They met at Hogwarts at six in the morning. No one had had their tea yet, so there wasn't much love. Fortunately, the Headmistress was a thoughtful soul, and had a cuppa prepared for the group in her office. Ron was particularly sullen - even moreso when the Malfoys produced their own charmed tent.
Arms crossed, he glared at Draco. "Too good to bivouak with the likes of us, Malfoy?"
Draco crossed his legs, casually sipped his Earl Grey. "In a word? Yes."
"You fucking -"
"Ronald Weasley!" McGonagall snapped fire. "Watch your mouth! This is still an institute of learning and the office of Albus Dumbledore!"
"Sorry, Headmistress. To you, anyway." He chewed his third scone.
"I think this works out quite nicely," Hermione attempted to defuse the situation. "This way, we can have ladies in one tent and gents in another. It will be a nice change for me."
"Er…" Narcissa looked uncertainly at Draco. She was already dreadfully uncomfortable in breeches. Insult had clearly been added to injury.
"Or," Draco offered helpfully, "we can have Malfoys in their clearly superior tent, and mudblood hairballs, four eyed gits and unfortunate ginger blood traitors in the lesser one."
"Draco!" This admonishment from both McGonagall and Narcissa, though Narcissa was attempting to hide a smile. Attempting.
"Look." Harry turned away from Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. "We have to make this work. I don't care who sleeps where. But I can't tolerate all this nattering and insult throwing. Can't we have...a truce?"
Draco made a face of genial acceptance, nodded. "Very well. I can keep my witty and appropriate insults to myself if the ginger can keep his freckled face shut."
"Oy!" The ginger shouted.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.
Narcissa touched Draco's arm. "Please, darling."
"Forgive me, mum." He'd never looked so sincere.
"I don't envy you, Harry." McGonagall tutted. She turned to Hermione. "You have the map details plotted out?"
"I think so," Granger said. She pulled her notebook. "According to legend, we'll start seeing the mist when we're close. The thicker it gets, the closer we are. I've also modified a point me charm, but… I don't know how reliable it will be now."
"I've got a compass!" Ron announced.
"Congratulations," Draco replied. Narcissa pinched his elbow. "Ow!"
"We should go," Harry muttered. "Before any members of our party kill each other." He looked pointedly at Draco.
"Firenze will see you through the Forbidden Forest," Minerva said. "Not that there's much threat during the day, but… Just in case."
"Spiders," Ron said. He looked a bit glazed over.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley." She patted his shoulder affectionately. "Spiders."
Draco shouldered the Malfoys' overlarge rucksack. It seemed their lightening and shrinking charms were holding up rather well, though Hermione suspected that was a product of Narcissa's peculiar magic. She was strangely fascinated by this aspect of the older witch, and yes - surprised. But she kept commentary to herself, sensing the strong reluctance in their stony faced companion.
For her part, Hermione carried her beaded bag, confident that it held all their absolute essentials, and left the handling of the tent to Ron or Harry. She'd hoped to see Hagrid on their way across the grounds, but school seemed relatively deserted this early in the morning. At the edge of the forest, Firenze stood waiting.
The centaur looked for all the world like a sentinel. His sleek, noble body quivered while his handsome face held greeting. "Harry Potter," he intoned as they approached. "And your brave companions."
"Hello, Firenze." They shared a firm handshake. "I hear you worked on the prophecy. Needless to say I have complete faith in all the calculations."
"I thank you." The magical creature possessed a rich baritone. He openly stared at Narcissa, who glanced away self-consciously. "The white witch. I would have known upon first glance."
"Oh?" Hermione stared openly now, as well, grateful for the excuse. "How so?"
Firenze smirked. "Beautiful to look upon. Deadly when crossed."
Narcissa smirked back. She rather liked the sound of all that.
"Or when interrupted in her bath," Draco added. She pinched him again. "Ow, mum! Damn."
"Deadly," she reminded him.
"Nearly half a day's trek through the pass," Firenze announced, turning. "But patrols are out to keep any dangers at bay. Let's go."
The pass was by far the prettiest part of the forest the trio had never seen. Leaves on all the trees were beginning to turn and fall, creating occasional showers of color. As the sun rose, dew glistened diamonds and birds magical and not began to sing. "In this place, it's easy to forget magic is waning," Hermione commented.
"Not so." Firenze replied. "Or not for forest dwellers, I should say. There is a significant decline in magical creatures here. Even the pixies and doxies are falling off drastically. And we haven't seen a unicorn in weeks now."
