Chapter Four - Closer

December 2000

The Malfoys were hosting a festive Christmas banquet for all the Death Eaters and their families. The mansion was decorated in white and glittering silver, like an elegant winter wonderland: fairies and enchanted snowflakes and huge decorated pine trees in the foyer and even the damn albino peacocks had diamond collars. He never cared for the festivities and ostentatious decorations around the holidays, but someone always insisted on hosting. Lucius reminded him of Albus excessively decorating Hogwarts around the holidays...the orphanage was much more somber in contrast.

As fiancé to one of the Death Eaters, Tonks was invited as well, the only Auror to ever attend or be invited to one of the Death Eater events. He was curious how she and his Death Eaters would handle it… as Severus's chosen, she was one of them, and yet she was also an Auror and a true member of the Order….

While he was seated at the place of honor at the end of the table, Severus and his betrothed were sitting beside him. He noticed Tonks received a few stares and pointed comments, but she just brushed it off with a smile and wave of her hand or a tilt of her martini glass, or an, "I'm off duty. I'm just here as Severus's fiancé. Happy Christmas Aunt Bella!"

A few drinks and a champagne toast later, the conversation turned to karma, of all things. "Now me," Tonks said, gesturing at herself with a champagne flute, "I'm a big believer in karma. You do something good for someone, something good happens to you. You do something bad, and something bad happens to you."

"Nonsense – that's just morals imposed on the masses to maintain order in society," he remembered saying.

"It works," she insisted. "See here – years ago, Auror Eli Whiting was stationed in Azkaban down the block with some of your Death Eaters, and trying to get his graveyard shift covered so he could celebrate his 30th wedding anniversary with the wifey. No one else wanted to cover it so I volunteered. Needed the overtime pay to pay off my Auror training loans, anyway. Meanwhile, the Ministry decided that with Lucius in Azkaban, maybe they could finally seize his dark objects for once. For some reason they decided to send me this time. Now, most Aurors go in wand-ablazing, tear down the front door, "you're under arrest," etc. I just knocked on the door and said something along the lines of, 'Aunt Narcissa, I'm here on Ministry business I'm afraid. They can't keep avoiding Lucius's collection of dark objects.' She kindly led me to the basement so I could take them back to the Ministry for disposal."

She paused. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Voldemort, Severus, and a few nearby Death Eaters listening intently. She finished her glass of champagne and continued, "While I was there, I noticed that she was really sad… must've been lonely in the huge manor without her husband. I told her that I was covering Eli's shift the following night, and asked if she wanted to come along, and see Lucius. Not exactly permitted, but with my good friend Harry's special cloak, no one would know the difference. So the Malfoy elves fixed up some things for him, and I smuggled Narcissa into his cell for the night - we even cast a few charms to make it more hospitable for that night. Us Aurors are allowed to use a Patronus charm to keep away the Dementors… so I stood stationed outside Lucius's cell, and in the morning, brought Narcissa back home. She left him a photo of herself and a lock of hair… So Tonks does a favor to the Whitings and the Malfoys, and gets a big bonus at work for retrieving all the Malfoys' dark objects, and an anonymous benefactor paid off all of her Auror student loans. So in the end, everyone was happy. Well, everyone except Harry once he found out I used his cloak to arrange a conjugal visit for Lucius."

Voldemort smirked.

"Ah well, can't please everybody," she mused. "By the way, Uncle Lucius?" she called. "I'm assuming that was you who paid off my Auror loans…? I never got the chance to thank you - Thank you so much!"

He raised his wineglass and winked.

"Hey!" McNair roared down the table. "You never arranged me a conjugal visit when I was in Azkaban!"

"A visit with who?" Tonks shouted back. "Your right hand?" The table roared with laughter and a few Death Eaters banged on the table.

"I like her," Voldemort said to Severus, watching with amusement. "Pity she's an Auror." He turned to Tonks. "So when's the wedding date?"

She frowned. "The Ministry turned down our license, said Aurors and Death Eaters couldn't get married. Something about a conflict of interest. Who knew? So anyway, I've been working on a petition… I need a thousand signatures for them to reverse their decision."

