraordinarily graceful and purposeful in her movements.
"Sorry?" The man barks the word at her, and Severus watches with growing trepidation as Aveline flinches. "You're sorry? Where is your mother, girl?"
Severus slowly sets his gillyweed back on the shelf. He doesn't want to alert the man to his presence, and so he takes his wand out of his pocket just as slowly.
Aveline opens her mouth, then closes it. Her tiny legs tremble. She is not used to being accused. She has never done anything wrong.
The man- Severus, for all his efforts, still cannot recognize the brute- snatches Aveline's arm in his meaty hand. "I asked you something!"
Before Severus can cast any sort of spell, all of the potion ingredients on the shelves begin to shake. The shop owner looks up from his copy of the Prophet behind the counter, eyebrows raised. The ingredients keep shaking, and then one by one all of the vials begin to shatter with small pops.
Aveline smiles calmly, and that is what causes Severus to realize that she is not the one doing this. Aveline always frowns in irate concentration when she performs accidental magic.
He glances over, and Draco's entire body is shaking. His face has gone blank, but menacingly so. He is almost sneering. The expression would be disconcerting on an adult, but on a child it is entirely so.
Draco grits his words through his teeth. "Let. Her. Go!"
And then all of the ingredients launch themselves at the man's head. The blithering swine shrieks, and tries desperately to cover his head. He drops to his knees as the ingredients assault him.
The shop owner studies the scene for a moment, shrugs at Severus, and goes back to his paper. No wonder Narcissa is so fond of him.
Severus knows that allowing Draco to continue the assault for much longer will tire the boy, but it is ever so amusing.
After a moment, he tilts the corners of his mouth upwards. "That is quite enough, Draco."
Instantly, the barrage of ingredients stops. The assaulted man peeks up at the children peering down at him. Draco very maturely sticks his tongue out at the man, and takes Aveline firmly by the hand.
The children walk calmly to where he is standing. They share an unfathomable look for an instant, and then Draco looks resolutely at Severus. "We want ice cream."
Severus smirks. "Of course you do. One moment, if you please."
He approaches the man, who is picking himself up off the floor and dusting the dirt off of his pants. The man tries desperately to appear unfazed and irritated, and fails miserably.
Severus considers threatening death, but while the shop owner is decidedly level-headed, he assumes the death threat would be less than tolerated. He himself holds sway only in the lowliest of society, and the highest. Here in middle-class Diagon Alley, he is virtually powerless.
Finally, Severus decides what to say. He looks the man directly in the eyes, and coolly murmurs, "I do hope you realize that you just managed to incur the wrath of the young Malfoy heir."
Severus does not bother to wait around and see the man's reaction. Instead, he sweeps his cloak behind him, and gathers both children close to his sides.
Narcissa is most distraught when she meets them at the ice cream parlor and discovers she missed Draco's first bout of accidental magic. She grabs Severus by the collar and demands he show her in the household Pensieve later.
Narcissa is making a pitcher of lemonade one afternoon for the children. She'd intended to squeeze the lemons herself, but eventually realized she hadn't the slightest clue what she was doing; the house elves were more than helpful in that respect.
Severus snorts at her indignant huff when she spills yet another glob of water. Her hand trembles on the pitcher. She's never had to hold one steady in all of her life.
"Perhaps the elves should pour glasses for the children, Narcissa?" He suggests shrewdly.
She scowls at him in a most unladylike fashion, and he smirks.
He's just glanced back down at his copy of the Prophet when he hears a gasp and he looks up just in time to see the pitcher of watery lemonade go flying out of Narcissa's hand. It crashes to the ground in a fantastic display of shattered glass, and Narcissa yelps and instinctively pulls Draco back from the mess.
Narcissa begins to reach for Aveline, and then realizes the girl won't budge.
"Aveline, darling, step back a moment! You don't want to be cut, do you?"
Aveline doesn't respond to Narcissa. Her hands are thrust out in front of her, as though to catch the fallen pitcher.
Severus watches her take a shallow breath, so still. He glances at the glass on the floor. There is only glass.
Hovering there in the air, over the mess on the floor, is a shaky glob of lemonade. He is the first to realize that while the pitcher fell, the liquid did not.