Narcissa frowned. "Where do they go?" She asked.
"They die, white witch." Firenze turned to her. "In ancient days, there were many like you. They lent their magic to the land. To the creatures that dwelled there. Symbiosis. But after the Great Division of magical and muggle, the elemental witches disappeared. Murdered. Or gone into hiding. Some simply chose to forget their power."
"Oh." She looked at the ground. Spoke so the rest of the milling group wouldn't hear her. "Can their power...leave them?"
His big body shifted. Hooves unsettled crinkling leaves as he leaned toward her. "You fear you've lost the very thing they've sought you for."
She could have wept with relief. With the knowledge that something - someone - understood. "Yes," she whispered.
The centaur righted. Laughed loudly. It was a bass rumble. "Fear not, tiny thing. This whole forest feels the energy within you. I certainly do." He slapped at his chest. "Magic knows magic. And the earth we spring from… It calls you back. Come." He nudged her toward the bickering group a few yards away. "You'll know what to do when the time comes. In fact, I believe you already do."
And she did. Her son caught her eyes as they approached, made a rude gesture to Weasley's turned back. She tried hard to smile.
The bickering continued long after they'd left the forest's boundaries. "Are you sure this is the right direction?"
"Yes, Ron. I'm certain. The point me charm is working fine."
"But what if it isn't? What if we just think it is?"
"My feet hurt already."
Narcissa scratched at her thighs. The practical breeches she'd chosen to wear were rubbing. "Don't complain, Draco. It's unbecoming."
"Yeah, Malfoy. Shut it."
"You shut it, Weasel. I don't even know why you're here."
"I'm a hero of olde, you pasty git. Why are you here?"
"Both of you stop!" Hermione scratched at her temple. "You're giving me a migraine. We're all here for a reason. The prophecy called for it."
"I don't recall it saying anything along the lines of 'bring a sallow, sullen twat with nothing nice to say about anyone.'"
"Insult my son once more, Mr. Weasley, and I shall gladly let magic die for all eternity before I let your kind bastardise it another damned day." Narcissa was mistress of the threat. Weasley backed down. "And Draco?" She added quietly to her son. "Stop sinking to his level." Draco backed down, too.
"Ron, stop letting him goad you," Hermione said with a sigh. She consulted her map frequently. Held her wand aloft occasionally for a reading. Hours passed with relative peace. All seemed well enough, but daylight was waning. "I'm getting hungry."
"Me, too." Harry stopped. Scanned the area. "This looks like a good place for a camp. How was our progress today?"
"About 30 miles." Hermione folded her map. "Not bad, but that's with all our charms working well and no significant breaks. I can't guarantee that sort of progress every day."
"True." Potter began rifling through their rucksack. "And nice weather withstanding. Looks a bit cloudy on the horizon. Plus I think we could all use a couple of breaks here and there."
"Pick a spot, mother." Draco was glad to drop his load. Even with lightening charms it was heavy enough. His shoulder ached and feet throbbed.
"This is fine, darling." It was an isolated little clearing with a bit of canopy. Narcissa's feet hurt, too, and she was hungry. In no mood for real estate hunting. And grudgingly she could accept the safety in numbers rule. She watched as Draco set about erecting their tent. It was easy. A scale model of a thing that bulged to life-size with a wand flick. Similar to, if larger than, the tent Potter and crew were currently enlarging. They spent very little time organising camp before they surrendered to rest.
Harry made his way over to where the Malfoys sat on a mossy log. "We're going to prepare a bit of supper. If you'd like to join us."
Draco and Narcissa looked at each other. Narcissa, keen to keep peace and make this trip as tolerable as possible, gestured to their bag. "We shall share," she said.
"As you wish, mother." Draco's expression read dread, but he dove into the seemingly bottomless sack anyway.
The trio looked up from their crackling fire in mild surprise when the Malfoys approached. But Harry was quick to enlarge two extra camp chairs. Narcissa offered up a China dish. "I brought dessert," she said. "Mousse."
Draco also balanced a covered silver tray. "And this is um…"
"Lamb." She prompted.
"Lamb," he finished. They stood awkwardly holding the platters.
"Lamb? Mousse?" Hermione asked. "Seriously?"
Cissa bristled. "Is there something wrong with lamb and mousse?"
Harry was chuckling, shaking his head. "Not a thing. We er...we have beans."