Before Severus could stop her, she pulled the long rolled parchment out of her pocket. "I've been carrying it around everywhere I go," she explained. He glanced it over… there were members of the Order, the Ministry, Hogwarts staff, and some names he didn't recognize – former students of Severus's, perhaps. Or random strangers, even. Some had even written comments such as, "The Ministry is overstepping their bounds" or "Maybe a loving wife to come home to will make ole Snape hand out less detentions - if he's still teaching." She still had a couple hundred signatures left to go.

He conjured a quill, signed it, and passed it down the table. "You're good for Severus…he seems much happier with you as a mate," he murmured. "He looks healthier. I haven't heard as many acerbic remarks to my Death Eaters. He smiles more." He glanced at Severus, who was deep in conversation with Avery.

"Speaking of mates, any sign of yours?" Lucius asked. "The Granger girl?"

"Sadly, no," Voldemort said lightly.

"Pity," Lucius drawled, and brushed a stray blond hair out of his face.

"One can only hope," Voldemort said with a toothy smile, not meaning it at all.

…

That was almost ten years ago… interesting, where the idle mind wandered. He had always dismissed love as frivolous and a sign of weakness, but Severus did seem much happier with Tonks, and Lucius was happier with Narcissa… The Granger girl was either dead or in hiding, as far as he knew… he hadn't seen her since, and didn't care to see her again.

Sensing Marcela's gaze, he watched her… She was writing furiously in a journal, flipping to the previous page, and kept glancing up at him, and every so often stopped to suck on the end of her quill.

"What are you writing?" he asked.

"As a healer, I like to a keep a log of any unusual or difficult treatments for patients, carefully documenting it for future use. I've published a few in different medical journals – so other healers can benefit from it. Patients' names changed of course, for privacy."

He nodded. "So you're writing in there about me?"

"More specifically, your condition. What you were diagnosed with, how I'm treating you. Specifically the Nerve-Growth potion, as it's largely an untested experimental potion. Writing in detail how I made the potion and any progress you have."

"Untested?" he said, in a higher voice than usual.

"By MHO standards," she said. "The Magical Healer Organization is rather strict. There's been preliminary, promising trials and case studies, but given the temperamental nature, its complexity, and harmful effects if brewed incorrectly...there's hundreds of steps involved..."

"Which reminds me," she said. "You're due for another dose." She summoned the potion and poured it into a conjured goblet. "Remember to direct your magic to that same spot in your neck," she said. "Ready?" He nodded, and she gave him the potion. She checked his pulse in his extremities, and asked him to see if he could move his arms, his fingers, his legs, and his toes. Nothing. She squeezed each of his fingers and toes to see if he could feel it. Nothing. She cast another stasis charm on the potion and vanished it to the lab.

"And you're sure you brewed it right...?" he asked.

She crossed her arms. "Yes. Trust me."

"What about giving me your blood – that's highly unorthodox…"

"Indeed. I wrote several feet on that – as it is a life-saving procedure, and stressed the fact that no, it's not dark magic, it's common in the muggle world, and wrote about the importance of checking for disease first, and making sure the blood types are compatible."

"I still feel uncomfortable with it… so much of your blood running in my veins…" he shuddered.

She gave him an exasperated look. "What, I have girly cooties and they'll infect you and you'll start wearing pink and flirting with boys and getting your nails done?"

He barked a laugh at that. "You do know there's an older form of magic to return spilled blood back into the patient…?" he asked.

"Your blood was all muddied with the spilled engine oil and antifreeze and who knows what else…it would've poisoned you!"

"What else is in that journal of yours?" he asked, changing the subject.

"There's one procedure I'm working on that would make the faster-acting potions metabolize slower."

"How? Potions masters have tried that in the past, only to have either the subject overdose, or, the potion was made so weak it wasn't very effective. Look at what happened to Sir Gobsworth when he tried to make a Strengthening potion that lasted longer than a couple of hours – the potion was so concentrated he was strong enough he broke his mistress in half, and contracted liver and kidney failure."

"Ah – but that's because he assumed he could just triple the Gryffin muscle strings, dump it in the potion, and call it a day. Thought if he took three times as much, at the start, it would last three times longer. Of course it has an exponential effect, and would hit the body all at once."

"So what's your solution then?" he asked.

