At long last… I am back. Are those… crickets I hear?
Is anyone still paying attention to this story? I still am.
To my reviewers from the last chapter, here I commemorate the time you took in sending me your thoughts/appreciation/love by singling you out in the following manner:
Kyubbi-Sama
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I's Watcher
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LadyEnvy13
Shade
Mrs. Slytherin
Slytherin by heart
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k. 10
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Wordlurker: ;) apologies it's taken me this long. I hope to inspire another one of those "Oh shit it's that fic" moments with this chapter.
Hreft93
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The-girl-who-lived-to-read
Because I've made y'all wait this long, without further preamble, here we go…..
A Father's Sin
Chapter Three: Neither Blood nor Heart
"The Son of My Heart and Son of My Blood are not one in the same." – T.K.
. . .
"Hush child, little child, dream your dreams of fairy dust and unicorns…."
Rowena cooed at her boy, the one with ebony locks and bottomless eyes. "Dragons' fire and Merlin's beard…."
She felt his considerable magic before she heard his footsteps, and heard his soft breaths after she felt them.
"Naught but a year has passed since his birth, yet in him I see you." Her voice was soft as she turned her large sea-green eyes upon him, still warm from having gazed upon the precious cargo in her arms.
He was not quick to answer, but careful instead in surveying the miniature features that were so identical to his own. Portraits of his childhood came alive in this boy, this child that was his own.
"His name is fitting, is it not? Our precious, precious son."
The silence of his response puzzled her, so she offered the bundle towards the stoic man and his penetrating scrutiny.
"Would you like to hold him, husband mine?"
She was insignificant. Or so it appeared, when infant and man stared into each other's eyes, charcoal on charcoal.
His pale hands were affixed to his side.
"Astounding," He whispered, and she started at his unexpected voice.
He continued as if prompted by her wordless question, "He takes so much after me."
"He's yours, Salazar. He's your son."
Slowly, so slowly, his arms stretched forward, gentle fingers tucking beneath the small body.
"Papa!"
He twisted towards the voice, arms already retreated and reaching elsewhere.
The budding three-year old toppled against his father's long limbs, giggling ridiculously. Salazar untangled the child from his legs, hoisting the squirming boy—all black hair and emerald eyes—up and against his chest.
"Slytherins do not run," He commanded, a touch too fond.
Viridis beamed fearlessly and burrowed further into his father's robes, pressing his cheek flat above his heart. The warmth that flooded the barren landscape of his chest was unbidden but increasingly familiar the more he spent in the child's presence.
"Indeed," He looked towards his wife and the baby tucked against her chest, "He is my son." In his mind he called the name, the son of his heart, Viridis.
. . .
Viridis stealthily followed the thread of magic he'd snagged onto his mother's magical signature out of the golden and grand foyer where he landed, meandering past the whispering paintings to the end of an airy hallway.
Against all training, he was reckless in this unknown territory, but had sense enough to suppress his magical presence like his father had taught him. His eyes saw nothing of the tasteful décor, none of the richly red tapestries that told stories of Old, and the exotic sculptures traded for from abroad. None of this impressed him, for the Slytherin manor was as equally though subtly vocal about the affluence of its inhabitants.
All his eyes were trained on, foolishly, was the trail of his mother's magic that led him to a door left a hair's width ajar.
He held his breath as he leaned as close to the gap as he dared, almost flinching back when he spied a man standing motionless just a few feet from the entryway.
Tall, Viridis mused, about as tall as his father with an even broader set of shoulders. Where cloth did not cover was golden skin, a thick, tousled blonde mane, and scintillating hazel eyes set in a facial construct of rugged and chiseled features.
Then, the statue parted his lips, "I'm sorry, Rowena. I had not realized it would come to this. If only I had somehow foreseen the misery, the heartache that you and Salazar must feel…."
"You know—you knew even back then how I have always loved you. I just could not bear…Salazar, he and I to one another were truer and more steadfast than brothers." He paused then, swallowing back the pain unearthed by speaking of a friendship gone so awry, "When we both fell for those soft eyes and dazzling smile of yours, I … And Helga fancied me. You know this. You and she are still so close. Such was my reasoning, flawed and cowardly and unfair to you though it was."