"Excellent!" Narcissa forced a smile. "Protein." She pulled her wand and with a wave their trays levitated smoothly. Draco pulled plates from his rucksack and soon, the awkward group was eating like kings from fine China around a modest fire.
"I hope red appeals." Narcissa said, producing a bottle of wine from their magical sack. "If not, I believe there's a Sauvignon blanc in here somewhere…"
"Red is fine!" Harry grinned. Ron shook his head and Hermione could no longer contain her own laughter.
"Draco, where are the glasses?"
"Um. I didn't bring any."
"No glasses?" Narcissa huffed. "How provincial."
"I'm not above sharing a bottle," Hermione smiled. Narcissa looked slightly green at the thought, but popped the cork just the same. She even took the first swig. Handed the bottle to Granger next. "To Avalon," the girl toasted.
"To Avalon." The group echoed unharmoniously. And after a few rounds of the Malfoy bottle, the golden trio was snickering.
"What's so funny?" Draco asked, defense raising his dragon scales.
"Just...camping with Malfoys, I guess," Hermione answered.
"We don't camp," Narcissa said, wiping daintily with a serviette.
"You told me." Harry rose. "I think there's some coffee in the tent. I'll get it. For...dessert."
"I like mousse," Ron attempted geniality.
Narcissa gave the Weasley an undisguised once-over. "I would never have guessed."
"Yeah." Ron shrugged. "Fast metabolism."
"Mmm." Narcissa nodded. "Draco, darling? Get another bottle."
Bellies were full. Mousse was devoured. Firelight flickered on faces relaxed by wine. The campsite smelled pleasantly of burning wood and brewed coffee. Ron sipped noisily. Narcissa cringed every time.
Of course it was Granger who couldn't simply accept the quietude. "So. Have you two never camped before?"
"Not like this." Draco waved at the trees and possibly a bug. "I mean, at the Quidditch Cup. Doesn't that count?"
"I've seen your tent at the Quidditch Cup," Harry said. "No, it doesn't count."
"Huh." Draco leaned back in his camp chair. "Nice view." They all looked up. The stars were bright above them. They stared peacefully for a while. Narcissa felt Draco's gaze on her profile. Tried to ignore it.
"Can I ask a question?" Ron demanded suddenly. Lazily, the companions regarded him. "Does anyone really know what we're supposed to do when we get to Avalon? I mean, all this talk about dragons and all. Is it going to be like the Goblet tournament?"
"Doubtful, Ron." Hermione answered. "Don't you know the legend of the dragon? Of the god and goddess?"
"The Great Dragon, yeah." He made a rather good dragon shadow puppet against the white canvas of their tent. "He's at the center of the earth. But what does he have to do with the god and goddess? Aren't they separate myths?"
"Not myths." Narcissa insisted, annoyed. "Doesn't anyone at Hogwarts teach the children about the old magic?"
"Not really," Hermione admitted grudgingly. She looked at Ron. "The god and goddess… They sort of control the flow of magic. Direct it. In conjunction with the seasons. See, in the spring, the goddess is fertile. She and the god...conceive a child together."
"Right. Everyone gets preggers in spring." Ron nodded.
Granger rolled her eyes, saw Narcissa watching her expectantly. "Well. In the summer, they languish. And in the fall, they make the harvest. The god dies, and in the winter, the goddess rests until she gives birth. Then it all happens again. In a nutshell."
"Quite a nutshell," Narcissa groused.
"But...if the god dies, how does it happen again?"
"The goddess gives birth to him," Hermione explained as if this was everyday knowledge.
Ron's forehead creased. "So...the god is the goddess'...son?"
Granger waved a hand. "Technically."
"So he fucks his mum?!" Ron groaned. "That's disgusting."
Narcissa shifted uncomfortably.
"Disgusting if it's your mum, Weasley," Draco stated.
"Don't insult my mother!" Ron rose from his seat. Hermione grabbed at him. "She's a better witch than you'll ever know. I think how she handled your aunt attests to that fact."
"Ronald!" Hermione shouted. Even Harry was standing for damage control, realising Ron had gone too far. "Calm down, mate," he urged.
Draco's eyes narrowed, but he remained in his seat. "I'm not about to begin comparing lineage with you Weasley. After all, my family basically made yours. And now it looks like we can break it just as easily."
"Without magic we're all broken, you selfish fuck," Ron spat, shrugging off Harry's hold. "And if my wand wasn't nearly useless right now, I'd show you the better lineage."