At seven years old, Aveline has already spent a year mastering fire. She almost has it conquered. She can ignite almost anything at will. This is not something that particularly surprised him, after he got over the initial shock of her Elemental power. The Dark Lord had always held an affinity for fire magic.
Severus had never thought that her Elemental powers might include the other elements. It is unheard of. No one can possess more than one.
Somehow, she does.
"Narcissa…" Severus says very quietly, and gestures to the floating lemonade. Narcissa's eyes grow comically wide, and she shrieks. He can count on one hand the number of times she's done that.
Draco steps boldly forward and passes his hand straight through the liquid. It comes out sopping wet, and Severus sees Aveline grit her teeth, but the ball of liquid holds its form.
"Wicked, Aveline. Wicked," Draco declares with a grin.
A stunned house elf whisks the broken glass away, and produces another pitcher. With a relieved breath, Aveline releases the lemonade into the new container. Not a drop spills over the sides.
"Severus," Aveline says quietly one day.
They are at their flat in London. He has returned home for the weekend from Hogwarts, and has decided to give Narcissa a much needed break. Draco is staying on the couch until Monday morning.
Severus looks up from grading papers. In her hands, Aveline holds a copy of a book. It is a book he had hoped she wouldn't get her hands on, but Aveline has a way of getting whatever she wants one way or another. She especially loves books.
He sighs, and motions for her to sit down at the table. It's not a very large one, with only two chairs, and the close proximity to her makes him nervous. She's no longer an infant. Her vocabulary is crisp and expansive. Looking into her hazel eyes is almost enchanting. She truly is a stunning little girl.
A perfectly normal, if exceedingly above average, beautiful girl. He shall have his hands full when she reaches her third or fourth year at Hogwarts.
The thought pains him in strange ways.
"Yes, Aveline?"
She blinks and takes a deep breath. She does this frequently, to steady herself. She glances at Draco, taking an afternoon nap on the balcony. He does this because he likes to pretend he is flying. The afternoon sunlight turns his hair a flaming white-gold. Aveline runs her eyes over his sleeping form, then turns back to Severus.
"This book. This book about what happened to The Boy Who Lived. To Harry."
"Yes?"
"It's true. All of it's true?"
Severus resists the urge to roll his eyes and wince at the same time. No one will ever understand that night. Ever. "A vast majority of it is actually speculation."
Aveline does something that terrifies him in that moment. She reaches across the table and rolls the sleeve of his left arm up to his elbow. Before he can utter a word, she strokes her fingers across his Dark Mark, tracing the harsh black lines. It writhes under her touch, the snake appearing to hiss.
In response, her marks begin to show. She has learned to control them more effectively now, but sometimes they slip. Severus still hasn't deciphered half the runes on her body.
The snake on her thigh hisses in recognition, but makes no sound.
Severus jerks his arm back.
The snakes match. He never realized it before.
Apparently, Aveline has.
"Voldemort is my father."
He cannot lie to her. "Yes."
"The man who did the awful things in all of these books is my father."
"Yes, Aveline."
"He killed the Potters."
Pain lances through him. All he can see is Lily's dead body sprawled on the ground. "Yes."
"He tried to kill Harry, and couldn't. But he isn't dead, is he?"
This time, Severus hesitates. "Well. No. He is not."
Aveline sits very still for a moment. Next to her, the potted plant Hestia had sent home with him last week begins to wilt and bloom in perfect sequence.
Another element, then. Perfect. And only six months into her water training.
"My mother is gone."
"I've never met her. I was told she surrendered you entirely to the Dark Lord."
Aveline's eyes flare in a way that should be unnatural for a seven year old. But so many things are beyond her that she can do without a problem. "She didn't surrender me, Severus. She abandoned me."
Severus says nothing. Who is he to tell her otherwise?
Aveline contemplates her existence for several long moments. Finally, she says, "What I can do isn't normal, is it?"
"Not in the slightest."
"And you know. About that night. About my father. Don't you? You and the Malfoys."
"Yes."
"Does Draco know what my father was? Does he know what you and Lucius are?"
"No." He contemplates asking her not to tell Draco. But he knows she will do what she deems correct.
She stands as though to leave, but she is still. Aveline is always still when she concentrates very hard. "Am I Dark, Severus?"