Viridis strained to hear more, but there was only quiet, and he stood transfixed in the unbearable silence until the man who he was now certain to be Gryffindor continued.
"My love, you have Viridis and Filius to think about. Are you, for me, willing to forfeit your relationship with your sons? No, of course not – they are all you speak about. You have too much to lose if you would come to me."
My love?
Viridis could not come to terms in his young mind with how this man who was not his father could speak to her in such an intimate way. He clamped his eyes shut, willing his ears to do the same. That man, with his honeyed voice and warm eyes, was so incongruous to his own father. Viridis wanted to hate, hate him so much. So he did.
But in the next instant, digesting his mother's spoken words, he felt….nothing.
"Godric. . . he's. . .he's not. . .he's not Salazar's."
A terrible silence, and then, "Speak true, Rowena. Who's not—"
"He's yours, Godric. He's your son."
The world exploded in his ears, and Viridis heard no more. Desperate to flee and emotions churning in a maelstrom of his relentlessly pounding heartbeat, Viridis vehemently, fervently wished himself away.
The Universe took pity, and within the seconds between one blink and the next, he was gone.
. . .
Salazar paced the length of his study, nigh on panic, his substantial mind working at a furious pace.
When his earlier frustrations with his wife had fizzled to exhaustion, he had gone in search of his boys, certain they'd be digging up trouble and wreaking havoc on the grounds. Administrative details be damned, council meetings could go straight to Hades; all he craved was a moment to watch his sons laugh in their carefree, youthful ways.
Viridis for one never failed to shatter his genetically inflexible expression and excavate a covert smile.
Of course, when his search resulted in one Filius Slytherin with no protective older brother at hand, Salazar felt the cold stirrings of panic coil at the pit of his stomach. Where Viridis went, Filius followed. And when Filius reported that Viridis had minded him to stay by the stables while he retrieved the heirloom box that housed the daggers back in the drawing room, Salazar deduced with dread what Viridis had witnessed.
The past hour had been spent in a frenzied search conducted by house elves, retainers, and all manners of servants, with nothing but mounting panic to show for it.
With no other recourse remaining, Salazar turned resigned eyes towards the fireplace, fingers that had pinched the bridge of his nose subsequently sinking into the floo powder he used to call up an old friend, rekindling a direct floo connection that had been dormant for years.
"Salazar!"
He stymied any pleasantries with a cool, level stare, "Please advise my wife that Viridis has gone missing, and that she is required back at the manor immediately."
The edge in his voice couldn't be helped.
Godric looked alarmed, spared a concerned glance over his shoulder, before giving him a curt nod. Would-be brothers shared a glance.
Salazar immediately disconnected and stalked away towards his desk.
Strong arms braced his body against the edge, impatient fingers drumming without rhythm; he couldn't bring himself to sit down, which was probably fortunate because within the next second, his office door burst off its hinges.
His perpetually soft-spoken, elegant wife stared wild-eyed at him by his doorway, wand aloft and ready.
"I do not understand—how could he be missing? He knows better than to wander off without consent, and the manor's wards are not only impenetrable but would advise of all traffic—"
Both froze, slapped by the vicious hand of memory; of course, the wards were impenetrable to all but the infant that had impossibly found its way in just seven years ago.
"No," Rowena whispered, and she crumbled in complete loss of composure at the unspoken nightmare that Viridis may have disappeared in the same manner he had appeared into their lives.
Salazar felt feverish with desperation as the memory thundered through him. For the first time in his life, he felt lost and without direction.
He needed to think! Merlin, why could he not string coherent words together in his own bloody mind?!
If there ever was a place to commence the search, the training halls would be it.
That was where Viridis first entered his life, and with Merlin's favour where Salazar would find him again. Not a word to Rowena spared, he leapt forward and dashed down the corridor.
"Slytherins do not run"
He sprinted harder, cloak billowing out behind him in an impressive display of ebony silk. Servants pressed themselves against walls, and steadied swaying vases where their master blurred past.
"Ssssssssire of my massssster." Salazar whirled around, stopping so abruptly that magic crackled like visible friction at his feet.
"What speaks?"
"Nagini ssssspeaksss. Nagini knowssssss. Ssssshe sssssmellsssss masssster'ss life pouring from hisssss woundssss"
Salazar felt a thump in his hardened chest. "Point true, snake of my son. Show me to your master."