"Enough!" Hermione snapped. Everything was going so well…
"Perhaps I'll take you up on that offer after my mother restores that magic, Weasley." Draco had the capacity to make 'Weasley' sound like a profanity.
"Stop it now." Calmly, Narcissa ended the entire confrontation. She stood gracefully. "Draco. Go to our tent, please. I'll be along soon." She watched him walk to their tent, caught his hurt glance before he passed through the flap. She sighed, and turned to the remaining group. "I'll make no excuses for my son's behaviours. Or my own. We are...unaccustomed to company. And I will confess I'm uncertain and reluctant in this endeavour. Please, give us some time."
The trio was quiet in reply, absorbing her words. She walked through a copse of trees nearby and disappeared into the darkness. Hermione rubbed her temples. "Amazingly eloquent, really. I must say she's a well-spoken witch."
"You mean bitch," Ron muttered.
"Don't." Harry scowled. "Don't say that. She's probably the saviour of magic. And I doubt highly she wants to be doing this. I know the feeling." He stood, too. Made to follow Narcissa, then turned back to his companions. "Stop with Draco. No more teasing."
Ron bowed. "He bloody starts it!" Hermione rubbed at his arm to calm him.
"I don't care who starts it!" Harry sighed. "If you don't respond, he will lose interest. And perhaps we can all learn to...get along. For magic's sake." He heard his friends talking when he left them. Heard Ron's defensive whinge and Hermione's gentle placation. She was good with Ron. She would handle him.
Harry stumbled upon the white witch nearly literally. He'd tripped over a fallen tree and rolled down an embankment into a stony clearing. When he stood, dusting himself off, he saw her staring at him. "Hi," he said awkwardly. "I was um…"
She was sitting on a stump by a shrunken creek. The bed of it was moist in the moon's glow, but its flow was diminished to a trickle. "Can I help you, Mr. Potter?"
"I just wanted to check on you." He gestured up the embankment. "Dangerous around here. We should stay close to the camp. And - you know - together."
"We are close to the camp," she defended. "And I managed to avoid any dangers during my wandering."
He came to stand near her. She was staring into the little pool of water, chin on drawn up knees. "Are you afraid?"
She cast him a very annoyed glance. "What is there to be afraid of, Potter? We aren't even certain of our purpose yet. Much less what we have to fear."
He nodded. "You're right. But I didn't know any of that, either. And I was afraid."
"You were afraid of Voldemort," she corrected. "Of Tom Riddle. Of Death. And yes, then I was afraid, too. But this is different. This is Avalon. The home of magic. Why should I fear that?"
She had a point. And after all… "Well. You did lie to the Dark Lord's face. And I suppose anyone capable of that is capable of...whatever waits at Avalon." Harry looked back to the camp. He didn't see her pained expression flicker. "You should get some rest. Hermione will be kicking us awake before light. Good night."
He was a few feet away before she spoke. "Mr. Potter." He stopped. "You spoke of me as a heroine at our trials. There is a difference between desperation and bravery."
He didn't look back at her. "Is there?" The parting shot left her blinking. Thinking.
Draco was awake when she returned to their dark tent. He was standing over a trunk, shirtless and in sleep pants. She looked away for a moment, but felt his stare, his hurt. "I'm sorry I scolded you," she said softly. "But we really must try, darling."
"I know." His wand lit a charmed candle and the tent glowed brightly. "I'm sorry, too. Old habits, I guess."
She smiled. "Well. Weasley is an idiot. But he must have some purpose."
"Comic relief?"
She gave him a genuine laugh. Took his face in her hands. "Perhaps." He was handsome in the candle's light. So damned grown…
He took her hands from his face and held them. "You're cold, mum."
"It's fine." He caressed her fingers and she drew them away. "I'll warm up in bed. Which we should visit soon. I'm informed we'll leave before dawn."
"Joy," Draco groused. He watched her make way to her portion of the tent. It was curtained off into 'rooms.' "Good night, mother."
She turned, already untucking her cotton blouse. "Good night, dragon."
His forehead creased as her curtain closed behind her. The endearment piqued something in his brain he couldn't quite pinpoint. He took up the candle, and opened his own curtain.
AN: Again my history of magic lesson is a bit of an amalgamation. Concepts of the God and Goddess vary even among followers of the olde religions today. Various sects honour various origins. I tried to stay general so as to encompass as many beliefs as possible. I want this story to be easily relative. (Pardon the pun.) Hope you're still enjoying. Or at least tolerating. Let me know.