The afternoon sunlight slants through the balcony doors. The sounds from London filter in and invade the shabby living room and the minimalist kitchen. This conversation is entirely absurd in this setting. Severus senses that whatever he says next could determine the rest of everything. There aren't many moments like that in an average man's life, but he has found an abundance of them in his own.
"You are your choices, Aveline," he says very quietly. He allows his words to sink in.
She bites her tongue. It is the most childish thing he has seen in her in months. Then she brushes her fingers over the cover of the book; over the illustrated image of Harry Potter.
"His hair should be longer and shaggier," she says. Then she walks over to wake Draco; he agreed to help her with her elemental training this afternoon.
Merlin. Severus sincerely hopes she isn't a Seer as well.
"Lucius," Severus says when the bathtub in the apartment has overflowed for the umpteenth time and all of his neatly stacked papers go flying off the shelves from a conjured wind, "I need a residential building permit from the Ministry."
Lucius smirks. "I'll get you two, old friend."
Narcissa smiles and reaches for her interior design catalogue.
Lucius Malfoy is beyond stunned when Severus requests to actually look at two properties rather than just one.
"What the devil do you want one way out here for? It's halfway to Ottery Saint Catchpole for Merlin's sake! It's in the middle of absolutely nowhere!"
"Exactly. You really think I'd risk her being seen? She practices all four elements, Lucius, on a large scale! She raised a wave ten feet high when I took her to the coast last week."
"Narcissa will go insane when she discovers you're moving so far from society."
"Narcissa will live. Our Floo will be connected directly to yours. As will our Apparition points."
"Well. At least do me a favor and construct a Quidditch pitch on your grounds, yes? Narcissa won't let me build one at my own bloody Manor, and yet she imports ruddy peacocks."
Severus suppresses his smirk, but only barely.
"What shall the second residence be used for?"
"It shall be considerably… nicer… than my own estate. It is for the Dark Lord, when he returns. And for Aveline."
Lucius's eyebrows shoot up. "I see. And do you plan to rear Aveline in her home, or yours?"
Severus Snape is no stupid man. He knows what Lucius is asking. Years of spying haven't prepared him for this moment. Severus has never had to claim a side before. He has never had one to claim. Always, his side has been the side of the one he loves.
So he nods at Aveline, hugging Draco's waist on a broom far above their heads. They zip through the air, laughing and whooping in a most obnoxious manner. She only laughs that way when with Draco.
"She shall choose."
Severus wonders if Lucius realizes that his son and wife shall go where Aveline goes.
He watches the carefree girl illuminated in the sky by the sun, unaware that entire lives, hierarchies, armies, and futures depend entirely upon her.
Narcissa is lounging by Severus Snape's recently constructed pool at his recently constructed estate, Beathan, listening to her son laugh as he is splashed by Aveline's elemental water magic, when a copy of the Prophet lands in her lap.
She yelps, and the sound is enough to halt all activity. Snape looks up from a book under a shady landscaping rock. Lucius stands up from his perch in the hot tub on the other side of the pool.
Aveline stares at her expectantly. She notices Draco take a step in front of her and towards his mother, his gray eyes stormy and observant for a newly turned eight year old. He's growing up so fast. He's holding a birthday party at his godfather's new residence tomorrow.
Narcissa looks down at her lap, at the Prophet, and into the even stormier eyes of her dashingly handsome cousin, and wonders if perhaps she should put that party on hold.
"Darling?" Lucius calls regally, ready to take on the world for her.
"It's Sirius." She doesn't speak loudly. She knows everyone can hear. "It's my cousin, Sirius Black. He's broken out of prison and has surfaced in high society London. He's demanding an actual trial."
Severus is by her side in an instant, skimming the article. There seems to be a sneer permanently engrained into his face.
Lucius appears in front of her. Severus stares at both of them for a moment, then glances at the children, standing quietly in the pool.
"That isn't all Black is demanding," he says.
"What else? His inheritance?" Lucius asks with some interest. Lucius always did enjoy a scandal.
"Well yes, that. But something else, also."
This time it is Draco who speaks. "What else does he want?"
"His rightful custody of Harry Potter."
Aveline and Draco share a look entirely missed by the dumbfounded adults. And they grin.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you're so inclined.