Nagini darted down the hall at impressive speeds, slithering down the banister to the Main Hall and out onto the grounds. Salazar kept pace, desperate, eager, and desperate some more. His son was still within reach! Throat clogging mawkishly, he realized with dread that the young basilisk was taking him beyond the manor's grounds and in the direction of the wild and unkempt forest at Hogwart's periphery. Amongst the trees in the darkness crept mortal dangers to a child, regardless of how advanced he was for his age. Salazar prayed with all the fervor of a religious man that his son would remain unharmed.
. . .
Rowena was beside herself with worry. She had waited two agonizing hours for her husband to return with their unconscious son nestled tenderly in his arms.
Salazar had only made a vague noise of assurance and a mild comment about Viridis' magical exhaustion from what appeared to be an accidental apparation. In tears and overwhelmed with relief, she had not asked for the details.
Their son was running a low fever and had simply fallen into a profound slumber, but that hadn't stopped the parents from keeping all 12 house-elves and the resident Healer up and scurrying about. Rowena gently retrieved the cloth magicked to keep cool from her son's forehead as she waved her wand over his body to check his vitals. To her chagrin, they had failed to change since the last time she'd checked only a minute prior.
Salazar watched his wife fret over their son, and a bitter smile surfaced on his face. When Viridis entered their lives a little over seven years ago, he had thought the child might be the key to bridging the gap between him and his wife. In a way, events had come to pass as he had hoped. The couple had managed their tenuous relationship thus far due to Viridis.
They had raised the child as their own, mutually concluding that the enigmatic nature of his real heritage would be best discussed after he had matured. For all intents and purposes, Viridis truly was their son, and roughly a year into the borrowed time that Salazar had loaned from Viridis' presence, Filius was born to the couple. By then, he had fooled himself into believing that they could establish a normal, functioning family.
Yet now, seeing their marriage fall into tangible ruin, Salazar had to resign himself to the fact that Rowena was surely going to leave him for Gryffindor as he had always known she would.
He also foresaw that she would want to take Viridis and Filius with her.
Salazar's black eyes flashed at the thought, and he licked his lips before whispering, "Viridis stays with me."
Rowena's eyes flickered up to his stony face, hostile and defensive. "What are you talking about?"
"Is it not obvious? I am referring to the day when you finally leave me for him, Rowena. Dare not even think upon taking away the son whose heart will break as a result of your actions."
There was no real heat to his voice.
"Cease this nonsense, Salazar. I shall not leave you for Godric, and I certainly would not deprive you of your sons as I do." Rowena hissed, her eyes darting frantically to Viridis' peaceful face.
Salazar's scathing reply died in his throat as he felt the approach of the youngest Slytherin, traipsing down the corridor to his brother's room.
He released a shuddering breath in a rare moment of ill composure, and Rowena's attention was already diverted to the small figure in the doorway.
"Is he okay, mama? He was gone all day and no one would tell me where he was." The voice was all child and desperate, riddled with quivers and fears for his brother.
Rowena unfurled her body from her crouch by Viridis' bedside, and reached for her youngest with a weary but reassuring smile. "I'm sorry, Filius. I should have known you were worried. But come now, see how your brother's just sleeping? Speaking of which, it is gravely past the hour for your own slumber."
"But Mama, I want to stay here to make sure he doesn't have nightmares.. Viridis always stays with me when I have them." Filius shuffled forward, but came to an abrupt halt as his father's imposing figure whipped around to face him.
"Obey your mother at once. You will proceed to your own chambers for the night."
Filius hesitated, charcoal grey eyes watering at the admonishment before retreating from the room with a tremulously murmured "Yes, father."
Fury overtook Rowena as she rounded up on her husband, tired eyes renewed with blazing indignation. "Why must you speak to him this way? Can you not see that he only wishes to inquire after his brother?"
"If I do leave you, Salazar, it would be for your own despicable temper and sour disposition," She spat, "I would leave you for the way you treat everyone with frigidity and close your heart to all—even your son who is the spitting image of you!"