"Muggles have devised a way of taking a medicine that's metabolized fast by the body. Genius, really, in its simplicity. Design a pill with an exterior hard enough that the body can't digest it. The medicine goes inside, and is released through a tiny hole in the pill."

His eyes widened. "Like sand going through an hourglass?" She nodded. "What happens to the shell if the body can't digest it?"

"Comes out the other side," she said, simply.

"Ah," he said. "Theoretically, that would work. But how do you plan to reduce a potion to a size that can fit in a reasonably-sized capsule? Any excess heat- boiling off the water, for instance, will disable the enzymes. And forget a sieve – the ingredients are usually dissolved in the water."

"In that case," she said. "I plan to use a dessicator." At his blank expression, she continued. "It's a muggle chemical, used in such situations. If every potion molecule bonds to say, twenty water molecules, then your active ingredients in the potion can be separated from all that water. Really brings down the size."

"You really seem to be pushing the muggle methods," he observed.

"Well," she said. "My coworkers may have been hesitant at first, but now they see how magic and muggle medicine can work well together, and accomplish more than trying the same thing over and over. I'm trying to think outside the box here, find new solutions to common problems."

"Some may not approve of you using muggle technology," he said in a low voice.

She frowned at his tone and crossed her arms. "Need I remind you, you would be a corpse in the dirt right now, save for me pressing on your heart and breathing air into your lungs. That's a muggle technique – CPR. There is no equivalent in the wizarding world."

He blinked. In a tight, high voice, he said, "I...I died?"

"You stopped breathing and your heart stopped. So yes. And with muggle methods, I was able to bring you back to life."

He didn't say anything the rest of the day.

She was a little worried when he didn't eat dinner that night.

"Stay with me," he said quietly, when she tucked him in that night and turned off the light. He didn't think she heard, but she returned a few minutes later, wearing that same silk nightgown. His mouth went dry. He watched as she slid in the bed behind him and slipped her arm around him.

"I felt that," he said softly. She raised his hand higher on his chest, until he said he was numb again, and then towards his left side until he couldn't feel it, to his right, and then down towards his waist. "It's working," he said.

She tightened her arm around his chest, and he fell asleep.

…

"Do you not have house elves that could do such menial work for you?"

The dishes paused their washing and the mop stopped washing the floor. She turned around slowly, and put her hands on her hips.

"Even if I could afford a house elf I wouldn't buy one. It's slave labor. They deserve freedom."

He barked out laughter. "They enjoy serving us – why it's a shame you don't have any." She pursed her lips.

"Think about it," he said. "They enjoy serving us. It makes them happy. They are not doing it against their will, and they are not doing it because they are forced to. So it's not slavery. More like... volunteerism, or altruism. Or a symbiotic relationship – they take care of witches and wizards, who provide them food and shelter."

"It's brainwashing," she said. "They've been raised that way by magicfolk, and don't know how to live differently," she said flatly.

"We live in a society and culture that ingrains norms and expectations in you... from birth. Did society 'brainwash' you into wearing clothes and shoes? Paying for goods and services with bits of metal? Waiting in line for things? Bathing on a regular basis? Does it feel wrong if you or someone else doesn't follow these... rules?"

"That's a really interesting point," she said. "I um...never thought of it that way..." she said, fingering a lock of hair. "Even little things – I never understood the tradition of having cake on your birthday or a tree in the living room for Christmas, but it feels weird not to have it. I've had nightmares of being in public naked..."

"So, would you consider yourself brainwashed?" he asked.

"No...," she said, although she sounded uncertain, even to herself.

"Why would you call it a nightmare of being in public naked? Everyone knows what a naked woman looks like," he pointed out.

"In the nightmare I feel... humiliated, like everyone is staring at me and pointing, and I can't leave without more people seeing me."

"I've heard it's a common nightmare. But what if you were in a women's changing room? A healer's office? In a lover's bed? Posing in an artist's studio?"

"That's different," she said. "Although, I would feel uncomfortable posing for a male artist."

"Now we're narrowing down from social norms to gender norms. Why?"

"Men can feel...predatory. Why does this artist insist on painting female nudes? If it's about the beauty of the human figure, why not paint a male nude?"