"Step off your righteous pedestal! You dare to judge me? At least I have not degraded our vows and what little meaning they have left with dirty, adulterous trysts. It'd be rich of you to blame it all on the unhappiness of our marriage! I proposed, but remember it was you who accepted. You reap what you sow, and you sowed your own misery. I loved you, but you… you.. You should have rejected me Rowena," Salazar's eyes were burning and frigid all at once, pinning her into place, "It had been you with the power to prevent all this, and it was you who chose not to."
Salazar was about to turn away, drained and emptied, when the faint candlelight caught the moisture on Viridis' cheek.
He closed his eyes despairingly, and cursed his inability to have engaged in this argument away from his son's ears.
Viridis had been awake all this time.
Rowena's expression slackened into horror upon identical discovery, and she opened her mouth to call her son. After several soundless attempts, she cleared her throat with uncharacteristic inelegance and spoke, "Viridis – "
The young boy snapped up from under his bed sheets and writhed erratically away from his mother as if he'd been physically struck.
"How could you?" Voice vulnerable and accusing, he demanded, "Why mama, why?"
Emerald eyes that had regarded her with only the utmost adoration had smouldered to an intense forest green so deep, they seemed black. And in that moment, he looked so terrifyingly and utterly Slytherin that Rowena was stunned into silence.
"I hate Gryffindor, and I hate what you've done. Above all, I hate you!" Viridis fled from his room, a silenced father and a sobbing mother rendered shaken in his wake.
. . .
Salazar swallowed back a sigh as he discovered his son perched on the remotest windowsill in the manor's library. Despite his declaration of animosity towards his mother not an hour ago, a brooding Viridis sought solitude by the library's generous bay windows in true Rowena-esque fashion. He had followed the anguished residue of magic his son had left wafting in his wake to this spot. When suitably aggrieved, subtlety was not his boy's forte.
He grimly surveyed Viridis' tear-stained cheeks and the now vacant emerald green eyes that were fixed on the pitch black of the night. Books littered the floor at his foot, the magically secured shelves uprooted and the curtains ripped violently from their frames. Even now, he could feel Viridis' vengeful magic lashing out at his environment. An eyebrow quirked in dark amusement as another shelf groaned, its only warning before it shuddered and collapsed against the nearest wall.
He hadn't wanted it to come to this. Viridis-Filius, too-was never meant to find out, and for obvious reasons. That was why he and Rowena had made an unspoken pact to never breathe Gryffindor's name in their children's presence, but that, he thought with rueful regret, was the very loophole in their plan. Salazar and Rowena had raised Viridis, after all, and it was a gross underestimation of their son's intelligence to think that just by avoiding the name as if it were a plague, the astute boy would not uncover the source of tension behind their arguments.
"Viridis," He said in what he hoped was a placating tone. He cleared his throat. Rowena usually dealt with this sort of thing.
Father and son ignored the house elf surreptitiously relocating priceless paintings and other valuable and vulnerable items, in case master senior decided to contribute to his son's wreckage.
Salazar approached with a silent sigh, bringing up a hesitating hand to brush away the jet black bangs that were falling into the ever mercurial, swirling jade eyes. Charcoal met emerald and father and son held each other in deep, sincere regard.
"I'm sorry."
Surprisingly, it wasn't Salazar's voice that delivered the message he was feeling down to the very core of his being: it was the son who had uttered the apology, and the father who was momentarily floored by the insanity of the situation. Had he been the type, Salazar would've been spluttering.
"No, Viridis. It is I who should be that. What happened between me and your mother has nothing to do with you," he grasped Viridis' shoulders earnestly.
"I know that, father. I'm just sorry that...that mama-that mother-hurt you."
For the first time in his adult life, Salazar Slytherin allowed his eyes to unabashedly flood with tears, and for the last time in his life, Viridis Slytherin sobbed like the child that he was into his father's arms.
. . .
End of Chapter 3...
Apologies for what seems like an abrupt, non-cliffhangerish ending. I've the fourth chapter in the works, believe it or not. Most of you are most likely on the "not" side of the opinion poll, judging by my uploading track record. This line of talk is making me awfully sheepish, so I'm going to end off, as I always do, with a preview...Not.
;)
I'm cruel; I'm evil. Deal with it.
However, review and DO get a preview! Anonymous reviewers can give me your emails (if you should be so desperate enough, which I doubt anyone will be, but the option's there if you'll have it).
I promised y'all I'd finish this baby, and I always keep my promises.