"Women are beautiful. Men are just... hairy and lumpy and smell bad and start fights. It's a wonder your gender puts up with us."

She sniggered. "You're handsome – your dark eyes, flowing hair, golden skin, muscles, bone structure..."

He looked uncomfortable. Handsome... if only she knew how I really looked – she'd probably run. I used to be good looking...

"So tell me... what sort of research brings you to these parts?" she asked, changing the subject.

"The ancient Mayan priests. I've been searching for old and forgotten magic for years, researching old civilizations – the ancient Greek priestesses and so forth."

"What makes you think the Mayans had magic?" she asked. "I know they were an advanced civilization but…"

"I've been studying the priests. Besides human sacrifice, reading, writing, and communicating with their supposed deities, they also practiced astrology, divination, and prophecy. They were healers, herbalists, curers, divined things through dreams or trance, and the position was usually hereditary, passed on to sons or close relatives."

Her eyes went round. "So either they were showmen, astronomers and medicine-men, or maybe they were seers, brewing potions, casting charms..." she murmured. He nodded.

"Have you talked to the modern-day Mayans?" she asked, excited. "Maybe they know something, passed down from generation to generation!" Her eyes lit up.

"Not yet," he said. "I was on my way to the temples when I met you. Thought I'd start there, see what I can find. Old relics, ghosts, magical signatures, magical imprints, things of that nature."

"That's not too far from here!" she said. "I'll go with you!" She felt her stomach flutter with excitement.

"We should go at night," he said. "There's lots of tourists during the day, and the temples are closed off to visitors. We'll have to sneak in."

"This is exciting!" she said. "I told work I had a family emergency and had to take some time off, never thought I'd be sneaking into the pyramids!"

"Family emergency?" he repeated.

"It was the best excuse I could think of that would permit me several months off. It was either that or take you to the hospital with me, and they'd be forced to report me for vehicular assault once they found out what happened to you. Seemed easier this way. No legal trouble, no jeopardizing my license or my career…" she said, turning red with guilt.

"Indeed," he said. Vehicular assault… I've done a lot worse than that… Hey, she thinks like a Slytherin…a Gryffindor would've turned themselves in, no doubt.

That night found them in her repaired car driving down a gravel road in the jungle to the temples. He still couldn't move his limbs so she brought the carpet in the trunk.

"You ever wonder if reality is different than how you perceive it?" he asked.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. Does he know who I really am? I know he's from England... did I give myself away commenting on house-elves? Does he have ties to Voldemort's side? What if he notifies Voldemort? Is Bella still after me? What would Voldemort do if he saw me? Oh gods… "What do you mean?" she said slowly.

"It's interesting, how your coffee cup appears to be stationary, even though to someone standing on the ground, it would appear to be moving about 80 kilometers an hour. But the Earth is traveling around the sun at 108,000 kilometers per hour..."

She exhaled with relief. "And the solar system is moving around the galaxy at 828,000 kilometers per hour, which is moving through the universe... How do you know so much about Einstein's Theory of Relativity?"

"I told you...I was raised by muggles, and read a lot. Especially during the long boring summers after… after the school year ended. Can't very well read Advanced Potionmaking in front of muggles."

She laughed. "I suppose not." She turned on to a winding dirt road. "I'm the same way," she said. "'Know-it-all,' they called me. Or 'bookworm.'"

"Nothing wrong with that," he said. "I've been called it too. So speaking of obscure theories, what are your thoughts on Gliny the Elder's Magical Field Theory?" he said.

"I think he has a point with magic actually being in waves, and constructing his spectrum of magical frequencies and wavelengths. Look at how haywire electricity goes around...magical establishments," she said. I almost said Hogwarts. Have to watch that. I don't want to have to answer any questions about my past…. He's so easy to talk to… "The Wizarding Wireless Network and radios even interfere with each other if you put them close together."

So she is from England!, he thought. I almost said Hogwarts earlier. Have to be careful. I don't want to invite any questions about myself…. the wizarding world is too small as it is. Out loud, he said, "I always assumed magic energy was a superior force to gravity, static charge, or magnetism. A levitating charm or 'Mobilicorpus' obviously goes against gravity, and a summoning charm seems to react pretty similar to the magnetic attraction between opposite poles."

"I always thought magic was manipulating the physical forces," she said. "'Mobilicorpus' manipulating the polarity of the subject and the ground beneath it."

"Possibly," he said, but he looked doubtful. "Or what about a Color-changing charm? Is magic changing the properties of the subject so it only reflects back the desired color? Or is it an illusion?"

When's the last time I was able to have an intellectual conversation with somebody? she thought. With him, I can discuss healing methods, experiments, sociology, how a car works, obscure physics theories, we're on our way to search for forgotten magic... he seems to read anything written down, just like I do! I don't care what that goddamn prophecy says, I found my soulmate.

They arrive at the gates of the Tikal National Park. She pulled the car off to the side, and turned the headlights off. "We're here," she said.

Once she had him out of the car and on the carpet, she cast a disillusionment charm on the car and themselves. By tugging the edge of the carpet, she was able to pull him beside her. There were several pyramids.

"That one," he said, pointing to an old ruin off to the side that practically hummed with magic… it made her hairs stand on end. She climbed up the steps, guiding the carpet beside her. The entrance was high above the treetops. With a wave of her wand she opened the steel grate door and they stepped inside.

"Lumos," she whispered. They followed a long passageway into the bowels of the pyramid, carefully checking any rooms. Most of it seemed pretty empty- no doubt by the Mayans themselves, or Conquistadores, or archaeologists.

"Shine your wand over there," he said. "At eight o'clock." There was writing etched on the walls. She ran her hand over it, and felt magical sparks jump to her hand. They looked at each other, and back at the writing. She pressed her hand to it, and the wall vanished, revealing a cavernous passageway. They looked at each other, and she could see his eyes light up, same as hers. Gingerly, they walked down the passageway, torches lighting themselves as they passed. Spiders scurried from the light.

The passageway opened up into a room illuminated by torchlight, Mayan writing etched on the walls. Mayan gold and what looked like dusty potions and herbs rested on a stone table, and a dusty skeleton lay in the corner. "Wow," he murmured.

In the center on a pedestal was a large parchment tightly spooled in a holder. She glanced at him, and gently poked it with her wand – magic sparks flew to it, but nothing more. She gingerly poked it, stroked it with her finger, and when nothing happened, unfurled it. She pulled the carpet so he could read it too. It was all Mayan, but by tapping it with her wand, the writing rearranged itself into English.

He drew a sharp intake of breath. "It's... it's old spells," he murmured. "Very old spells... or incantations, as the author wrote."

She moved her finger down the parchment. "Look... it looks like a... potion of some kind..." He read it over her shoulder.

"Let's take it with us," he said. "The muggles running the park won't notice, and this could have secrets for wizarding kind..." She tried to remove it, but it wouldn't budge. She used her wand, and nothing happened. She tried again, harder.

"Do you hear that?" he asked. There were eerie voices in the hallway, growing louder and closer. They went silent when she let go, and grew louder when she tried to remove it.

Angry spirits flooded the room, and he felt goosebumps as the temperature dropped. He shivered. She had goosebumps too, he noticed.

"Finite incantem!" she yelled, but it did nothing. She used her wand to cut through the stone pedestal the parchment was on. The spirits ran at her, grasping at her robes.

"Make a fire!" he yelled. She cast a fire behind them at the spirits, grabbed the parchment, leapt on the carpet with him, and fled out the passageway. She closed it behind them just in time, sealing out the angry spirits.

They flew out of the pyramid. She felt dizzy and lightheaded looking down, and landed the carpet on a landing near the top of the pyramid.

"It's beautiful," she said. She was lying on the carpet with him, watching the night stars. He murmured in agreement, lying on his back, watching the shooting stars, her lying beside him. I think I understand what they mean by 'soulmate,' now, he thought. That damn prophecy was wrong… that bushy-haired mudblood isn't my soulmate, this witch is. The prophecies work in probabilities anyway, it's not exact. She reads and knows as much as I do, and she doesn't just parrot back knowledge… she knows how to think, how to apply it. Clever witch…if she did go to Hogwarts, I bet she was in Slytherin… I should ask Severus if he remembers a Marcela Santos.